SCOTTISH ROMANCE: My Sinful Surrender to a Highlander Werewolf (Scottish Werewolf Pregnancy Romance) (Historical Medieval Shape Shifter Paranormal Science Fiction Short Stories)

by Fiona Knightingale

  "Shut up before I cuff you," Borg snarled at him. "Get the test over with. You can give me the results and I will tell Dawn myself."

  Uth nodded, and then returned an hour later with the results. He handed them to Borg who looked at the results on the tablet and handed over the controls to Uth to go find Dawn.

  This was something she needed to hear face to face from him.

  Finding her resting on his bed, he almost hesitated to wake her up. She looked so peaceful. Her breasts were spilled all over the top of his sheets, and the sheet around her waist was pushed low exposing her navel and a hint of the hair at her crotch.

  Pulling the sheet down, he woke her up by burying his face between her legs and bringing her to a quick and explosive orgasm. When she turned to sit up and rub her face, she smiled at him.

  "Hey, that's a hell of a greeting," She said, chuckling softly and then pressed a kiss to his cheek and gave him a half hug as he sat on the edge of the bed, his face going serious.

  "We need to talk," He told her quietly, his body tense and Dawn tried not to panic.

  "You got the results back from the test already?" She asked him, swallowing hard, her heart pounding in her chest.

  He nodded.

  "And?" She asked him, waiting for him to give her the answer.

  "It appears I'm going to be a father," He told her, and his face softened and he looked at her belly for a moment in awe before addressing her again. "But, we are also going to be back on my home planet, and you being pregnant means you will be up for a lot of scrutiny by our leader. They will want to know everything they can about humans, and I will do my best to protect you, but do not entice them or piss them off. Our leader is prone to violent outbursts, and I don't want to have to kill him if he lashes out at you."

  Dawn glossed over the part about his planet and focused on the first part of what he said, she threw his arms around his neck and kissed him hard.

  Borg was startled, then wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her back, letting her large breasts press against his shirt, distracting him. He finally broke the kiss and tried to put some space between them.

  "Did you hear what I said about the rest? Our leader is not someone you can piss off. You might have gotten away with slapping me, but I love you Dawn. If you do that to him, you're likely to be dead." Borg said, his expression was serious and concerned as he searched her face.

  Dawn nodded and then bit her lower lip, wondering if he knew that he admitted his love to her. Touching his face and then sliding her head around his check to his neck to pull him close to her, she whispered softly to him.

  "I love you too Borg. I know we met in a weird way, under unusual circumstances. I know the odds of this working out are a million to one odds, yet I cannot picture trying to have a life with anyone else. I'm glad you are the father, and I will listen to your guidance on dealing with your people and leader. I'm up for the challenge." Dawn whispered to him seductively before she bit his chin in a challenge. She was quickly learning how to play his games and push him to a quick arousal.

  "Dawn," He growled at her as his hand came up to yank on her hair, pulling her head back away from his face. Then he buried his face into her neck, breathing in her scent, and leaving love bites all over her shoulders and breasts, before roughly spreading her legs apart and taking her on his bed.

  Dawn smiled into his shoulder as his weight pressed her down, and all she could think about was how a scary situation when she'd complained about how boring her life was and wanting a change, could so drastically change in the blink of an eye.

  She always thought a good man wouldn't be found on Earth, and it looks like she was right. Now, she just had to live up to the expectations that Uth had set for bringing a human here. Hopefully she and Borg could show they were a possible and positive example of a human pairing with his species.

  Smiling when she thought of the baby she realized that despite all the weirdness, she had no regrets.

  THE END

  Ordered by a Cowboy

  Chapter One

  The sharp crease of Greyson’s custom tailored slacks broke perfectly across his pristine black loafers, and he brushed his fingers across the pressed material with irritation. He fully understood that most of his business dealings required this sort of attire, but it felt more like a costume. He preferred his denim jeans and polo shirts since his retirement from the camouflage fatigues and combat boots. He was much more at ease on the back of his favorite horse than in the leather armchair in the boardroom. Nevertheless, this was where his life had led him, and he certainly was willing to forgo a few afternoons of discomfort for the lifestyle that his empire had afforded him.

  Once the board meeting had concluded, Greyson shook the necessary hands and clapped compulsory shoulders, and made his way out the door as politely as possible. After just a few days in the city, he was ready for the wide open spaces of the ranch he called home. On his visits, he always managed to stop by his favorite Italian restaurant as well as take in the occasional show, but mostly he was ready for his housekeeper’s homemade chili, his favorite pair of jeans with the hole at the knee, and his life companion.

  Greyson had made it to forty and remained completely unmarried; however he spent every free moment with his fawn-colored pit bull, Daisy. His housekeeper, Ms. March, would just shake her head at him and repeat under her breath, that Mr. Greyson needed a woman’s touch, not a dog’s. He had come close to marriage twice in his lifetime, but both of the women had pulled back at the last minute, leaving him gun-shy of commitment and mostly lonely. The casual encounters were enough to keep the needs at bay, but it did little to warm his bed at night. He had hidden hopes of a family, but had put them on the back burner for so long, he had almost written it off completely.

  One of the indulgencies that he had given himself was the small private jet, and he would be hard-pressed to ever fly commercial again. While his was not the most luxurious model available, it was most assuredly better than trying to cram his muscular 6’6” frame into even the nicest commercial first class seat. And, as a man with a healthy appetite and a love of food, he loved being able to order anything that the catering company would delivery. The size of his homestead even allowed for a small runway and hanger, making the airport a thing of the past altogether.

  Greyson yanked off the silk tie, and tossed his suit jacket over one of the plush seats as he dropped his body into the other one. He could still remember his former C.O. giving him a hard time about his physical size.

  “You’re supposed to be a Green Beret. How could you ever sneak up on anyone with feet that big?”

  Greyson grinned down at his feet as he slipped them out of the loafers and stretched his legs out as he passed a palm over his buzzed scalp. He leaned his head back and closed his dark brown eyes. He had ideas about catching a nap during the several-hour flight, however within minutes, the flight attendant was at his elbow offering him food and drinks. He smiled up at the young blonde woman and nodded his consent. She left for a few moments, and returned with a double Scotch on the rocks, a plate of Caprese salad, a small platter of fruit and cheese, and a bowl of shrimp cocktail.

  “When you’ve finished Mr. Clark,” she drawled in a soft Texas accent, “you just let me know and I can bring out your dinner.”

  He smiled and nodded, digging into the beautifully displayed catered dishes. It took a lot of food to fill his large physique and he enjoyed a good meal, whether it was fancy catering or down-home cooking. After his finished off his salad, shrimp, and fruit, she brought out a plate full of grilled chicken, mashed potatoes, and steamed asparagus. Greyson could not help but noticed how she bent over a little too far when serving his food, giving him quite a view of her full breasts under the flight attendant uniform. He polished his dinner off along with a second tumbler of Scotch, and waved her off when she offered dessert with a glint in her eye. He bit back a chuckle when she slunk away to pout.

  He shook his head and smiled to
himself as he leaned back into the seat. He had had his share of short term relationships in his younger years, but at this stage of his life, he could not tell who was interested in him and who was interested in his bank accounts. He had determined that it might be easier to just have the short term fun when he had the opportunities, but this young blonde girl was too much even for a fun time on the airplane. It was just those types of indiscretions that landed wealthy men like him in hot water with the press and the board of directors. He was not looking to make waves will either group. There were more discreet ways to have his fun, and it did not involve the 20-something stewardess on his private jet. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep to the hum of the engine, as the plane continued its journey to his home in Arizona and to the empty bed.

  Chapter Two

  Lilly set down the pair of full water buckets onto the dirt floor and tried not to spill too much. She hardly wanted to make a second trip so quickly after the first. It was nearly a mile round trip from the house to the well and back. She smoothed her unruly dark curls back from her face, and tried to unwrinkle her brightly colored sundress to no avail. Her cappuccino colored skin glowed from the humidity and the exertion, and was still faintly scented from her cocoa butter.

  In an ongoing effort to keep their household afloat and tidy, her mother was busy in the vegetable garden behind the house while her two sisters were on the side of the little house washing and hanging clothes. After she tucked the water buckets inside out of the sun, Lilly made her way to the chicken coop to collect the day’s delivery before the rooster had his way.

  The island life was not nearly as exotic as mainlanders might think it to be. It was hot and humid most days, required hard physical work just to stay afloat, and there was no getting ahead or getting out. The vegetables and eggs kept them fed and brought in a little cash from the neighbors. The four women of the household spent most of the muggy evenings sprawled out on dilapidated old chairs in front, hoping for a breeze.

  Lilly’s mother had tried desperately to marry off the eldest daughter with no luck, had managed to get a husband for the second girl but he had been killed in a mining accident soon after the wedding, and seemed to have given up completely when it came to Lilly, the youngest. The eldest of the girls had found a job in town, working for a tailor, which helped out the family immensely. The older couple that had hired her did not have any children of their own, so the hope was, for both families, that Lilly’s oldest sister would eventually inherit the business. The middle sister was still recovering from the death of her husband but knew that she would eventually need a job or another husband.

  Oddly enough, Lilly probably would have been the easiest to marry off. She was not traditionally slender, but her curves filled out her simple sundresses amply, her emerald eyes always flashed hints about her strong personality; and her skin glowed with her enthusiasm for life. She would not have been a quiet and dutiful wife, but she was definitely the looker of the village and a hard worker.

  Almost every night, in the still humid air as she curled up on her mat, she considered the possibility that her willful attitude was a detriment to finding a husband, but she was hard pressed to tame her wild nature. She imagined herself to be a caged bird that just needed the right key for the lock. Lilly has asked her mother about the matchmaking service in the city, but her mother shooed her off, reminding her every time that they had no money for such things. It was useless to point out that the right husband could provide for the whole family, that any money paid to the matchmaker could be seen as an investment in the future.

  Lilly was determined to get herself out of the village and out of her life as she knew it. She had no intentions of her future turning out like her mother’s, and her vision would only start to become true if she made it happen herself.

  For their dinner, Lilly relit the fire under the stove in the center of the room and put on the large metal pot. She heated up the leftover vegetable soup from the night before and tossed in some extra potatoes and rice to bulk out the vegetables and broth. She tasted it and sprinkled in some fresh grated ginger to perk it up a little. She actually considered herself quite the cook. She was no gourmet chef by any stretch, but she thought that it took a certain talent to make the same meal every night and keep it interesting and appetizing.

  In addition to being the creative cook of the family, one of Lilly’s other skills was painting. Her mother shook her head whenever Lilly started messing around with her art, but as long as she paid for the materials herself, no one was going to stop her. Lilly had sold a piece here and there to tourists, and was eager to sell more. It seemed only fair that if she paid or found all of the materials on her own, then she should be allowed to keep any profits they yielded. She was stuck in the cycle of needing to sell more to afford any materials to paint more in order to have more to sell. One of the shopkeepers in the city had made her a different kind of offer, but Lilly never returned to that particular shop, vowing that certain things were not for sell, regardless of how badly she wanted her new life.

  After months of scrimping and saving, Lilly finally hitched a ride into the city, and paid a visit to the matchmaker who promised her a better life and a house without dirt as a floor.

  Chapter Three

  After the millionth time that Greyson had heard Ms. March prod him about settling down, he finally threw up his hands, huffed his disapproval, and stormed into his study, nearly slamming the door in Daisy’s little black nose. As only a forty-year-old ex-special forces billionaire can, he threw himself into the office chair in a tantrum. Daisy rested her chin on his knee and blinked quietly up at him. He rested his large hand on her back and shook his head.

  “Why does everyone think I need a wife? What’s wrong with just being single and having my fun?”

  She whimpered softly.

  “I know Daisy, I know. I have you; I have Ms. March; and I have the club when I need it. What could a wife offer that would be better?”

  Daisy shook her head to make her ears flap and he grinned down at her, “I agree. Nothing.”

  He clicked on his laptop to scan through the junk email that flooded his personal inbox. Most of them were easily deleted since he did not find himself in need of male stimulus pills or home repair or a new mortgage on his house. But one headline caught his eye in a new way.

  Are you ready to fill that empty bed of yours?

  What an odd headline, he thought, and a little too on the nose. Reluctantly, he clicked on the email with one eye on the door and the other down at Daisy.

  “What am I doing?” he asked the poor pup.

  All she did was paw at his foot in response, and nose at his hand for more petting.

  His eyes carefully read through the email text, apparently it was a matchmaker service specializing in the old-fashioned mail order brides. Now there’s a thought. Maybe I could actually benefit from that sort of thing. I can tell them what they need to know, even meet them in person if necessary to prove I’m a real guy and some kind of normal, but they don’t need to know about my financial status other than the fact that I am comfortable and financial secure.

  He looked down at Daisy and spoke out loud to her. “What the hell am I thinking? A matchmaker?”

  She nipped at his fingers for an answer.

  “Hey now, young lady!” He withdrew his hand and playfully swatted her rear end.

  He gritted his teeth, exhaled sharply, and clicked through the email to the website. No harm in filling out the form, right? He thought to himself. He laughed at the mental image of Ms. March’s face when he tells her that although he has not dated anyone in at least a year, he was going to be married.

  It seemed to ask all of the normal questions -- height, weight, eye color, hair color, gender, orientation, ethnicity, likes and dislikes, dog person or cat person, and the ever popular, paragraph introduction about yourself plus a picture.

  He did not want to use his professional headshot nor did he want to use anything
from his military days. He clicked through his hard drive and found a great one of him standing beside his favorite horse with Daisy lying at his feet. He did not consider himself to be a traditionally handsome man, but women seemed to fawn over him, so he could not have been that bad to look at.

  The paragraph about him was the most difficult part, he had to word it carefully so that there were no outright lies but so that he did not reveal too much about himself. He read and reread the paragraph until he was pleased, and clicked send.

  He shook his head down at Daisy and got up from the desk to pour himself a double Scotch.

  “I don’t have to do anything else if it turns out to be a scam.”

  Daisy turned away from him in rejection or disgust, he could not tell which one.

  Over the next few weeks, he found himself checking his personal email much more frequently; curious about any sort of results he might receive. A few came in, but they all looked to be vacuous and inept Barbie dolls which he had no real time for. Sure, they were fun when he went to his private club for an evening, but that was as far as he would ever take one of them. If he was going to settle down, he wanted someone of substance, someone real like he considered himself to be, and someone who could provide conversation on the porch as well as fun in the bedroom.

  The caption of one particular woman stood out.

  Comfortable with a paintbrush or a whisk and ready for the next chapter

  Sounds promising, he thought. And he liked the fact that it was focused on what she liked to do and what she was looking for rather than her skills between the sheets. He clicked through the woman’s profile ad and found himself captivated by the face that looked back at him. Her skin was the color of coffee with cream and her sundress was not expensive, almost looked handmade, but was well suited to her full curvy figure. He never figured himself interested in women of color, but he could not look away from the woman’s flashing green eyes or her full lips. His hand moved automatically to click the button to send her a message and his fingers typed out a message that his brain was barely aware of.