Scent of Scotland: Lord of Moray #1 (Scottish Werewolf Shifter Romance)

by Mac Flynn

The lord led me inside and through the open doors that stood on the rear left in the entrance hall. The doors led into a large dining hall that stretched to the far wall that abutted the courtyard. Large windows gave me my first good glimpse of the yard, and I saw it was an open space surrounded on three sides where the snow was trampled by many feet. The side opposite the front of the house was empty, and I glimpsed some tall bushes across the lawn.

  The center of the room was occupied by the long, thick oak table, and its chairs numbered two dozen and four. There was a great hearth in the center of the left wall, and a warm fire crackled in its belly. Two plates with glasses were set at the end of the table closest to the entrance, and opposite where we stood was a small entrance door where servants came and went. The lord led me over to the table and pulled out the chair on the right of that which stood at the head.

  I hesitated and eyed him with suspicion.

  "Though you believe that I am not one, may I at least play the part of a gentleman?" he pleaded.

  I pursed my lips, but took a seat in the chair and he pushed me close to the table. Something out of the corner of my eyes caught my attention, and I looked to my right. There was nothing but the lit hearth at the end of the room, but I swore I had seen something of a different, white, color flicker in that direction.

  The lord took his seat at the head of the table and two servants entered. One carried a jug of wine, and another held a platter of various meats. The platter was set between us with a two-pronged fork for easy picking, and the wine was poured into our glasses. The lord's eyes flickered to them, and they bowed and exited. We were left alone with only the crackling fire to break the silence between us.

  The lord grasped his glass and studied me for a moment. "McKenna had written to me of your looks, but I fear he has been most unkind to you," he commented.

  "I care not for his opinion of me," I retorted.

  The lord chuckled. "No, I suppose you do not, though I wonder at your general opinion of lairds."

  I lifted my head and glared at him. "If they are all as you are then I believe them all to be pigs."

  He leaned back in his chair and his humor did not leave him. "Perhaps our poor start is due to your not knowing me better, nor I even your name. What is it?"

  "Since I shall be gone in a week than is should be of little concern to you," I replied.

  "But if we are to be acquaintances, even for a short time, I should wish to call you something," he persisted.

  I took the fork in hand and skewered a large piece of meat. "Then call me what you would," I absently suggested.

  "What of 'Beloved?'" he put forth.

  The fork in my hand froze halfway to my plate and I looked to him with a scowl. "I would say not."

  He chuckled. "Then if you wish to call me anything other than Beloved I must know your name."

  The piece of meat reached my plate and I scowled at the food. "Abigail. . ." I murmured.

  "Pardon?" he asked me.

  I sighed and lifted my head so our eyes met. "My name is Abigail, and I would have you use only that name."

  He smiled and bowed his head. "As you wish, Abigail. Now that we are-"

  "Wait a moment," I interrupted as I studied the unknown lord. "You have not properly introduced yourself."

  He raised an eyebrow. "I see. McKenna did not have a chance to tell you."

  I scowled and stabbed the meat with my knife. "He did not give me a choice in the matter. I was drugged by a strange smell on a cloth and knew very little until we arrived here."

  The lord sighed and bowed his head. "I must apologize for that necessity, but I am sure if McKenna thought it necessary it was-"

  "Necessary!" I yelled as I jumped to my feet. I ripped the knife from the meat and pounded the butt of the utensil against the table. "You think it necessary to kidnap me from my life for your own amusement?"

  He shook his head. "This was not for any amusement, but for the benefit of both of us."

  I glared at him. "What benefit could there be for me to have my life ripped from me so violently?"

  "The chance at a better one here at Castle Moray," he revealed.

  "And I suppose you are the lord here," I retorted.

  He stood and his tall height dwarfed my own by a head. The man crossed his arm over his chest and bowed to me. "My name is Kenneth Moray, Laird of Moray."

  I leaned back and studied the man. He was certainly handsome enough to warrant the title. "I care not of what lordship you own," I returned.

  Lord Moray raised his head and a crooked smile slipped onto his lips. "Not even to what ladyship you might aspire?"

  I frowned. "You mock me with your words. No lord would marry a woman whom they kidnapped, and certainly not one from the lower streets of London."

  Lord Moray chuckled and resumed his seat. He gestured to my former chair. "Please be seated, and I will tell you what has brought our lives together."

  I reluctantly took up my chair, but the knife I set in my lap. The light through the windows dimmed to nothing as the clouds overtook the skies above the castle, and the room was cast in deep shadow but for a single candelabra on the table and the flickering flames in the hearth.

  The lord took a drink of wine and set the glass on the table. When he spoke his voice was soft and calm.

  "For you our meeting has been sudden, but I have waited for you for much of my life," he revealed.

  I stiffened. "Have you followed me-" He held up a hand.

  "You misunderstand me," he insisted. "I did not know exactly who you were, only that you existed in the world. You see, my-well, shall we say people have a very unusual custom. We have but one bride in the whole of the world, one Intended, who is perfectly suited for us. All others are either inferior or a complete mismatch."

  "And you think me this bride?" I guessed.

  He chuckled. "I know it is you, or at least the confirmation was sent to me by the pair whom I employed to find you."

  I scowled. "The man and woman who kidnapped me."

  He nodded. "The same. You followed their carriage, and they deduced to which client you belonged. I was that client."

  "Then you bewitched me!" I accused him.

  He held up a hand. "I did nothing but call you to me through my scent."

  I jumped to my feet and brandished the knife. "Sorcery! I will hear no more of this blasphemy! Allow me to leave at once!" I insisted.

  He stood and positioned himself between the door and me. "My people are thought to be cursed, but we have no dealings with the Devil," he argued.

  My eyes flickered from left to right. Escape lay through the servant's door or the main entrance. Neither was open. The darkness of the young night demanded I would need the candles, as well, and some outstanding luck to escape the grounds. Still, I hoped.

  "I will believe nothing you say, sorcerer! Let me go on my way with a fast horse at once!" I demanded.

  He held out his hand to me and a strange, yellow glow illuminated his eyes. They shone brightly in the dim light of the long, dark room. His voice was clear but low, and a familiar scent wafted from his person.

  "Would you leave your mate?" he asked me.

  The scent slipped into my nose and my eyes widened as the familiar smell of cedar trees revealed itself to me. "Your scent. . ." I whispered as I lowered the knife. "What is this scent?"

  "It is my own scent, a part of me no one else in the whole world can mimic," he told me.

  "Why did I follow it to the stables? What mastery has it over me? Is it bewitched?" I accused him.

  The lord chuckled and shook his head. "Nothing so magical, I assure you. The scent is merely one very pleasing to you and to which you find yourself attracted. Nothing more is needed for two soul mates to find one another."

  "We are nothing to reach other," I argued.

  He stretched out his hand to me. "But we are. The scent proves as much," he insisted.

&n
bsp; "A smell proves nothing but that it is pleasant or unpleasant to the senses," I counter.

  "But surely your inner nature tells you your mind is wrong," he persisted.

  Lord Moray took a step towards me. I shook my head of the scent for a moment and stumbled back. I raised the knife, but my anger and fear were gone. There was no desire to use the weapon on this strange man. He stopped and stretched out his hand to me again.

  "Please, my Beloved," he pleaded. "Trust me."

  His words should have weighed their weight in air, but I found myself seduced by the sincerity in his tone. I lowered the knife and studied the man.

  "Finish your story," I commanded him.

  He smiled and gestured to the table. "Will you not-"

  "No. I wish for you to finish what you have to say to me," I insisted.

  He dropped his hand and sighed. "When one of my people is fortunate enough to find their Intended then they have found their life mate. The union strengthens both parties in every sense of the word, and they live together for the rest of their days."

  "And I am to be your 'life mate?'" I surmised.

  "Yes, because you react so affectionately to my scent," he replied.

  "You have spoken of benefits, but what consequences would this new life force upon me?" I wondered.

  His face fell and he again gestured to the table. "Perhaps that should be left until after supper."

  "No. I will have my answers now, or you shall provide me with a carriage to take me as far as could be traveled ahead of the storm," I demanded.

  Lord Moray sighed and dropped his hands to his sides. "My people, as I have referred to them, are rather unusual."

  "So I have heard of the Scottish," I commented.

  He shook his head. "I do not refer to that heritage, but the one that encompasses us both within its grasp. I speak of the gift, and curse, of being a werewolf."

  I furrowed my brow. "Of what do you speak?"

  "A werewolf is a man, or woman, who is capable of transforming their body into that of a wolf," he explained.

  I took a step back and tightened my grip on the knife, though I did not raise the weapon. "You are mad," I told him.

  A sad smile slipped onto his lips. "Sometimes I wish that was so, but I know I am not. If you do not believe me than I will show you." He half-turned away from me, but paused when he noticed I did not follow. "That is, if you wish to have all your answers this moment."

  I frowned, but straightened and dropped my arm which held the knife to my side.

  "I will go with you."

  CHAPTER 6