by Mac Flynn
"Was Lord Stewart only jesting when he called those men wolves?" I asked her as we climbed the stairs.
She shook her head. "No. There is a counsel of werewolves, for men only, of course, who decide matters among us. You know, land disputes and matters of honor. Such things as those."
"Then there are many werewolves?" I guessed.
"For the niece of a werewolf you seem to be quite ignorant of them," she commented.
I stiffened in her grasp. "I-um, that is, I was not raised around them," I admitted. It was a truth of sorts.
"I see. Well, there are quite a few of us, at least in Scotland, and others farther afield," she told me as we slipped into my chambers. Her ladyship was careful to shut the door behind us and listen for a moment near the doorway. Her face was furrowed and she kept one hand on the handle for a moment before she smiled.
"What did you mean to speak of?" I asked her. I only hoped the interview would be blissfully short.
"A very serious matter, I assure you," she replied as she stepped away from the door. She pulled me to the small table and we took seats opposite one another. Her ladyship set her hands in her lap and lowered her voice as she turned her full attention on me. "I wish to speak to you about a group I have gathered together."
"A club?" I guessed.
She shook her head. "Not exactly. This group is comprised solely of the unwilling mates of the lairds."
The color drained from my face. "But what has that to do with-" She waved her hand between us.
"You needn't keep up false appearances any longer. I overheard your conversation with McKenna this morning." She leaned towards me and studied my face. "You are a slave to him, are you not?"
I frowned. "I am no one's slave."
"What I meant to say is you are his mate, are you not?" she rephrased.
"I am his guest," I replied.
She laughed and waved away my words. "Laird Kenneth Moray does not dally with his guests. Only a mate, or at least one who he believes to be his mate, would satisfy him."
I raised an eyebrow. "And if he were to consider me his mate? What then?"
"Then he would be your captor as Laird Stewart is mine," she revealed.
"He has never harmed me before," I pointed out.
"You mustn't let the bond between you cloud your better judgment," she advised me. "Many others before you were fooled by their werewolf husbands until the truth was too much to bear, and they were driven to suicide much like the White Lady."
"Is that how she died?" I asked her.
"More or less, or so I've heard, but what is important is you not join her in her suffering, or mine," she insisted.
I furrowed my brow. "Then you believe he would hurt me?" I guessed.
"I understand how it would be difficult for you to believe me," she agreed. "Moray is affable enough as a friend, but the beast inside him is very strong. Over time he may become so protective of you that he will lock you in the dungeon," she warned me. She scooted her chair closer to the table and leaned over the top. "But if you fear hurting him than have no fear. I offer you an escape from him by safe means. You see, there is a potion that will induce werewolves to sleep. On the same night we women will administer the drought and hurry to Edinburgh by carriage or horse. Whatever means you can gather without the laird noticing. Once there I have many friends who would provide shelter for us, and the lairds wouldn't dare to attack us openly there," she assured me.
"Are there many in your group?" I wondered.
She sat tall in her chair and grinned. "I can boast nearly a dozen who are prepared to free themselves. Your addition will make an even dozen." She tilted her head to one side and studied my face. "Can we count on you to join us?"
I blinked at her. "At this moment?" I asked.
She smiled. "What better time now that you have seen your future? Your mate will be as my husband is to me. Rare is the werewolf who does not become abusive towards his female."
I glanced down at my lap and furrowed my brow. "I. . .I need time to think about this."
She frowned. "Do you doubt your own eyes? You witnessed my husband's abuse towards me."
I looked up and nodded. "I did, but I doubt my own initiative. I fear I could not go forward with leaving Moray-I mean, the castle," I corrected myself.
She raised an eyebrow. "Have you known him for so long that you've developed feelings for him?" she wondered.
I blushed and looked down at my lap. "No, of course not. I was merely trying to say that though this house is unfamiliar to me, Edinburgh would also be foreign."
"Perhaps you could find some occupation. What did you work at before you were swept away to this place?" she asked me.
"I was a seamstress," I replied.
"Then you could go into shop in Edinburgh," she suggested.
"Perhaps," I admitted.
Her ladyship studied me for a moment before she sighed and stood. "Well, perhaps you do need some time to think things over. Whenever you wish to give me an answer my chambers are just down the hall. Good day."
I stood and bowed to her. "Good day," I returned.
Lady Stewart left, and I settled back into my chair and ran a hand through my hair. Every new predicament pulled me in the opposite direction of the one before. I was to leave, but the storm kept me in the house. I didn't wish to leave, but the attempt on the laird's life made me wonder if that was such a wise choice. Then I see him as a kind and gentle man, and I am presented with a different face.
"To leave, or not to leave. . ." I whispered.
And no response came to me.
CHAPTER 20
I was shaken from my thoughts when the door opened. I expected Lady Stewart, but the kind face of Mrs. Greer peeked inside.
"Were you wanting your fire stoked?' she asked me.
"What? Oh. Oh, no. I'm sure I can do it myself," I told her.
She shook her head and slipped into the room. "I wouldn't dream of allowing you to do such filthy work. Let me," she insisted. I noticed a cloth was draped over her arms. "The laird was also wanting me to give this to you. It's a new dress, and suited to your size this time."
"He really shouldn't have," I protested as Mrs. Greer laid the dress out on my bed. I walked over and studied the clothing. The dress was of a shimmering purple with white frills and a low neckline. I reached out and brushed my hand against the soft fabric. "Silk?" I gasped.
Mrs. Greer nodded. "Aye, and the best the laird could buy from Edinburgh. McKenna brought it back with him. I think he's soon to go off to there again, bless his heart. He would do anything for the laird."
I winced. He had brought such a wonderful gift, and I had been so rude to him that morning. To make matters worse, my outburst had revealed my true identity to Lady Stewart.
Mrs. Greer studied me and furrowed her brow. "Are you feeling well, Abby?" she asked me.
I started from my thoughts. "Oh, yes. Yes, quite well."
"Well, I'll be stoking the fire to make sure you stay that way," she insisted.
She moved over to the fire, and I followed her. I took a seat at the table where Lady Stewart and I had had our discussion.
"Mrs. Greer?" I spoke up.
She paused and turned to me. "Yes?" she returned.
"Has. . .have you known the Stewarts long?" I wondered.
"The ladyship for most of her life, but the laird only as long as his marriage to her," she replied as she returned to her work.
"And has the lord always been cross? What I mean to say is have they always been at such odds?" I asked her.
Greer sighed and shook her head. "No. There was a time at the beginning of their marriage when they were quite content with one another. They shared a love of the theater and acting, and they held many fine performances in their house. Sometimes they even saw fit to join the actors in the plays."
"Do you know what caused this rift between them?" I wondered.
Mrs. Greer paused and furrowed her brow. "I believe it happened only a fe
w years ago. The laird is quite possessive, you see, and Lady Stewart was a vixen in her very young years. Her father was quite pleased when she finally settled down with her chosen mate." She sighed and resumed her work fluffing the pillows. "But you never can tell where life will lead anyone, and here they are making life miserable for each other."
"Can she not find another mate?" I asked her.
Mrs. Greer finished her poking of the wood and turned to me. She closed her eyes and shook her head. "I'm afraid not. You are given only one mate in your life, and great is the joy of every werewolf when they are found."
I pursed my lips and looked down at the ground. "Then. . .then I have no choice."
"Is this where all these questions have been leading?" Greer asked. She stepped up to me and clasped my hands in hers. I looked up and saw she smiled at me. "You needn't worry, Abby. You could not have found a better man than in Laird Moray."
"But I know nothing of him," I pointed out. "I am more familiar with Lady Stewart's past than that of Lord Moray."
Her eyes twinkled. "I believe I may be able to answer his questions as well as I answered those of Lady Stewart, and perhaps better," she commented.
I couldn't help but smile and seated myself on the edge of the bed. "If you have the time. I am sure his lordship has had a long and illustrious career of kidnapping women," I teased.
She joined me by my side. "I will admit you are not the first female he has stolen."
My mouth dropped open. "I'm not?"
She shook her head. "No. He once was slighted by the young son of a neighbor and stole the gentleman's breeding mare. The old Laird Moray was very angry when he discovered the horse in the library."
I blinked at her. "Why did he not hide her in a stable?"
"The young laird reasoned that if he was suspected the first place they would search would be the stables," she told me. She chuckled and shook her head. "Truth be told if his father had not gone into the library she might not have been found for a few days."
I leaned back and furrowed my brow. "This doesn't sound like the serious lord I know."
Mrs. Greer took a seat in the chair opposite me and smiled at me from across the table. "Perhaps that is because you do not understand his past," she suggested
I sighed and shrugged. "What could it hurt?"
The housekeeper leaned back and clasped her hands in her lap. "Now where shall I begin?"
"The beginning?" I teased.
She smiled, but shook her head. "No, I believe I will start with when he was a lad of five or six. He was very fond of plants. He would sit for hours in front of a flower just to watch its head move with the sun."
I raised an eyebrow. "He doesn't seem eager to show his former love of plants," I commented.
"Doesn't he?" she returned. "Have you not ventured forth into that which gives him the most pride?"
I blinked and tilted my head to one side. "You mean the Gardens?"
She nodded. "Aye, I do."
"But I was told it was the work of several generations," I told her.
"And it is, but it was never so grand as it is now," she told me. "My laird improved upon the quality of the flowers and the number of hedges, and it makes for a fine walk now."
"If he loves plants so then why did he not make a living of it?" I asked her. "Or why does no one find him among them?"
She sighed and shook her head. "The calling of his heritage meant he couldn't fulfill his dreams, at least not professionally. Duty to family came first, and as the last of his line it was pressed upon him to find a mate. That is how he came to know Lady Stewart. His father, the previous laird of Moray, hoped to find a mate among the ladies of the area, but Moray had only brotherly feelings for the young women."
"And it was then I was searched out?" I guessed.
"Not quite," she told me. "It was not until his father's death in a hunting accident five years hence that he took his role as laird seriously. He traveled all across Scotland forging alliances with other werewolf lords from his youth and left Swain and myself in his stead at the castle. He returned a year later with McKenna, who hailed from the north. It was then he hired people to search for his mate using mating services available all over the entire country."
I started back at her information and my eyes widened. "Do you mean to tell me women are kidnapped all over the country and brought to these werewolf lords?" I questioned her.
She shook her head. "No. While someone may enlist the help of one of these services, there is no guarantee they will find the mate. She may live in the same city but never be near enough to smell his scent, or she may be in another county. All a male werewolf knows is she has been born, and that she awaits his calling."
My eyes narrowed and I tilted my head to one side. "Then. . .then he knew I'd been born?" I asked her.
She smiled and gave a nod. "He did. A male werewolf can sense when his mate is in this world. My laird once described the feeling to me when he was a youth. He told me it was as though he played a game, but that the most important player was missing." She chuckled. "He was always very clever with his words."
"And I am that player?" I guessed.
"Aye, and I am glad you are here," she told me as she slipped her hand over mine. "You have made my laird much happier. He had nearly given up hope when he received a letter from McKenna that you had been found and were coming to him."
I averted her eyes and sighed. "That is little consolation to me. To have my life given to another for their benefit is hardly a foundation for a relationship."
"But is that not what it means to be married?" she argued.
I turned to her and frowned. "What do you mean?"
"In a marriage do you not give yourself to another? Do you not have and hold them in their trials?" she pointed out.
"But I had no choice in the matter," I countered.
She smiled. "Does Love give us a choice to whom we may fall in love with? Does Fate let us decide the course of our ship as we sail through life?"
I stared at the floor and pursed my lips. "I suppose not. . ." I agreed.
Mrs. Greer stood and clasped her hands in front of her. "I will leave you with those thoughts, and one other. Though you may despise the laird for taking you from your life, he would willingly give his life to save you ."
She turned away and left me with my thoughts. I fell back against the bed and looked up at the canopy. My mind swirled with conflicting decisions. Should I remain, or should I leave? Should I follow Lady Stewart, or should I stay true to this strange lord?
I wrinkled my nose. "I would rather face a thousand Lord of Morays than one of Lady Stewart. . ." I mumbled.
A cool draft blew over me. I shuddered and sat up to wrap my arms around myself.
The woman stood a foot before me.
I froze and my eyes widened as I beheld the White Lady. She looked down at me with a sorrowful gaze, and her blue, translucent eyes studied me. A tiny puff of air escaped my parted lips and turned to white frost.
"W-what do you want?" I choked out.
The woman turned her head and raised her arm. Her hand pointed at the door. I glanced between where she pointed and her face.
"You. . .you want to lead me somewhere?" I guessed.
The White Lady turned back to me, but floated away with her back towards the door. Her hand beckoned me. I gulped and stood on shaky legs.
The door swung open and Lady Stewart stepped inside.
"There was one last-" Her words caught in her throat when her eyes fell on the shimmering form.
The White Lady vanished, but that didn't stop the garbled scream that emanated from Stewart's throat.
CHAPTER 21
Footsteps pounded up the stairs and down the hall, and in a moment Lord Stewart and Moray appeared before the open doorway. The elder lord was just in time to catch his wife as she fell into a shallow swoon. Moray swept past them and to my side where he propped up my elbows before my own legs failed me.
"What is
it? What's happened?" he asked me.
"A-a ghost!" Lady Stewart stuttered. She pointed at the spot where the White Lady had disappeared. "It was there! I swear it!"
"Perhaps it was some trick of the light," her husband suggested.
"It was not," I spoke up. I steadied myself, but still leaned against Moray. His strong hold reminded me of what was real and what was otherworldly. "I, too, witnessed her."
"Then was it the White Lady?" Stewart guessed.
"We should get these ladies to the parlor for a fine glass of brandy," Moray suggested. He turned to me and his voice softened. "Would you like me to carry you?"
I smiled and shook my head. "No, I can manage."
"Then allow me to assist you," he pleaded.
The lords helped us to the parlor and we were each handed a glass of the strong alcohol. Moray settled himself on the settee cushion beside mine as I sipped on my portion, but Lady Stewart, seated on another couch with her husband, tipped back her glass and emptied the entirety of the contents.
"What a terrible sight! What horrible eyes!" she commented as she set down her empty glass on the table. She wrung her hands and turned to me with a pale face. "You must have been terrified!"
"I was very scared, but I don't believe the White Lady meant to harm either of us," I commented.
Lady Stewart looked sharply to Moray. "The White Lady? If she witnessed the ghost then is that why she stays here? Because she is your mate?"
Moray pursed his lips, but gave a nod. "I admit the deceit. She is my mate."
She frowned and turned her face away. "And you had no intention of telling me, did you?"
"Not until the moment was right," he admitted.
"Then congratulations are in order," Lord Stewart spoke up.
"Not while his bride is haunted," Lady Stewart snapped at him.
Her husband scowled at her. "I was made to believe the sighting of the ghost was a good omen."
"It is, or rather, would be, if she was confined to the dining hall. As it is, Abigail has sighted her in other parts of the house," Moray explained.
"But this time was different," I spoke up. I turned to him and clutched onto his shirt. "She wanted me to follow her somewhere."
"Follow you? Did she speak?" he asked me.
I shook my head. "No, but she pointed at the door and floated towards it. Then Lady Stewart entered, and she vanished."