The Alpha's Willing Captive (Historical Paranormal Werebear Steamy Romance)

The Alpha’s Willing Captive

(HISTORICAL WEREBEAR SHIFTER STEAMY ROMANCE)

By Nikki Wild

Copyright 2015 Nikki Wild

All Rights Reserved

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–Nikki Wild

The Alpha’s Willing Captive

(HISTORICAL WEREBEAR SHIFTER STEAMY ROMANCE)

Widowed noblewoman Cordelia Wainwright has heard all of the warning before. But she still stubbornly insists on traveling through the wild countryside without an escort.

When she and her lady-in-waiting are beset by highwaymen, Delia can see there is only one way out of this predicament. Offer herself to pay a ransom in exchange for her serving girl.

But these bandits aren't just ordinary robbers and they aren't after her money. The two alpha werebears are looking for a woman to breed with, and they have their eyes fixed on Delia's chaste curves.

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Delia lifted her chin high and tried to disguise the trembling in her fingers. "I am not used to walking on such unsteady ground," she declared, loftily. "I am afraid the roots will snag my ankles."

Tristan eyed her from beneath the lock of hair that had loosened itself from the strip of leather that caught his dark locks behind his head. "I would be honored to help you, my lady," he growled, a sardonic smile tugging at his lips as he reached out his hand to hers.

"I am sure you would, you filthy animal," she said tightly.

In two steps, both men were upon her, eyes blazing. "You are wrong about the filthy bit, my lady," Byrn growled low, his eyes raking across her chest. "But you are correct about us being animals."

*****

When Cordelia Wainwright took it in her head to do something, it was a well-known fact that nothing could stop her. In fact, she prided herself on the tales of her stubbornness. If the bankers, and solicitors and merchants around Devon-on-Highwater wanted to believe the widow Wainwright was difficult to deal with, well then it just made it easier for her to get what she wanted. Other women could try to simper their way through life with genteel manners and practiced curtsies. She was not one to waste time with such notions.

So when her sister, the Lady Lollsworth, delivered a squalling new niece into the world, and Delia decided it was high time she pay her a visit, there was no changing her mind. Never mind that no escort was available for at least a fortnight. Never mind that the highwaymen seemed especially active this season. It was time for her to go pay her respects to her sister and dandle her new niece on her knee, and nothing could dissuade her from that notion.

"Will my lady be needing anything else?"

Delia looked up from her letter-writing and smiled at Ginny. Her serving girl was a bright-eyed, pretty young thing and always seemed eager to please. The prospect of a journey had brought some much needed color to her pale, freckled cheeks. If anything, she seemed almost as excited as Delia.

"Thank you Ginny, tell Stevens to bring the horses round at ten."

Ginny curtsied quickly and fairly ran off to speak with the stableboy. Delia looked at the timepiece on the wall. Half past the hour. She would put the letter in the post on her journey out of Devon. It should reach her sister in due time.

She stood up from her desk and looked around the room. Once she was gone, she would have the servants bar off this wing of the estate. No use having them dust and heat the area while it wasn't in use. Delia was practical above all things.

Her riding clothes were hung out for an airing. She looked forward to wearing the looser corset and the less voluminous skirts that came with it. That was her main reason for wanting to take her own horse rather than have Stevens drive the coach. She could see the countryside and inhale the fine spring air rather than be cooped up in the smelly wagon that always stank of horseshit no matter how Stevens scrubbed it.

Ginny would be riding with her. The serving girl's horse was a dappled mare, a gentle beast used to carrying heavy burdens. They would only be carrying a valise between them, just enough to ride without needing the coach. The trip would be slow, but Delia figured it would be best to give her sister time to get into the rhythm of motherhood before she arrived.

For a quick moment, Delia's heart clutched in her chest. Geoffrey, her lord husband, had passed away three summers ago, thrown from his horse on a hunt. He had left her childless, though not from lack of trying, and for a moment, Delia's skin tingled at the memory of his touch. It had been so long since a man had held her, kissed her, made her cheeks flush and her nethers ache. Sometimes she wondered if she was a withered old crone at the age of twenty-six.

Delia shook her head forcibly. Sentimentality did not become her, she reminded herself. She was a matron in charge of a large estate, not a scullery maid inclined to tumble with any strapping fellow who crossed her line of sight.

Still though, there was that ache in between her legs. It was becoming almost constant now. Sometimes the need to be touched was so powerful that it stole her breath away.

"That's what riding is for," she said softly to herself. The rocking motion of riding soothed her hysteria and sometimes brought much needed release. She hoped she would not experience that in front of Ginny though. The thought of debasing herself like that in front of a servant made her cheeks flush bright red. "Calm yourself, Delia."

"My lady?" Ginny was just entering the doorway.

Delia flushed even harder, unaware that she had spoken out loud. "Nothing, Ginny."

"Very good my lady," Ginny smiled. The girl had a sharp eye and an even sharper mind, and Delia wondered just how much she saw and understood.

Delia elected not to try to explain herself. Instead she turned and lifted her arms, allowing her serving girl to wrestle her vast skirts and petticoats over her head and dress her in her riding clothes.

When the riding outfit was properly laced, Delia smoothed her gloved hands over the sleek bodice and tilted her riding hat at a jaunty angle atop her chestnut locks. Ginny had braided Delia's long hair into a thick coil that roped around the crown of her head. It was heavy, but best to keep it out of the way of low hanging branches.

"Well Ginny, shall we set out?" Delia exhaled, delighting in the freedom of breath that came with a riding corset.

"Stevens has brought the horses round, my lady," Ginny nodded. She tilted her own straw hat so that it set at a jaunty angle across one eye. "Everything is prepared."

"Excellent, Ginny. Let's go have an adventure."

Ginny nodded, forgetting her manners as she made her hasty way to the front hallway. The servants were gathered around to make their farewells. Delia left a few instructions for Mrs. Woodhouse, the head servant, and instructed Johnson to shut up the left wing of the house.

When at last she and Ginny set out on the road leading away from Wainwright Arms, she heaved a sigh of relief. The burdens of being a mistress of a great house fell away from her slim shoulders the further she got from the white estate. The birds sang merrily in the trees and the buzz of locusts signaled that it would be a hot, dry day. The sun caressed the small bits of exposed skin, a light breeze played softly with the tendrils of hair that had escaped her updo. Delia shivered slightly at the sensuality. The touch of the wind combined with the gentle rocking of her horse were making her cheeks flush for reasons that had nothing to do with the heat. Once again, she felt that tight clutching at her core, and her mind dragged her unwillingly back to memories of Geoffrey's body stretched naked beside hers in their great bed. The things he used to do to her; with his lips, his tongue...his gorgeous, upright cock....

Delia squirmed in her saddle, rocking forward just a little more than she needed to. She moaned softly in frustration.

It would be a scandal, but it was high time that she took a lover, Delia mused. It was the only way she could think to bring herself peace.

Ginny seemed content to follow her in silence, unaware of the storm that was raging inside Delia's body.  And thank heavens for that. Delia tried to compose herself with thoughts of estate business. The harvest, the servants' wages, anything to throw a bucket of cool water over her fevered desires.

Ginny laughed and pointed at a pair of squirrels running pell-mell along the roadside. It was as if she knew Delia needed a distraction. Delia smiled and sighed, looking fondly at her serving girl. She was grateful for her calm companionship. Her affection for the girl was growing by the month. When they returned from their visit, Delia thought, perhaps she would offer her a higher position on her staff. Ginny was certainly capable enough to be trusted with more responsibility.

Smiling to herself, she spurred her mare on, covering the miles at a brisk trot. The sun was high overhead now, pouring down on the wide, curving road. But up ahead, the she could see that it led straight into the thick trees of the Highwater Forest. She wiped her brow and nudged her horse to a canter.

Exhilarated with speed, Delia drew up just before the road wound into the pines. "Shall we break for tea?"

Ginny cantered up to her side, wiping the sweat from her freckled brow. "My lady, might we find some shade first?"

Delia considered. The Highwater Forest was notorious for harboring bloodthirsty highwaymen, though a large part of her was fairly convinced that was all rumors meant to drive up the prices of the professional escorts that served the area. It seemed too convenient that the reports of attacks had only gone
up
since the escorts began their pricey enterprise.

Then again, it was quite hot. The sun beat down on her pale skin, feeling less like a lover's caress now, and more like an oppressive hand pushing her down. Her hair was drooping with perspiration and Ginny was almost panting.

"Very well," she nodded, guiding her horse into the trees.

The minute the horses stepped into the woods, everything changed. The dense trees filtered the sunlight so thoroughly that by the time it reached the forest floor it was nothing more that a twilight gloom. The raucous birdsong quieted, and the only sound became the soft clop of the horses' hooves on the packed road. The way through was broken with fallen rocks and tree roots, and the horses had to move very slowly so as not to stumble on the tricky ground. The heat became oppressive with no wind to cool their skin and Delia was instantly uneasy.

"Let's try to find someplace more open," she said briskly, trying to mask the fear in her voice. It pained her to think that the stories of Highwater Forest might have been correct. She tried to dismiss her unease as silly superstition, but there was no calming her heart.

Ginny followed her closely. Delia could hear the girl's rapid, panicked breath in the oppressive silence and knew that Ginny was feeling the same way she was. Something wasn't right.

Up ahead, the road opened out somewhat, weak light filtering down through a gap in the trees and exposing a small patch of blue sky. There was a huge, boulder jutting over the road, creating a natural archway that they would be forced to ride under. Delia pulled her horse up short.

"Let us tether the horses and eat there," she instructed Ginny. "It seems like the best place to pause for a moment." What she didn't say was that she did not like the look of that archway. It seemed...unnatural. Like something out of a children's tale, rather than something that belonged in the English countryside.

Ginny lowered herself down and led her the two horses over to a low hanging branch. The horses whickered softly to one another, seemingly ill at ease as well. When Ginny helped Delia down from her horse, the two women both froze.

"Did you hear that, my lady?" Ginny whispered, her strained voice barely audible.

Delia shook her head. "I'm not sure what I heard," she mouthed back. It had been a low noise, more a vibration than an actual sound. She had felt it through the soles of her riding boots, vibrating up her road-weary legs. But she couldn't place it for the life of her.

The two women looked around. The woods had become even quieter, which set the small hairs at Delia's neck on end. It wasn't right. The forest should be fairly bursting with birdsong on a hot summer's day. There should be the sounds of small creatures in the underbrush, the sigh of wind through the boughs. It shouldn't be so...silent.

"I heard it again," Ginny moaned softly.

Delia shivered. She had heard it as well as felt it this time. It sounded like...a growl.

"Ginny, get on your horse," she ordered.

The girl stepped swiftly around Delia's mare and then stopped short with a stifled scream. Delia turned, her blood running ice cold in her veins.

Two massive black shapes had detached themselves from the shadowy woods. They moved towards the two women, their eyes blazing amber fire, their lips drawn back to show razor sharp teeth. Delia blinked slowly, her mouth dry, her mind refusing to accept what she was seeing.