A Highland Werewolf Wedding (15 page)

The way her sweet body called to his, if she hadn’t been so fatigued, he knew they
would do a hell of a lot more than talk. Just a touch and his pheromones were stirring,
and so were hers, communicating with one another, saying it was way past time to get
on with the more primal—and pleasurable—side of wolf business.

“Are you going to prove to me why I should mate you?” She looked at him with such
a sweetly devilish look that he wondered if the wine was doing the talking. Yet the
challenge was there again:
Prove
to
me
you
truly
want
me. Make it happen.

He decided she was being wholly truthful with him, and he was going to ensure she
agreed to a mating… when she was well rested in the morning.

He would prove to her that he meant what he said. He was no damned beta wolf. Nor
was he an alpha like Rafferty. He would give her all that she deserved and more.

***

Unable to help herself, Elaine yawned, then smiled at Cearnach. She could tell he
wasn’t sure if she was ready to be his. She wasn’t. Not until she was feeling more
clearheaded. “Sorry.”

After that, no holds barred.

“You’re tired, lass. We’ll decide a course of action tomorrow, once you tell me more
about this business transaction between you and your cousin Robert Kilpatrick.”

Hoping to come up with a solution for the situation with her cousins after she had
a good night’s sleep and she could think more clearly, Elaine agreed.

Gallant man that he was, and without waiting for her to agree, Cearnach slipped his
arms underneath Elaine and lifted her. She let out a little gasp of surprise. As wobbly
as she felt from drinking too much wine, she didn’t think she could have stumbled
all the way to the castle on her own two feet.

Having told Cearnach so much of her past, she felt drained. She didn’t feel cleansed,
as she’d thought she might by finally telling him what had happened to her so long
ago. She felt weary.

Some of the tiredness was due to the jet lag and the stress of the day; some of it
was the wine. She couldn’t believe she wasn’t staying at the bed and breakfast owned
by the Kilpatricks and instead was sleeping in a stone castle owned by an enemy clan.

Yet, Cearnach wasn’t the enemy. He was someone who cheered her even when the situation
was dire, gave her hope so she felt she had a new lease on life. Odd thing, that.
She hadn’t thought about Kelly for a long time now, but returning to Scotland had
brought the memories all back.

She gave in to her fatigue and rested her head against Cearnach’s hard chest as he
carried her back to the castle—her braw Highland warrior in a soft lamb’s wool sweater
and jeans. She felt more than saw a few people stare in their direction as they entered
the castle and made their way to the stairs.

Cearnach nodded at a knot of people seated next to the fire that she noticed out of
her peripheral vision.

Was Ian there? His mother?

She had never been the focus of so much attention, and it was somewhat overwhelming.
Yet on another level, she felt special.

“Sorry,” she said softly again, snuggling closer to Cearnach as he carried her through
the castle.

“For what?” He kissed the top of her head and made his way up the stairs.

“For all the grief you’re going to get over having brought me here.”

“I’ve had worse, lass.”

She laughed at him. She had expected him to disagree.

He smiled down at her, but he didn’t say anything, and she let the issue go.

Cearnach carried Elaine into a guest bedchamber where clothes were stacked on top
of a light oak dresser for her use. He set her on her feet, but she still felt a little
shaky, gripping his arm to keep her balance. The immense bed sitting center stage
immediately captured her attention. Surrounding the bed were heavy burgundy curtains
made of velvet and embellished with swirls of gold thread. She walked over to the
bed and ran her hand over the soft curtains.

Glancing back at him, she witnessed the curve to his mouth, one raised brow, and his
arms folded across his broad chest as he watched her. The sweater was nice, but she
kept thinking of his beautiful naked chest when he was wearing only a kilt, and she
smiled warmly at the memory.

With such a predatory look on his face, was he envisioning her in the bed? Maybe with
him in it while he lay beside her… or on top of her? She thought his smile was more
wicked than sweet.

Her cheeks instantly blossomed with heat. “Thank you for everything, Cearnach.” She
was drained of all energy after having run and swum as a wolf, not to mention fighting
jet lag. She felt she could just as easily curl up on the lovely gold-and-burgundy
Turkish hand-knotted rugs covering the floor and fall asleep.

At first Cearnach didn’t move. Then, as if he’d made up his mind about something,
he closed the distance between them, and she knew he’d give her another kiss. She
wasn’t sure she could handle another of his kisses while she was alone with him in
a bedroom.

His large hands took hold of her shoulders, the heat seeping through her shirt, the
power of his touch drugging her. He leaned down and said in a wickedly husky voice,
“A kiss before you sleep to give you pleasant dreams. I promise you more tomorrow.”

He didn’t ask permission, although at this point, she wouldn’t let him get away before
he fulfilled his promise.

He kissed her, leaning against her, sharing his heat and power and interest. His tongue
plundered her like a pirate taking possession—and as she devoured him in the same
way, she knew this exchange was taking another step closer to making their relationship
something more. Permanent. Forever. Giving in to the lust, the sexiness, the wolfish
fascination for another of her kind was something new for her.

She was already wet for him, her breasts heavy and achy for his touch, her nipples
taut peaks of desire. Needy, craving his mouth, his fingers, his caress.

“I want you.” His voice was dark and fathomless, husky with craving.

Before she was ready to end the kiss or think of where this might lead, he hugged
her tight—wrapping his muscled arms around her body, keeping her close as if she was
the most precious thing to him—and rested his cheek on the top of her head. She loved
the way his body surrounded her, wishing they could take this further.

Then he groaned.

A lusty groan of unfulfilled passion, of regrets and desires that she could so relate
to. He was holding back.

Appreciating him and his family, loving that she’d have a chance to sleep in a medieval
castle, she hugged him back. She felt the hardness of his erection pressed against
her belly, knew he needed release as much as she did, knew he desired more. Yet despite
knowing what a mistake that could be if they gave into their primal urges… she wasn’t
ready to let him go. She wasn’t thinking clearly, either. She’d had too much wine.

Curbing her own wolfish needs, she finally said, “Good night, Highlander. Until tomorrow,
then.”

He sighed deeply and looked into her eyes, his own simmering with lust.

“’Night, lass.” His voice was rough with restrained need. He kissed the top of her
head, then moved away from her and winked before he shut the door. When he closed
it on his departure, she suddenly felt bereft. She hadn’t realized how seeing a family,
a working pack, would affect her. She’d always thought being part of a family was
someone else’s dream. Not her own. Not since her parents and uncles had died.

She never felt that way about human families, considering them something different,
alien to her. After the disaster with Kelly Rafferty, she’d struck out on her own,
avoiding wolf packs wherever she went. What if she’d ended up in another abusive relationship?

Yet unexpectedly, she felt she was missing out after seeing the teasing between members
of Cearnach’s clan, the anxiety on the brothers’ faces, the worry for Cearnach, and
the concern for her. The gathering of the family to take her in, to counsel her about
the apprehension they had about her dealings with her kin. Even his mother’s telling
him he should mate Elaine. How Cearnach’s family had treated her like she was one
of their pack, their clan.

She couldn’t help being surprised to be accepted into a wolf pack of perfect strangers,
when in a human’s world she had kept herself apart. Friendly, but not too much so.

No matter how much she had behaved as a human among their kind, she was always well
aware that she wasn’t one. That her senses were so much more attuned, that she could
detect emotions and feelings just from their scents. That the wolfish side of her
had to be controlled when she got angry, and she’d want to shift and show them her
teeth.

That she had to run as a wolf from time to time, to enjoy nature as her other half.
The halves were what made her whole—one didn’t exist without the other. She was wolf
and human all in one. For the first time in a very long time, she enjoyed being with
others of her kind who could understand just how she felt, who could look deep into
her soul like she could into theirs. They were equals, not all that different from
her.

Even his mother—what a surprise it was that she wanted Elaine to become part of their
pack. She knew the woman hadn’t said so lightly. That felt comforting in an odd way.

Yet, Elaine had to keep herself from falling into a false sense of security, remembering
that they were family and she was still an outsider, kin to an enemy clan.

Sighing deeply, she removed her clothes and slipped into the borrowed, silky, pale
blue nightgown sitting atop the dresser that made her feel like a fairy princess.
A lace-trimmed bodice dipped low, showing the swell of her breasts. Long flowing sleeves
trimmed with lace tickled her knuckles. An ankle-length edging trimmed with lace swished
as she walked.

The fabric was opaque enough for modesty, although when she glimpsed herself in a
gold-gilded mirror, she noted that her nipples stood out against the material. She
swirled around, loving the luxurious, silky feel of the gown, feeling sexier than
if she’d just climbed into bed naked, which was how she usually slept—like most wolves
did.

The fatigue catching up to her again, she climbed onto the bed and pulled the bed
curtains closed, then slipped underneath the burgundy covers. The comforter was velvety
soft, covered in rich, gold floral embroidery, warm and comforting as she burrowed
beneath it. The sheets smelled like they had been washed in sweet fragrant roses,
and she breathed in deeply to enjoy the scent.

She felt small and pretty and at home in this huge bed. What would have made it even
better was Cearnach sleeping with her here. Not sleeping. Making love.

Then her thoughts turned to meeting Cearnach again after all these years, how she’d
felt about his offer of assistance so long ago, wishing he could have helped her,
and wondering what would have happened had she accepted it. How different might her
life have been if she had stayed with Cearnach back then?

Now he was offering to assist her again, protecting her against her kin while attempting
to help her locate the goods her uncles had hidden away.

She couldn’t avoid thinking about the heat that had erupted between them and the desire
to do something about it.

She sighed and closed her eyes in the dark room, needing to sleep, not believing she
could shut off thoughts of Cearnach kissing her in the car… how his tongue had danced
with hers, the way he let her set the boundaries yet was so enraptured in the kiss
that he’d quickly become the aggressor—passionate, craving more, just like she had.

Now tonight, kissing him again had felt just as right. She knew he was having as difficult
a time reeling in his desire as she had with him. She suspected they would become
mates sooner rather than later. As long as he didn’t change his mind, or someone or
something didn’t change it for him.

With a heavy sigh and forcing herself to push away the images of Cearnach and what
she had to do concerning her cousins, she finally succumbed to sleep.

Only to be awakened a couple of hours later by a soft, whispered breath touching her
cheek. She tried to ignore the sensation. Tried to tell herself she was dreaming.

“Elaine,” a male voice whispered, the voice so disembodied, so wispy, so soft that
she didn’t pay any attention to it.

She was so tired that she assumed it was her imagination in her partly dream-filled,
slightly inebriated consciousness.

Until a chilly hand brushed over her silk-covered breast.

Lying on her side, Elaine woke enough to realize the man’s hand that had felt her
up
wasn’t
a dream. Heart pounding, she jerked her head around to see who it was, expecting
Cearnach and not sure how she would react. Angry that he would sneak into her bed.
But wanting him, too.

Yet, no one was beside her on the mattress in the dark. As a
lupus
garou
, she could see some in the pitch blackness. A shiver stole up her spine.

With the blood rushing in her ears, she did what any red-blooded woman—whether half
wolf or strictly human—would do under the circumstances. She let out an ear-piercing
scream to wake everyone in the whole castle.

She scrambled to get out of the bed and away from the intruder. Her feet and legs
became tangled in the silky sheets and velvet comforter. Panicked, she twisted and
jerked. Freeing herself, she shoved aside the heavy curtains, desperate to get out
of the bed where the man had to be hiding under the comforter.

In her haste, forgetting just how high the mattress was, she leaped from the bed,
catching a foot in the curtain and the long nightgown, and went down on her knees
with a thump.

Ouch! Dull pain radiated through her kneecaps, and she cursed under her breath.

Not wanting her back to the man, she spun around and sat in the dark, staring up at
the bed, studying the outline of the draped canopy, listening for any rustling in
the sheets or creaking of the box springs.

She saw no movement. Heard no sound.

With her heart racing and her breathing so rapid that it made her light-headed, she
watched and waited to see the man clamber out of the bed before the whole household
came running.

No one left the bed.

Arrogant
bastard!

What was she thinking? She would shift and take care of the intruder herself. Before
she could pull off the nightgown, a door across the hall banged against a wall. Footfalls
rushed toward her room.
Cearnach?

The door to her chamber opened with a whoosh. Cearnach shouted from the threshold,
“Elaine!”

His gaze swept the room, searching for her.

“Here,” she said quickly. Warm relief at seeing him washed over her chilled body as
he stood in the doorway.

Looming large, silhouetted by the hall light, Cearnach was scowling. He was wearing
only black boxers and holding a sword as if he was ready to kill the intruder.

On some wolfish level, she had known he hadn’t been the one touching her. She would
have noticed the delicious, tantalizing scent of him. Yet when she thought about that,
she realized she hadn’t smelled any sign of a wolf in bed with her. Just the rose-scented
sheets.

He hit the light switch with his free hand, momentarily blinding her.

“Are you all right, Elaine?” he asked, his voice dark with concern.

Still sitting on the floor, her aching knees tucked up close to her chest, she squinted
in the bright light and pointed at the bed. “Yes, I’m… I’m all right. A man was in
there.”

Cearnach rushed forth and yanked the curtains open.

Wearing a plaid haphazardly thrown on, Duncan hurried into the chamber, sword in hand,
looking just as dangerous. Ian was right behind him, and Guthrie next, both wearing
boxers, both also carrying swords.

She would have laughed to see so many braw Highlanders ready to defend her, but she
was still so shaken that she managed only a small smile.

Cearnach shook his head at his brothers, letting them know there was no one in the
bed, which was impossible for her to believe.

He reached down and helped Elaine from the floor, then pulled her into his warm, comforting
embrace. She realized then just how icy cold the floor had been.

“Are you okay?” he asked again. This time his words were spoken soothingly, not brusque
with concern that she might have been injured.

“Yes, I’m okay.”

He brushed the top of her head with a kiss. “What exactly did you see?”

“Nothing. I didn’t see anything. I thought maybe… maybe he was hiding beneath the
covers. I felt… I felt a hand touch me.”

“Are you sure you weren’t having a nightmare?” Cearnach sounded more hopeful than
certain.

She trembled in his arms, not sure why she was so shaken, when normally not much shook
her. The fact she hadn’t seen the man, only felt his icy touch, the way his breath
had caressed her ear, the way he’d said her name, unnerved her something awful. She
could deal with someone she could see. Not something like this.

The brothers all shared looks, and she suspected they thought she’d been having a
nightmare. She knew the man had been real. He had to have been. She couldn’t have
dreamed it.

“Flynn,” Ian said, his voice a growl, “damn you. Stay out of this guest room. Leave
the lass alone.”

Flynn? She hadn’t remembered meeting anyone by that name.

“No one else is here. I would have noticed if he opened the door and left,” Elaine
said. Then she frowned. “Unless you have secret passages in the castle. A secret paneled
entrance into the room.”

That’s when she looked around at the walls again and wondered if a secret entrance
was hidden behind one of the tapestries.

“You didn’t tell her about him, did you, Cearnach?” Duncan’s tone was a warning, and
she didn’t like the sound of it.

“Flynn MacNeill’s a ghost, one of our cousins, Elaine. He has a passion for dallying
with the ladies,” Cearnach explained. Then he looked at the ceiling and said in a
voice rough with barely controlled anger, “Flynn, if you weren’t already dead…”

“Remind him that we can always hire someone to do an exorcism,” Ian said.

“He’s harmless, although he annoys the lassies sometimes.” Duncan waved his sword
around as if he was slicing the ghost in two anyway. “Did you want anything from the
kitchen, lass? A glass of milk to help you sleep?”

A ghost? She didn’t believe in such things, though she tried to always keep an open
mind. She shook her head and rubbed her arms, feeling the goose bumps trailing up
and down them.

“Good night, lass, then,” Duncan said. “If he bothers you again, just call out. We’ll
chase him away.”

“Thank you, Duncan.”

He bowed his head, then left the room.

Guthrie cleared his throat. “Same with me.” Then he stalked out of the room after
his brother.

“I’ll take care of her,” Cearnach told Ian, and she realized that since Ian was the
pack leader, he felt responsible for her.

Cearnach was clearly showing he was the one who would take care of her as he kept
her pressed against his hard—and getting harder—body.

Ian bowed his head slightly, gave Cearnach a look like he’d better be careful with
their guest, and exited the bedchamber.

“My room or the guest room?” Cearnach asked.

“What?” She wasn’t sure if he was joking or not, yet he looked damned earnest.

He didn’t let go of her, as if he was her bodyguard now and taking this seriously.
“He’s harmless, but he can be persistent if he likes a woman. I’m not leaving you
alone. Either you join me in my bed or I join you in yours.”

“What if I sleep with Heather?” Not that she wanted Cearnach’s poor cousin to have
to share her bed with a perfect stranger just because of a pesky ghost, if that’s
truly what had been harassing her.

Cearnach snorted. “Flynn loves to torment her. If you join her, he might decide to
visit the two of you at one time.”

She raised her brows, not sure she believed him. Then she shook her head.

“You don’t want me to stay with you the rest of the night?”

“No, thanks.” Yes, she did. She was afraid to return to bed. Afraid of not being able
to fight some unseen ghostly entity, and she feared experiencing the same thing again.
But then again, she didn’t feel that sleeping with Cearnach was a safe bet, either.
Not until she’d had a good night’s sleep.

“I’ll be all right,” she assured him, not sounding half that sure of herself.

“If you need me, my chamber is just across the hall.”

“All right.” She hesitated to pull away from him and return to the bed. Despite the
lamps lighting the room, the bed now looked dark and ominous, and she couldn’t shake
loose of the fear that a body that didn’t exist was hiding under her covers.

Cearnach helped her onto the mattress and even tucked her in, which she found endearing.
He didn’t act like she was being foolish, even though she couldn’t help feeling that
way. If the intruder had been real, it would have been a different story.

“Do you want me to wait with you until you fall asleep?”

She shook her head no. She wasn’t a child, even though she was feeling like one now.
Yet, she appreciated the way he and his brothers had treated her—as though she had
nothing to fear, and they didn’t think she was crazy—and that they were at her beck
and call, no matter what.

“I’ll see you in the morning, then.” He kissed her on the cheek, squeezed her hand,
pulled the curtain shut, and then retreated from the room.

The door gave a soft
thunk
as it closed.

She snuggled under the covers, feeling suddenly isolated, trying to envision just
what had happened. No matter how much she tried to explain away the cold hand on her
breast or her name whispered in her ear or the wisp of icy breath on her cheek, she
could think of only one thing—the man had been real. Not a ghost. Not a figment of
her imagination.

He
was
real.

Despite closing her eyes and willing herself to sleep, she couldn’t. Like having her
house broken into once when she had been sleeping and then fearing the same thing
would happen again, she couldn’t relax her tense muscles, couldn’t shut down her fears.
Only this time instead of fearing the thieves would return, she waited for a ghostly
touch and whispered words to come again.

***

Cearnach paced across his chamber, furious with Flynn.
Damn
him.

His ghostly cousin would never give up the lassies. Liking them way too much had been
his downfall in the first place. But Flynn didn’t always bother them, not unless he
really liked them or he really disliked them.

Cearnach wondered if the fact that Elaine was kin to an enemy clan had bothered Flynn.
Or did she really intrigue him?

“Leave the lass alone,” Cearnach growled under his breath. “I mean it, Flynn.”

Flynn did not make an appearance in Cearnach’s bedchamber, nor could he feel Flynn’s
presence in the form of chilled air in this room. He had noticed it right away in
Elaine’s room. Particularly in her bed. He was furious that Flynn would molest her.

Of all the cousins, Cearnach had been the closest to Flynn. He supposed it had something
to do with them both being jovial sorts who saw most circumstances in a good light.
Flynn just couldn’t quit dallying with the lasses, not even when they had been married,
not even now that he was just a ghostly version of himself.

Cearnach was ready to return to bed when another shriek erupted from Elaine’s chamber.

“Flynn, damn you,” Cearnach roared, throwing his door open again and storming across
the hallway to Elaine’s chamber. She was
not
sleeping the rest of the night alone! He wouldn’t allow his cousin to bother her
all night.

Cearnach yanked open her door and felt a soft body crash into his before it registered
that the body belonged to Elaine.

“It’s all right,” he said, wrapping his arms around her in a comforting embrace, loving
the silky soft feel of her, wishing she was in his arms for reasons other than Flynn
scaring her.

She was trembling worse than before.

“He was there again,” she finally managed to get out, sounding angry, exasperated,
and uneasy.

His brothers stalked down the hall ready to do battle again. “Cearnach?” Ian asked.

“Aye,” Cearnach said. The temperature in the guest chamber was much colder than in
his. “Flynn is up to his old tricks.”

“We’ll find an exorcist on the morrow, mark my word!” Ian shouted. “Do you hear me,
Flynn?”

Cearnach knew Ian wouldn’t do it. Flynn was their kin, even if not in the flesh any
longer. Though Ian tried to hide his feelings from his people, Cearnach knew he’d
always regretted having sent Flynn away from the pack before he was murdered. Not
that the reason he’d been sent away hadn’t been Flynn’s own doing. He was still family.
After he was killed for another of his transgressions, Ian had felt some responsibility.
That if he’d kept Flynn at home, he would still be alive today.

Not that most of their kin truly believed that.

“You’re coming with me,” Cearnach said to Elaine, not about to let her argue with
him over the matter.

She wasn’t arguing this time, he realized as he nodded to his brothers and led her
into his room, then shut the door.

Elaine took a deep breath and tilted her head up to look at him, brows raised, her
look hopeful. “This isn’t a trick to get me into your bed with you, is it?”

Cearnach laughed out loud. “No, it’s not a trick. You saw the look Ian gave me. He
wants me to behave myself with you, but Flynn is not someone we conjure up out of
the blue. I’ll tell you more about him later.” He helped her into his bed. “I wonder
just what Flynn is up to.”

“I don’t… I don’t believe in ghosts.”

He thought she didn’t sound as sure of the statement as she wished to be. He wasn’t
going to tell her what she wanted to hear—that she was right. That Flynn didn’t exist.
Because he did, and he might end up living longer at Argent Castle than any of them.

“Will he come back tonight? I mean, if I feel a hand on my breast again, would it
be his?”

So much for her not believing in ghosts. Cearnach frowned at her. “He’d better not
bother you again. Not with me here. I won’t be fondling you unless you wish it.”

She smiled a little at that but then shook her head. “Do you think he knows I’m kin
to one of your enemy clans?”