Download or read book Arrowsmith (Historical Romance Novella) written by Elina Emerald and published by Elina Emerald. This book was released on 2021-04-19 with total page 118 pages. Available in PDF, EPUB and Kindle. Book excerpt: This is a spin-off (87 pages) to the Reformed Rogues series. Recommend reading series and books in order. As the King's Man in the North, Ewan Arrowsmith walks a fine line between life and death. Deceit and treachery are his constant companions. But there was a time, long ago, when he only knew the truth and the love of a good woman called Beth. Their affair was brief due to a betrayal that led to tragedy. Years later, in a strange twist of fate, their paths cross again because of the interference of Clan MacGregor. Both have suffered in the intervening years. This time they must decide whether a second chance at love is worth risking everything. If you like your medieval romance with a twist of suspense, emotional drama and family secrets, then you'll enjoy this book. Content Warning: Brawny alpha males, and feisty heroines. Not suitable for people under 18. It contains mature content, some violence and mild steam. *** Chapter 1 – The Past 1036 Edinburgh, Scotland “I will not leave you, Brother, reach for my hand,” Ewan Arrowsmith shouted while desperately trying to help his best friend Robert Wakefield scale the wall. It was too high for Robert’s shorter stature, but Ewan now straddled the top, reaching down, trying to pull his best friend over it. From his vantage point, he could see Goldie’s men running down the side street, closing the gap between them. Robert tried several times but stumbled and could not get a foot up. “No, I cannot reach, you go without me Ewan, lest Goldie catches you too!” Robert yelled resigned to his fate. It was his fault they were in this predicament and running for their lives. Leaving anyone behind was not something Ewan could abide by. He dropped back down from the wall to join Robert on the ground. “What are ye doing?” Robert shouted in anger. “Get back up there!” Ewan ignored him, grabbed him around the waist, and physically threw him upwards. “Reach,” Ewan shouted. Robert grabbed the top of the wall and looked over his shoulder at Ewan. “Get over, Rob! We dinnae have time to waste,” Ewan yelled, aware time was running out. Robert complied and hauled himself up. He then reached down for Ewan. Ewan backed up a few paces, then ran at the wall, and using the momentum he took a step and pushed himself upwards. He clasped Robert’s hand in a firm grip. Then both men scrambled over the wall just as Goldie’s men appeared below. Ewan and Robert landed sure-footed on the other side and sprinted towards the woods. It was another close call and a lucky escape. Once again, it was Ewan who had saved them both from a disastrous outcome. That was the nature of their unlikely friendship. Robert was the wealthy heir of a Northumbrian landowner. Ewan was the son of a Scottish farmer from Kinross. Despite the class and demographic divide, they had remained firm friends since meeting at a guild archery tournament in Inverness. Arrowsmith apprenticed in the forge of a nobleman called Macbeth. Over the years they had helped each other out of a tight bind. But lately, it seemed the older they became, the tighter the binds they found themselves. After running a distance, they retrieved their horses tethered by a copse of trees and tried to catch their breath. They had managed once more to outrun Goldie and his cutthroat crew. Whether it was adrenalin or humor at the situation, both men burst out laughing with relief at their narrow escape. “What the hell made you think you could swindle Goldie?” Ewan asked between gulps of air. “I just figured he would not notice I was cheating.” Robert shrugged his shoulders and chuckled. The two had spent the weekend in Edinburgh drinking and gaming at a local tavern. Both used aliases when they frequented gaming establishments. But this time it almost got them killed. Goldie was a powerful yet unscrupulous proprietor in these parts, and unbeknownst to the two, he owned the tavern Robert tried to swindle. Robert held the winning hand, but he was also cheating, and once discovered, all hell broke loose. “I’ve told you plenty of times Rob, you need to ken your surroundings before you ply your tricks,” Arrowsmith grumbled. “I know, but where’s the fun in that?” Rob replied with a cheeky grin. Once they caught their breath and were sure no one was following them, they set off, this time toward Robert’s home. “You can stay at the estate for a few days and travel home at your leisure,” Robert said to Ewan. Ewan tensed. He did not like that idea. They were not of the same social class. It was one thing to be gaming at taverns together; it was another thing to be sitting at the table of a nobleman. Ewan knew he was not welcome in any of the lavish homes Robert easily gained entrance to because of his birth. Robert noted Ewan’s reluctance and added, “Be at ease, my grandfather has journeyed to Bath. 'Tis only my sister and her chaperone at home. My sister is most likely roaming the countryside gazing at some natural monstrosity.” Ewan relaxed and accepted the invitation. He had been to the Wakefield manor house in the past but never met Robert’s family. Ewan’s father had warned him not to get too close to peers. But seeing as Robert’s estate was closer, he decided it was better to rest there for the night. He could make his way home in the morning. Once they arrived at the estate, they occupied the east wing and continued drinking and carousing. At least Rob was the one doing the carousing with a pair of giggling maids. Ewan was not in the mood to dally. Being in a large house made him nervous and out of place. After an evening of drunken shenanigans, Ewan was finally shown to a guest bedchamber where a bath was drawn for him. One of the serving women made it clear should he need help with his bath, she was willing. Flattered by the attention, he was uncomfortable taking liberties in his friend’s home. Besides, he felt like an imposter and would not take advantage of his host’s goodwill. Arrowsmith turned down her offer, bathed, and slept alone in the largest bed he had ever seen. He decided he would stay an extra day, then hie back to the Highlands. He needed to assist his father with the harvest season and return to Spey Valley in Inverness. *** Beth Elspeth Wakefield, Beth to her friends, was born into power and privilege. From an early age, it was expected she would marry well and carry on the family tradition of Wakefield’s marrying into the royal houses of England. Her grandfather and guardian had deigned it to be so ever since Elspeth’s mother, quit English society, and joined a religious order of Beguines. His eccentric son-in-law then had the nerve to up and die before Beth was nine summers old. The only problem with that trajectory was Elspeth inherited her mother’s zest for life and her father’s disdain for rules. She rarely paid attention to anything her grandfather said. When the strictures of society became too much, she happily lost herself in her paintings, which is why she was up at dawn sitting atop a steep hill sketching subjects from a distance. Her tutor wanted her to learn Romanesque art designs because iconic figures were all the rage. But Beth preferred real-life subjects to depictions of saints. From her vantage point, she sketched the heart of the estate, everyday yeomen and crofters who worked the land and provided domestic service at the manor. It fascinated her that no one thought to capture their lives in paintings. Beth loved colors and had an eye for texture and hues. To create something from nothing was the highlight of her day. She began working on the tools of her trade, mixing earthy pigments with egg tempera to create vibrant, bold colors. Studying her sketches whilst mixing her paints, she was oblivious to the curious feathered creature coveting her tools and waddling closer to her instruments. It wasn’t until a long beak plucked the mixing brush from her fingers and took off running that Beth realized she’d been robbed by a goose. *** Arrowsmith It was early in the morning as Arrowsmith walked the vast estate. Robert was still abed and most likely would not surface for some time. Arrowsmith was never one to sleep in. Years of helping his father with chores on the farm and training with other men at the forge meant he got up at the crack of dawn. A habit he was apt to maintain. Never one to be idle, Arrowsmith woke early, ate a large breakfast, ignored the maids giving him subtle glances, and ventured outdoors. He often marveled at the idleness of noblemen. Even if he were a wealthy man, he could never remain idle. He had a strong work ethic and was reliable to a fault. He was just walking up an incline when he heard a feminine voice cursing and shouting. He also heard intermittent honking sounds. Arrowsmith followed the noise and froze on the spot, not knowing whether to laugh or help because the scene before him was utterly ridiculous. A young woman in peasant garb was battling a goose that had something in its beak. “Damn you, give it back, Esmerelda!” she said with one hand around the goose’s neck trying to wrangle it into submission. Her other hand attempted to pry an item out of its beak. The goose swiped her face with its wings in protest. The more the woman yelled, the louder the goose honked. “Stop it! You know tis not polite to steal my things,” she hissed. The recalcitrant goose struggled out of her grip and pecked her on the backside. She yelped the goose honked. Then it snatched something colorful off her trestle table and ran off with it. Its white feathers slowly taking on a cobalt blue tinge. Meanwhile, the woman was covered in red and green hues. She gave chase and caught the recalcitrant goose again. It honked even louder. Turns out it was a call to arms because Arrowsmith witnessed in disbelief several geese warriors cresting the horizon in defense of their kin. A cacophony of nasal monosyllabic, honking was their battle cry. They immediately set upon the young woman and attempted to peck her to death. He was already moving towards her when he heard a muffled voice say, “Oh no, you will not win! You tiresome creatures.” She held steadfast to the item within the assailant’s beak before she stumbled and disappeared beneath a flurry of feathers and beaks. Arrowsmith spotted a flash of a shapely thigh and ankles before the gaggle swallowed her up. Arrowsmith chuckled as he waded into the heart of the feathery war zone. He narrowly escaped several winged attacks as he wrenched out a disheveled, cursing, hissing, creature with dark brown curls, covered in blue paint and feathers. She came out the victor because firmly clasped in her hand was the object she fought so hard to win. Arrowsmith shooed the gaggle away and the offending goose with an indignant glare upon its avian face honked once more, got one last peck on the woman’s bottom before leading its battalion away. Arrowsmith just stared at her, his eyes shining with restrained laughter. She was a mess. “That blasted bird, thinks she owns the place,” she said as she tried to wipe the paint off her dress and her hands. When she finally looked up, Arrowsmith felt like someone had punched him in the gut. He took a sharp intake of breath and his step faltered because she was a vision. Suddenly he was a shy, untried boy. “Thank you for coming to my rescue, 'tis very kind of you." She smiled at him and held her hand out towards him. Arrowsmith was smitten. He glanced at her hand, then at her, and did not move. “Well, are you going to shake it or just look at it?” she asked. Arrowsmith blushed and shook her hand. “I am Beth. Pleased to meet you.” “I am Ewan, but my friends just call me Arrowsmith.” “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Ewan,” she replied, not wanting to presume a friendship so soon. Beth released his hand and returned to her painting tools, trying to clean up the mess the goose left behind. “Are you new to the area, Ewan? I have not seen you in these parts.” Arrowsmith loved the way she said his name. “I am just visiting a friend at the manor house,” he replied. “You are friends with Robert Wakefield?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Aye, I am.” Beth stopped to take his full measure. The lilt of his accent was Scottish. She thought his brogue was very charming, and she was trying hard not to blush because he was very handsome. There was a rugged appeal about him. He was a masculine specimen, like a sculpture chiseled from rock. She wished she could sketch his likeness someday. There was a depth of character in his eyes and his hands showed signs of hard work. Solid hands, solid heart. They remained silent for some time, both trying to think of something to say when Arrowsmith’s eyes lighted on a sketch sitting on a wooden support made of poplar birch. The drawing was exquisite. It was just a charcoal sketch, but she had drawn the exact likeness of the gardener. The artistry mesmerized Arrowsmith. She captured the very essence of the gardener at work. The details in his hands, the lines in his brow, and the dogged determination on his face as he tilled the soil. Arrowsmith thought her talent extraordinary. “Oh, that’s nothing.” Beth blushed and snatched the sketch off the easel and away from his view. “Tis just a… I’m just trialing some new style of drawing.” “Tis verra beautiful, lass. You have an exceptional talent to capture his likeness so well.” Beth was embarrassed at his praise. “Tis not very Romanesque… I should paint more iconic figures.” Arrowsmith said, “I dinnae ken what any of that means, but you have a gift.” She blushed and started fussing with things on her trestle table. “I make a terrible artist. My tutor expects me to study more refined figures.” “Pardon my ignorance, but why?” “Tis what they expect of painters these days.” Beth shrugged her shoulders. Arrowsmith had nothing much to say to that statement. He was fascinated with the tools of her trade. There were two egg yolks on the table and pigments of different colors. “What do you use the eggs for?” he asked. Beth’s face lit up. No one ever asked her about her painting technique. It was nice to talk about art for a change. She could not understand why, but she found it easy conversing with Ewan, and she started blathering on. “I mix the pigments with the egg yolk to create shiny colors for my paintings. The yolk creates a protective barrier so the colors last longer. Tis a cheaper method to using oil.” She glanced at Arrowsmith and noticed he was listening to her intently, as if imagining how the process worked. And that was how Arrowsmith, and Beth struck up a friendship, discussing painting techniques. Eventually Arrowsmith settled on a tree stump beside her and watched as Beth brought color and vibrant life to the gardener’s sketch. Before long, they had fallen into a comfortable conversation about many other topics. Beth became even more animated as she spoke about things she had seen on her travels and Arrowsmith shared about the tools of his trade as a bowyer at the forge. Beth listened with fascination, wishing she could watch him fashion a bow and arrowhead sometime. Arrowsmith knew at that moment he had found the woman he wanted to make a life with. His dream had always been a simple one. To earn a good living from his craft, marry a bonnie woman and create a family and a home for them to live in peace. He decided Beth was that woman, and judging by her clothing and her down-to-earth manner, he reasoned she must be an artist in the training of some sort. If he took her with him to Inverness, after they married, of course, she could likely ply some of her trade for noble families. Arrowsmith was smiling as he gazed at Beth while she talked about a festival she had attended earlier that year. He was already mapping out his life with her when they were interrupted by someone approaching. “Arrowsmith, there you are! Blast, I have been looking for you everywhere. I see you have met my sister Beth,” Robert said whilst on horseback. Robert burst out laughing at the sight of Beth. “Bug, you look horrendous,” he said, calling her by her pet name. Beth glared at her brother for calling her ‘bug’ in front of a visitor. But it was when she glanced at Arrowsmith that she felt a strange tension. Arrowsmith stood immediately and stepped away from her. His body stiffened, and his entire demeanor changed. The relaxed, jovial man she had spent the morning conversing with was gone. Beth felt the weight of his judgment, and she knew not why. Robert rolled his eyes. “Tis, only Arrowsmith, and I am certain he thinks my sister resembles a bug too.” Arrowsmith’s dream shattered with Robert’s declaration. She was Robert’s sister? Damn him to hell! He knew then she was beyond his reach. His eyes shuttered, and the warmth left them. “I see,” Arrowsmith said, and remained quiet. He was a farmer’s son and a guild bowyer. She was so far above his station in life there was no point pursuing the acquaintance. What a fool he was. “Come, let’s return to the house. Cook has prepared a lavish feast for us!” Robert said. Arrowsmith nodded his head. He silently helped Beth pack her things and followed the siblings back to the manor. He refused to make eye contact with her or engage in conversation, such was his disappointment at his future loss. *** Keywords: Second chance at love, first love, OTT male, Scottish clans, Romantic Suspense, Medieval Empires, action and adventure, Warrior women, King Macbeth, spies, feisty heroines, over the top males, Highland warriors. Fans of the following authors are known to enjoy this Scottish Historical Romance series: Julie Garwood Michele Sinclair Diana Gabaldon Hannah Howell Donna Fletcher Maya Banks Kathryn Le Veque Mary Wine Terri Brisbin Joanna Fulford