The Highlander's Alpha: A Highlander Werewolf Romance

This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons--living or dead--is entirely coincidental.

The Highlander's Alpha copyright @ 2014 by Kay Perry. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews.

THE HIGHLANDER'S ALPHA

“Lady Royce,
your father is here to see you.” Isabelle turned from her vanity table and faced her maid, Janet, with a smile.

“By all means, let him enter, Janet.” Isabelle stood and ran her fingers through her hair before smoothing her dress down.

Her father, Lord Edward Albert Royce, entered the room a few moments later and smiled at her. He held himself in a way that screamed authority to anyone who so much as glanced at him. As usual, her father was dressed in a very expensive, black, pinstriped suit and a blood red tie. His white hair was brushed and styled so that he didn’t appear to be his age.

Isabelle’s smile faltered when she saw the look of disapproval on her father’s face. While she may not be the most well-behaved lady of the house, she was hardly the worst. She was curious as to what she may have done to earn such a disapproving glare.

“What is it, Father?”

“What on earth have you done to your hair?”

“Oh, I thought a change would be nice.” Isabelle brushed her chin-length, golden hair to the side and looked down at her feet. She wasn’t supposed to cut her hair without her father’s permission, but she was about to turn twenty-five in a week and she needed some freedom.

“You’re supposed to have long hair, young lady.” Her father reached over and lifted her head up before staring into her eyes. It made her uncomfortable to have his icy blue gaze forced upon her, but she maintained eye contact with him.

“I’m sorry, Father.”

“You should not have disobeyed me, Isabelle.”

“I’m ever so sorry.”

“Well, there is nothing we can do about it now.”

Her father stepped back and placed a hand on each of her shoulders before studying her again. Isabelle made sure to keep her chin up, shoulders back, and smile. Whenever her father was giving her that look, she knew that she was being inspected.

“Janet will take you to the dressmakers soon, Isabelle.”

“May I ask why, Father?”

“Have you forgotten about the ball tonight?”

“It must have slipped my mind,” Isabelle said, as she returned to her vanity mirror and picked up a wooden brush. Her father surveyed her again before exiting the bedroom. Janet soon returned with a smile on her young face.

“What style of dress would you like for the ball tonight, Lady Royce?” Janet took the brush from Isabelle’s hands and started brushing her hair herself.

“I’ve told you to call me Isabelle and I was thinking of a strapless number.”

“Do not forget that it is a masquerade ball, Lady—Isabelle,” Janet said, as she placed the brush on the table and sat on the chair next to Isabelle.

“Of course, Janet. Now tell me, how are things going with you and Gerard?” Isabelle turned her body away from the mirror and faced Janet. She blushed and covered her face before shaking her head.

“I’ll take that as a good sign then!” Isabelle urged Janet’s hands away from her face and the younger woman blushed even harder.

“We’ve spoken about dating a few times.”

“Are you going to court him then?”

“I’m not sure, servants are not supposed to court each other,” Janet said, as she shrugged her delicate shoulders with a frown.

“I could talk to my father to see if he will allow you some leeway. That way you could court him. Would you like me to?”

“That would mean everything to me, Isabelle. Thank you!” Janet flung her arms around Isabelle who returned the maid’s hug with a chuckle.

“Well, I’m glad to help. Now, let’s go and get my new dress.”

****

Isabelle tried her hardest to avoid dancing at the ball. Her father had lined up suitable counts for her. They were all required to try and win her affections, but she’d rather sit in her bedroom and read a good book than dance around with men at a ball.

“Isabelle, you need to dance with a least one of these gentlemen,” her father hissed, when she rejected another offer to dance.

“I don’t want to,” she said, fully aware that she sounded like a child. The truth was she found the ball tedious and boring.

“It would be a waste of a dress if you didn’t dance in it. Dance with one of these men now.” Her father took her right hand and placed it in the hand of the next man that approached her.

“One dance.”

“Just one dance and then I shall buy you some new books, Isabelle.”

“I am Count Francis Roberto, a pleasure to meet you, Lady Royce.” The man bent down and kissed her hand with a smile. Her father nudged her in the back gently, so Isabelle gave in and went with the man onto the dance floor.

Francis pulled her into his arms and smiled. It took everything in her body to avoid shrinking away from his touch, but she’d said one dance to her father and she was going to make sure she kept her end of the deal. She really needed some new books, since she had read all of the ones in the library at least two times and they were very old and tattered.

The man who pulled her around the dance floor really did not know how to dance very well. This was evident when he stepped on her dress and almost sent her tumbling to the floor. She would have collided with the glass table, if it hadn’t been for the strong arms that caught her before she fell.

“You need dance lessons, sir,” her rescuer said to Francis, as he lifted her up and into his arms.

“Her dress is too large to dance with!” Francis protested. Isabelle looked down at her dress in dismay. The navy blue dress was strapless and had a very large skirt, but she didn’t think it was so large that she couldn’t dance in it.

“I am about to prove you wrong.” Her rescuer took her hand and pulled her back onto the dance floor and into his arms. His black and red mask covered the top of his face, so she could only see the strange color of his eyes. They were a golden tone, unlike any she had ever seen before.

He proved Francis wrong, fair and square. The man danced like a dream and was able to move her around the dance floor with no awkward movements at all. The way he held her against his body caused her to shudder and stumble a few times, but he was always there to stop her from falling.

The masked man spun her and led her across the dance floor, like a professional who had been dancing with his partner for years. When a particularly fast part of the song began, he tugged her so close to his chest that her breasts were squashed and almost fell out of her dress.

Once the song ended, he dipped her in his arms and smirked at her before tugging her back to her feet.

“That was the best dance I’ve had in a while,” Isabelle said, as she adjusted her mask and curtseyed to him. He politely bowed before winking back at her.

“I do try, Lady Royce.”

“Isabelle, I’m glad you’re making friends,” her father said, as he placed his hand on her shoulder and smiled at the man standing opposite her.

“I don’t even know his name, but he saved me from a tumble with Francis.” Isabelle couldn’t seem to look away from the man’s peculiar eyes. They were unlike anything she had ever seen before and on closer inspection they appeared to be golden with flecks of amber in them. They were very beautiful.

“That is the fun of a masquerade ball, Lady Royce.” The golden-eyed man bowed again before disappearing into the crowd. Isabelle slumped on a seat by the patio windows and looked out into the garden. The sky was clear of clouds and the moon was nearly full.

“Isabelle, why so upset, dear?” her father asked, as he sat down beside her and took one of her hands in his.

“All of these balls and I’ve not found anyone I am even mildly interested in, Father.”

“Just give it some time. I’m sure someone will catch your interest soon, my dear.” Her father patted her hand and smiled at her. When he smiled his eyes crinkled at the sides and he appeared younger than his fifty-six years.

“Possibly. I also have a question to ask you.” Isabelle remembered about Janet and Gerard just before her father was about to leave.

“What can I help you with?”

“Janet would like to court Gerard, but says that servants are not allowed to court each other. I was wondering if you could make an exception for the both of them, if it isn’t too much to ask.” Isabelle stood and smoothed down her dress, once she’d finished talking.

“I’m not sure that that would be a good idea.”

“Please, Father. For young love, don’t you remember when you and Mother were in love as teenagers?”

“Of course, I do,” her father said, as he smiled and love shone in his eyes at the thought of his deceased wife.

“Then, please allow Janet and Gerard with the opportunity. Please?”

“Let us talk outside, Isabelle.”  Her father took her hand and led her outside onto the patio. He closed the doors and the sound of the ball was drowned out. All she could hear were the crickets in the garden and the two of them breathing.

“Gerard and Janet are not to court and I want you to try and speak to some of the counts. You’re nearly twenty-five and you need to settle down soon, all of this rebellion isn’t good for you. The staff and other ladies are calling you a hoyden, Isabelle.”

“A hoyden? I’ve only gone out a few times and that was with people I truly trusted and I’ve only ever gotten intoxicated once by accident! How am I a hoyden?”

“Isabelle, I know about the men that have come through your bedroom doors. None have stayed!” Her father stood and crossed his arms across his chest, his right foot tapping on the floor.

“You’re telling me that you didn’t sleep with some people before you met mother?” Isabelle clenched her fists together and took a deep breath. She was trying her hardest not to get angry at her father, but it was a hard thing to do when he was insinuating that she was a whore.

“I did, but I was only seventeen at the time. You’re a lady, you shouldn’t be sleeping with every available man!” her father exclaimed, as he threw his hand up in the air and sighed deeply.

“The number of men I’ve slept with is nothing compared to Victor.”

“Victor is no concern of yours. He should not be here anyway anymore.” Victor was Isabelle’s cousin twice removed or something complicated like that. She wasn’t one hundred percent sure who he was, but he’d been staying at the family home for nearly a year now and he had overstayed his welcome.

“I’m not a hoyden or a whore,” Isabelle said, as she held her head high and stared her father in the eyes. She wasn’t a young girl anymore and she didn’t feel the need to be treated like one.

“Isabelle, I just want you to promise me that you will try and find yourself a count to settle down with.”

“Why does it have to be a count? Why can’t it be kitchen staff, like Gerard?”

“You’re a lady and you are worthy of a count. I will not have my daughter dating a mere servant. This is the end of the discussion.”

“What of Janet and Gerard?”

“Servants shall not court each other in my home.”

“Father, please.”

“Isabelle, do not argue with me.” He turned his back on her before heading back into the ball. She decided to stay outside for a while and breathe in the fresh air. She sat on a swing that her father had built her when she was five years old. While it was old, the rope was holding strong.

She kicked her heels off before pushing at the ground and propelling the swing into the air. Her golden hair flew around her face, as she propelled backwards and forwards on the small rope swing. She closed her eyes and smiled at the feeling in her stomach.