An Unexpected Affair Read online

  Scottish Werebear: An Unexpected Affair

  A BBW Scottish Bear Shifter Paranormal Romance by Lorelei Moone.

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  Romance novelist, Clarice Adler, has lost the inspiration to write ever since dumping her cheating boyfriend. How do you dream up a plot of two people falling in love, when you’ve stopped believing in love yourself? But her deadline is looming, and her career hangs in the balance, so she decides to lock herself away on the secluded Scottish Isle of Skye to finish her manuscript. Upon meeting Derek McMillan there, it seems she’s found her new muse and the words start to flow out of her as if by magic. Clarice falls for him, hard, despite knowing nothing about the man, except that he’s unavailable.

  Derek McMillan has been managing his farm and renting out a few holiday cottages on his own for years now. He deals with the occasional tourist for some extra money, but mostly keeps to himself. When he first lays eyes on the curvy beauty, Clarice, he immediately regrets accepting her booking. Lightning strikes, and as much as he tries to deny it, his inner bear knows that she’s his mate. But he’s a shifter, and she’s a human, and the two can’t ever mix, can they?

  In this steamy paranormal romance novella, follow along as an impossible love blossoms between two people, who couldn’t be more different. One might say fate intended for them to meet, if you believe in that sort of thing, but they’re both set on fighting their attraction with everything they’ve got. They’re going to need another push to admit to themselves as well as each other what’s going on…

  This story is intended for adult audiences only.

  © 2015 Lorelei Moone

  Published by eXplicitTales

  Cover Design by Jacqueline Sweet

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Table of Contents

  Scottish Werebear: An Unexpected Affair

  Story

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Throughout her flight into Inverness, Scotland, Clarice found herself repeatedly going over the printout she’d taken of her destination: Moss Cottage on the Isle of Skye. It promised unspoiled vistas, a homely atmosphere and most importantly of all: a quiet getaway from the hustle and bustle of modern life.

  That's what she needed most: to get away. Away from the distractions of life in London, away from the constant buzz of her phone, notifying her of incoming emails or tweets. Away from all reminders of the life she used to share with Alan before she caught him cheating on her.

  Upon her arrival at the cottage, she would send a message to Lily, her best friend, who had also been the one to suggest the Isle of Skye as a destination to begin with, and that was it. Clarice had promised herself to switch everything off. From nine to five daily, she would be unplugged, allowing her to focus on the task at hand.

  After stealing a glance out the window - they were still descending through thick cloud cover - she flipped the page over, reading the backside again. Local attractions include wildlife walks, beach walks, hill trails. Walks, basically, all you could do on the Isle of Skye according to this text was go for a quiet walk.

  It is going to have electricity, though, won't it? Clarice read the other side again and studied the accompanying pictures. There was a table lamp in one of the shots, which suggested that electricity was indeed going to be supplied... As long as her laptop had power, everything was going to be all right.

  As the small plane landed bumpily on the runway, she felt a surge of excitement as well as nerves build within her chest. Soon, a mere three-hour drive away, she was going to arrive at her destination.

  " Please remain seated until the fasten seatbelt sign is switched off," said the captain's almost robotic voice over the intercom.

  Clarice smiled to herself. No way that's going to happen. Half these people would be up, carry-on luggage and phone in hand, before the plane came to a halt.

  She leaned over to get a better look out the window. The views throughout most of the flight had been obstructed by a thick layer of clouds, far below the altitude of the plane. Now, the outside world looked as one would expect Scotland to look in early autumn: grey and damp.

  How does it matter, it's not like I'll leave the house, much. Clarice took a deep breath, holding it in an attempt to calm her nerves. She had never done anything like this. Leave it all behind for a few weeks of solitude.

  But this time, it was necessary. Early attempts to figure out if there was any flexibility in the deadline for her latest book had only resulted in her editor breathing down her neck harder. Apparently anything short of a deadly illness wasn't cause enough to postpone a release. A messy breakup and resulting existential crisis didn't count. That was why Clarice had been forced to resort to drastic measures to finish the manuscript on time.

  Finally, the fasten seatbelt signs switched off with the customary ding, and soon after, the doors of the plane opened. Clarice smiled a final goodbye to the quiet old man seated next to her. The flight was relatively short, as far as flights go, but she was still surprised that he hadn't said a word throughout. He nodded, then joined the throng of impatient passengers heading for the door.

  It was a small airport, meaning you didn't get one of those fancy walkways leading from the plane straight to the door. Instead, all the passengers were let off via a mobile staircase, and then they walked along demarcated pathways painted on the concrete taxiway, towards the modest looking terminal building to collect their bags.

  The bags arrived in a similarly low-tech manner: on trolleys in plain view of the waiting passengers. Clarice found her suitcase and started walking, aimlessly at first, until she spied the car rental sign.

  Alan used to take care of all of these things during their holidays together, but now it was all up to her. How hard can it be?

  As it turned out, picking up a pre-booked rental car wasn't very difficult at all. However, Clarice was still battling residual nerves by the time she made it into the driver's seat and started leafing through the various printouts of the route to the Isle of Skye. It looked easy enough, there weren't very many roads to choose from. The maps on Clarice’s phone concurred.

  A deep breath later, she turned the key. So far so good, now it was time for the home stretch.

  As pretty as the drive towards the Isle of Skye was, it did nothing to prepare her for the beauty ahead. Stark black cliffs stood out against the dramatic clouds overhead. There wasn't much vegetation, just grasses and mosses with the occasional small grouping of trees that had managed to battle the elements for survival.

  Though the road snaked through the landscape up ahead, Clarice still felt like an explorer, discovering this mysterious land for the first time. At every bend, she instinctively slowed, both to cater for oncoming vehicles - which were few and far between - as well as to admire the views.

  She passed through a few small towns on the way, but for the most part, the island seemed unspoiled and almost barren. The road narrowed more and more as she reluctantly drove on. Every map she'd printed out, even the satellite navigation on her phone confirmed she was on the right track, yet the road ahead looked too small to lead anywhere.

  Finally, she made it to a small settlement that according to Google was a mere twenty minutes away from her destination. Village would be too big a word for the cluster of houses she found. Luckily one of the buildings housed a small daily needs shop. Clarice parked right outside, eager to stock up on some essentials so she wouldn't have to leave the cottage at least for the next couple of days.

  "Hello?" she called out through the open door.

  No answer.

  She stuck her head inside, looking around the dimly lit interior of the store. It looked like somebody's living room, with a few racks of groceries, as well as firewood and some camping supplies stacked up inside.

  "Excuse me?" she asked again.

  Finally, an old man appeared through the door at the far end of the room.

  "Ah, a customer!" He shot her a smile that seemed to wrinkle up every inch of his face all at once. "How can I help?"

  "I just wanted to buy a few things," Clarice explained, smiling nervously while eyeing the shelf of cookies nearer the wall.

  "Aye, of course. Please take a look around. If you're after anything specific, we may need to order it in."

  Clarice nodded and gathered up some packets of digestives. It was a bad habit, snacking while writing, especially when writing was your main job and you spend a lot of time doing it. With the deadline hanging over her head, she didn't know how else to cope.

  She rounded off her selection with some bread, eggs, and other daily essentials, then made her way towards the counter where the old man was waiting. He didn't even have a till. Instead he listed up everything on a notepad and totaled it in his head.

  "Where are you staying, if I may ask?" He handed her the torn off sheet of paper, with the total, £20.78 written in shaky pencil.

  Clarice paused for a moment, wondering if it was wise to answer. What the hell, this place is so small, he would probably find out anyway. You're not in London anymore!

  "Moss Cottage. That's j
ust up the road I suppose?"

  "Ah yes. The old McMillan farm. Lovely place, very quiet. Just-" He leaned forward, raising his hand gravely. "Take care of the bear."

  "Thanks. Umm, wait, what bear?" Clarice asked.

  "Up in the hills around the farm. Keep your eyes open if you go wandering out by yourself. Especially in the evenings."

  Clarice scrutinized the old man's face, looking for any sign that he was just pulling her leg, but his expression remained completely serious.

  "I wasn't aware that there were bears in Scotland?"

  The old man let out a chuckle. "Well, according to the authorities, there aren't any, but we've all seen him. A big fella too, could tear you in half, he could." By the end of his sentence, again the old man's expression turned deadly serious.

  "But enough of that, you seem like a sensible lass, you'll be careful. Enjoy your vacation." He smiled again, his weathered skin folding into a million little creases.

  "Uhh, thanks."

  "Bye now!"

  Back at the car, Clarice tried to shake off her unease at the preceding conversation. A bear. Here? That's ridiculous, right? As far as she knew, bears had been extinct in Britain for pretty much forever. Unless it was some kind of zoo escapee.

  No, perhaps the old man had been enjoying his Scotch a bit too much. That must be it.

  Chapter Two

  McMillan Farm had been in Derek's family for generations. He was born there, grew up there, and was likely going to die there if he had his way. Ever since his parents' passing many years ago, the farm had been mostly Derek's responsibility. Sure, he had an older brother, but Aidan preferred to travel the world rather than stay home and tend the land, and as such only came by a few times a year.

  Derek's farm was the perfect place for a bear, actually, that's why his ancestors moved here two centuries ago, and why he was never tempted to leave like his brother. The vast countryside gave him plenty of space to roam. The rivulet carving its way through his property provided ample opportunity to fish when the season was right, and the best part was, there weren't many people around.

  The only people that did turn up were paying guests: mostly middle-aged or older couples, or the occasional young family that was trying to teach their children about nature. Avoiding them when the urge to shift took over was quite easy. He'd never been caught, which was fortunate, because all bears lived by the code of secrecy.

  The holiday cottages were set away from the main farmhouse by a safe distance, and visitors were mostly self-sufficient. All Derek did was make sure everything was in working condition and provide some basic supplies. Although it wasn't ideal, inviting strangers into his territory, it was his way of earning a little extra money from his land without much effort.

  This month's visitor was probably going to be the same. Clarice Adler from London.

  The name had conjured up images of white permed hair and floral dresses in Derek's mind. A posh old lady, no doubt, who he imagined used to spend her younger days riding horses in the English countryside before moving to London. Her insistence in the comment box of the booking form that her stay should be as quiet and undisturbed as possible only supported his assumptions. This was going to be someone who had grown up in the country, who was now yearning to get back to a simpler life for two weeks.

  When her grey rented hatchback slowly crawled through his main gate, he didn't need to sneak a peek to know what she'd look like. After fifteen years in the tourism business, his instincts were always right, so he kept on mowing the lawn as if he hadn't noticed the new arrival.

  The car came to a halt a little way up the drive, and then it turned left, following the signs he had put up last winter, leading to the cottages. Derek had already prepared Moss Cottage for its latest guest. The bed was made, the pantry was stocked, and the key was in the front door.

  Although he did often check in with visitors on the first day, just to see to it that they were comfortable, he preferred to play as small a role as possible in their visit. It wasn't that Derek disliked the tourists, he was just a very private person.

  When he was done with the lawn in front of the house, he prepared himself for his regular evening routine: check on the bees as well as the other animals, take a round of the kitchen garden to harvest the last of the summer crops to add to his winter stash, perhaps say hello to the visitor before retreating to the farm house to prepare a nice cut of meat for dinner.

  "Hello? Is anybody here?" a clear female voice called out to Derek from outside the barn where he had just parked the lawn mower.

  He wiped his hands clean on his overalls, then marched out to greet what he assumed must have been the old lady staying at Moss Cottage. Nothing could prepare him for what he saw waiting for him outside, though.

  The shapely woman with brunette hair standing in front of him couldn't have been older than thirty at the most. Her amber eyes flitted back and forth skittishly between him and the surrounding trees as she waited for him to reach her.

  It took a lot of focus for him to remember the usual niceties city folk expected.

  "Derek McMillan. Nice to meet you," Derek said, sticking out his hand to greet his guest.

  Though he tried not to stare, her feminine curves invited a closer look. Instead of acting rude, he tried to focus on her face. High cheek bones, full lips, almond-shaped, kind eyes. Perfection.

  "Oh. Clarice. Just call me Clarice." She hesitated for a moment with her arms hanging down her sides but finally took his much larger hand anyway.

  It was as if an electric current passed between the two when their fingers first touched, but she barely reacted - at least not favorably. In fact, she pulled her almost fragile little hand back almost possessively after the shortest of greetings. That proved it; the attraction was definitely not mutual.

  "Is there anything I can help you with? Did you find the cottage to your liking?" Derek asked.

  Her eyes met his for a split second, but then she looked away again. Her demeanor reminded him of prey, painfully aware of the danger it was in. And her scent was more enticing, lovelier than a summer meadow in full bloom. There was something about her that he couldn't put his finger on. Something tempting that made the most primal part of his being want to own her.

  "I..." she began, but then fell silent again.

  In all his years running the cottages, he'd never found himself in an awkward position like this. Sure, he'd had as many female guests as male ones over the years, but never one who affected him so. Humans didn't hold much interest for him - not until right this moment - neither did most of his own kind for that matter. He had always been happily solitary: a bachelor by choice as well as circumstance.

  Bears didn't live in large packs like wolves did, and they favored vast territories all to themselves. That was one of the reasons his kind was dwindling; they simply didn't get the opportunity to pair up often enough.

  "Yes?" he asked.

  His reaction to her was visceral, involuntary, and completely undesirable. The longer he stood in front of her, the more difficult was it for him to suppress his instincts and remain civil. All he wanted to do was pounce. Take her into his arms and make her his.

  He didn't understand it, how a human could have this effect on him. Everything he felt, how the bear in him threatened to take over with every breath he took, made the hair on his forearms stand up. It felt like something he'd heard about a long time ago. But that kind of behavior was limited to bears and their mates. It didn't apply to human women, did it? Perhaps he had kept himself isolated for too long, and his instincts were rusty...

  For once he wished Aidan was around. Since his brother was much more well-traveled, he might have had advice for Derek, but it was up to him alone to sort out this mess.

  The next couple of weeks were going to be difficult, if not impossible.

  "I just wanted to say hello. And to thank your wife... for the cake you left on the dining table. A lovely gesture."

  He was about to interject that he wasn't married, but restrained himself, his hand instinctively reaching for a non-existent itch on his chin instead. So what if she mistakenly assumed another female presence had baked that cake to welcome her? Even though it pained him to let her think that there was someone else in his life, at least it would provide him with excuses to keep even more of a distance than he usually did with visitors.