The Secret of Gisborne: A BBW Shifter Paranormal Romance (House of Gisborne Book 1)

by Alanis Knight

  “If I may!” Blackstock shouted. “I would like to ask now for your votes. Please say ‘yay’ or ‘nay’ and raise your hands with your votes. All in favor?”

  “Yay!” came the resounding reply.

  “All opposed?” Blackstock asked.

  An eerie silence.

  “Splendid!” Blackstock said, tapping his fingers together mirthfully. “Then, please, take the rest of the day to enjoy all the castle has to offer, and when you return to your homes tomorrow, you can prepare to begin the new tax immediately.”

  Marian fell back against the wall beside the window. She felt sick. She tucked her apple and bread into her pocket and slid against the wall until she landed on her backside with a thud. Whatever sinister plans Blackstock was developing, they were well underway. And what’s more, Winston was not only alive, but he, the most vocal voice of dissent, was now the most potent champion. It made no sense.

  Marian scrambled to her feet and carefully made her way through the corridors to return to the kitchen. Mirabelle told her to clean the chambers, and Marian collected her bucket and brush and made her way to the corridor. With a trembling hand, she knocked upon Gisborne’s door, expecting, as usual, no response.

  “Enter,” Gisborne’s voice called, and she froze, swallowing a massive lump which had filled her throat quite suddenly.

  She entered the room, and Gisborne was sitting beside the crackling fire with his elbow on his knee and his chin on his fist staring pensively into the flames.

  “Excuse me, my Lord, I can return later,” Marian said meekly, backing out of the room.

  “No, please, come in,” he said, beckoning her with his hand.

  She stepped inside on wobbly knees, holding her bucket in front of her with both hands. She paused for a moment, but Gisborne had turned back toward the fire, so she quietly kneeled in the floor and began to scrub it.

  “Marian, might I ask you a question?” Gisborne asked.

  “Of course, my Lord,” she said as she scrubbed.

  “Have you ever done something you thought was the right thing to do, and yet you still regretted it?” Gisborne asked her.

  “I’m not sure I understand the question, my Lord,” she said.

  “Never mind, it’s not important,” he said, his eyes glazed over as he watched the dancing flames.

  Marian hurriedly finished the cleaning of Gisborne’s chamber and excused herself, relieved to be away from him. The rest of the chambers were empty, and she completed her cleaning well before sunset.

  “By all means, get home, girl,” Mirabelle told her, and Marian quickly raced home, glad to avoid Gisborne and the potential that he might once again attempt to escort her home.

  Marian gave her father another quick dinner and hastily said goodbye as she raced up the hill to a waiting Robin.

  “You’re early,” he said.

  “So are you,” she pointed out.

  “So, what happened today? Any news?” Robin asked as he began to walk.

  “They voted.”

  “And?” Robin asked.

  “It passed unanimously after a speech in support of the plan by none other than Lord Winston himself.”

  Robin froze. “But I thought you said you saw him die.”

  “I did, Robin.”

  “Maybe you were mistaken.”

  “I wasn’t mistaken! I saw him die! I saw him go completely limp in Gisborne’s grasp!”

  “So that’s how they did it,” Robin muttered.

  “How who did what?” Marian demanded.

  “They didn’t kill the troublemakers,” Robin said. “They turned them.”

  “Into what?”

  “Vampires!” Robin hissed.

  “Is that even possible?”

  “Of course it’s possible! That’s how vampires come into being. You get bitten by one and it either kills you or you turn into a vampire yourself.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know, I’m no expert on them!” Robin snapped.

  “What are we going to do?”

  “We’re going to have to kill them all,” Robin said.

  “What? How do you propose we do that?”

  “We’ve started on a plan, but it’s not ready, yet,” Robin told her. “And we’ll need your help.”

  “Anything you need, just ask,” Marian said.

  By the time they made it to Robin’s camp, the others had gathered. They were sitting on their logs and stumps, and Robin settled in on his.

  “Winston’s alive,” Robin blurted out.

  “But I thought she said...” John started to say.

  “I thought he was,” Marian said. “But he was in the vote today, and he gave a speech that made the others vote to pass the thing unanimously.”

  “I believe Winston’s been turned,” Robin said.

  “Well, clearly,” Will said. “I mean, he did vote in favor.”

  “I mean... he’s been turned into a vampire,” Robin said.

  “Oh. Is that even possible?” Will asked.

  “That’s what I said!” Marian chirped.

  “Legend says it’s possible, and it would appear that it’s true,” Robin said glumly.

  “What are we going to do, Robin?” Will asked.

  “We’re going to kill them,” Robin said.

  “All of them?” Will asked.

  “Every last one,” Robin said. “And here’s how we’re going to do it.”

  As Robin went on, the plan began to look more solid. Marian began to have faith that it might actually work. It had to work.

  “Since none of us knows much about vampires, I suggest we visit someone who might know more,” Robin said.

  “Who do we know that knows anything about vampires?” John asked.

  “Father Clark,” Robin said. “He lives in Westbrook, and he used to tell me all these stories when I was a kid. I think he’s our best shot.”

  “Are you sure he wasn’t just telling you fairy tales, Robin?” Will asked.

  “Oh, I’m sure. At the time I thought he was, but he kept telling me vampires were real. I was a kid. I just thought he was trying to scare me. But now I realize how very serious he looked whenever he would tell me those stories.”

  “We’ll go with you,” Will offered.

  “No, I have to do this alone,” Robin said. “Father Clark retired from the priesthood and I hear he’s a very private man, now. He might not trust anyone but me. I’ll leave tonight and I should be there in three days’ time. You should expect me back in about a week. A fortnight at latest.”

  “A fortnight!” Marian gasped. “I have to keep going to that castle for a fortnight?”

  “I’ll be back as quickly as I can,” Robin promised. “Believe me, I want you there no more than you want to be there. Besides, we have to find out how to kill these things.”

  “I thought you said they were immortal,” Marian pointed out.

  “Well, very nearly,” Robin said. “But I think I remember Father Clark mentioning there was a way to kill them. I just don’t remember how.”

  “So I guess I won’t be training,” Marian groaned.

  “Sure you will!” said Will. “I’ll train you!”

  “Will, I don’t think...” Robin started to say.

  “I’ll escort her every day,” Will said. “She’ll be safe.”

  Robin started to object, but he sighed. “Fine,” he relented. “I’m trusting you with this.”

  Will nodded and said, “I understand. I won’t let either of you down.”

  “I’d better get her home,” Robin said. “The sooner I start out, the sooner I can be home.”

  “See you tomorrow!” Will called to Marian.

  She waved back to him and said, “Tomorrow!”

  At the edge of the forest, Robin clasped Marian’s hand tightly. His eyes were troubled as he looked into hers.

  “I’ll return home as soon as I can,” he said. “I promise.”

  “I’ll be fine, Robin,” she
told him. “I don’t think they’re going to harm me if they haven’t already.”

  She squeezed his hand and turned to go, but he grabbed her arm and spun her around, pulling her into an embrace. Her head tilted backward, and he pressed his lips firmly against hers. For a moment, she struggled, pursing her lips together and pushing against him. Then she relaxed, and her lips softened. He pulled away, holding her at arm’s length. She blinked at him, confused.

  “Be safe,” he told her, and in a flash he disappeared into the trees.

  For a moment, she stood rooted in place, her body swaying lightly and two fingers pressed against her lips. He’d never done that before, nor had anyone else. She rattled her head, jerking herself back into conscious thought, and she spun on her heels and jogged down the hill toward the cottage.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The next day, Mirabelle told Marian to take the day off. The Lords had left at first light, and Mirabelle said she and the other girls could handle things. Relieved to be away from the horrors within the castle, Marian didn’t argue or question. She simply accepted it.

  The first thing she did was head into the village to check on her neighbors. All day long she kept hearing tales of the hungriest families receiving baskets of food on their steps—baskets full of cheese, white bread, fruit, and even delicate pastries.

  “Where are they coming from?” Marian asked each one, but no one knew.

  It couldn’t have been Robin. He was out of town visiting Father Clark, and before that he rarely ventured out of the forest. It might have been Will or John, but they had so little food themselves that Marian didn’t think they had it to spare, and they certainly had no access to fine pastries like the villagers spoke of receiving.

  While Marian was glad to hear that some of the village’s starving had received the help they so desperately needed, she was confused. She could think of no one who could have done such a thing, and it concerned her deeply. She was determined to find out who it was.

  When she met Will at dusk, she bluntly asked him if he knew who it might be. He only shrugged.

  “You have no idea who it might be,” she asked.

  “None,” he said. “I don’t know anyone who could afford to do something like that.”

  “Nor do I, and that’s what worries me,” she said. “The only people around here who could do such a thing would not. And I worry there must be some string attached.”

  “You know what they say,” Will said. And with a wink, he added, “Never look a gift horse in the mouth. I hear they have horrible breath.”

  Will had set up a training course for her in the forest near the camp. He’d erected wooden dummies for her to spar with, heavy bags of sand for her to practice dodging, and ropes tied between trees to teach her to swing nimbly from one location to another.

  “First, you must learn to spar,” he said. “These dummies will help you learn kicks and punches. See these limbs? If you hit them, they will swing around as if to strike you back. You must learn to block their strikes. Watch me.”

  Will punched one of the dummy’s wooden arms, and it spun around quickly and nearly hit him from the other side. His hand swept smoothly up to deflect the blow.

  “See?” he asked. “Now you try.”

  Marian punched the dummy’s arm, and it quickly flew around and struck her in the arm. She shrieked and grabbed it as it throbbed.

  “Don’t forget to block, Marian,” Will reminded her. “You have to react quickly.”

  Will demonstrated the technique once more. He hit the arm, and blocked it with the palm of his hand as it swung around.

  “Ready to try again?” Will asked, and Marian nodded.

  This time, she successfully deflected the swinging arm, and Will laughed and applauded.

  “Good job!” he said, slapping her on the back. “Now keep practicing. Once you’ve got the hang of this one, we’ll try kicks.”

  For hours Marian practiced. She became quite proficient with the punches, but her kicks left much to be desired.

  “It’s this dress,” she said. “I can’t move in it.”

  “Then wear pants,” Will said, as if that were simple enough.

  “Wear pants?” Marian laughed. “A woman wearing pants? What’s next? A man wearing a corset?”

  “Do you want to be an effective fighter or not?” Will asked pointedly.

  “Of course I do,” Marian snapped.

  “Fine, then let’s find you something better to wear.”

  It turned out that she fit rather nicely into one of Will’s tunics, although it was a little snug. She was a curvaceous woman, and Will was quite lean. Luckily, he wore loose-fitting tunics. The pants were a bit snug, but she squeezed into them.

  “I’ll see if I can let them out a bit when I get home,” she said.

  “Good idea,” Will agreed. “Oh, and you need a cloak. It won’t do for people to see you wearing this.”

  Will popped into Robin’s tent and emerged with a deep green cloak in a shade so close to black it was nearly indiscernible.

  “This will do nicely,” Marian said. “And I’ll buy a pair of boots in the village.”

  “Oh, no need,” Will said, disappearing into his own tent and reappearing with a smile and a pair of nearly new boots. “They were my sister’s.”

  “Doesn’t she need them?” Marian asked.

  “She’s dead,” Will said flatly.

  “I’m sorry,” Marian said softly after his blunt revelation, taking the proffered boots. “Thank you, Will. I’ll put them to good use.”

  “I know you will,” he answered. “Let’s get you home while there’s still time to sleep.”

  Marian awoke before the cock crowed. She dragged herself weakly from the bed, made her father breakfast, and fed the chickens. She slipped out into the morning air and shuddered. She wasn’t looking forward to another day at the castle, but she hoped if she went in early, she could finish well before dusk and have more time for training.

  “Get up to the guest chambers and get them cleaned,” Mirabelle said as she rushed about the kitchen. “Didn’t have time to get to them yesterday.”

  “Yes, Miss,” Marian said, and she quickly made her way toward the guest wing, relieved she wouldn’t have to face Gisborne.

  She knocked on the first door.

  “Enter.”

  His voice gave her chills. What was he doing in the guest chambers? She pushed the door open and saw Gisborne leaning against the wall by the window staring out into the early morning darkness.

  “My apologies, my Lord,” she said, bowing her head and looking at the floor. “I thought these rooms were unoccupied.”

  His hand brushed quickly against his face, and he turned toward her, his face cold and aloof.

  “I was just leaving,” he said, and he brushed past her, his black cloak billowing dramatically behind him as he turned the corner.

  She listened as his boots echoed loudly down the corridor, rooted in place until the sound had long since faded away. Then she dropped to her knees to scrub the floor. Chills crept down her spine as she spotted a dark spot on the stone floor. She leaned closer to inspect it. It was small and circular with a pattern of droplets radiating out from it. It was a deep red, almost brown. And it was unmistakably blood.

  She quickly ran the brush over the spot, but it remained. Again and again she rubbed the spot, but it would not budge. With both hands, she clutched the brush tightly and furiously scrubbed, but that stubborn spot refused to disappear.

  Finally, she gave up and tossed the brush hastily into the bucket. She darted about the room, gathering linens and tidying up, eager to get out of that room with its telltale bloodstain on the stone.

  Three other rooms had similar stains on the floor. Three other souls lost forever, she imagined. She seethed with rage at Gisborne for what he’d done to those men, and at Blackstock for ordering it. He was undoubtedly here to gloat. What other business could he have in the guest quarters?

  S
he finished the rooms early, and once again she headed out well before the sun began to set. Once home, she changed into her tunic and leggings, her boots, and Robin’s cloak. By the time her father was fed, the sun was slowly sinking beyond the horizon. Will was already waiting for her just beyond the tree line.