Gargouille Ch. 02

Hi readers here's chapter two, hope you all enjoy, and many thanks to Angelicsounds for doing such a lovely job. As always feedback is much appreciated. Thank you.

.........................

Nicole awoke the next day feeling refreshed and energized. This is how Rip Van Winkle must have felt after waking from his long sleep, she thought with a smile.

She yawned loudly and reached for her mobile phone on the night table. Scrolling through, she saw she had twenty missed called and five texts. Half the calls were from her mother, Hyacinth, and the rest from work or friends. The texts were from Keisha, all filled with apologies.

Nicole decided to call her mother first. She wanted to have a long talk with Keisha. Nicole felt ashamed for the way she had spoken to Keisha the day before and two wrongs didn't make a right. Yes, she was upset, but staying mad at Keisha wouldn't solve anything.

Her mother answered on the second ring. "Nicole, my child, is you well? You come back from Jamaica and didn't even call me to let me know you were okay!" ranted her mother, switching from Jamaican patois to British cockney.

"I was going to call you. I was knackered, that's all."

Nicole felt like a naughty child, her mother sometimes had that affect on her. She chatted with her mother for the next thirty minutes, promising to drop off the Over Proof White Rum and patties she had brought back from Jamaica.

After hanging up, she called Keisha and started to apologize. Keisha sounded embarrassed and at a loss for words, because deep down she knew that saying 'sorry' to Nicole wasn't enough. Nicole decided to alleviate her pain and distress by suggesting that they meet up for dinner at a local restaurant they frequently dined at. By meeting Keisha in person, they could both apologize face-to-face, but before they met up, Nicole would take some time to put a written apology on a card as well.

After that was settled, they talked for hours about nothing in particular, like the price of petrol, Kanye West, to her trip to Jamaica and her upcoming trip to Scotland. They also talked about Keisha's new beau, although she was a bit evasive as to whom he was.

After they hung up, Nicole lay there and staring at the ceiling and wondering about her upcoming trip. Nicole was due in Scotland in two days for a two-week seminar on a marketing prospectus. She worked as a financial controller for a well-known bank. She enjoyed working there and had no problem with her bosses.

Nicole had visited Scotland several times with her sister, Lisa. Nicole and Lisa had been close growing up, but now their relationship was strained, at best. Lisa resented her for asking about Hayden's father, Derrick. Almost a year before, Nicole had voiced her concerns that he might be an alcoholic as well as a drug user and their relationship was never quite the same after that.

Nicole loved her sister. Lisa used to be her best friend and confidant. Nicole didn't know if she could continue not speaking with her sister on a regular basis. She had tried to call Lisa several times, but she never answered her phone and didn't reply to the many messages Nicole left.

Sighing, Nicole slipped out of bed and stood barefoot on the carpet. She pulled off her pajamas and walked into the bathroom. In passing, she glanced at her reflection in the closet mirror. She had a massive case of bed-head, with her hair sticking up in all directions. After a quick shower, she dressed in black leggings and a woolen sweatshirt. She had a quick breakfast, slipped on her ankle boots, grabbed her jacket, scarf, bag and keys and was out the door.

......................

The tube ride seemed even longer than usual, with the constant chatter from the passenger sitting beside her. The older lady was rattling on about her dog and how her neighbors were threatening to call the police, claiming her dog's constant barking was depriving them of sleep, which seemed like a legit complaint.

While the woman was babbling, Nicole suddenly remembered an episode of Judge Judy, where a family was suing their neighbors who refused to control their noisy dogs. Judge Judy had shouted at the defendants to keep their dogs in their bedroom so the animals could only disturb them and not the neighborhood. "Judge Judy is a character," Nicole murmured to herself.

"What did you say, my dear?" asked the elderly lady, tugging at Nicole's jacket.

"Nothing, Ma'am," she replied, chuckling softly.

The elderly lady huffed and resumed talking.

Nicole sighed as she started feeling the build up of a headache. Bleeding hell! First Keisha now this old biddy, what's next? She was about to put her headphones on when the train stopped at White City and there was a mad rush from the platform onto the train. Two unruly looking teenage boys, about sixteen years old, ended up standing in front of her seat. The teenagers seemed rebellious. They both had numerous tattoos and were obviously truants; it was a school day. They were sipping beer from the cans they held as they hit each other from time to time.

Nicole sighed and swore under her breath when one of the boys asked her where she was heading. She lied and gave him the wrong location. He then asked her for money. She didn't feel like giving her money to some snot-nosed hooligan, but he was pretty insistent and inebriated.

What the fuck is this? Nicole began to panic. None of the other passengers said anything, including the old granny who was so mouthy minutes before. Nicole frowned in thought, both from annoyance and anger.

At her hesitance, the boy started to threaten to beat Nicole up if she didn't give them some money. The kid was skinny, but looked strong. Scanning the train, she saw that no one was going to help, so she gave him the twenty pounds she had in her jacket pocket, that was all the cash she had anyway. He took it and thanked her. Luckily, the train arrived at the next stop and the two teens exited. It was then that the other passengers decided to speak up. Nicole spared them not a glance.

Nicole sat frozen for about ten minutes. She felt as if she had been holding her breath and her thoughts, to minimize the noise in her head for at least half that time, before she realized she was safe. Then she felt angry and cursed herself.

"I would have gladly paid twenty pounds in congestion charges by driving to avoid the headaches," she said out loud to no one in particular. First her plane trip, then this. Could it get any worse?

Two more stops to go.

............................

Laird Eyon McClain stood at the antique mahogany chaise in his bedroom and studied the oil portrait of his mother that hung above it. Her beautiful green eyes looked backed at him, bright and bold, and for a moment he could imagine she was smiling at him. A small sigh escaped Eyon's lips. How he missed her. Eyon's mouth tightened. He would give anything to see his beloved mother once again.

His whole life, he had lived to please his father and learn what was best for the clan. That used to be fine, but now he had his own ideas of what was best, especially for him.

Devoted to his wife, Eyon's mother and Kieran's aunt, Laird Callum had been unable to carry out his duties as elder to the clans after her death. Word spreads fast and furiously in the Highlands when clans become disorganized. Knowing that other clans would take the opportunity to seize their many holdings, both Eyon and Kieran had taken on the role of Lairds to unite the clans. They made sure that the clans were prepared for attack by training them and ensuring they were fully armed. Thus, they had both became leaders to a generation of their Scottish clan. It was expected of them.

Sad memories plagued Eyon's mind. He looked back up at the painting. "My whole life has been guided by duty and honor. Not anymore," he murmured with a bitter edge to his voice. He squared his shoulders, gave the painting a curt nod, drew up every inch of his tall frame and strode from the room.

Eyon pushed open the heavy oak door to the study and stared at his cousin, who was reading a book. "How can you concentrate at a time like this?"

Kieran looked up at the familiar figure of his cousin. "It was either that or punch a hole in the wall from anger," he laughed.

Eyon nodded and walked over, sitting in a large chair situated by the hearth. Kieran shifted his gaze to follow his cousin. "How did you get on?" he asked.

"It went well, despite the delay." Eyon leaned forward in his chair, elbows on his knees, and his hands in his somewhat disheveled dark hair.

"I see." Kieran raised an eyebrow and asked, "Can we not find a better mode of transporting the artifacts?"

"Aye, we can do that. Most of the shipping companies are owned by humans, but other shifters, like the wolves, vampires, and witches, do offer the service. So that shouldn't be much of a problem."

Eyon was well aware that when their wealth started to become noticeable, many shifters became interested in buying and trading rare artifacts with humans. Eyon was an archeologist, so he had a huge advantage over looters. He understood the context in which he was working and could explain the significance of each artifact, and therefore, he was able to think ahead of the rest.

Kieran nodded and closed the book.

"I ran into Ulrich," Eyon said softly, looking intently at Kieran to gauge his reaction. Ulrich was their biggest competitor in the trade of rare artifacts, but his tactics were far from legal.

Kieran frowned. "Did you confront him?"

Eyon grinned. "Did you want me to?"

Kieran blinked at Eyon's question, and then sat back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head. His frown deepened as he contemplated Eyon's question. "Yes," he suddenly said.

"Why? Will it help us?" Eyon countered, his eyes never leaving Kieran's.

He is a thief and a parasite that needs to be dealt with severely, Kieran thought privately. He felt a muscle in his jaw flex and gritted his teeth. "Yes, damn it!" he hissed. "We have to find out what he's up to and what he's after," Kieran continued, in a tone calmer than his emotions.

Eyon recognized the truth of his words and was about to acknowledge them, when suddenly there was a soft knocking at the door. He looked over at the door, then back at Kieran, and frowned.

"The Lairds?"

"Well, it's still early," Kieran replied, shrugging his large shoulders.

Eyon rose from the chair and stood for a moment, as if lost in thought.

"Well, aren't you going to answer it?" Kieran asked.

Eyon smiled, a strange smile, it was hard to describe. In two strides, he was at the door. If he was surprised to see Bronwyn Langmore there, he didn't show it.

Bronwyn's eyes widened in alarm. "Eyon!" she shrieked, "What are doing here?"

She stiffened; panic flooded her mind as she struggled with the thoughts of what she was about to do.

"I live here. I ought to ask you that question," he replied, looking at her with his deep green eyes.

Bronwyn shivered, unable to read any emotion in those eyes. Well here goes nothing, she thought. Bronwyn didn't see what she had to lose. She had to make an attempt at winning over the Lairds. She was indeed surprised to see Eyon; she had been informed by her sources that he was out of town on business. Sighing, she looked up at the handsome warrior.

Eyon was so different than Kieran, so calm and reasonable one moment, and almost threatening the next. Kieran was gentler and more understanding, quicker to laugh. It made her blush when she thought of his beautiful smile. Oh why was Eyon home? Bronwyn fumed inwardly, looking at a stone-faced Eyon. He stared back with his unnerving smirk, as if he could read her thoughts.

"Excuse me, Laird, I...I was not thinking," she stammered, "I have a tendency to be dramatic, as you well know."

"Indeed, " Eyon grunted, stepping aside so she could gain entrance.

"Is Kieran home?" Taking off her gloves, she placed them in her oversized purse and stepped past him into the study.

"Oh, hello, Kieran," she said breathlessly upon seeing him. She stared at him, licking her lips.

"Bronwyn," replied Kieran, with a curious smile, ignoring her flushed features. "It's been a long time. To what do we owe the pleasure?" he questioned, half surprised, half suspicious.

Bronwyn slowly closed her eyes, replaying the most recent discussion she had with her maid in her head. She found herself looking for some hint of how she really came to be standing in front of the Lairds, seeking to find how it might have gone differently if she hadn't come at all. At the very least, she would have saved herself a whole lot of time and anguish.

"Are you ever going to settle into a decent life, Bronwyn?"

It was a tiresome question that had been asked too many times over the years. Word of the Lairds breaking their bethrothal had spread quickly around the clan. Since the Lairds were now free, everyone assumed she would be a suitable candidate.

"Ye have known the Lairds all ye life, lass," her old maid, Nette, said, while assisting her with her toilette.

Bronwyn had thought on her maid's question for days as she continued with her trade. For years, men, and even some women, had kept her living a lifestyle she had become quite accustomed to. She didn't age like a normal human, she retained all her youthful beauty and her plush body over the years. Bronwyn loved to live lavishly and to do so required money. The idea of becoming the mate of two powerful Lairds was too compelling, especially when those two were Laird Eyon and Laird Kieran.

And that was why Bronwyn Langmore was now standing in their study.

"Bronwyn!" shouted a voice filled with the power of command, which she could not ignore.

Lost in thought, Bronwyn jerked in fright as her eyes snapped opened. The harsh tone to Kieran's voice concerned her. He was the gentler one, or so she had thought. Swallowing the sudden lump in her throat, Bronwyn coughed delicately and looked into the unsmiling eyes of Kieran as he sat in a chair behind his desk.

Bronwyn sighed and cleared her suddenly dry throat. She figured she'd best get on with it. "I would like to offer myself as your mate..." her voice trailed off when they both looked at her in surprise and disbelief.

Bronwyn was about to discover, finally, that the Lairds weren't about to fall for her charms like the others. They were powerfully built, with an air of authority that left her trembling and unsure of herself.

I will never marry into wealth. Best leave it alone, she thought, standing motionless, looking down at her feet.

Neither man was amused. In fact, they were quite annoyed by Bronwyn's attempt at offering herself to them. They had known Bronwyn for many centuries. She looked remarkably innocent and demure, but she could be devious and cunning.

In the year 1520, Sir Lansford, a member of the Privy Chamber during King Henry VIII's reign, went on a hunting expedition with the King, as he enjoyed sports, such as hunting, and jousting as much as Henry did.

He invited his trusted friend, Sir Langmore, The Earl of York, who was a skilled swordsman and also devoted his time to the sports. The sports lasted for several days with Sir Lansford's party ahead of the pack. On his party's return to the palace, the tired, yet happy bunch, were startled to realize that Sir Langmore had suffered a head injury and died tragically. Sir Langmore left behind his only child, whom he had raised after his beloved wife died in childbirth.

Sir Lansford had carefully groomed Bronwyn, and at a young age, she took her first lover under the guidance of his mistress, Lady Fountain. Bronwyn was a beauty with raven hair and large green eyes; she reeked of sex and sensuality. Most men found her highly arousing and she was well aware of that.

Both Eyon and Kieran knew that Bronwyn was crafty and unscrupulous, especially when money was involved. Her green eyes appeared dark with misery, but they knew better.

Bronwyn stood demurely, acting the innocent virgin. She was offered a seat, but politely refused; after all, she wasn't going to be there for long, she had assessed as much. The silence stretched.

Kieran broke the silence, and his next remark catching her by surprise. "You look well, Bronwyn. Quite an expensive coat you're attired in."

Bronwyn was dressed for the weather, in a mink coat, black riding boots and an oversized Gucci purse. So, she liked the finer things in life, there was nothing wrong with that. She had worked hard for it, sleeping with old tyrants and sadistic bastards.

She sighed and looked up to find Kieran watching her with an amused look on his face.

"Thank you," she replied, attempting a smile.

There was another lengthy silence, broken by a beautiful brogue. "I am sure Sir Donald will be missing your company by now," Eyon stated. If memory served him correct, Bronwyn was the old Laird's current mistress.

Bronwyn frowned. "What are you talking about?" she whispered, lowering her lashes.

"You don't know?" Eyon challenged, leveling his animalistic green eyes on her.

"No, I don't," she replied, her brow furrowed.

Eyon smiled wryly and shook his head. Bronwyn stood stiffly, the purse she held in her hands shook in her grasp. Finally, she looked up and said, "It is over between him and myself."

Tears were evident in her eyes. "Why can't you take me as your mate?" she blurted out, her green eyes pleading.

Both men looked intently at her, their faces mirroring their boredom. They knew her game well. "Need you ask?" answered Kieran, his voice calm and even.

Bronwyn blanched noticeably. She wrung her hands and wished she could vanish.

Kieran softened. "I am sorry, Bronwyn."

Bronwyn looked from one man to the other and all she saw now was pity. A feeling of dread swept through her. She needed to leave. Quickly. "I must be off," she murmured, walking unsteadily towards the door.

Eyon sighed deeply. As she turned to exit, he stood and caught her wrist, her eyes widened in a silent inquiry.

"You knew this was not possible. We have known you for years, Bronwyn. You are part of the clan." He released her arm then. The only desire they had for her was the desire to protect her.

Her shoulders slumped in defeat. It was stupid to come, as dumb as leaving a perfectly warm bed in the middle of the day to sit in the cold, even if that bed wasn't your own. Still, she could always go back to craggy-faced Sir Donald. Even if he was an evil fucker, the money was good.

She remembered how the old lecher had flogged her and as he began to strip her of her clothes, he had hissed, "Whore, obey me or I'll give you to my men. Now get between my legs."

He took off his trousers, as he was already shirtless, his hairy chest dripping with sweat. Naked, he stood up. "Suck me dry," he had commanded, in a gruff voice.

Instinctively, she had obey. The years of tutalage in the art of satisfying a man by Lady Fountain was all she knew. So, she did what she knew best. With every lick, and deep-throated suck, her lover had gasped with pleasure, while pulling her hair and plunging his old, but powerful, cock down her throat. After he had climaxed, he left her without another word. Oddly enough, she had enjoyed it. Humiliation and dark pleasure were her weaknesses.

Thinking about her chances with the Lairds, Bronwyn was wise enough to know that she stood a better chance with Sir Donald. Well, it was too bad that she would have to go back to being a kept woman...but she did have somewhere to go and whoring was in her blood, a delightful curse.

Easing from her thoughts, Bronwyn absorbed Eyon's words, and then nodded her head in understanding. She smiled sadly; in her heart, she knew this was not possible. And a thought struck her out of nowhere. The two Lairds were the only family she had. She knew that they were definitely out of her league.