Romance: Duke Romance: The Duke’s Search for a Wife (Marriage Romance First Time Romance Historical Romance) (Royalty Wedding Regency Romance)

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Romance: Duke Romance: The Duke’s Search for a Wife (Marriage Romance First Time Romance Historical Romance) (Royalty Wedding Regency Romance) Page 4

by Brant, Rachel


  She opened her eyes wide now, but could not see him anywhere. It was typical of him to not to be able to even get it together enough to star in her death scene properly, she thought.

  The light came towards her. It was okay. She could do this, she had heard all about moving into the light. It was painless and kind of ethereal.

  She was being propelled, moving forwards towards it, in her car, apparently.

  So okay, so she was headed for the afterlife in a clapped out Ford Focus. Perhaps not the mode of transport she would have chosen, but it was alright she guessed.

  Out of the very corner of her eye she noticed a shape in the rear mirror - something large and dark and maybe hairy.

  A man? Not a man? Perhaps some sort of animal, she wasn’t quite sure. This had to be some kind of hallucination surely.

  But now she was feeling a terrible overwhelming desire to sleep, literally to the point where she could no longer keep her eyes open. So she just lay back there, in the driving seat, moving but, seemingly not driving and allowed the large grey snow cloud envelop her and swallow her whole with its icy curled tongue.

  The gentle swaying motion of the car and the mad snowstorm melted themselves together to cradle her to a baby like sleep.

  “No love don’t go now” The voice wisped. Then something she was not expecting. Soft warm lips melted on top of her own. His taste and scent was so oddly comforting but she couldn’t for the life of her place who her amour was. He was warm – hairy almost- and in an instant the kiss had dissolved like one of the snowflakes hitting the windscreen and tricking gradually down the bonnet in a torrent of cold ice water.

  A sound, heavy like footsteps was pound pounding away from her and then faded altogether.

  She slept soundly. When she awoke she had no idea how long it had been for but it was now dark outside.

  A light pierced her retinas. At first, she thought it was the gates of the afterworld, then getting her surroundings a bit more in order, decided it was more likely to be another pair of car headlamps, but after a short while this too was downgraded to a mere flashlight.

  “Hey there love, are you alright?” She heard a deep man’s voice saying, in the Yorkshire accent she was only just getting used to hearing.

  There was the quick rush of water rushing somewhere nearby. Glancing out the side window she saw a thinly frozen brook running parallel to the road. Directly in front was a gloomy grey stone cottage. Everything was covered in a thick layer of snow that she couldn’t remember happening.

  “What time is it? Is it four o clock yet?” She asked, suddenly aware that she was now hopelessly late for her meeting.

  He laughed drily. For the first time Catharina turned to look at who was talking to her. A tall well-built man in his early 30s perhaps, maybe 6’5”, dark, thickly set and with a serious face but strangely indecipherable brown eyes.

  “I make it about half past six love. If you’re late for something I’m afraid it’s going to have to wait. You’re in no state to drive and anyway your car is what is technically known as frigged. Come on, let’s get you out of there and warmed up.”

  He held out his hands to help her get out. They were huge. She shivered. It was cold, his touch was warm.

  In a daze, the outside world came into pale focus. It was now firmly night time on an ice cold freezing Yorkshire winter’s eve.

  “Did.. did you pull me out the ditch?”

  “Ditch?” He pulled his face together into a frown. “No love, I just found you here. It’s like you were on a collision course wi’ summat. These roads give alt strangers gip like.”

  Catharina’s brain struggled to translate all this. She thought he was saying that he didn’t get her out the ditch, but couldn’t be sure.

  “But.. something pulled me out.. something big and kind of.. black”

  “Summat eh? Not someone? Well. Maybe you had a tow from the wild cat then!”

  The stranger guided her through the snow lined dirt track up to the dark looking cottage.

  “Wild cat?” Catharina spun wildly around on her stiletto heels and nearly slipped in the snow that she was so delicately picking her way through.

  She was sure she heard a stifled moan of exasperation, but could not have known of the frustrated burst that had just erupted in the man, to simply lift her over his shoulder and carry her into the cottage without all this messing about! However, the gentleman in him managed to quell this urge as quickly as it had arisen. Just.

  Instead, he gripped her shoulders a little more tightly with his warm, thick fingers.

  There was something to get hold of on her, at least, he noticed with approval. Then tried to banish that thought. All the same an energy ran all the way through him and tingled as it came into contact with her body. He was a stranger, so surely this level of intimacy was wrong, but it somehow felt right.

  As he opened the door he ushered her onto a small two seater battered couch in the dark and set about lighting a candle.

  She sat down, trying to pick out the shape of the room through the shadows as the flame flickered into life. His eyes were burning holes straight into hers. But instead of making her feel uncomfortable, it made her want to reach out to him.

  This was crazy though, right?

  In that instant, she didn’t know what had happened, but she was halfway across the room, by the coffee table, standing next to him, taking his hand and holding it tenderly.

  And then he turned and kissed her, with an intensity she hadn’t been expecting and a sweetness she would never forget. The desire that she felt literally exploded all over her body right there and then. Madly, passionately and deeply she was kissing him all over like it was some kind of disease and he was the only cure.

  His hand caressed her down to her brassiere and gently unhooked it. They were kissing furiously, angrily and she didn’t know how to make it stop. They didn’t want to make it stop.

  But as suddenly as it had started it did do. He broke off abruptly, with a look of slight guilt in his eyes.

  “I should let you, er…rest”

  Then he disappeared out the room somewhere, leaving her sitting partly undressed on his couch sipping a brandy that had appeared from out of nowhere.

  When he came back it was with two bowls full of something hot and steaming. She thought she smelt vegetables and meat.

  They ate in an uncomfortable silence, although the stew was good.

  As she chewed and digested, Catharina’s mind wandered to what had just happened in the ditch and what was real and what was fantasy. It was getting blurred.

  But whatever creature it was that she had thought she had seen, she did not think it was any sort of cat, no matter how wild.

  “You should get some sleep; the roads might be passable tomorrow.” Heath said, by way of trying to excuse himself.

  “I’m Catharina by the way. Catharina Morgan” She said suddenly. It was about someone said something sensible.

  “I’m Jack. Jack Heath, but everyone calls me Heath.” He said, and very formally they shook hands, like polite acquaintances at a frosty dinner party reception.

  “Goodnight Catharina.” He said the armor in his dark eyes had come down hard again and now there was no chink of light into what machinations his heart might be. Then she watched as he headed up some steps – that weren’t much more than a ladder really – to a hidden upstairs where she supposed his bedroom was.

  “Goodnight Heath.”

  No whatever it had been was more like a bear.

  *****

  The embers burnt low in the hearth and flickered like blades about the room. Catharina had slept soundly for many hours but was suddenly and urgently awake and in desperate need of a pee.

  In the dark she stumbled about, banging into things and stubbing her bastard bloody toe on everything and anything. With more than a shiver of nerves she steeled herself and finding the flashlight that he had left for her, picked her way delicately up the ladder to where she hoped the bath
room might be.

  On the way back down she thought she heard the sound of an engine revving. And a headlight filled the room with momentary light. But it wasn’t a car, it was a bike.

  That’s funny, she thought, there didn’t seem to be any other house around here for miles, so natural curiosity got the eventual better of her fear and she grabbed her shawl and stupid heels and headed for the door.

  She stood and watched, the bright silver moon presiding over the crisp ice of the Yorkshire night – all the mist had now lifted and it was an extremely cold night.

  Nothing to see here and silly of her to be standing about catching a chill in this temperature. Catharina was just about to open the door when another sound stopped her dead. It was like some sort of a growl.

  Unable to see anything, she clutched the side of the cottage and peered around. There were scraping noises coming from along the road. Then another sound, but more muted this time and more like a moan. She was still not sure if it was human or an animal but it was incredibly eerie.

  Of course there were bound to be things roaming the moors at this time of night – like a dog perhaps – did cats growl? The sound came again. Catharina pulled back and sharply inhaled the sharp winter air until it hurt her lungs as the snow caught thickly on her hair.

  Didn’t really snow in England huh?

  Against her better judgment Catharina decided that this required further investigation and trotted carefully across the snow laden road. Stilettos weren’t exactly ideal, but a lifetime of wearing them whilst carrying a few extra pounds meant she knew better than most how to balance nimbly and - added advantage - they were so tall they kept her feet dry.

  A sight made her jaw drop wide open. A chink of moonlight revealed a shape – large, dark, but way too thick and tall to be human, dragging what looked like a huge sheet of metal across the dirt track road, pushing the snow along with it quite swiftly.

  Very swiftly in fact, it moved remarkably quickly for something that was so big and lumbering. Although in the distance, it appeared to be moving towards her – at some speed. One thing was for certain, it sure wasn’t any cat!

  For a moment, she froze in total horror, petrified in the full glare of the snowy road. She had walked further than she had thought away from the cottage, but now urgently wanted to get back there. Whatever this thing was it was advancing closely towards her. She grasped her flashlight and her purse tight to her person.

  This was no dog, no cat and no human being. There, in the full light of the moon stood a huge grizzly bear.

  Then she remembered something. That thing she was clutching so tightly, her purse. She opened it and reached inside and pulled out the pistol.

  Never for one single minute had she thought she would ever need a gun, not here in England. Truth be told, she wasn’t overly keen on them at home, but her dad had insisted all of them, her mom and sisters all knew how to use firearms correctly. He had also been adamant about her having this pistol.

  “But Daddy, it’s not like here, people just don’t own guns over there like here, there’s strict laws and stuff.” She’d argued, but it was to no avail. She found the paperwork mailed to her in the post the next day and, well, here she was locking and loading and preparing to shoot a bear on a desolate road in rural England.

  “Go on – just – just shoo, buzz off” She said, to the bear, she knew obviously it couldn’t understand. Deep down, she couldn’t believe something with such sensitive brown eyes could be really about to cause her harm. However, she had enough experience with wildlife to know that your heart could not always be allowed to rule your head. Her father had taught her good on that score, at least.

  The bear just stood there, then, advanced towards her. Not in a threatening way, maybe, but she couldn’t take any chances.

  She had not intended to cause the animal any distress – let alone hurt it - just fire a couple of warning shots to make it run away. But the gun unexpectedly went off just as she was loading it. Suddenly, the bear howled a terrible howl. She had hit it!

  Shit! Shit! Shit! Blood dripped from its paw.

  Then the moon disappeared behind a cloud and she could not see properly what she was doing. Time to retreat, definitely. Catharina started walking backwards through the snow, as fast as you can do in six inch heels. When the moon reappeared she could no longer see where the bear was. This was definitely not good.

  With a stab of pure horror she saw a shape lying in the roadside where the bear had been. Bleeding, still, she had only glanced the edge of his paw though?

  But this was no animal. This shape was clearly human.

  A scream rose in Catharina’s throat, trying to airlessly force its way out of her gullet. What the actual fuck was happening. What was wrong with this place? With her? Was she having some sort of head trauma? She shot a bear, didn’t she?

  The body was face down. Oh my God. What if he was dead?

  Pure fear got the better of her but she steeled herself to go and check, when the man let out a sigh.

  He was clearly not dead, but quite possibly pissed at her and still after her.

  Not knowing what to think, Catharina ran as fast as humanely possible, anywhere, just anywhere to get away from him and to safety.

  “Stop” He yelled loudly, but it was too late, she had gotten too far away from him already.

  Still Catharina was not prepared to stop running. She might be on the larger side but she was far from unfit. She regularly surprised people by being able to out run them and generally being quite sporty.

  By now she was quite lost and cursing the day she had ever set foot in Yorkshire. It was freezing, literally. Even if the adrenaline of the situation was at the moment keeping her heart pumping Catharina knew she was in danger from more just crazy bears and weird guys on moor sides. Hypothermia was a killer; she knew that well from winters in Maine.

  A motorbike engine revved and over the top of the hill came a rider.

  “Catharina!”

  “Heath!” she screamed. She had never been more pleased to see another living being in her entire life.

  “Jesus but you’re freezing.” He said, dismounting the bike. It was a cold night but he looked completely smoking hot, in black leathers. He removed the jacket he was wearing and placed it on her shoulders.

  “C’mon”

  He put his arm around her. Something warm dripped on to her white, frozen numbed hands. It was blood.

  “You’re… oh my actual God I shot you didn’t I..?”

  “Don’t worry, it’s just a cut. Come on.”

  “But... but the bear...” She said. Standing aghast in the light of the moon, her dark hair hanging in ringlets, damped down by the constant snow. No matter how cold she was this needed sorting out, right now.

  “He’s gone now. Well. Sort of, put away for the time being. I’ll keep him in check just for now in case you try and take any more pot shots at us!”

  Catharina opened her mouth but failed to make any sound at all.

  “I can’t lie to you Catharina. The bear is me and I am the bear. We are one.”

  As Catharina imbibed snowflakes, Heath actually had the nerve to laugh at her.

  “Come on, it’s not as crazy as it sounds, but I tell you what is – standing around on these moors waiting to catch the death of a cold.”

  He climbed onto the bike, without murmuring she got on to the back and held on tight. He was warm and solid and safe. Bear or no bear, she was going with him.

  *****

  It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. She didn’t do stuff like this. Usually. But there was nothing usual about that night, nor the day before it. She didn’t usually get run off the road, stay at a strangers house then discover they were a bear shifter, oh, and then shoot them for good measure.

  They had spent the night deliciously entwined in Heath’s bed upstairs, a good solid wooden four poster. The freezing night air had been replaced by pure sweat and body heat. It wasn’t just the sex, but
the physical feeling of being close to him. His body gave off a glow that she felt she could almost bask in.

  But the next morning, she was slow to awaken and then found herself alone - and late. Reality bit suddenly and extremely deeply.

  There were places she was meant to be and people she needed to see. Not only had she failed to show for the scheduled appointment but she had not even been able to call them to let them know about it. In blind panic she picked up her cell phone, but there was still no signal.

  Cursing outwardly Catharina fell into a frenzied worry. Sally, her boss would be calling the police, James Bond, the Scots Guards and hell knows who else besides.

  And God forbid that then word should then filter back to her roommate, her disappearance would be broadcast across Dulwich Hamlet and the east coast of USA before she even had chance to get dressed.

  Her father would be on the phone to the goddamned FBI. Catharina shut her eyes she had to make that thought stop.

  Her roommate, Ida, was the ultimate worry wort. She had once gotten the local neighborhood watch out for her after she had one too many in the pub and spent a few hours on a friend’s couch. She didn’t even sleep there the whole night! She had stumbled back late at half past one in the morning, on tiptoes, trying not to wake anyone, only to find some sort of incident room had replaced their kitchen, with two community support officers and the chairwoman of the residents association nodding seriously and poring over an unflattering photo of her with a face full of linguini.

  She rolled her eyes at the memory and braced herself for the potential of something even worse being about to happen when she finally did reach town and check in with civilization.

  “I told you I don’t know anything about any gunshot.” She heard Heath’s voice saying from the kitchen as she approached. Tentatively she stopped by the door, hesitating to go in.

  Through the crack she spied a police officer in the kitchen, sort of tubby and all knowing. She sensed an atmosphere between the two of them.

  “There wouldn’t be any firearms on the premise would there Heath?”

 

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