A Highland Werewolf Wedding (4 page)

The problem had been that the lass’s kiss hadn’t done the same for Cearnach. He looked
at Calla one last time as she stood so regally next to the groom. He decided she had
made her choice, and that she knew he had come to see her wed as she’d asked. He could
do no more, and not wanting Elaine involved in any kind of melee with the groom’s
family, he motioned for her to leave the pew. “We’ll leave now, lass.”

“I thought you were staying for the reception.” She sounded surprised. Then she saw
the two hulking Highlanders headed in their direction, and she moved so quickly that
she started dragging Cearnach toward the door.

He hadn’t wanted to walk that fast, not when he was trying to show the McKinleys they
weren’t chasing him off, but he didn’t want to frighten Elaine further by forcing
her to slow her pace.

“Truce,” Cearnach mouthed to the brothers, intending to stop the fight that was bound
to happen, but before he could leave the church, the bigger of the men stormed into
Cearnach’s path.

Vardon McKinley. Of all the brothers, he was the most volatile.

He swung his massive fist at Cearnach’s face. Before Cearnach could push Elaine behind
him and block the blow meant for him, she jumped in front of him, as if to protect
him! Or at the very least, to stop the fight.

Vardon wasn’t able to pull back in time and hit Elaine in the face. Gasps in the church
resounded.

Elaine’s head jerked back from the impact, and Cearnach saw red. She fell against
him and cried out in shock and pain.

Roaring a string of oaths, Cearnach tucked Elaine under his left arm and unsheathed
his sword with his right hand in one swift move.

“No!” Elaine shouted, struggling to free herself from his iron grip. “We’re leaving.”
Her voice was clear and hard, as if she was in charge of the situation.

A she-wolf did
not
dictate combat rules to a Highland wolf who was ready to avenge her injury, no matter
how alpha she was. Unable to quell the rage-induced adrenaline running through his
blood and the need to pummel the Highlander who had struck an innocent woman, Cearnach
couldn’t let it go.

Even though Vardon normally bowed down to no one, man or woman, he did appear a wee
bit contrite. At least he hadn’t unsheathed his sword, and he had taken a couple of
steps back, his face looking a bit pale.

“Get out of our way,” Elaine said to the McKinley brothers, her voice a fearsome growl.

Cearnach had to give her credit for thinking with her head and not with her heart.
He was still ready to kill Vardon. But he couldn’t run him through if Vardon didn’t
at least unsheathe his sword. And he did have to think of Elaine’s safety. He couldn’t
keep her tucked under his arm and risk her getting injured if he encouraged Vardon
to draw his weapon.

She sensed Cearnach’s indecision and tried to take a step forward, attempting to take
charge of the situation. Cearnach wouldn’t let her drag him off. Not when he still
wanted to destroy Vardon.

Vardon’s other brother, Hagan, waited to see what the eldest brother would do, standing
beside him, looking unsure. In the past, what had happened wouldn’t have been a big
deal for men like Vardon. If a woman got in the way of a man’s fist during a fight,
the fault was her own. But Vardon had done so in a church at his own brother’s wedding,
in front of onlookers who might not respect him for what he’d done.

Cearnach growled in Gaelic, “An honorable man doesn’t strike a woman. Be ready. This
isn’t finished.”

Vardon sneered at him, speaking in Gaelic in return. “As you’ll soon learn. Take your
whore with you and get out.”

With the most valiant of efforts, Cearnach cooled his temper enough to get Elaine
outside the church without coming to blows with Vardon. Four of the McKinley brothers
gathered at his back, the tension and anger rolling off everyone in dangerous waves.
To Cearnach’s further annoyance, rain was now coming down in gray sheets.

“I apologize for what happened in there.” Cearnach was still angered beyond reason,
not finding the words to adequately describe how he really felt about what had occurred.
He sheathed his sword. Then he unbuckled his sash and covered Elaine’s head with it
as he hurried her to the vehicle sitting on the lower end of the car park. “I shouldn’t
have brought you here.”

He let out a heavy sigh, hating himself for having put her in danger, though he hadn’t
thought it would come to that.

“I shouldn’t have sat on the groom’s side of the church.” She sounded repentant herself.
“I should have stayed with you instead. I shouldn’t have been talking so much during
the ceremony. I suspect no one would have noticed us as much if we’d remained silent.”

“They would have noticed. They weren’t angry with you but with me. Where did Vardon
hit you?” he growled, trying to protect her from the pelting water with the sash of
his kilt.

The raindrops bounced off the waterproof wool, but water was running down his neck
and soaking his shirt beneath the jacket. He couldn’t cover her completely with the
fabric, not unless he removed his whole kilt and wrapped her up in it.

That image quickly brought unbidden desires to the forefront. A woman wrapped in a
man’s plaid meant she was his. With any other woman, he would have considered such
a move as protection, chivalry. With Elaine?
Mine.

“He hit me in the cheek,” she finally said, drawing him back to the current crisis.
“At least he missed my eye. The place where he punched me is sore and will probably
be bruised and swollen, but you know how we are. It’ll fade in a couple of days.”

Aye, much sooner than a human’s bruises. Yet her injury wouldn’t fade soon enough
for him. “For your information, I didn’t need protecting. Why did you get in the way?
He could have killed you.”

She snorted and he got the impression she thought he’d needed
her
protection.

He almost gave her a dark laugh, but shook his head instead and unlocked the car doors.
She jumped into the passenger’s side and slammed the door. As soon as he removed his
sword and was sitting in the driver’s seat, she said, “I’m freezing. Are you sure
you don’t have a cell phone on you?” She glanced at his sporran, the medieval-era
pouch still worn with kilts today, necessary since kilts had no pockets. Because of
the formal occasion, he’d worn the one with the silver cantle decorated in Celtic
symbols and horsehair tassels.

After pulling his door shut, he wiped the water from his face with his hand and turned
the heater on high, though the air was cold initially and she shivered at the new
assault.

He frowned at her. “No. I left my cell in the car. It would have been easier to get
to it if I had an emergency.” Then he raised his brows. “When a vehicle nearly hit
mine, and I had to make a quick detour, and I was running so late to the wedding,
I forgot it.”

Feeling the anger concerning Vardon return in full force, with the burning need to
settle the score still plaguing him, Cearnach gripped the steering wheel in his fists.
“Turn your head so I can get a good look at your face.”

Dismissing his concern, she shook her head slightly. “It’s okay. We heal fast. Think
nothing of it.”

“You can’t tell me you would have turned the other cheek so he could strike you there
also.” His words were as cross as he was feeling. Striking Elaine went beyond what
any civilized wolf should have done. It wasn’t the Middle Ages any longer.
Bastard.

“No,” she said, giving him an annoyed look. “Of course I wouldn’t have turned the
other cheek. But I know he didn’t mean to hit me, and I’m certain he regretted it.”

She couldn’t know Gaelic or what Vardon had called her. Maybe
that
would have changed her mind. As stubborn as she was, she wouldn’t turn her head so
he could see where Vardon had struck her. Yes, they healed quickly, but her face would
be swollen and bruised for a couple of days before it got better.

Her gaze still connected with his, she sighed. “Okay, though I probably shouldn’t
tell you this. I…” She took another deep breath and stiffened a bit, yet her gaze
didn’t waver from his and she said all in a rush, “I would have seized his dagger
and threatened him with it if you hadn’t grabbed me.”

He paused, not expecting her to say such a thing. Then he smiled. “You, lass, are
a woman after my own heart.”

She relaxed again and he wondered if she thought he wouldn’t like a woman who was
willing to fight to protect herself. She would be wrong. Yet given the situation,
he
wanted to be the one defending her when he was there, not her shielding him.

He reached over and touched her uninjured cold, wet cheek. “Let me see.” He gently
cupped her chin and moved her head so he could observe the damage. The skin was red
from the punch, swollen, and already beginning to discolor into sickly greens and
purples and yellows. He growled low. “I should never have let this happen.”

“You couldn’t have stopped me.” Her mouth was curved in the most devilish of smiles
and her eyes sparkled.

She seemed to be of sturdy stock, like a bonny lass born and bred in the Highlands,
but with the additional heart of a warrior she-wolf, alpha to the max. But he still
wanted to do something, anything, to make the insult and the hurt go away.

Meaning to kiss her somewhere that would not be too intimate, just a light kiss on
the top of the head maybe, he found he couldn’t make himself do it. Not with his wolfish
needs gaining momentum, the desire filling him to press his mouth against her sexy
rain-moistened lips. To prove to himself that his feelings weren’t one-sided.

He leaned over and kissed her mouth, gently as if she would break, not wanting to
force her into complying in the event she wasn’t ready for this. Her mouth softened
under his touch, accepting him, allowing him this intimacy.

To his surprise and delight, she reached up and set her hands on his shoulders and
pulled him closer. Already their hearts were beating at a frantic pace, their pheromones
kicking up another notch.

She closed her eyes and gave in to the kiss, slowly at first, then more boldly. He
groaned as she parted her lips, permitting him more familiarity. He took advantage
of the moment, sliding his tongue into her mouth, tasting her, exploring her, wanting
so much more.

Wolves didn’t share such intimacies lightly, not with each other, not without some
kind of spark that initiated further interest. They didn’t make commitments with humans,
so as long as the human was willing, they found mutual release with one another until
the wolf discovered a mate. Then his wolf mate would be the only one for him.

So even taking it this far meant she was just as intrigued with him as he was with
her. He should have backed off, kissed her on her uninjured cheek, just to say he
was sorry. Yet, he couldn’t help the way he was feeling about her. Not when her mouth
was so appealing, tasting sweet and wet and willing. Not when he had wanted to press
his lips against hers from the moment she’d gotten out of the car after the accident,
and he’d finally allowed his gaze to roam to her face and see the way her lips had
been pursed.
At
him.
Turning him on.

As the pouring rain pelted the car in a steady rhythm, he deepened the kiss and heat
consumed him. Steam covered the windows, and he felt as though they were in a time
capsule far away from Calla’s wedding, the church, the car park, the Highlands—off
in another world. Elaine was all soft curves and feminine fragrance: her she-wolf
scent and the sweet-smelling soaps she’d washed in, a hint of perfume, but most of
all, the undeniable smell of her sexual desire leading him on.

They couldn’t help that part of their wolf nature, the keen ability to smell subtle
scents that a human couldn’t, the way in which they could sense the shift in emotions—fear,
lust, excitement, aggression—just from breathing deeply of the air surrounding them.

He had to force himself not to move his hands from her face, not to explore her soft
womanly curves, not to taste so much more of her as her tongue danced with his, not
to want
more.
With the greatest regret, he pulled his mouth away from hers, away from the heated
exchange that shouldn’t have occurred, away from the raging desire to take this further.

For a moment, he still cupped her face and looked into her dark eyes, reading the
confusion there, not wishing to fully break contact with her. Their breathing rapid,
their hearts were thumping wildly as if they’d just run a race, yet they were still
running for the finish line.

Then he released her, and her cheeks blossomed in color as if she was suddenly aware
of just how intimate the exchange had been between two unmated wolves.

Thank God he was wearing a kilt and no adjustments had to be made as he was ramrod
stiff and ready to bury himself in her soft feminine folds. If he’d been wearing trousers
and boxers, they would have strangled him.

She looked dazed as she gave him a tentative smile, then sighed. “Don’t be sorry,”
she said, looking away and drawing closer to the heater to dry her dress. She was
no longer shivering. Not after what had happened between them.

For that he was glad. He wanted to ask if she meant not to be sorry about the kiss,
when he was not apologetic about that in the least.

When he didn’t move the car—he was still too caught up in the profound moment he’d
shared with her—she turned to look at him again and raised her brows. “I meant about
the cheek.”

He grunted. “That’s not going to happen, lassie,” he said, pausing and giving her
a hint of a smile, “but about the kiss, I have no regrets.”

She gave a little wolfish grin, her cheeks blushing beautifully once more, and he
was ready to kiss her again. Then she turned away to pull at her dress, trying to
dry it further. Not entirely resigned to leave things between them like that, he finally
drove the Mercedes out of the car park and eased onto the road.

She took a deep breath and exhaled. “The wedding was beautifully done. I loved the
color scheme—purple is my favorite—the lavender flowers and bridesmaids’ gowns. I
enjoyed seeing the men, and even the younger boys, wearing kilts. Despite what happened
at the end, I did love everything about the wedding. I��ve never seen a more spectacular
sight.”

Cearnach thought he heard regret in Elaine’s voice. Had she wished she had stayed
in Scotland so many years ago? That she could have had such a wedding?

“Calla Stewart arranges parties, celebrations, weddings, and the like. She’s very
good at it. She has a real eye for artistic design, and she’s great at details.”

“Wow. To do so for her own wedding must have been difficult. The bride’s a beautiful
woman. She seemed delighted you were there.”

He nodded. “I was glad I’d made the effort after I saw how pleased she appeared.”

“The groom seemed just as handsome,” Elaine said, not hesitating to voice her opinion.
“They looked like an attractive couple. Though some of the family have a violent nature,
if that man who accosted us is any indication.”

“Aye, Vardon is the most aggressive of the pack.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment, as if pondering something, then finally asked,
“Did he have a personal grudge against you?”

He didn’t want to get into this. Not when he was afraid Elaine might misunderstand
the situation, but he owed her an explanation after Vardon took his anger out on her.
“He didn’t like that I had kissed his mate—the year before he even met her.”

When Elaine didn’t respond, he glanced at her. She was frowning. Probably thinking
he kissed all the unmated she-wolves he met. “There was no spark between us,” he said,
returning his attention to the rain-slicked road. “Apparently she felt differently.”

Elaine said, “She told the brute who hit me? That she preferred your kissing her to
his? Or something like that? Why did they end up mating if she felt that way?”

“She must have said something to him about it. They probably were having an argument
about something, and she let it slip.
I
didn’t tell him. As to why she mated with him, I haven’t a clue.”

He wanted to explain to Elaine that he’d never experienced such a kiss with another
woman, although he had the mechanics down pat. With Elaine, all his senses were heightened,
clamoring for more of her—to taste and feel every inch of her, to smell her unique
scent, to hear her whispered words against his ear.

“Cearnach?” Even the way she said his name with the sweetest American accent sounded
seductive and sexy and like she was thinking along the same lines as he was. “So what
do you think is wrong with the relationship between Calla and Baird?”

He cleared his throat, trying to get his mind off what Elaine was doing to his libido.
“He’s the kind of man who would dictate everything in her life. How and when she slept,
what and when she ate. He’s very controlling.”

“Not like you,” Elaine said with a definite sarcastic edge to her voice.

He glanced at her. “Where did you ever get
that
idea?”

She gave a harsh laugh.

He smiled.

He’d been unable to keep the front of her dress dry with his woolen sash, and now
he noted that her dress was plastered to her skin, even more revealing now than when
the wind had blown so hard against her dress earlier. Trying to act more noble than
he was feeling, he looked away, hoping that the heater would dry her dress so that
he wouldn’t have to see so much of her.