All Her Men (The Queen's Men Book 1)

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2016 Brina Cary

Magic Wolf Publishing

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is purely coincidental.

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Cover Design and Interior Format by The Killion Group, Inc.

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There are too many people to acknowledge here; however, I will try because this book is very special. I hope that anyone left off of this list knows that it wasn’t on purpose.

Dr. Harper, thank you for being willing to assist me in all of my crazy writer questions. I know I must have driven you nuts with all of my “what-if” hypotheses. I also appreciate you and Dr. Hatton looking out for me when it was needed, mainly due to my own stubbornness. You both have taught me how to be a better person and for that I’m grateful.

Thank you to Barbara Clark, of B. Clark Editing, and Jennifer Jakes, of the Killion Group, for your countless hours of editing and trying to keep me on track. I know it was a monumental task and I sincerely appreciate your hard work.

Kimberly Killion, thank you for the fabulous cover and for being so patient with me while I learn everything. I look forward to working with you on future projects!

Chapter 1

“Are we sure ‘tis her?” Disbelief tainted and defiled his words. How could this be her?

Jacob looked at the young woman juggling a purse, several books, and a coffee. Her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail and her glasses were falling off of her nose. Her baggy clothes made her look so…frumpy.

This was the woman Scotland’s future depended upon? This frumpy woman? Brandir must have known the vote would succeed. But truly? This was the last direct descendant of Mary Queen of Scots? He had waited his whole life to meet this woman and here she was. Disappointment seared him. On a sigh, he whispered, “Aye, tis Amelia MacRory.”

Had the fire that he had seen in her eyes died? What had happened to her to take that away. He thought of the picture of her as a child, stored back home. The little girl in that picture had been beaten down until she hid herself behind frumpy clothes, separating herself from life itself. Unfortunately, it was time for life to intervene and force her back into the fray.

An answering sigh came from behind him, disrupting his thoughts. Will had been acting anxious since their flight landed. “She will nae like being kidnapped. Not many lasses would. America has been her home fer so long. They do ken that she still has to agree to it, right?”

They knew all right. That did not mean that they cared. “Not our concern. We are just to take the lass. Escort her to the final destination. The party will get her to acquiesce.” That was their job after all. If only Brandir was still here. Maybe he could have helped this go more smoothly. Only, Brandir was dead. It fell to Jacob now, to keep the promise he made as a child.

The three men continued their observation of her until she finally found her key. After she unlocked the door and ducked inside the small two bedroom home, they began making plans.

She had no neighbors for miles, so there was no one to hear her scream. There were also no lights around the property, she did not have a guard dog, nor did she have any cameras. When this was all said and done they were going to have a serious discussion on personal security. What if someone else had learned of her existence first? She would be dead already. Then there would be no hope. No future for Scotland. Everything Brandir had worked for would be lost. All because of her idiocy. Idiocy it was too.

The future had changed in a single moment, with a single vote. The vote had been for secession from England. As amazingly as it seemed, Brandir’s vision of the future had come true. Tonight, Amelia MacRory’s future would change as well. How would she take it? Would she hate Jacob for it? Brandir was the one that had put him in this spot, a place with no guidance, no hope, and only a slight chance of success.

Checking his weapons, Jacob took a deep breath. Even with everything to come, she would not be accepting of the Parliament’s will imposed upon her. Everything about this woman screamed that she would fight with a silent disregard for authority, never acquiescing to their plans. With a degree in humanitarian studies, teaching college classes on warfare on weekends, and working a day job for a computer company. she seemed highly intelligent. However, she also had a warrant for her arrest for seventy-five, fifteen dollar tickets. Every day she received a parking violation, yet she continued to park in the same spot, day after day. That screamed stubbornness. There was no telling what was to come when she was told what her fate would be.

Pulling his nine mil, Jacob ensured the safety was off. Dangerous things would follow in the wake of the vote. They had to be prepared for competition. They had to be prepared for others. It was foolish to assume that they were the only ones privy to the knowledge of who and where this woman was.

A glint in the trees off to the left of her house proved his worst fears realized… They were not the only ones hunting Amelia. They had to move quickly.

“Shooter in the woods! Go! Go! Go!”

Jacob swung his door open and took off towards the assassin. He had to get there first. They could not let the shooter make it to the house. It would throw their plan into chaos. The future would be lost.

Jacob stealthily ran across the road. The shooter would know that they were there soon. Will and Darren were not far behind him. The shooter was moving towards the house. However, something caught his eye. Bringing him to a momentary halt. There was another glint in a tree…

Two shooters!

He turned slightly and motioned Will to the house. His brother would see to the woman. He and Darren would take care of the shooters.

Holding the gun in front of him, he aimed towards the shooter in the tree. A light came on in the upstairs of the house. The shooter was aiming towards the bedroom. Towards the woman, Amelia.

Jacob fired.

A single shot, but it served its purpose. The shooter pulled back. Precious seconds were gained. Yet the shooter on the ground… That shooter was missing. Dear God… what had he done? While keeping his eye on one, he had lost the other. He pointed towards the tree, knowing that Darren would understand. Darren would do what needed to be done. Their mission could not fail. Not everything was lost for them though.

Rounding the side of the house, Jacob crept along the dull white siding. Crispy leaves were piled up against the concrete base. Carefully he tried to avoid the crunch as he stepped along the nature-made minefield. Winter had set, the chance for the Earth to rest, preparing for the bountiful spring. Nights were long. Bringing with it the possibility of terror. Going up against the unknown was similar. Life was fleeting. The tightness of his stomach told him that.

His breath was visible in the night air.

A muted shot rang out.

The sound echoed from around him, more behind than in front. Had the shooter gotten to her already? Cautiously, he stepped forward. The shooter could be anywhere. Taking a slow breath, he raised his gun and prepared to fire, if needed.

They had mapped the layout before the woman had arrived home. A back door led into the kitchen. As he leaned forward a bit he saw that the backdoor was cracked open. The shooter could be just inside the door. He pushed it forward slightly, noticing that it did not squeak. Even if the shooter was not far inside, he would be making his way upstairs. Holding his weapon at the ready he crept forward.

A slight noise in the living room reached his ears. It was an almost imperceptible sound. One that not many would hear; however, it gave away their position. Will had indeed come into contact with the shooter.

Quickly moving forward, Jacob bolted into the living room. He grinned madly at the sight that greeted him. Will held the shooter by the throat, one arm wrapped tightly around the man’s neck. The other stretched out, his hand wrapped tightly around the shooter’s wrist. Taking another step toward them, he froze at the creak of the floorboards beneath him. Even if Amelia had not heard the gunshots she would have definitely heard that.

Moving swiftly he punched the shooter in the face. The first punch stunned the man but did not subdue him. He struggled against Will. Jacob pulled his arm back and punched him again. This time the shooter went limp, the punch knocking him out cold. As Will dropped him, he heard what he hoped was Darren coming in the backdoor. Along with an unusual…noise.

Chapter 2

Amelia froze. The weird thunder had startled her moments before, but she had dismissed it. Winter in the woods was odd, nightmare-inducing even. Now, though… Now, footsteps, quiet in the night, sounded below. The floors echoed sounds throughout the house. It had always driven her nuts, until now. Now, there was someone below. Someone had just entered her home… had breached her sanctuary.

Not like it was hard or anything, she scoffed. Why again had she bought this house? The hardwood floors. Of course, the hardwoods had won her over. Unfortunately, she was thirty minutes from the nearest police station. They would never make it there in time, but she had to try. Tossing back the covers, she prayed that it would not be too late. Reaching for the nightstand she quietly began feeling around for her cellphone.

It wasn’t there.

Scrunching up her face, she tried to place where she had put it. Her shoulders fell and fear spread throughout her. It was on the kitchen island… The kitchen island that was downstairs… with the intruders.

Her breath caught as her lungs decided to act up. Stupid lungs, she thought. Within seconds she would be making a grinding wheezing sound, alerting the intruders to her location, if she did not find her back up inhaler… Of course her usual one was downstairs next to her phone.

She slammed her fist down on the bed, determination flooring her. That was it! If she survived the night, she was having a home phone installed and stashing inhalers all throughout the house. There would be one in every nook and cranny in the entire place!

Tossing her legs over the side of the bed, she quietly stood. The slight wheeze had already begun. Hopefully she could get to her inhaler before they killed her. Three minutes. That was all she had. After three minutes the risk of death was greater than survival. Although, maybe they would just ignore her. It was all chance…

She snuck down the back staircase, which entered into the kitchen. One step at a time. The intruders must have realized that their footsteps echoed and either began standing still or began walking with more caution.

Breaths began getting shorter and shorter. The wheezing began getting louder.

Peeking out into the room, she could see her rescue inhaler sitting next to her phone. A sliver of moonlight coming in from the kitchen window seemed to create a halo around it. She jumped off from the last step and ran towards it. Ten feet. That was all she had to cover, ten measly little feet. Those ten feet were the equivalent of miles when you did not know where the intruders in your home were though. However, right as her hand was about to close over it a strong arm wrapped around her waist, jerking her up off the ground. The intruder had come in through the back door. The one she had forgotten to check before going to bed…

She was swung around. Dread filled her. Without her inhaler she was done for. The wheezing got louder as she faced one of her attackers. Frantically she clawed at the arm around her.

“What tis that awful sound she’s making?”

He was speaking to someone in the living room. Seemed there were multiple intruders in her house. What did they want? She did not have anything of value in the house for them to take… Oh God, were they there to hurt her?

The mere thought made her lungs seize up even more. Her vision began to go dark. So hard to stay awake. A numbing, buzzing feeling began in the skin around her mouth and her hands. Not much longer now. There were three, including the one that held her. She couldn’t scream despite the fear that made her wheezing worse.

“Is she passing out?”

In one last ditch effort she pointed to the kitchen island.

“Oh, dear Lord! We’ve killed her!” The one that had been speaking saw what she pointed to. “What ‘tis that?”

“Tis an inhaler! Grab it quickly!” The one that held her brought her over to a chair and sat her in it. “Lass, stay with us.”

Her body was going limp, as if  lead filled her bones. The man held her up, but her hands had gone numb. Her defective lungs burned for air. Her chest ached. Why did they have to fail now? Their voices got further away as the room spun. Her last thought was ‘so this is how I die. No family to mourn me. No one to care.’

She felt the inhaler being placed against her lips, but it was too late. She gave in to the darkness. At least in the darkness they couldn’t harm her.