Lucy Monroe - Moon Awakening

Talorc felt like exploding. He grabbed the woman when she reached him, but stopped himself from shaking her. His strength was too deadly to allow it free reign against an innocent, even a rebellious Englishwoman. She was pretty with her purple eyes and womanly curves, but he felt no physical reaction to touching her.

He pulled her close until their thighs brushed and… nothing. No lust stirred in his loins, no desire to mate with the female. Just as he had feared when the order had come from his king. Talorc was a werewolf and even mated to a femwolf, the possibility for offspring was low, but with a human it was almost nonexistent.

Only in a true mating could a wolf and human joining result in children. He did not know how to tell if a woman was his true mate. According to the elders of his pack, there was no way… not until after the physical mating took place. But once that event took place, there could be no going back. His pack's laws stipulated that a physical mating dictated a lifetime bond.

However, he was certain of one thing. He would at least physically desire the woman if they were destined to be true mates. He did not want this woman. Though he admired her spirit, he did not even like her. How could he? She was English.

His own father had learned the folly of wedding the treacherous English. They could not be trusted… ever. And he would not have his mate chosen by a human king all too enamored of their southern foe.

He pushed Emily away, his repudiation reflected back at him in the lavender eyes spitting fury.

His clanswomen were not so undisciplined, but he had no desire to tame this English wildcat. "Listen well, woman, I'll not marry my enemy even to please my king."

"Splendid," she replied. "I believe I would rather be married to a goat than you!"

Cait took advantage of her brother's spluttering to whisk Emily up the stairs to her room. She hurried her inside and shut the door.

She looked at Emily with a mixture of disbelief and amazement. "Are you daft?"

"No, is he?"

Cait smiled. Her smile turned into a laugh and soon they were both laughing so hard that Cait collapsed on the bed and Emily leaned against the wall for support.

"I can't believe I'm laughing when my brother is surely going to kill us both," gasped Cait.

"I suppose I have gotten you in trouble with my hasty tongue, haven't I? Although, how Talorc could hold you responsible for me after such short acquaintance I don't know."

Cait shook her head. "He won't be truly angry with me, but I think he meant what he said about not marrying you."

"That's a blessing as far as I can see," Emily said with some asperity.

Cait pushed away from the wall, tucked in her stray pleats and shook her head. "If he doesn't marry you, what will happen?"

Emily's sense of victory faded. "I do not know." He sure as certain wasn't going to send for her sister Abigail to come live with them in his current state of mind.

"Did you really tell my brother you would rather be married to a goat?" Cait asked, as she smoothed her now tidy pleats over her swollen abdomen.

Emily felt herself blush at the remembrance and chagrin filled her. She'd left England determined to make herself indispensable in her husband-to-be's household so that he would let her bring Abigail to the Highlands. Now, he was likely to send her home in disgrace.

And she had no doubt Abigail would be sent in her place, even if he didn't request a new bride. Emily's stomach contracted at the thought.

She sighed in vexation with herself. The man's rudeness was no excuse for her losing her head like that. "Aye, I did. I don't know what came over me. Sybil is always telling me I need to be more ladylike. I suppose your brother thinks I'm not and there's no hope of changing his mind."

Cait laughed again and shook her head. "That is an understatement. My brother is not used to men challenging him. A challenge from a woman is bound to keep him in a foul mood a good long while." Cait sobered a little at the thought.

"Do you think he meant what he said about not marrying me, even against the orders of his overlord?"

"You needn't sound so happy about it. Talorc isn't that bad," replied Cait reprovingly.

"Yes, of course, you should say that. You are his devoted sister after all. And I'm not hopeful… not exactly." Not when her duty to her sister dictated she marry the cranky warrior. "But do you think he meant it?"

"I don't know. Talorc rarely says something he does not mean. In fact, I am not sure I remember a time he has done so," admitted Cait.

"Do you think he will send me back to England?"

Cait's eyes filled with worry. "I do not know, but I do not want you to go. I have come to rely on your company."

It was a question that had still not been answered the next afternoon. Emily desperately wanted to go home, but knew mat no matter what Talorc had decided for her future, she had to talk him out of sending her back to England. Sure as certain, she was going to have to apologize.

And the thought of apologizing to the laird was as unpleasant as the prospect of marrying him.

But Abigail would never survive life amidst the Sinclair clan. They were a prejudiced people, and Abigail's affliction on top of her being English was bound to make her life a misery.

Cait was the only person in the clan that made Emily feel welcome in any way. Everyone else either ignored her or was blatantly hostile. Especially the soldiers. It was as if they were personally offended she had been chosen to marry their laird. She felt like a leper and without Cait's friendship, she would have despaired.

As it was, when the two women went to the stream the other clanswomen used for washing, they were greeted by glares and not a single welcoming smile. Emily did her best to ignore the waves of rejection rolling over her and began washing her gowns marred by dirt on the journey north from England. But one by one, each of the clans-women left, making it clear they did not want to be soiled by her presence. Stupid, weak tears filled her eyes.

"Are they like this with all outsiders?" Emily asked Cait as she blinked back the wetness in her eyes and tried to pretend it did not bother her.

"No. One of our warriors has just mated with a woman from the Balmoral clan and the other women accepted her warmly." Cait sighed. "I fear news of your confrontation with my brother has reached the rest of the clan. They're very loyal to their laird."

"And I called him a goat."

"Not quite," Cait said with a smile.

"You're loyal to your brother, but you don't hate me, do you?" she asked, realizing Cait's kind heart might be moved to pity, but she could very well dislike Emily as much as the rest of the clan.

"Of course not. And the other women won't once they get to know you either."

"Don't they care that he called me his enemy?"

Cait shrugged. "You are English."

"And therefore the enemy?"

The other woman sighed sadly. "Yes, but it is more than that. I suppose I should have told you. Only I had hoped Talorc would learn to be reasonable about it."

"About what?"

"Our father married an Englishwoman."

"Your mother was English?"

"No. She died when I was very small. Our father remarried when Talorc was fourteen. I was five at the time. The woman was very beautiful, but not trustworthy. They had only been married three years when she betrayed our father to an English baron, greedy for more holdings. It cost our father his life and that of many clan members. Talorc has never forgiven or forgotten the offense."

"He wouldn't, but does he truly believe I would betray him too… just because I am English?"

Cait looked away. "Yes."

The next morning, Emily approached Talorc, She knew she had to apologize to him and now was as good a time as any. Besides, she wanted his permission to walk to a small lake Cait had told her about.

She wanted a bath and did not want a repeat of the day before. Naturally, she would not tell Talorc that bit of her plan.

"What do you want?" he demanded.

"I wish to apologize… for saying I would rather wed a goat than you."

"Why?"

"I was angry with you."

"I know why you insulted me. Why are you apologizing?"

"A marriage begun with insults has little hope of harmony."

"There will be no marriage."

"But your king—"

"Will forget such an insignificant order in due course."

"You believe an order to wed insignificant?"

"Yes."

"I see. What do you plan to do with me then?"

He shrugged as if her future was of no consequence. And undoubtedly, to him it would be. But she could not be so sanguine. "I do not want you to send me home."

"You lie, just like all the English."

"I do not lie."

"You do not want to live here."

"That is true."

"Then you lie."

"I don't."

She saw nothing for it and explained about Abigail.

"So, you came in hopes of saving your sister from having to come here and marry me?"

"Yes."

"That is commendable." He said it grudgingly, but he was no longer scowling at her.

"She is gentle. She would not understand the coldness of your clan toward an English bride for their laird."

"And you do?"

Emily didn't, but she wasn't about to destroy the little rapport they had managed to achieve by saying so. "I do not want my sister hurt."

"I will not hurt her."

"So, you will not send me back?"

"I have not decided."

He stood up as if to go and she understood their discussion was at an end. She hurriedly made her request about the lake. He did not acknowledge it directly, but assigned a single young soldier to escort her, thereby giving his tacit approval and underscoring just how unimportant she was in his estimation if he would not waste a seasoned warrior on her escort.

But he had seemed to understand about Abigail at least. That was something. When Cait heard where Emily planned to go, the other woman insisted on accompanying her.

They reached the lake after a half an hour of brisk walking. Cait ordered the young soldier to wait for them with his back turned on the other side of some bushes. After realizing the two women intended to bathe, the boy turned bright red and hurried to obey his laird's sister.

As always, Emily was careful to stay in the shallowest water, refusing Cait's invitation to swim with hidden revulsion. The thought of going into deeper water made her sick to her stomach as it always did and she had to bide that as well. She was proud of her ability to do so.

Emily and Cait were finished bathing and redonning their clothes when Cait went utterly still. She turned toward where the Sinclair soldier had gone as if trying to see through the thick plant growth.

"What's the matter?" Emily asked. "He's not peeking is he?"

Cait shook her head and put her finger against her lips in a sign to be quiet. Emily couldn't imagine what had her so agitated, but she did as Cait said and finished dressing as silently as possible. Cait did the same, her expression stark with worry.

She went rigid with tension, grabbing the small knife she used at mealtimes from her belt. Her eyes were fixed on the foliage several feet from the water's edge. Emily's gaze followed Cait's, though she had no idea what they were both watching for. A wild animal perhaps? But she hadn't heard anything and she had very good hearing.

The answer came a second later as five gigantic warriors, their faces painted with macabre blue designs and wearing a plaid of dark blue, green and pale yellow came out of the forest. They were riding the biggest horses she'd ever seen… bareback.

Emily thought she had been prepared for anything in this Highland country, but she hadn't been ready for this. If someone had told her the day before that there were warriors more intimidating than the Sinclairs, she would have laughed in the person's face. She wasn't laughing now.

Nay. She was too busy praying.

The giant men rode toward her and Cait, their fierce scowls made even more menacing by the blue war paint. It was not so much that they were bigger than the Sinclair warriors as that they carried themselves as if they owned the world and all that was in it. Considering they were on another clan's territory, that said something. She'd never seen such arrogance and she'd been raised by one ox England's most ruthless barons and was now betrothed to the formidable Sinclair laird.