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 Table of Contents
Her Savage Mountain Daddy by Madison Faye
Professor Daddy by Jane Henry
My Marine Daddies by Sara Fields
Mafia Daddy by Renee Rose
Daddy’s Little Captive by Loki Renard
There Once Was a Girl by Maggie Ryan
Daughter #13 by Zoe Blake
Monsters of Mercy by Alta Hensley
Dueling Daddies by Lee Savino
Daddy of Mine by J.L. Beck
Rainy Day Daddy by Isabella Laase
Trusting Daddy by Kelly Dawson
Biker Daddy Gunner by Kara Kelley
Daddy Ever After by Measha Stone
Finding Her Place by Amelia Smarts
Double Dippin’ Daddies by Mary Wehr
Disappointing Her Daddies by Maddie Taylor
Daddy’s Naughty Girl by Meredith O’Reilly
Bruised Not Broken by Morganna Williams
Tri-ing for Daddy by Katherine Deane
Blue Collar Daddy by Alexis Alvarez
Trained by Him by Shelly Douglas
Taking Helena in Hand by Sassa Daniels
Bodyguard Daddy by Marlee Wray
Daddy’s Princess by Rory Reynolds
 Daddy’s Demands
Twenty-Five Steamy Daddy Dom Romance Novellas

By

Madison Faye, Renee Rose, Loki Renard, Maggie

Ryan, Zoe Blake, Alta Hensley, Lee Savino, J.L. Beck,
Jane Henry, Isabella Laase, Kelly Dawson, Sara
Fields, Kara Kelley, Measha Stone, Amelia Smarts,
Mary Wehr, Maddie Taylor, Meredith O’Reilly,
Morganna Williams, Katherine Deane, Alexis Alvarez,
Shelly Douglas, Sassa Daniels, Marlee Wray, and
Rory Reynolds
 Copyright © 2018 by Madison Faye, Renee Rose, Loki Renard,
Maggie Ryan, Zoe Blake, Alta Hensley, Lee Savino, J.L. Beck, Jane
Henry, Isabella Laase, Kelly Dawson, Sara Fields, Kara Kelley,
Measha Stone, Amelia Smarts, Mary Wehr, Maddie Taylor, Meredith
O’Reilly, Morganna Williams, Katherine Deane, Alexis Alvarez, Shelly
Douglas, Sassa Daniels, Marlee Wray, and Rory Reynolds

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or

transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical,
including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage
and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the
publisher.

Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.

www.StormyNightPublications.com

Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson

This book is intended for adults only.

Her Savage Mountain Daddy by
Madison Faye
 Chapter One

Nina

“Have another shot!”

Carrie screams the words into my ear, but I barely flinch.
Heck, I can barely hear her over the thundering, thumping bass
music surrounding us in the dim, sultry blue-lit club.
I can already feel the effects of the first sugary-sweet shot
she’s forced on me that tasted vaguely of lemon and vanilla. Ick. I
can feel it warming its way through my stomach, making my head
spin a little with the heady rush of the alcohol. Or maybe that’s the
music, and the throbbing mass of people dancing and swaying and
grinding all around us. But it’s probably the drink.
I’d say I don’t normally drink, but that’s putting it lightly. The
sugary shot I’ve just downed is my second drink ever. The first
being the half-warm beer that Teddy Genaro convinced me to drink
at the bonfire party he dragged me to a week after graduation. The
beer was gross, but Teddy trying to put his hands up my skirt was
even grosser. So, my whole first foray into drinking was cut pretty
short when I’d slapped his hand away and walked home in a huff.
But Carrie? And Lauren, and Kendra? Well, they’re a different
breed. Carrie’s my roommate over in the freshman dorm of
Cartwright College. Lauren and Kendra are two other girls who are
pledging Delta Pi Kappa along with Carrie, and this is certainly not
their first time drinking. Or second. And judging from the way
Kendra is giggling at the way the guy she just met five minutes ago
is sliding his hand up her leg past the hem of her skirt, I’m pretty
confident they’ve done a whole lot of that before too.
Clubs are not my scene. Neither is drinking, obviously. But
after coming up with lame excuses for the last two months of living
with Carrie as to why I couldn’t or wouldn’t go out with her for the
night, I guess I finally ran out of excuses.
Well, that and… well, that.
 What I saw four days ago.
I shake my head, hard, trying to knock the memories and the
visuals of that scene from my head. Carrie turns, beaming wickedly
at me like she can’t wait to further corrupt me. She presses another
of the sickly sweet lemon-vanilla shots into my hands, and this time,
I don’t even hesitate. I knock it back, my cheeks burning hot as the
alcohol slides down my throat. The more experienced girls cheer and
snap pictures, like this is some sort of occasion.
My blood pumps hotter as the shot settles into my stomach,
and I force a smile to my face. But, the visuals are still there. The
images.
The sounds.
The side street I had no business walking down that late at
night, all alone. The man on his knees in the alley, pleading up at
the three men standing around him. The tall one with the slicked-
back, bleached-blond hair laughing as he pointed the gun at the
man on the ground. The thought in my head that this couldn’t be
real—that this must be a movie shoot that I’ve stumbled into. This
isn’t real life—people don’t hold guns to other people’s foreheads in
dark alleys in real life, right?
But then there’s the shot, and the loudest sound I’ve ever
heard. And the blood, everywhere. I’m barely aware of the scream
wrenching from my mouth, the world blurring past me as I turn and
run—I run faster than I’ve ever run in my life, my heart and my
screams caught in my throat until I make it back to campus.
That was four days ago, and not a moment has gone by when
I don’t feel like there’s a shadow behind me. Not a night that’s gone
by when I don’t wake up to the imaginary sound of a gun going off.
So, yeah, that’s why I’ve run out of excuses for why I won’t
come out with Carrie. Because tonight, I’m done with the feeling of
dread that I can’t escape. Tonight, I’m trying Carrie’s way. Tonight,
I’m done being the good girl. I’m going to get drunk—real good and
drunk. I’m going to follow these girls’ leads, and let my hang-ups
and inhibitions go.
And maybe that’s what I need. Maybe that’s what it’ll take to
finally just forget about what I saw.
 Another shot gets pressed into my hand. My head’s spinning,
and my face feels hot. God, my whole body feels hot. Carrie and
Lauren and Kendra are laughing, and even if I kind of get the feeling
that they’re laughing at me, I push it away. No psychoanalyzing
tonight. No second-guessing. Just go with it.
Someone bumps into me, skin teasing across my bare midriff.
I hug an arm around myself, once again really feeling how out of
place I am. How not ‘me’ I am right now. The tiny tank top that
ends about four inches under my breasts. The strappy heels. The
ridiculous short little skirt that makes me feel like I’m showing my
underwear off to everyone with every freaking step. All of it
borrowed from Carrie, of course, since this is a hundred miles from
anything even close to what I’d usually ever wear. She even made
me go out with her earlier and buy the underwear I’m wearing—this
ridiculously flimsy little strip of lacy pink thong.
But again, I have to stop overthinking everything. Tonight, I
just have to let go and see if finally going wild for once will push the
memories of that night out of my head. I push a loose tendril of my
blonde hair back behind my ear, smiling at my roommate and her
friends.
“Cheers!”
They laugh again, probably at me, but I ignore it as I knock
the third drink back. A hand slides across my hip, and I startle,
choking a little on the last of the drink before I turn. The guy is
probably a year or two older than my eighteen, with brown hair cut
into a very jock-like look and a thin little line of a beard drawn across
his jaw. He’s cute, sort of, in a way. Even if that facial hair is all sorts
of creepy.
“Hey, sexy.”
“Uh, hi.”
Carrie snickers behind me. “Go for it!” she giggles into my ear,
pushing me into the guy.
All I’ve told Carrie is that I don’t have ‘a lot of experience.’ I
haven’t told her that, specifically, I have zero experience, because I
was too embarrassed. I felt like a loser bringing up my total lack of
any sort of sexual history after she let loose on day one of being
roommates about the multitude of guys she’s done all sorts of things
with.
“Looking for a good time tonight?” the guy says coolly, his
eyes hooded and his hand lingering on my hip.
“I—”
Not really? Not with you? This isn’t like me at all and I just
want to go home and watch a movie on my laptop?
But, something stops me from saying any of those things.
Maybe it’s the horrible memories of the man getting shot. Maybe it’s
the alcohol. Or maybe it’s just me being tired of being the good girl.
Maybe it’s time to be a Carrie, or a Lauren, or a Kendra for once.
After all, this is college. And, isn’t all this exactly what I’m supposed
to be doing? Getting drunk? Going out dancing? Getting wild with
strange, somewhat cute boys?
And so I don’t say no.
“Maybe?”
He grins. “Maybe you and I should have a drink then.”
It’s a blur of my roommate and her friends giggling behind us,
and the guy high-fiving the guy who’s been all over Kendra for the
last few minutes. Apparently they’re buddies. The guy with his hand
still on my hip turns and yells an order over the noise at the
bartender, and turns back a minute later with two clear drinks over
ice.
“Vodka soda your drink?”
“Uh—”
No? I have no idea?
“Yep!”
I drink it quickly, feeling the music and the neon blue lights
wash over me. The guy moves closer, and suddenly, he pulls the
drink from my hands.
“How about we go somewhere?”
I feel my cheeks burn, and a little knot of worry burning in my
stomach.
“Uh, where?”
He grins. “Knew you were down for a good time. Men’s room
is this way, baby.”
 He takes my hand and starts to drag me away. Panic jolts
through me, and my eyes dart to Carrie. But she just smiles and
gives me a quick hug.
“Hey, just have fun, okay? Girls night out, Nina!” she whoops,
hoisting her drink up in the air and cheering with her friends as the
guy with the weird facial hair pulls me away through the dark club.
Part of me wants to just pull away, and run away. But then,
the other part of me doesn’t do a thing. After all, maybe this is what
I need, right? To forget everything I saw? After all, why not? People
are always saying that virgins make sex a bigger deal than it really
is. I mean, it’s just sex. Again, this is what I’m supposed to be doing
as a college freshman, right? Getting wild? Getting drunk?
Losing my v-card in a club bathroom to a stranger?
Suddenly, it’s like the real me inside finally breaks free of the
little cage I’ve stuck her in all night, and I stop short. The guy
glances back when I stop letting him drag me along.
“What’s up?”
“I-I’m sorry.” I shake my head. “I can’t do this.”
He frowns. “Huh?”
“This,” I mumble, the alcohol blurring through me. “I don’t
want to do this.”
His frown turns into a scowl, which almost looks comical with
his boyish features and his stupid little strip of facial hair.
“Oh, so just leading me on for a free drink, huh, bitch?”
“No, that’s not it—”
“Let’s go.”
He starts to drag me down the dark hallway, away from the
thumping music and blue lights toward what must be the men’s
room. Panic lances through me, and I try to yank my hand back
from his grip.
“I’m serious, okay? Look, I’ll pay you back for the stupid
drink, just—”
“Oh, you better believe you will.”
I gasp as he whirls us, pushing me against the wall. His hand
grabs my bare thigh, and I recoil.
 “Yeah, you like that, don’t you, baby? You like it when Mikey
puts his hands on you, huh?”
“Get—”
I don’t even finish the sentence before Mikey suddenly goes
flying away from me, like magic. I blink, trying to make sense of
how exactly he’s just managed to skip backwards and crash into the
wall opposite me so fast, when suddenly, I turn and I see him.
Him.
My heart stops for a second, and a heat I’ve never felt before
blooms across my skin. He towers over me, his huge shoulders
heaving and the dark scowl on his face deepening as he takes a step
toward Mikey. There’s a dark shadow of a scruff on his perfect,
chiseled jaw, clenched tight. He runs a hand through his dark hair,
and my eyes follow the way his thick arm muscles ripple, the tattoos
covering his skin dancing in the low light.
He’s much older than me, and while there’s this air of
scariness and danger to him, he’s also totally gorgeous.
“She asked you nicely.”
His deep, dark voice resonates right through me, even if he’s
talking to Mikey. It tingles through my body, vibrating through every
part of me and making me gasp quietly.
“Look, man, who—”
The man growls, like an animal, and when he takes a step
toward Mikey, the creepy college boy whimpers and recoils across
the floor.
“Smart. Now you fuckin’ stay there and count to one hundred
before you get up.”
And slowly, he turns, and his eyes lock right on me. I gasp,
swallowing as those piercing ice-blue eyes cut right into me, burning
something fierce and hot right through me, like his eyes are nailing
me to the wall at my back.
“You,” he growls, softly this time.
“Me?” I squeak.
“You’re coming with me. Now.”
I shiver, his words melting through me before I suddenly
blink. Wait, what?
 “Wait, excuse me?”
“We don’t have time for the banter, princess,” he grumbles,
glancing over his shoulder back toward the bar before turning back
to me. “Let’s go, now.”
“Uh, no? I’m here with my frien—”
“I’m counting to three,” says the big, gorgeous, dangerous-
looking man.
“And what happens at three?” I croak out.
“I throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of here.”
“You wouldn’t da—”
“One.”
I blink, my eyes darting to the creep on the floor before
glancing back at the big man.
“Hang on—”
“Two.”
“Who are you?”
“Cormac,” he mutters quietly. He glances over his shoulder
one more time, and I watch his jaw tighten as his eyes dart back to
lance into mine all over again.
“My name is Cormac, and you just ran out of chances.”
I start to open my mouth, when he beats me to it.
“Three.”
He’s on me before I can even process it. His strong, powerful
hands grab me, and I shriek as he suddenly lifts me up, tosses me
easily across his hard, muscled shoulder, and storms down the dark
hallway.
“Let go of me! Let me—!”
The door at the end of the hallway slams open when he
plants his booted foot against it. The chilly night air hits me, teasing
up over my bare skin and up under my tiny skirt. The man—Cormac
—storms toward a black Escalade parked out back of the club.
“Wait, please—”
Panic grips me as he yanks the door open and effortlessly
tosses me into the passenger seat. I scream, twisting and lashing
out with a heel. He grunts as I catch him in the thigh before his
powerful hands grab my foot and shove it back into the car. I lash
out with my nails this time, but he growls as he catches my hand
before I can reach his face.
“Listen, princess!” he roars, instantly shutting me up. “We
both know what you saw the other night.”
The blood drains from my face, and a cold chill suddenly
slices through me. And instantly, I know what this is. He must work
for the men I saw. And now, he’s here to silence the one witness to
what happened in that alley.
“Please, you don’t have—please don’t kill me!”
A tear starts to roll down my cheek, when Cormac frowns.
“I’m not here to kill you, princess,” he growls quietly, his
piercing blue eyes burning into mine as he hovers over me, holding
me down in the car seat. “I’m here to protect you.”
His jaw tightens, and for whatever crazy reason, believe him.
“Now let’s go.”
He slams my door shut, and I watch, my pulse pounding as
he marches around to the driver’s side and gets in next to me. The
Escalade rumbles to life.
“Go where?” I say quietly.
“There’s a cabin, on a lake. By a place called Blackthorn
Mountain.” He turns, his eyes flashing as they pierce into mine. “It’s
somewhere safe. A place where no one is going to find you.”
I’m still trying to decide if that sounds hot as sin or absolutely
terrifying coming from him as he roars the SUV to life and peels out
into the night.
 Chapter Two

Cormac

They say I’m the best there is at what it is I do. Some people
think it’s because I’m married to the job, so to speak. That I know
no other life than the rule of the gun and primal urge to hunt and to
bring down. Others think it’s my military background, that the
Marines hammered rigorous discipline into me like a machine.
But really, it’s just one thing. It’s that I’m merciless.
I’ve held a man in chains in a fucking storage facility for
weeks once, because that’s what was necessary for the job. I’ve
stepped in front of bullets, crashed cars through walls, watched men
I’d call brother fall, all in the name of duty. My mission, whatever it
is, takes priority over every other facet of my life. The mission owns
me, and I own it until its completion.
First, there was the Marines. Then came the blue shield of a
cop’s beat. I worked the roughest neighborhoods in Detroit when I
came back, fighting against gangs almost worse than the damn
Taliban.
But now? Now I’m something different entirely. At forty now,
I’m a contractor for the FBI, with my unique skills being used the
way they should be. Unhindered by rules. Not weighed down with a
badge. My job is to hunt now—to seek, to capture, and to secure. I
hunt down the odd wanted man, but primarily, my job is to get ‘at
risk’ witnesses into protective custody, and to get them there alive.
And that’s what brings me to this shitty college club tonight.
Her. Because she’s in more danger than she could ever possibly
imagine. Because it’s not just me hunting her, it’s pieces of shit that
would hurt her. Badly. Kill her too. But that’s not going to happen,
not on my watch.
Hell, I’m in danger too. And not just when it comes to the
assholes trying to hurt her that might come after me if I intervene.
No, it’s bigger than that. It’s more explosive than that. Explosive like
the kind of news that makes headlines. Headlines like ‘FBI collusion
with criminals.’ And here I am caught in the middle of it, with this
particular job being the crux of the whole thing. I could always walk
away, and just leave the whole mess behind me, but that is not
gonna fucking happen. Not with her involved. Not when walking
away could get her killed. Not a fucking chance.
I stop, my jaw clenching tight like steel as I melt into the
shadows by the edges of the dance floor. My eyes scan the room,
instinct working like an oiled machine to drown out the background
sounds and distractions until finally, my gaze finds her.
And I growl.
I’m like a wolf who’s caught scent of his prey. A wild animal
just waiting for the chains to come off so that he can pounce.
Because this ain’t no regular job, and she sure as shit ain’t no
regular mark.
Everything is different with Nina.
It’s more than just ‘protect the witness’ with her. It’s more
than just doing my job. With her, it feels like I’m protecting a piece
of myself. With her, the idea of failing doesn’t just piss me off, it gets
me furious. The idea of those pieces of shit getting their hands on
her, or hurting her, or even touching her has my blood boiling like
lava in my veins, my fury barely contained as my muscles clench and
my rage builds, standing there in the shadows.
I’ve been watching her for days now, ever since the bureau
got wind that Sylvan and his men were after her. Surveillance
footage placed her in the alley near the hit Sylvan and his men
pulled on the rival arms dealer, and it was pretty easy to put two and
two together and figure out what that jackal wanted with her.
He wants to tie up loose ends. Plug the leaks.
That’s not going to happen.
Yeah, I’ve been watching her alright. Watching, agonizing,
and obsessing over her. And my obsession has only grown with each
passing day, until it’s consuming every single part of me. I’ve
watched the way she turns those college boys’ heads without even
knowing it—heads I want to snap off at the neck for having the
audacity to try to catch a glimpse of her. I’ve watched her slowly
give in to the pressures of her shitty, terrible influence of a
roommate. The sexier clothes. The staying out later. Going to
parties, flirting with boys.
My blood boils again at the fucking thought of it. And when I
watch the fucking punk with the stupid ass pencil-line excuse for a
beard put his hands on her, I almost roar. I almost charge through
the crowd like a bull set free to pound him into the ground for
touching what’s mine.
Oh, and she is mine. Or, she will be. Duty? The job? The
mission? Oh, I’ll be fulfilling all of those. I will make sure she’s safe
from Sylvan Bucks and his crew. I’ll make sure she’s safe from the
whole damn world. But after that? No, after that, she’ll be mine and
mine alone. There’s that innocence to her that sets a fire inside of
me. There’s that way she walks and the way she moves that tells my
trained eye that she’s never been touched—not like that.
She walks like a girl who’s never had a man’s cock slide
between her legs and plunge deep in her sweet, honeyed little cunt
until she’s filled to the brim. She’d never been claimed, or ridden
hard. She’s never had a man bend her over across the hood of a car,
or gotten her on her hands and knees on a bed made for a queen as
he’s given her every inch.
Oh, but she will. I’ll be the man to show her those things. I’ll
be the man to take that sweet innocence for himself. I’ll pluck that
rose. I’ll spread those pretty thighs and ease my thick cock deep
inside her candy sweet pussy until I empty every single sticky drop
of cum from my swollen balls against her womb.
I watch as the punk takes her hand, my teeth flashing and a
red mist clouding my eyes. I watch her nod, and the rage only
grows. He starts to pull her away, toward the back of the club away
from her roommate, off to that dark hallway that leads to the men’s
room. My pulse roars inside, and the sound tumbles from my mouth
like a wild beast about to kill. It startles two sweet little things and
some punk in tight jeans and a designer t-shirt standing near me.
The three of them stare at my huge form with terror in their eyes,
like they haven’t noticed me standing there in the darkness until the
sound.
 They move away quickly. I turn back toward Nina, but when I
realize she’s out of sight, my rage explodes out of me. I snarl,
shoving through the crowd, knocking these college boys and their
stupid dates for the night aside. I plunge right through the middle of
the dance floor, which starts to part for me, like I’m a force of nature
about to destroy.
And I am.
I come around the corner to see her struggling, trying to pull
her arm free of the punk who’s got her pressed against the wall. He
laughs, and when his hand touches her thigh under that slutty short
hemline of her skirt, something inside of me snaps. I roar as I
thunder toward them, ripping him away and slamming him into the
opposite wall. The piece of shit crumples.
“She asked you nicely.”
He starts to open his mouth, but when I snarl and move
toward him, he recoils like the little predatory pussy he is. And I
know he’s not getting up then. I turn, and suddenly, my eyes fall on
her.
Fuck.
I’ve never been this close to her. I’ve never been close
enough to smell the scent of her, or feel the heat of her skin. Close
enough to reach out and pull her against me. Close enough to crush
my lips to hers like I’m never going to stop kissing her.
But there’s danger close by, and I know it’s a matter of time,
and not much of it, before it hits us. I spotted Sylvan’s guys outside
the club when I came here, and I know he must be on the way. And
when they spot her here, the shit’s going to hit the fan. We have to
move, now.
“You’re coming with me. Now.”
She shivers, her big blue eyes blinking up at me. I’d say in
fear, because, well, I’m a scary fucking guy. But with her, it’s
different. She looks at me with something that isn’t fear at all. It’s
fiery. It’s fierce. It’s got a little attitude to it.
“Wait, excuse me?”
“We don’t have time for the banter, princess,” I mutter. I look
over my shoulder, scanning the crowd, hoping for more time. But
time is up. I can see Sylvan’s guys stepping down the stairs from the
entrance, glancing around the place. And I know Sylvan himself
can’t be far behind them.
“We’re going, now.”
Nina’s brow wrinkles, and she gets this sassy look on her face
that might just be cute if I didn’t know for a fact that men with guns
were about to find us. “Uh, no? I’m here with my frien—”
“I’m counting to three.” My words seem to knock her back a
step.
“And what happens at three?” she whispers.
“I throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of here.”
Her jaw drops, that sassy look turning to outright disbelief as
she stares at me. “You wouldn’t dare!”
Oh, wouldn’t I.
“One.”
She shakes her head. “Wait, hang—”
“Two.”
“Who are you?”
“Cormac,” I say quietly, my eyes burning into hers. I glance
back at the main club dance floor again, and this time, I see the
whole crew. Sylvan, along with Tommy DiFresno and his brother
Tony—the three who Nina saw that night. My jaw tenses before I
turn back to her.
No more games. No more bullshit. We’re getting the fuck out
of here now.
“My name is Cormac, and you just ran out of chances.”
Her mouth starts to open, and I can almost hear the backtalk
she’s just dying to throw my way, but like I said, I’m fresh out of
time for games.
“Three.”
I snatch her up before she can even blink, tossing her small
little body up over my broad shoulder like she weighs nothing at all.
She shrieks, predictably, kicking and slapping at me in a way that
makes me grin. Not because I like that I’m scaring her enough to
fight back, but because she is fighting back.
 She’s got fire in her, and I like that. Still, she keeps fighting
me like this and I will tie her up if it means getting her sweet little
ass out of here in one piece.
She’s clearly a little drunk from the drinks her shitty
roommate fed her. And she keeps fighting me all the way out the
back door to the parking lot, trying to catch me with a heel, or
pummeling my back with her fists. But it’s no use fighting a man like
me. Not when I’m on a mission. Not when she’s my mission.
She squirms against me again, and my arm tightens around
her waist. She wriggles again, and this time, her short little skirt
pulls up high across the backs of her thighs, all the way up over the
soft curve of that tight little ass of hers. My eyes catch a glimpse of
tiny pink lace, pulled right against the crease of her ass, and I
fucking growl. My cock throbs instantly, heat and raw want blazing
though me. My balls swell with cum, and it takes everything in my
power not to slam her against the side of the SUV, rip those panties
off, and plunge every inch of my aching cock deep inside her sweet
untouched heaven right then and there.
Somehow, I restrain myself.
I get her in the car. I give her the basic gist of what’s going
on. And finally, she stops trying to fight me. Finally, she takes a
damn breath. I can feel my pulse roaring as I close her door and
then march around to the driver’s side and climb in. The engine
roars to life, and I glance once more at the back door as we pull out.
No sign of Sylvan or Tommy or Tony, or their guys. But that doesn’t
mean I’ve lost them, and I know it.
Nina’s hands twist in her lap as we roar away, her breath
coming fast. I watch the swell of her breasts heave against her thin
lacy top. I watch that tiny skirt ride up so high on her creamy,
tempting thighs. I feel my cock bulging against the front of my
jeans, and I feel my heart skip a beat as I take in the absolute angel
sitting next to me in that Escalade.
I roar off into the night, and I know one thing: it’s my duty to
protect her. But it’s my mission to claim her.
 Chapter Three

Nina

The drive has mostly been in silence so far. No music on the

radio. No banter. No “So, you kidnap people. How’d you get into
that?” style conversations. Nothing. We’ve left the city, and what
feels like all of civilization behind as we drive heavily forested roads,
moving deeper and deeper into the wilderness. I can still feel the
booze pulsing through my veins.
Finally, he pulls off the main road onto a dirt one, driving
down that for another mile maybe until suddenly, we come to a stop.
“Where are we?”
My voice feels far away. I’d say it’s the fear, but then, I’m far
less scared than I know I should be. After all, a big, muscled, growly
stranger has just thrown me over his shoulder, stolen me away from
my roommate and her friends, and driven me out into the middle of
nowhere. By all counts, I should be terrified. Except, for some
reason, I’m not. Instead, it almost feels like I’m anxious, curious
even. Like there’s something new and exciting, and yes, even a little
scary waiting for me, but that it’s something I’m dying to discover.
“We’re where you’re going to stay.”
He turns the car off, and I glance out through the windshield.
The cabin is small, but nice looking, and behind it, I can see the
moon reflecting off the smooth-as-glass water of the lake.
“Where’s here?”
“Blackthorn Mountain. Or, close enough to it.”
“I’m not sure I’ve ever heard of it.”
He turns to me, his eyes studying my face, and that heated
look of his warming me all sorts of ways it shouldn’t be.
“Good,” he growls. He opens his door and steps out into the
night, coming around to open my door. A kidnapper with chivalry,
apparently. He leads me to the cabin, unlocking the door and
ushering me inside as he flicks on a few soft lights. The place is
cozy, that’s for sure. Although, something tells me it’d be cozier if I
hadn’t just been taken here.
“Why…” I bite my lip and look at my feet as he shuts and
locks the door behind me.
“Speak.”
The alcohol from earlier is still in me, and so is the courage to
keep talking that it brings with it. “Why did you kidnap me?”
I know he’s told me that he’s protecting me, and that he isn’t
going to kill me. But then, I’m still alone in a cabin in the woods in
the middle of nowhere with a big, muscled, tattooed, older stranger.
“I didn’t kidnap you.”
“Yes, you did.”
His eyes narrow, his jaw clenching tight. “You want to pretend
that we both don’t know what you saw the other night in that alley?”
I can feel the color draining from my face as the shiver teases
up my spine. Cormac just shakes his head though.
“I already told you, I’m not here for that. I’m here to make
sure those pieces of shit don’t hurt you.”
“Who are you?”
“Someone with a job to do.”
“And your job involves throwing girls half your age over your
shoulder and hauling them away like some sort of caveman?”
A thin smile teases his lips. “When they act like little brats it
does.”
I start to open my mouth to fling something back at him, but
I shut it instead.
“Smart,” Cormac mutters.
“So, what, are you a cop or something?”
I’m pretty sure of the answer before he even turns back.
“No, I’m not.”
“Shocker,” I mutter.
“I work with the FBI.”
My brows shoot up. “Really?”
Cormac nods, turning to flick on some more lights and throw
some kindling and logs into the fireplace across the big main room.
My eyes narrow.
 “Can I see your badge?”
He snorts, turning to glance back at me for a long second. His
eyes move over me and make me tingle in places I shouldn’t, given
the circumstances.
“No.”
“I think you have to show me your badge. It’s a rule.”
He stands from the fireplace. “No, it’s not. Now, the rules are,
you stay put. You keep that ass in this cabin unless I—”
“Until I see a badge, I’m not doing a thing you say.”
He stiffens, and I can feel my core tighten as I watch the
muscles in his arms tense and ripple. Slowly, he turns, and when
that fierce, somewhat scary, and also totally hot gaze falls on me, I
shiver.
“Are you still drunk?”
I shrug, stiffening my jaw. “So?”
Cormac’s throaty growl rumbles across the room, making my
heart skip.
“If you’re going to act like a spoiled little brat, I’m going to
treat you accordingly.”
I scowl at him, but he just turns and stoops again, this time
pulling a zippo lighter from his pocket and sparking it against the
newspaper and kindling he’s stuffed into the fireplace. My eyes dart
around the small cabin, across the living area where he’s crouched in
front of the fireplace, across two half-open doors—one that I can see
a bed through and the other a bathroom—and across the little
kitchen area built into one corner. My eyes land on the big old-
fashioned-looking teakettle sitting on the stovetop, and suddenly, the
liquid courage flowing through my veins roars to life.
I move before I can even think it through, lunging for the big
iron teakettle, whirling and rushing at his back. But Cormac turns
and springs to his feet faster than I’d ever in a million years have
imagined, like he’s some sort of machine, or jungle cat. He growls,
his hand catching the kettle on the down stroke and easily
wrenching it from my hand and tossing it away. I gasp as he grabs
me, those big hands of his on me once again as he whirls us, taking
my breath away and slamming me into the wall. I gasp as his big,
muscled body presses into me, one hand pinning both my arms
above my head, the other firmly on my hip.
His hands tighten, and again, I know I should be terrified, but
I’m not. No, instead, I’m something else entirely; something that’s
so wrong and so mortifyingly bad that I can feel my whole face
bloom with the heat of it. Because when Cormac pins me to the wall
and growls into my ear as his hands tighten on my body, I’m not
scared…
I’m turned on.
Very, very turned on. The whimper bubbles from my throat,
and I catch it with my teeth as they drag across my bottom lip. It’s
so wrong, and I know with every part of me that I should not be
feeling this way about this brute of a man grabbing me and pinning
me to the wall of a cabin that he’s kidnapped me to, but I can’t help
it.
He pulls back, that low growl of his still rumbling in my ear as
his eyes flash pure hot fire into mine. I shiver, swallowing thickly as
that fierce look burns into me, setting every part of me aflame. His
jaw clenches, and my chest rises and falls with my breath. I’m aware
of my skirt riding up high on my thighs, and the fact that I’m not
wearing a bra becoming more and more apparent as my nipples
harden beneath the flimsy top.
“Not smart, princess,” Cormac grumbles, his eyes narrowing
at me as I pant under his fierce gaze and strong hands.
“What-what are you going to do to me?”
“Sober you the fuck up, first of all,” he mutters. “Drinking at
your age?”
“Putting your hands on girls my age, at your age?” I sneer
back.
“Careful, little girl.”
“Or what?”
That growl rumbles through his powerful chest again. “You
don’t want to test me.”
“Sounds like a lot of talk to me. You say that to all the girls
you kidnap and bring here to try to scare the—”
 “Let’s get one thing fucking straight.” His voice booms out,
shutting me up and echoing across the small room. “I’m not going to
hurt you, and I didn’t kidnap you, for the last fucking time. I work
for the FBI, and my job is to make sure those fucks don’t come after
you for what you saw. Understand?”
I swallow. “How come you won’t show me your badge?”
“Because I don’t have one. I’m a contractor for the bureau.”
“They don’t give you a badge for that?”
His eyes narrow again, and he looks away for half a second.
“I’m done with badges.”
It’s silent for a minute, both of us still breathing heavily
before he clears his throat. “The man you saw is Sylvan Bucks, and
he and his men know who you are. They were at that club tonight,
which is why I took you out of there. So for now, you’re going to
stay here, and you’re going to do as I say, because your life depends
on it. Got it?”
I swallow, my mind whirling as I try to process everything
he’s just said.
“I said got it?”
“Yeah, yeah, fine,” I scowl. “I got it.”
Slowly, Cormac drops his hands from me, and I blush as I
realize a large part of me regrets that he does.
“You have anything to drink around here?”
He glares at me, crossing his muscled arms across his rock-
hard chest. “No. No more drinking.”
“You know, just because you’re my protection and you’ve got
me trapped here, doesn’t mean you can control every little thing
about me,” I spit. “You’re not my daddy or anything.”
His look flickers raw fire, and the second I say that word, I
feel it burn inside of me.
Daddy.
It just hangs there in the air between us, like this dirty little
tease, the silence growing as my face burns hotter. I might not have
a ton of experience, but I’m not an idiot. I know the filthiness that
word can carry. I know what I heard late at night a few weeks back,
when Carrie came back to the room late and drunk with some guy
and thought I was asleep.
Fuck it harder, Daddy.
I blush bright crimson at the memory, heat teasing through
me just like it did that night. And with Cormac looking at me like he
is, it feels like my every dirty thought is being broadcasted across my
face plain as day for him to see.
For him to know the filthy thoughts going through my head.
The silence hangs a minute longer before finally, he looks
away.
“It’s time for bed.”
He turns, and for whatever reason, the last bit of rebellion in
me decides to act. I turn, and I make a rush for the door, shrieking
as I hear his heavy steps thundering after me. I don’t even make it
halfway there before I gasp as I feel his big hands grab me around
the waist, his powerful arms lifting me up and pulling me against his
chest. I squirm, kicking and thrashing, but he only holds me tighter
to him, and the more I struggle, the more I can feel those rock-hard
muscles of his ripple against me.
And the more that happens? Well… yeah.
“That’s it,” he snaps, storming across the floor. “You want to
be a bad girl? You want to fuck around like a naughty little girl?”
“You’re not the boss of—”
“Yes, I am, princess,” he hisses, throwing me down on the
sofa near the fireplace. He looms over me as I kick away from him,
his eyes blazing fire as he looks right into mine.
“From now on, yes, I am.”
 Chapter Four

Cormac

“Turn around and bend over.”

She blinks in shock at me, her pretty lips opening wide.
“What?”
“Bend. Over.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
I know damn well what I have in mind is in no way shape or
form ‘protocol’ in a situation like this. I never went through
Quantico, but I’m pretty fucking sure putting the witness over your
knee and spanking her pretty little ass is not something they teach
FBI recruits.
Good thing I’m just a contractor though, because that is
exactly what I’m about to do.
“I warned you,” I growl. Nina gasps sharply as I grab her, sit
on the edge of the sofa, and pull her over my lap. My blood roars in
my ears, and there might be one little piece off me shouting inside
to knock this the fuck off and just leave it before I get myself into
trouble, but I shut that voice up.
I’m already in trouble. With Nina, I was in trouble the second
I laid eyes on her. The instant I read her file. The minute I knew
she’d be mine.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Teaching you a lesson,” I growl, pushing her down across my
lap with a firm hand. Her tight little body wriggles and writhes
against me, rubbing against my cock through my jeans and making
it grow fatter and thicker by the second. I groan, feeling my girth
throb against her, feeling the heat blaze through my body at the feel
of her so close to me, against me.
“I told you eight different ways that I wasn’t going to hurt
you and that you were here for your own damn protection. But
apparently, one night out with that idiot roommate of yours has you
acting like an entitled little brat.”
“Maybe being kidnapped by a freaking caveman just brings it
out in me!” she hisses, craning her head around to glare up at me.
Fuck, I can’t decide if it’s cute or sexy as hell to see that fierce look
of defiance on her face when she’s stretched out over my knees with
that tight little ass up in the air, her skirt barely covering it.
She gasps as my hand grabs the back of her skirt and yanks it
up high, flashing her sweet little ass to my hungry eyes. Fuck, that
tiny pink lacy thong pulled tight between her cheeks has my cock
throbbing like steel, and I know damn well she can feel it.
Good.
Let her know exactly how hard she makes me. Let her know
how fucking big my cock gets when she squirms against me.
“Hang on! What the hell are you—”
My palm connects with the soft curve of her ass with a sharp
smacking sound that fills the cabin, and Nina gasps. I do it again,
this time letting my hand smack down on the other cheek, making it
bloom with a pink blush as the gasp tumbles from her lips again.
“What am I doing?” I grumble lowly, my jaw tight as my cock
pulses against her body. “I’m showing you what happens to bratty
little girls who try to whack me over the head with fucking teakettles
when I’m trying to protect them.”
I spank her again and again, and that gasp falls from her lips.
But damn if I couldn’t swear that it sounds a little different this time.
Less indignant, less shocked.
More heated.
I groan deep inside my chest, my hand coming down on her
sweet little ass again. And this time, I know something’s different.
This time, I know damn well that I feel her squirm against me, and I
know damn well that I can feel a heat against my thigh where her
little pussy is pressing into me.
“You wanna sass me, princess? You want to knock me over
the head and run off and see how far you get before they find you?
Well, it’s not gonna fucking happen. So in this cabin? Yeah, you’re
damn right I’m the boss of you,” I growl, spanking her ass once
more and relishing the whimper and the barely contained moan that
drips from her lips. She’s fucking loving this, even if she’s trying her
hardest to pretend she isn’t.
“In here, you better believe I’m the boss of you,” I groan, my
pulse roaring louder and louder in my ears as my cock throbs hard
as steel against her soft young body. I can feel my balls twitching,
my hot sticky pre-cum leaking in my boxers. She wriggles into me
again, and I swear to God she’s rubbing herself against me on
purpose now. I know damn well she can feel my cock pulsing
against her, and she’s grinding that greedy little cunt against me all
the more for it.
“In here, princess,” I groan, my eyes dropping to her
tempting little bare ass, pink and red from my hand. My eyes slide
over that naughty little thong of hers, pulled tight between her
cheeks and right up against her pussy. I can see the fucking wet
spot growing more and more, her eager little cunt leaking all fucking
over those naughty panties.
“In here, princess, I’m not just going to be your protector. I’m
gonna be something else while we’re here.”
My hand strokes over her ass, and her gasped, whimpered
moan teases through the air like silk over my ear.
“Wh-what else are you going to be?” she whimpers softly, her
hips rocking slowly into me.
My cock surges against her as I lean over, brushing her hair
away from her ear. I know I’m pushing it. I know this is so fucking
wrong, but I can barely control myself. I can barely contain my raw
lust and my need to claim this girl as my own.
“In this house, from now on, since you insist on being a
spoiled little brat? I am your daddy. You understand me?”
She goes still for a second, but I can feel her breath coming
fast as I can see the red flush creeping over her cheeks even as she
turns her head away.
“Do you understand?” I growl into her ear.
“Yes,” she says softly.
“Yes, what.”
 Nina pauses for a second, panting quietly before she slowly
nods and turns her head to look at me with those big blue eyes.
“Yes, Daddy.”
My cock throbs.
“Good girl.”
I want her. I want nothing more than to tear those panties off
of her, bend her over the couch, and push every thick inch of my
big, swollen cock deep in that tight little college girl pussy. I want to
feel her open up for the first time for me, to stretch tight around my
dick as I give her every inch and fuck that little pussy like it deserves
to be fucked.
But yet somehow, I hold back. I have to hold back. I’m not
just bossing her around, I’m showing her I’m in charge because her
damn life depends on it. And her life is precious to me. She’s not just
an assignment, or a job. I’d put myself in a lot of danger to protect
who I’m supposed to protect. But with Nina? I’d put my life on the
line, no questions asked. Yes, I want her, and I want to ravage her
and fuck her until she screams for more and until her nails leave
scars across my back. But I also want to hold her, and shelter her
from the world. I know Nina is it for me—my everything. My
obsession, my addiction.
My heart.
And for that reason alone, I know I’m not just going to fuck
her right here on the couch like an animal, as much as I want to.
No, when I take her, she’ll be ready. I’ll take my time. And I won’t do
it while her head’s still all over the place trying to process what’s
happened to her tonight.
I take a deep breath, and my hands move away from her.
“Time for bed.”
She whirls, her eyes narrowing at me like suddenly the spell’s
been broken. And maybe it has. Maybe deep down, she wanted me
to keep going. To shred her panties off, bend her over, and just fuck
her hard like a wild animal. Maybe she wanted that as much as me,
and me suddenly shutting it down has her pissed.
Either way, it’s not happening. Her still obviously being a little
buzzed only makes my decision more firm.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
Aurora and stars, shed their wonder-light over the scenery, the boys were
once more happy and gay.
On the days—strange to say days when all was night—when the
temperature fell to 20° and 30° below zero, cold was not complained of, but
zero itself, with the wind-fiend raging, was misery that cannot be described.
Dr. Wright did everything a brave doctor could do to keep his people in
health and fit. Curtis was no longer commander save in name. He had to
cave in to the doctor, and do all he was bidden.
MacDonald told his queerest stories after dinner, and sang his love lilts
as heartsomely as do the blackbirds in early spring.
Everybody had come to look upon Mac as a brick, and his cheerful
Doric voice even in the dark was delightful to listen to. He used to “bag the
boys” at night, as he termed it, Charlie with Nick, and Walter with Nora.
“Bag them” snugly, too. He was like a mother to them. Of course all hands
turned in very early, and as Curtis’s bag (and Collie’s) and also Dr. Wright’s
were close to Mac’s and the boys’, the Yak-dogs filling up the intervals or
lying round the sides, Mac could lie and yarn, or even sing, to all hands for
two hours at a stretch. The British sailors were not far away in their bags,
and they could listen too.
There is no seaman in the world like our handy man the British, and
through all that long and trying Antarctic night these good fellows, though I
have said little about them, behaved like heroes.
All kinds of games could still be carried on in the light, but sleighing
was discontinued.
In these regions it is just after turning in that one feels most cold, but any
such course as warm drinks or nightcaps (drinkable, I mean) would make
matters worse.
Slap-dash and his people used often to worship the moon, just as they
had the sun. The sun may be the god of these poor souls, but the moon is his
high priest, and the Aurora are his angels.
Well, a religion of any sort is better than none.
Once when the moon was about three days old she took on a strange but
most lovely appearance. The stars, except the highest, which were
exceedingly brilliant, burned somewhat less brightly at the time. But it was
towards the moon all eyes turned.
 It was, if I may so describe it, a kind of rainbow moon. The outer arc
was of the deepest orange colour, the next and largest arc was pale yellow,
but brilliant, then an arc of radiant sea-green, while inside all was an arc of
pale but indescribably beautiful mauve.
Hitherto the boys and Ingomar himself had believed, or been taught to
believe, that the Aurora Borealis, or Northern Lights, with their fringe-like
bands of opal, pink, or green, were far more lovely than the Southern
magnetic lights, the Aurora Australis.
During their sojourn in the Antarctic they had time to alter their opinion.
I feel it is presumption on my part to attempt to describe a display of this
Aurora, because I shall hardly succeed in making myself understood.
Just imagine, if you can, a wide and wondrous arch, stretching from east
to west, and nearly halfway up the sky, more rounded than a rainbow, its
ends apparently within a few feet of the snow-field.
At first the arch resembled a vast chain, every link of which was a ring
of brightest gold, each link overlapping its neighbour to about one-half its
extent, but all turbulent, all a-quiver! But lo! as one gazed on it, strangely
fascinated, the rings, though still linked together, turned half-edge-on
towards the right. Then from each ring, as a spherical base, was suddenly
thrown out a triangle of glittering, darting, quivering, golden light.
But speedily is the apex of each triangle extended zenithwards, and
broadened out, till it resembles a brush. The rings get smaller and smaller
beneath, until they are but bright points of light like heads of comets; in
very truth, there is now a broad archway of comets, heads downward
towards the snow.
But listen. While the heads of these comets retain the brightness of stars
of gold, the extended brushes, or tails, are now bunches of rainbow-
coloured, flickering, dancing, darting light.
It is a bewildering sight, and it is hard to believe it real.
Gradually the tails get shorter, become once more the apexes of spherical
triangles, and dance, and disappear, the chain of golden rings becoming
once more visible as before.
All beneath this archway is a dark-blue sky, in which stars shine, and the
rest of the firmament is quite unaffected, though the mountains and snow-
clad valley borrow the colour and add to the bewildering grandeur of the
most marvellous transformation scene the world can ever witness.
I fear I have failed to give my youthful readers an adequate conception
of the Aurora. I feared I should fail before I commenced. But Britons—and
I am one—should never funk, and I have done my best.
* * * * *
It is strange, and sadly strange, that, although Dr. Wright and his men
had borne bravely up, throughout the livelong night of the dreary Antarctic
continent, as soon as day returned, revealing blue and ghastly faces,
sickness came.
This is no place in which to inquire into the cause of this sickness;
suffice it to say that it came, and the men, hitherto brave and hearty, began
to droop and shiver.
An optimist at most times, and ever ready to look upon the bright side of
circumstances, the doctor himself began now to fear the worst.
Long before my own experiences of Arctic life, there used to be in Polar
regions a disease called the black death.
Whether or not the illness that now attacked this little camp of heroes
was a species of that ailment, I am not prepared to say.
I hate to have too much gloom in my stories, or I could describe the
symptoms so graphically that you would shudder.
Suffice it to know that, though there were no unsightly swellings, and
though the faces of the sufferers retained even their complacency when fits
of shivering and cramp abated, they were melancholy and sad sights until
they either recovered or died.
Let me say at once that though both Charlie and Walter were ill a few
days, owing to the resiliency of youth they were not stricken down, and
speedily recovered so far as to be able to assist the truly sick.
It need not be said that Dr. Wright did all that any medical man could
have done. Just one or two of the Eskimos collapsed utterly, and died on the
third day. They were buried not far off in the snow. Two days after a sailor
followed them to the snow-field. He did not say much, even at the worst,
and finally he simply fell asleep. Only one out of the four other men
attacked recovered, and this was far more from good management and the
kindly nursing of Sheelah and Taffy than from medicine. In fact, though
wine did good when the patient was at the lowest ebb, and helped him to
fight his way round the corner to restoration, medicine was for the most part
useless.
Curtis was early down, and, strangely enough, considering how truly
brave he was, his spirits drooped to zero, and he gave up hope of himself
from the first.
Ingomar nursed his dear friend indefatigably, and when, overcome with
fatigue, he dropped off to sleep, either Sheelah or Taffy was always sitting
by his brother when he awoke.
I cannot really testify in strong enough language to the marvellous
qualities of those gentle little Yak women as sick nurses.
We may laugh at such people, ah! curious though their customs be, and
droll their manners, they are our sisters before God.
Slap-dash remained his old self.
Let me cut this all short by saying that of all the crew of brave men, only
twelve remained to take the road back to the seashore.
Perhaps as sad a case as any was that of poor MacDonald, who had been
so long the life and soul of all the camp.
When Dr. Wright told the boys that he could only last a few hours, and
that they must go and see him now, they summoned courage enough to have
the interview.
They behaved splendidly in his presence, but as soon as they went into
the open air again they both utterly broke down and wept, until their hearts
appeared almost bursting.
“It does seem hard, does it not, Walter?” Charlie managed to say.
“Always so kind and good,” said Walter.
“Ay, ay, and I never knew I loved him half so much till now.”
* * * * *
Mac, once the hardy, resolute Scot, passed away that same day.
In the semi-darkness of the cave Ingomar was kneeling by his side and
holding his hand.
He had lived a Scot; he died a Scot.
Ingomar thought he had fallen into a slumber, so quiet did he lie. But he
spoke at last, though with feeble, faltering voice.
 “It’s you, isn’t it, Ingomar?”
“I’m here, dear Mac.”
“Well, I—I know I’m dying. I wouldn’t care—but mother——”
“What can I do to ease your mind?”
“She kens I love her—I’ve been single for her sake. Promise to get all
I’ve saved, Ingomar. Her dear auld-farrent[G] letters and my bank-book are
a’ in my box. Ingomar—you—promise?”
“Most sacredly.”
“God love you! She’ll no be lang ahint (behind) her laddie.”
He lay still a little while, and he spoke but once again—repeating a verse
of the 23rd Psalm.

“ ‘Yea, though I walk thro’ death’s dark veil,

Yet will I fear none ill;
For Thou art with me;
And Thy rod and staff me comfort still.’

“Is that the Aurora? Ingomar, tell me. Oh, how bright and how—joyful
—Father——”
He was gone!
He had seen the Aurora; but it was the morning dawn of a happier life.

CHAPTER XI

“ENGLAND, HOME, AND BEAUTY”

Six weeks after this, and when the captain of the Walrus had given the
explorers up for lost, after searching the snows in vain, for winter storms
had obliterated every track, ten men with two dog-sledges suddenly
appeared above Glen Bell on the ridge of the great tableland.
They rested there.
They knew they were seen.
In the stillness of the early summer’s morning they could hear the wild
shouts of greeting that arose from their shipmates.
 And you may easily guess that assistance was speedily on its way to the
top of the valley.
I leave you to guess also the kind of welcome accorded to men and dogs.
Why, Slap-dash himself came in for hugging, and Wallace hugged every
one indiscriminately all round. Dr. Wright, Ingomar, Curtis, and the boys
were all sadly worn and sallow. They had but little life in them. Even their
courage appeared to have left them. They smiled, it is true, but it was the
smile of sickly old men.
When they were helped on board at last, and had a little food and wine,
they begged for a bath and to be shaved. After this, and dressed in fresh
clothing, they were in some measure restored.
Captain Bell and the other officers of the Sea Elephant had come on
board, and to them Ingomar, who was stronger than the rest, told the sad
story of their terrible hardships, and their struggle to reach the ships. When
he spoke of poor MacDonald, there was not an eye in the room that was not
dimmed with tears.
But there! I myself must pull up. I would not have my very last chapter
dimmed with sorrow.
Suffice it to say that not only these five real heroes, but the Yak-Yaks,
including Slap-dash and Sheelah and Taffy, were in a month’s time their old
selves again.
Of the animals, strange to say the Shetland ponies, Jack and Gill, had
been least affected, while Wallace had returned hungry, Nick and Nora
standing by delightedly as he ate the food prepared for him. The
Newfoundland, as soon as he had finished, proposed a romp round the
decks. Wallace tried, but soon lay down to rest and pant.
“Another day, I hope,” the honest Collie appealed, “but somehow I feel a
little tired.”
When the good old Walrus was sawn out of her quarters and got into
blue water again, with all and everything on board, and when the Sea
Elephant lay quiet and still on the calm blue sea, a dinner was given on
board the flagship.
The blessing asked by good Captain Walt was a prayer of thanks to the
Almighty Power that had guided them through their trials, through sickness,
danger, and difficulty.
 I think all hands, fore and aft, who partook in the festivities, were just a
little great-hearted at first, but all sadness was soon dispelled.
They had all done their duties bravely and well, as British and American
sailors and soldiers always do.
So upon the whole a very happy evening was spent, the thought that next
day they would bear up once more for the shores of Merrie England—
England, home, and beauty—put life and spirit in them, and they retired at
last, happy and hopeful.
I don’t think that any one on board the Walrus or Sea Elephant is ever
likely to forget the sweetness of that Antarctic summer morning—the
morning of the start. The sea with its beauty-tints of opal and blue, a sea
studded with the snow-white of tiny bergs, the great mountains towering
skywards, and the world, the marvellous world, of bird-life.
Do you know that, great though their sufferings and hardships had been,
every one looked back to the scene of their adventures with just a little
feeling akin to sorrow!
Up steam!
Round go the screws, churning up a frothy white wake, slowly move the
ships away, slowly, and apparently reluctantly.
But, in a few hours’ time, those sturdy ships are merrily bobbing and
curtseying to each advancing wave, as if they really know that, at long, long
last, they are homeward bound.
And now nothing reigns aboard, fore or aft, except happiness and
general jollity, in which even the dogs themselves take part.
Homeward bound! Hurrah!
* * * * *
When, in about two months’ time, the Walrus and Sea Elephant came
quietly to anchor inside the breakwater of Plymouth, people gazed and
wondered what these two strange ships could be.
But when the truth was rumoured abroad that they were the Antarctic
voyagers, the wild welcome they received was enough to have turned the
heads of any sailors on this earth.
* * * * *
Parting!
 Yes, parting, yet parting—every one assured his shipmates—to meet
again and talk over old times.
The boys, Charlie and Walter, going off to their “uncle’s” home.
Dr. Wright to duties elsewhere.
The scientists to London.
Slap-dash and his dogs and Yak-Yaks, including faithful Sheelah and
Taffy, to London, with the scientists.
The boys got all the three dogs, and happy enough the dear fellows
seemed to get on shore again.
Parting! Ah, yes, it is a sad word, and so I leave it.
* * * * *
Ingomar, the prodigal son, returned to his home.
“Can you forgive me now, father?” he said, after he had embraced his
mother and sister.
“Bosh, boy!” cried the old man. “Go and sit down.” But there were tears
in his eyes nevertheless.
Curtis was here, too.
Curtis came home to find he had succeeded to a baronetcy and another
large estate. But this would not have stirred his spirits in the least had not
Marie greeted him so joyously.
He used to call her his Marie. In six weeks’ time she was his Marie in
reality.
They were married.
Ingomar says he will never marry. I simply smile.
He is owner, anyhow, of one of the most splendid yachts ever built in
America or England.
No ’long-shore yacht. Not built for racing or speed, but comfort,
pleasure, and beauty. Curtis has left the service. The yacht takes very long,
delightful cruises, but wherever she goes with Ingomar, her master, both
Arnold Curtis and his sweet wife go along as well.
My story is ended, my tale is told. I have only to say “Good-bye, my boy
reader, and God be with us all.”
I trust and hope we’ll meet again another day.
 FOOTNOTES:
[A] Skis, pronounced shees.
[B] “Making a voyage” (Greenlandish) = secure a good cargo.
[C] Young bears are now regularly trained by the Eskimos for heavy sleigh work.
[D] The sea always looks black among or near the ice.—G. S.
[E] Raxed = stretched.
[F] Bield = shelter.
[G] Old-fashioned.

Typographical errors corrected by

the etext transcriber:
first disovered=> first discovered {pg
162}
shout of the b’s’n’s=> shout of the
bo’s’n’s {pg 139}
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