ROMANCE: Time of the Werebears (Scottish Historical Time Travel Shifter Romance) (Paranormal Shapeshifter Romance)

by Sky Winters

  They cuddled up together on the couch, alternating between kissing and talking. Every time their baby moved inside of her, she brought his hand and held it where he could feel it. “Is it going to be like you?” she asked softly, in case the unborn child could hear them discussing its possible abnormalities and would take offense.

  John nodded. “Yes. It’s genetic. And the ownership of the inn is also genetic. It will be passed on to him or her when I am gone.”

  Ursula raised her eyebrows at him. She didn’t want to think about her big, strong John being gone! “But that won’t be for many, many years,” she said.

  He chuckled a little, softly touching her cheek with his fingertips. “Let’s hope not. Hunting is no longer legal around here, ever since…”

  “Ever since your father died?” she asked, slowly putting two and two together. “He was killed by a hunter, wasn’t he? Oh, John, I’m so sorry. That’s awful.”

  John closed his eyes. She could tell that thinking about it brought him a lot of pain.

  “But you don’t have to stay here, John. We could leave this place.”

  “Where would we go?” he asked her, opening his eyes and looking deeply into her blue ones. “There is nowhere that is safe for me but here. Here, I have people who know about me. There are people here who do their best to keep me protected. Heaven knows why, but they do. They care about me. They cared about my father, too. I trust them.”

  Ursula looked down. She wanted to help him, but she did not know how. He seemed to already have the help he needed, but she wasn’t convinced that he was happy. “You went to Silver Lake,” she said.

  He played with her hair. “I went there to find you. No other reason. And now that I have you, I need not go anywhere else again. This is our home.”

  The trouble was that she was starting to miss the spotlight and the Big Dipper club. As much as Ursula loved and cared about John, she was not convinced that this place could be her home.

  When afternoon started to threaten the arrival of evening, John took his leave. He gave Ursula a kiss and promised that he would be back around eight. “Please wait for me,” he said. “And please stay indoors.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” she said with a smirk. “I promise.” She took the key to the cabin out of her purse and put it in the breast pocket of his coat, giving his chest a gentle pat.

  It was painful to watch him leave again, knowing what he was going to become and what might happen to him. Besides hunters, there were likely other bears out there along with wolves and whatever else inhabited the hills and mountains of the Sierra Nevada.

  She stood watch by the large window that overlooked the lake. John had gone off in that direction and she wanted to keep an eye on him from her shelter, if she could. Baby Bear was restless inside her tummy, as if he or she knew that Papa Bear had gone away. She chuckled under her breath. “I can’t believe I’m thinking like this.”

  Pulling out her cell phone, she called the Big Dipper club. She wanted to let them know that her vacation was going to be extended, but that she would be back. It would be crazy to stay out there in the woods for the rest of her life. She’d never been a social butterfly, but she was getting cabin fever already.

  On the fifth ring, she was watching the black bear eat some berries several feet away from the window. He seemed to be hanging close to protect her, but maybe the bear was merely close because he smelled food.

  On the seventh ring, she saw the flash of something in the bushes.

  Ursula’s eyes widened. It was the barrel of a gun.

  “Hello?” a voice said on the other end of the line. The phone was hanging by its cord where she had let it go.

  She ran out of the house. “NO!” she shouted, waving her arms. “Don’t shoot him!!”

  John the bear looked up at her and let out a growl. She was flailing around and the bear in him felt threatened, but the man in him felt concerned for her.

  Suddenly, a shot rang out in the woods. Ursula screamed.

  John fell down in a heap of black fur and berry bush branches.

  Running, tears pouring down her cheeks, she ran to him, not caring that he was a bear. Not caring that she was breaking her promise. He was hurt and he needed her now.

  “John?” she asked, taking his head and placing it on her lap, petting him. “John, can you hear me?” She felt around his fur for the wound. She found it on his shoulder. There was a lot of blood, but the bullet must have grazed him. It had to have grazed him.

  He was dazed and in pain and the woman was holding him. He let out a loud howl of both pain and anger. He did his best to stand back up on his four legs, but then fell down again a few inches away from her. The woman didn’t care. She picked up his head again and looked into his eyes.

  “Listen to me, John. It’s going to be okay.”

  He snorted and groaned, complaining. His shoulder hurt. Couldn’t she understand? Someone had shot him and she was interfering. She shouldn’t be there!

  Ursula brought her face close to his and softly rubbed the tip of her nose against his big, wet nose.

  “You’re mean to me,” she quietly sang to him, a tear slowly falling down her cheek. “Why must you be mean to me? Gee, honey, it seems to me you love to see me cryin’…”

  She looked into his soulful, chestnut eyes and she could see the recognition in them. He knew who she was now. She could see his humanity there.

  As the sun slipped away and the moon began its act, John’s black fur shed from him and the bear became her man again.

  “Ursula, it hurts,” he said, hissing from the pain.

  “Shh,” she said. “You’re safe now.”

  She did her best to help him to his feet, and dressed him back in his clothes before he caught his death from the cold. She kept his shirt unbuttoned, understanding now why he did that. If it wasn’t buttoned, he could fling it off when he started to change so it wouldn’t rip apart.

  The two of them slowly limped and waddled their way back to their cabin, arms around each other’s shoulders.

  Once inside, Ursula sat John on one of the kitchen chairs and surveyed the wound on his upper arm. It was bloody and awful, but it wasn’t as deep as she had feared. “The bullet passed you, but it wasn’t nice about it,” she said. She ran a wash cloth under some warm water. “This might sting a little.”

  He let out a howl of pain not unlike his bear form.

  “I told you not to come outside,” he said, huffing a little as she cleaned his wound.

  “I had to,” she argued. “I wasn’t just going to stay inside and watch you…” She sniffled. “I couldn’t let you die.”

  John’s expression went from annoyance to appreciativeness. His eyes were sad now. So much like the bear’s eyes. “Thank you,” he said, clearly feeling guilty about how he’d spoken to her.

  “Don’t move,” she instructed. She went into the bathroom and found a first aid kit under the sink. As gruff as he was, at least he took precautions and thought about things like first aid kits and logs for the fire. She suspected he had these things for her, not for him. Bringing out some gauze and Band-Aids, as well as the antiseptic, she stood admiring him for a moment.

  John Asher the bear man was holding the wet rag to his shoulder and grimacing like a big baby. She smiled at him. He glanced at her, then turned to face her. “What? Why are you smiling?”

  “Oh, nothing,” she said. “You’re just cuter than you realize. But this won’t be cute.” She put some antiseptic on his arm and watched as he threw his head back and yelled.

  She wrapped the wound in the gauze and added some Band-Aids to the minor scratches he’d received from the berry bush.

  John was gone again the following morning, as Ursula now expected. But thankfully, he was back in the afternoon when her water broke.

  “Ahhh, John, help me!!” she greeted him when he came back into the cabin. Thankfully, he had the key with him now.

  Quickly, he brought her down off the couch and onto t
he fuzzy rug by the fireplace. She had lit a fire. That was good thinking. He pulled off his coat and brought her legs up so they were bent, her feet flat on the rug.

  He knelt between her legs. “This is going to be okay, darling,” he told her. “You are strong and confident…”

  “I can do this,” she said, breathing slowly through her lips.

  He coached her and she pushed. Then they rested. He mopped her brow with a wash cloth, smirking a little. “It’s my turn to take care of you,” he said.

  She pushed some more, screaming and hollering bloody murder. Before long, there was a little baby in John’s arms and Ursula was crying tears of joy that she didn’t know she would feel about this. They had a baby. They’d created a life together, somehow. It was strange and it was certainly not one they’d be able to explain to many people, but it was their life.

  “It’s a girl,” John said, crying a little himself as he held their new little person.

  Ursula carefully took her into her arms. “Matilda,” she said. “Matilda Joan. Joan for her daddy, and Matilda just because it feels right.”

  John smiled and kissed Ursula deeply. “I love you,” he said. Then he gingerly touched the small brown head of their daughter. “I love you.”

  For several months, Ursula Blake sang songs in the cabin for a very limited audience of two. When Matilda was old enough to be able to laugh at her mom’s over-the-top performances, Ursula took her around town in a sling across her chest, sticking and stapling flyers to anything that could hold a flyer.

  “Live at the Black Bear Inn: Ursula Blake-Asher! Jazz and Soul Songs to Cozy Up To!”

  No matter what, even with his fairly rigid schedule, John never missed a performance. He sat in the front row with Matilda and the two of them would smile up at Ursula every night after dusk, when the black bear and his cub had shifted back into the man and his daughter.

  THE END.

  Return to the Table of Contents

  VAMPIRE ROMANCES

  Vampire Duke

  “Ahhhhhh!” Isabelle shouted as a violent spasm took over her body. Her eyes shot open, “Where am I?” Her question was directed at the treetops. Isabelle grabbed for her shawl, and wrapped herself tightly in the flimsy silk fabric. The thin cotton of her white chemise gown let the chilly morning air pass straight through. It was now morning, which was all she could tell from her current position lying on the forest floor. The sky had lightened. It felt like only moments ago Isabelle had been dancing at Colonel Raglan’s debutante ball.

  The surroundings were familiar, but how she got there uncertain. Isabelle sat up and saw the path that led directly to the back gardens of her family’s estate. Isabelle fought her way to standing. Her muscles and bones had chilled in the night air. Isabelle was shaking and her limbs refused to work the way they should. She needed to find the will to walk home.

  Looking down she saw a cloak on the ground. It did not belong to her. It was Kitty’s good riding cloak. As she wrapped the heavy wool around her shoulders, memories of the night before came flooding back.

  “He has not arrived,” a disappointed Kitty Raglan, the colonel’s daughter, greeted Isabelle with a kiss on the cheek. The ruffled collar of Kitty’s pastel blue gown danced in the breeze created by the wearer’s quick movements. Kitty had been the first young woman in town to find out about Edmund’s return. It did not take long for the rest of the girls to find out. “Why did you not bring a coat?”

  “You know how these parties bore me,” Isabelle said, “You are the dancer. I am much more at home in a library.” The girls laughed as Kitty guided her friend by the hand into the ballroom. “I am only here to see Edmund. I will leave le bon ton for you.”

  “Hang their manners,” Kitty laughed, “Stay with me tonight and have fun.” The friends were opposites in almost every way. Isabelle often thought that was why they got along so well. The girls had taken a seat at a table close to the dance floor when a hush fell over the room.

  Dark hair could be seen drifting over the sea of powdered wigs. Blue streaks coursed through the slick black hair. His pale skin almost shimmered in the light of the ballroom. Everything in the room had stopped as the Colonel led the guest of honor onto the floor. People immediately started to walk forward. Isabelle and Kitty found themselves fighting their way through the crowd. Edmund had been one of their best friends as a boy, but he no longer looked like a boy.

  “Ouch!” Isabelle turned on Kitty, who didn’t even notice that her friend was upset as she dug her nails into Isabelle’s arm.

  “He is magnificent!” Kitty whispered, but very loudly. Isabelle had to admit that Kitty was right. Edmund had always been somewhat good looking. Now before their eyes he stood, a perfect specimen. He was tall, with broad shoulders. His piercing blue eyes seemed to look into your very soul. When they found Isabelle in the crowd she could feel the recognition light up in them. She knew that she was not going home early.

  They had been the best of friends. Isabelle had always felt very close to Edmund. It had hurt her so much when he had left. On the night before he left she tried to persuade him to stay and he surprised her, “But you are why I have to go,” Edmund smiled. “I can never be good enough to marry you until I prove myself.” Isabelle was shocked by everything Edmund was saying. Isabelle had been promised to Victor Raglan, and Edmund knew that. It was also shocking, because Isabelle never thought of marriage. Not just with Edmund, but in general. Isabelle didn’t spend much time thinking of the subject even now that she was older. She did spend a lot of time thinking about Edmund.

  “There you are!” Isabelle turned to see Nan running down the path toward her. “Why are you out here?” The matron looked positively stricken. Isabelle came back to reality and was freezing in the woods once again. She wanted to raise her arms and stop Nan from fussing at her, but it was of no use. Her body was too slow to fight off the grey-haired woman.

  “I wanted to go for a walk,” Isabelle lied, although she wasn’t sure why. “I needed to clear my head after the ball, and I lost track of time.” Isabelle refused to look Nan in the eyes. The older woman knew Isabelle better than she knew herself. Nan’s kind, honey-brown eyes had a way of pulling the truth out of even the most resilient of souls.

  As Nan helped Isabelle to her feet, the young woman could help, but think of Edmund again. The boy who had played soldier so many times in these very woods. Isabelle had watched her friend lead a hundred cavalry charges from that very spot. “Who escorted you home last night?” Isabelle told her matron that she didn’t know, but she did remember who had taken her arm and led her from the colonel’s house.

  It was like being under a spell. He was talking of war, and yet, Isabelle could not turn away. She was not alone, Edmund had taken a hold of the room. Everyone wanted to hear more about his time in Crimea. “I heard you were injured at the Battle of Waterloo?” The colonel shouted over the excited chattering of his guests. Edmund gave the onlookers his patented shy smile.

  “Yes, it all sounds very glorious,” Edmund seemed almost proud. “I was shot, but it mainly hit my uniform. Still hurt like the dickens.” The colonel nodded approvingly, as if he understood what war was all about. The rest of the admirers laughed along with Edmund. Isabelle could feel herself being drawn to her childhood friend. It seemed to her like the whole party was under the same spell.

  “That must have been amazing,” Raglan was stroking his pointed beard. “Two lines, armed only with rifles against a cavalry charge, remarkable. I assume that is where you sustained your injury.”

  Edmund laughed, “No the heavy horse never got near us, that would have made a much better story.” Colonel Raglan seemed disappointed Edmund had not found himself under the heel of a French war horse. “I was eating my breakfast when a mule reared up and kicked a barrel. A nervous young private, he was pale as a ghost, and he had already sweat through his uniform.” Edmund started to shake in imitation of the young private. “As soon as he heard the sound he dropped his o
ld Brown Bess and the old girl let out a thunderous crack.” Raglan seemed very upset.

  “What is happening in today’s army?” Raglan looked to the crowd for support. “I put it to you,” Raglan seemed to be addressing no one in particular. “The strength of the British Army comes down to the strength of its weakest soldiers.” Colonel Allister Raglan had never been to war, but he took a great deal of pride in his title. He had been in the Quartermaster Corp. overseeing the shipping and receiving of supplies for the army. He was a proud member of the army, but he knew nothing of the realities of war.

  “I have a scar on my right thigh that agrees with you.” Edmund quipped. The mention of Edmund’s thigh was almost too much for Kitty to take. Isabelle had to pull her arm away for fear that her friend might break it. Isabelle gave Kitty a stern look. Kitty Raglan had never shown the proper propriety when it came to men.

  “Ask him to see it,” Kitty whispered. The impetuous Miss Raglan loved to see Isabelle blush. Isabelle was always mindful of her behavior in public. Her father, Sir Thomas Bernard was a respected member of the Parish council, and a Baronet. Kitty’s father, the blustery Colonel Raglan, was the Parish council. As the richest man in town, he felt it was his right to push his agenda. Kitty took much the same approach to her social graces. As the girls giggled about the scar, Isabelle saw Edmund’s eyes find her in the crowd. She could feel the powerful gaze move right through her.

  Then came a familiar tap against the floor. It was the silver handled walking stick Isabelle’s father carried. The handle was a very proud looking eagle perched on top of a globe. The Baronet had been wounded during Admiral Nelson’s Egyptian campaign. Isabelle tried to stifle her laughter as her father approached and she elbowed Kitty as well. Sir Thomas never yelled at his girls. In fact he rarely talked to them, but when he looked at Isabelle with disappointed eyes it hurt her to her very soul.

  “Did you really meet Napoleon?” The silver-haired Sir Thomas had always been fascinated by the French dictator, after all he had lost the ability to walk properly fighting against him. In this instance though, Isabelle knew that her father was asking the question because he didn’t want people looking at his ill-behaved daughter. Kitty was always getting Isabelle into trouble.