Regency Romance: A Duchess in Disguise (Historical 19th Century Victorian Romance) (Duke Fantasy Billionaire Romance) (8 page)

Laurie shouted
to Alexander
to watch out, but Alexander wasn't quick enough. The silver sword lashed across his back, cutting a deep wound in his flesh. As he groaned and arched his back, another Sutherland warrior saw that Alexander was injured, and lashed at him with an ax, cutting his leg open. Laurie roared and increased the tempo of his sword work, killing both Alexander's attackers before they could finish him off. As Alexander lay on the ground, bleeding heavily, Laurie waved
for his father
to ride forward and collect him.

Laird Muir rode towards them and dismounted. With Laurie's assistance, he slung his son over the horse's back and ordered Laurie to take Alexander to safety. Laurie was
reluctant,
but Laird Muir insisted. A few moments later Laird Muir was killed by a sword strike to his neck. Despite the loss of Alexander and Laird Muir, the alliance was holding its own in the battle.

*****

When the guard opened the dungeon door, he walked over to
Eana
and prodded her with his foot. She'd been lying in the damp dungeon for two days. Her body, deprived of food, had closed down and sent her into a deep sleep. When he prodded her again, she woke.
Looking through half open eyes, she saw a large man in Sutherland Tartan looking down at her, longingly.
It was then that she realized her kilt had ridden up around her waist. The guard was clearly no gentleman.

''You're to come with me,'' he said as he pulled her to her feet. ''Laird Sutherland is waiting for you. He took her arm and pulled her up, roughly. The straw she had been lying on must have been years
old;
it was
more black
than yellow. Her hands were
filthy,
and her knee was swollen, making it almost impossible for her to stand. As she struggled to her feet, he pulled her harder, amusing himself, causing her more pain that was necessary. She hobbled next to
him,
his fist entwined in her collar. Mounting the stairs caused her excruciating pain, and soon the guard had had enough. He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder.

When he dumped her on the
floor,
she heard a group of men laughing at her. She was in the great hall where it appeared a celebratory meal was being prepared. From the
ground,
she saw legs, men's legs, in knee-length woolen socks. They grouped around her in a circle, and when she looked up, she saw Laird Sutherland glaring down at her. When he flapped his hand, a younger man bent down and pulled her to her feet.

''Look, this will be our after dinner entertainment,'' Sutherland announced. He put his hand around her neck and kissed her cheek. She spat at him, the men laughed. Not enjoying being the butt of their joke, he thrust his hands down her blouse and grabbed a breast, painfully. ''I will be first, and after
me,
there will be many more.'' He pushed her into the arms of the young man. ''Tie her face down to the table,'' he pointed at a small wooden affair in front of the large banqueting tables. ''I want to look at my dessert while
I'm having
the main course.'' The men laughed again.

When the young man had finished tying her to the table, she was spreadeagled and ready for what Sutherland had in mind.

******

A ring of men stood around the bed and listened to the priest as he crossed himself, and began to give Alexander his last rights. Despite his colossal size, the loss of Laird Muir and the imminent loss of his friend was too much for Laurie, and tears streamed over his
blood-stained
cheeks. When the priest had finished, Laurie took Alexander's hand and knelt down next to him.

''Dear friend, take heart, we did not yield to the evil of the Sutherland clan, and we have our lands still. Laird Irvine is
alive,
and he will assist us to find a new leader.'' He squeezed Alexander's hand more firmly. ''Remember one thing, you were magnificent in battle, we were magnificent in
battle,
and Sutherland went away
empty-handed
.''

He stood up and looked at Alexander. His face was swollen and covered
in
his own and his enemy's blood. His leg had a terrible gash in
it,
the bone was visible. Laurie was the only person
around
the bed to have seen the deep wound in Alexander's back. He knew it was no use hoping.

One of the men cried out and pointed. Then another and a third. Soon they all jumped back in horror. When Laurie followed their pointing figures, he saw it. Flesh closing over the wound on Alexander’s leg. First the bone
disappeared, and then
the tissue began to knit together. In a few seconds the skin was
closing,
and soon
afterwards
, there was no wound at all.

''Turn him over,'' Laurie wanted to look at Alexander's back. They were just in time to see the wound on his back close, no scar visible. ''The Lord is taking him,'' Laurie concluded.

Alexander coughed and spluttered his way back to consciousness.  When he opened his
eyes,
the men ran out of the room leaving Laurie with a drawn sword, ready to slay whatever evil was at hand.

''Laurie.......what happened?''

''Jesus mother of Mary, is it
you,
Alexander?''

''Who else?''

''But your wounds. You should be dead. I took you half dead from the battlefield and unable to do anything for you, a priest gave you your last rights.''

''Well, clearly something very strange has happened,'' Alexander said. He pulled his leg away when Laurie rubbed his hand over the place where the wound had been.

''This place was open to the bone, just a minute ago. Don't you have any pain at all?''

''I have never felt better.'' He jumped up and began to run on the spot. ''Look, like new.'' Alexander thought for a minute. ''Do you know where
Eana
is?''

''Not exactly, but we think she has been held captive by Sutherland after visiting him in a vain bid to keep the peace.''

*****

The great hall at Sutherland Castle was full of warriors quenching their thirst after the battle. When Laird Sutherland spoke to them, it appeared the Sutherland Clan had won the battle. Some of his men looked at each other, rolling their eyes in the knowledge that neither side had won an outright victory, and that,
in all probability,
there would be another battle soon. They were all drunk, very drunk and very relaxed. Few of them could take their eyes from
Eana
as her curves strained against the rope which bound her.

''In  a few moments, men, we will have some fun with this young woman. She's the daughter of Laird Irvine.'' The men
booed,
and some of them threw bread and wine at her. ''Muir is dead,'' the men cheered. ''And if his son isn't dead, I will be astonished.'' More cheers. He waved and walked from his place at the center of the banqueting table. When he reached
Eana
, he ran his hand over her calf and up under her skirt. When she screamed, the men laughed. Several of them began to masturbate at what was about to happen. In one movement, Sutherland ripped her kilt from her, and then her
wine-sodden
underwear. As her naked bottom became visible, Sutherland pulled his kilt up and got onto the table. He was drunk, but soon he stood above her, gripping his hard penis.

As he lowered himself onto her, an arrow fizzed across the room. It hit him in the left buttock, burying itself deep into the flabby flesh. He groaned and thrust a hand to the place of impact. Another arrow hit him in the opposite buttock. He fell
backwards
from the table, landing in a drunken heap. His men stood up and began to stagger towards him, but soon the room was full of Muir and Irvine Clan. Warriors weary after
battle
, but sober
and fighting for a just cause: to rescue the Laird's daughter and the wife of the new Laird Muir.

The drunken Sutherland warriors stood no chance, and most of them died in the great hall.
Alexander
thrust his bow and arrows to the ground and ran to the table where his wife lay. As he approached her, he bent down to Laird
Sutherland,
who was still in agony on the floor. ''Thank you for showing me how important she is to me.'' He took out his dagger and finished Sutherland off with a flourish of his arm.

He cut the ropes and scooped
Eana
into his arms, covering her with his tartan cloak. When they were a safe distance from the castle he stopped and sat down under a tree, still cradling her in his strong arms.

''What did you do? I was dying?'' he asked.

''Sutherland told me you were either dying or already dead. All I did was wish you were healthy. Nothing more.''

''Well, you frightened the life out of Laurie,'' he laughed. ''It was you that cured me, I am
certain,
and I
am certain of one other thing: that I was wrong to doubt you.
I now realize that you are the kindest woman
alive,
and you only know good. I am sorry, please forgive me, I love you.''

''And I love you too, Alexander Muir. Now please take me home and make love to me but more gently than last time, my knee won't stand up to the intensity of your passion for long.''

****

The Irvine Clan and the Muir Clan flourished under Alexander and
Eana's
leadership. The Sutherland Clan desperate for peace after many years of war, elected a new leader, a fierce but kind woman named Morag. The friendship she and
Eana
developed ensured peace for the next fifty years.

*****

THE END

Chapter One

Margaret didn’t know how to feel as she watched the landscape pass quickly by. The train’s window had a small handprint on the inside near to her. She wanted to clean it off but had nothing to use. Her mother had pressed it upon her that she needed to be a clean and tidy young lady and that no husband would ever respect her as a woman if she was a slob. She hadn’t spent a day in her life looking unkempt. Her mother would never have allowed it.

Margaret pulled her feet up under the bench and locked them at the ankles. Her hands were folded neatly over her satchel, which she held in her lap. She was gripping the handle as if the bag wanted to jump off her lap and run away on invisible legs. When she realized she had such a tight grip, she relaxed her hands and splayed her fingers a few times to stretch them.

While doing so, she met eyes with a young man across the way from her. He nodded at her, tipping his hat. She nodded back and lowered her eyes. She didn’t know him and she was on her way to meet her new husband. It would look very bad for her to be seen speaking with a young man she didn’t even know.

She brought her eyes back up and looked through the window again. She would have sworn it was just raining out there. Now it looked like they were passing through a dry desert. Seconds later, the scene was completely blocked as they went through a tunnel that had been dug right through the middle of a mountain.

Margaret felt a bit of apprehension but shook it off. Her family was centered on people with strong back bones. Her father had begun teaching her at the age of seven to be one of the best horse breeders and trainers there was in all of England…or at least their little Meadowbrook Village area. When he had immigrated with his family to America, he had brought his business and his love for horses with him. These were traits he never had to try hard to instill in his only daughter.

Margaret had never wanted for anything and had always known if there was anyone she could count on in life, it would be her father. She was proud and had a high level of self-esteem. Her strong countenance and narrow stare had been known to shut the dirty mouth of the sailor and quiet the screaming child, one the same as the other. She also had a strong faith in God and often called upon Him to help her through the trials and tribulations of life.

This would have made it rather odd that she would be responding to an ad in the paper for a bride to come to the West and join a stranger in matrimony. And it was true that she had initially been against it. But the more her father talked about it, the more she had become convinced it was the right thing to do. She was advancing in age and she needed to make sure she had a family to carry on the family business. Her two brothers would not be able to take over when their father passed on. One had died in the war and the other was not interested in horses in the least. The only use Margaret had for him was that he was swiftly able to convince their father just to let a woman take over – or at least marry her off to someone who would do it.

Margaret would have preferred to take over the business on her own. But there was little to no women running any businesses anywhere in America, and if they were running the business, they had a man’s name (usually their husband’s) out in front for everyone to see. 

Margaret would be 29 in a few months and her advancing age had been one of the valid points her father had mentioned in order to get her to do this. She needed a family more than she wanted one - but she did want one. She let him know that she had been thinking of a family of her own for some time.

Finally, she had given in and boarded the train after communicating with a man in Nevada named Mark Brooks, who was living in a tiny established property called Las Vegas. There were only a few hundred people there, maybe a bit more. Margaret’s village in England had room for about 1000 before it began to break into sections.

The ad had requested a woman of average height and weight with a strong back and a love for horses. She definitely met those qualifications. The groom, Mark, said he was looking for a bride who would share his interests.

If Mark’s interest was in horses, Margaret was definitely answering the ad.

Through their letters, Margaret had explained that her father had brought her from England when she was young. Mark had told her that he had once already had a family – a wife and two children, one of each – but that they had been killed in a raid by hostile Indians. It had been nearly ten years and he was tired of being alone. The women he knew, within his circle of friends, were few and far between and so far, none had shared his love for horses.

Margaret was also interested to read that he attended church regularly. Most people did, she noticed, but few mentioned it in passing, as part of an introduction to themselves. Mark had not only made mention of it but told her politely that she would be required as his wife to attend with him.

She thought it was a bit strange that he should say such things but shrugged it off, wanting to know more about him as a person before making any judgments. Of course she would go; she would be happy too, as a matter of fact. It was also a practice she and her father shared. They had rarely missed a day, even after her mother and brother passed away and her second brother stopped attending.

Her attention was drawn from her thoughts when the young man sitting in front of her pulled out a gold pocket watch with a fast moving train emblazoned and embossed on the front. He pressed the button and it flipped open, revealing the time. He looked up and saw that she was looking at the watch.

He turned it so that she could see the face was trimmed with gold and had tiny gold hands inside it. There were even a few small diamonds encrusted inside at the very middle where the hands met.

“This was my father’s,” He said, leaning forward to whisper loudly, as if what he was saying was top secret. Margaret instinctively leaned forward, as well, scanning the watch a little closer. “He gave it to me before I left New York. I’ve taken this watch almost all over the country now. All I have to do is reach the ocean on the West coast and I will have traveled every single mile with this watch telling me the time.”

Margaret lifted her eyebrows, not sure how to respond to that. It seemed like a senseless trip if it was only to bring a watch from one side of the country to the other.

He noticed the look on her face and smiled. Suddenly, he seemed more attractive to her and she smiled back.

“I see you are wondering why I would do something so foolish as to travel all over the country just for a watch.”

Margaret sat back without a word, still smiling.

He chuckled. “Well, I’ll tell you why. I’m not just carrying this watch around the country. I’m making records of the time differences. You see, I developed this watch.”

She began to listen to him more closely, interested in his watch and the recordings he was doing of time changes. He told her his watch was special because it went by the shadow of the sun, similar to a sun dial. He seemed pleased that she knew what a sun dial was. She thought everyone knew what a sun dial was.

When he went to a different climate, he would record the hours his watch gave him until the sun dial said it was a different time. Then he would calculate the distance between where he had been and when the time change occurred.

“What do you hope to gain from all of this?” Margaret asked in a curious voice, her head tilted.

“I hope that someday we will be more accurately counting time and days when communicating with each other from across the country.”

“How in the world do you think that is going to happen? Are you also developing faster horses?” Margaret gave him a smile to let him know she was teasing him. He smiled back.

“No, but think about it…” He hesitated and she said,

“Margaret.”

“Yes, think about it, Margaret. It’s John, by the way. If you think about how fast this locomotive is going, that steam engine is taking us all the way across the country with the power of hundreds of horses.”

“So you don’t need horses to take letters across the country? It still takes a very long time to travel.”

John nodded. “I believe that someday we will develop and have the knowledge to create faster communications and travel.”

“I really can’t imagine, John. I must be a grounded thinker. I’ve never been much of a day dreamer.”

“Oh, it’s not a daydream, Margaret,” John responded in an excited tone. He scooted to the edge of the bench he was sitting on and pulled at his bow tie subconsciously. “I’ve been developing these time tables and records for a year, really more than a year. I’m not going to stop until I have a complete list of analysis. I want everyone to have one of my watches eventually. Then they will know what time it is all over the world!”

Margaret had to laugh, the thought of the entire world being able to communicate with each other in a short time was amusing. John smiled at her, not at all disappointed by her frivolity. He was used to people laughing at his plan for everyone to know what time it was no matter where they traveled or resided.

“I try not to think about the time,” Margaret said. “It never seems I have enough to do all the things I need to do in a day, much less the time to do what I want. And I never get to do what I want, as it is.”

“And what is it you want to do?” John asked.

“Sleep in every morning.”

They both laughed.

“Why are you traveling by yourself across the country?” John asked. Margaret braced herself for whatever reaction she was going to get.

“To marry a stranger.” She responded bluntly.

“Oh really?” John just nodded, looking at her. “I certainly do hope it turns out well for you.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you know anything about him?”

“Not really, just that his name is Mark and he loves horses. My father taught me to rope, train and live with horses on a regular basis. Now I return the favor by marrying a man who also loves horses the way we do.”

“It’s certainly good to start out on a new adventure in life.”

“I agree.”

“And being with someone compatible should make it even better.” His tone had changed somewhat and she suspected he had been hoping for a closer relationship upon their arrival at their destination. She wasn’t offended and felt a bit flattered that he had sprung into conversation with an obviously single woman on a train. His face was still friendly, though he looked a bit disappointed.

“And do you have a wife?” She asked. If he was going to be forward, she would gladly return it.

“I do not.” He shook his head. “Too much traveling. Never found a woman willing to do it.”

“Well, I certainly hope you do someday, if that is what you wish.  And what a grand opportunity you have to find a woman who loves to travel as you do. You are always on here, I gather, and that’s where she will be, too!”

John shrugged, smiling. “I guess we will see what happens in the future, won’t we?”

Chapter Two

The dry dusty plain spread out in front of Margaret to one side, and the bustling action of the station was on the other. She looked out over the plain. It was in such contrast to the people milling about, talking, laughing and crying their goodbyes. She held on to her satchel and thought about how John had continued to talk to her about his travels for the rest of the ride. He was obviously itching to tell someone about them.

It made her wonder why he looked surprised when she said that he should write it all down and make a book of his adventures. It was as if the idea had never occurred to him before.

She went with her satchel directly into the train station and approached the clerk behind the counter.

“Pardon me,” she said. “Where is the nearest post?’

“You can send a telegraph through me right here, young lady. You want to send a letter you gotta go the other side of the station and talk to Ester.”

Margaret thought about it for a moment. “I will send a telegraph.”

She proceeded to send her father a message, letting him know that she had arrived safely and would be en route to Las Vegas shortly. She would keep him updated of her status.

The clerk took the telegraph and Margaret paid for it in coins.

She turned away just in time to see a man she suspected was Mark approaching her from the two double doors she had come through. He was not so tall, but he walked with confidence, taking long strides, his broad shoulders pushed back. Margaret noticed how his hazel eyes glistened and his smile was warm. He was handsome.

“Hello,” Mark said as he got closer, removing his hat. “You are Margaret, are you not?”

“I am. How did you guess?”

Mark took one of her long blond braids in his hand and touched the soft hair with his large, short fingers. Her bright blue eyes stared up at him from behind surprisingly dark lashes. He wondered how she managed that.

“Your description matches you nearly to perfection, Margaret. How uncanny.”

Margaret blushed a little and confessed, “It was my father who wrote that letter.”

Mark hesitated before throwing his head back to laugh loudly. “No wonder you sounded so full of yourself. That’s bound to happen when a father describes a daughter he loves.” He looked down at her. “You do have a close relationship with your father don’t you?”