A Highland Werewolf Wedding (9 page)

“Shelley’s uncle will be grateful for the opportunity.” Then Duncan left the solar,
and Flynn scowled at Ian and took off after Duncan.

Julia, Ian’s lovely red-wolf mate, entered the solar, her expression shadowed with
worry. “Are you going after Cearnach?”

Ian gathered her up in his arms, kissed her lightly on the lips, then hugged her tight.
“He’ll be all right. He’s a warrior at heart. He’ll be all right.” He repeated the
words as if by doing so, he could make them true. But he wasn’t sure.

Cearnach should have called him.

Cearnach dove after Elaine into the icy water, his heart skipping beats as he saw
her lose her footing and the force of the river carry her away. He followed after
her, paddling as fast as his legs could go to catch up. She looked worn out, trying
to keep her head above water, dipping her nose in, then lifting it and sneezing. She
was unable to keep her footing on the slippery rocks and pull herself out of the river.

In their favor, the sunlight was quickly fading. The farmers who had been shooting
at them could no longer get close enough to the river while driving the truck, and
Cearnach doubted they could see the wolves swimming in the dark water.

The roar in the distance warned Cearnach that the waterfall was coming up. The currents
quickened, pulling them faster toward the sound of the falls.

All in a rush, the memories of the panic he’d felt when he’d been showing off to Calla
as a young lad came back to him. He’d been teasing her, saying that he could hop from
boulder to boulder without getting wet, while she’d played with an old rope, pretending
to be fishing when no one in her clan would allow her to do such a thing.

With a shout of terror, he’d lost his footing on the slippery rocks and fallen into
the swiftly moving water. Numb with cold, he had tried to reach the shore but couldn’t.
He wasn’t all that old then, not as muscled, not as strong. She’d raced along the
bank, shouting his name and desperately throwing the rope out to him, hitting him
twice—once on the shoulder, once on the head—before he finally was able to grab hold.

She had quickly wrapped it around a pine tree and held on with all her might as he’d
climbed onto the shore, choking on water that had gone down the wrong way.

Then he had collapsed on the frost-covered ground like a fish out of water, gasping
for air.

Now it was his turn to rescue a she-wolf instead of a she-wolf rescuing him.

He was so close to Elaine that he could almost touch her. He didn’t want to startle
her, so he bumped her side to let her know he was there and would help her. She yipped
in surprise.

He woofed, letting her know it was just him. She cast him a quick look of relief over
her shoulder.

With his powerful legs, he swam beside her, steering her away from the falls and toward
the boulders littering the sides of the river. She slid over them, still unable to
gain her footing. He pushed her again, moving her toward the beach, his whole body
pressing against hers, offering a wall of muscle that she could lean against, protecting
her while he worked at keeping her from being carried over the falls.

Almost there.

She stumbled on the slippery stones, but he kept nudging her toward the shore, wishing
he could put an arm around her as a human or lift her out of the water and carry her
to safety. As soon as she reached the shore, she scrambled over the rocks and ran
straight for the trees, a spurt of energy apparently charging through her.

He shook the water from his fur, then hurried after her.

She shook herself as soon as she was in the woods. Sheltered from prying eyes, she
collapsed on her side in the creeping ladies’ tresses and twinflowers, panting with
relief and exhaustion, her wet mink fur clinging to her, her eyes closed. Fatigued,
soaked, and beautiful.

He joined her, thanking God that she hadn’t gone over the falls. He was also glad
that the farmer hadn’t managed to shoot either of them. He hoped the men would believe
he and Elaine had been big dogs, not wolves. Strict rules governed the keeping of
wolves in Scotland. If anyone truly thought that he and Elaine were wolves running
loose, a bounty might be placed on their heads. Shoot to kill. All of his kind would
be threatened then.

He lay down next to her and rested his head over her neck as if they’d been friends
forever. That she was his to protect from all dangers. She opened her eyes, gave him
a tired wolf smile, licked his cheek, and closed her eyes again.

He sighed and settled more comfortably against her, responding to the wolfish showing
of trust on her part in allowing him to rest his head there. Trust on his part also
that she wouldn’t snap at him to give her space. For the moment, he felt he had finally
accomplished what he’d hoped to do the first time he met her. Help her. Take care
of her.

But this time he realized he wanted to get to know her better. Take her home to his
family. Wine and dine her. Learn all he could about her. Keep her here.
Permanently.

He closed his eyes and breathed in the wet wolf smell of her, basked in the warmth
of their bodies touching, and listened to her breathing growing steadier, sleepier,
until he was sure she had fallen asleep.

They weren’t too far from the castle now. Though he suspected that Ian would send
out the troops, worried that Cearnach hadn’t called to say everything was all right,
concerned that the McKinleys had harmed him. He was sure that Ian would have some
heartburn over him bringing a cousin of the Kilpatricks home with him.
Or
not.
Being mated to Julia Wildthorn, werewolf romance writer, had softened his brother
up a bit. In a good way.

Cearnach hadn’t meant to, but resting next to the enticing she-wolf, her blood pulsing
through her veins, and listening to the steady thump of her heart led to him dozing
off for a couple of hours. He woke to the smell of an elusive pine marten rummaging
around nearby. The slim creature was mink brown in color with a yellow bib at its
throat, around the size of a cat, and a member of the family that included mink, otters,
and weasels. It was scrounging for something to eat.

The animals were territorial, so Cearnach had smelled the scat left in the area by
the marten. It was a predator, reducing the populations of gray squirrels, but when
it came to wolves and martens, territorial lines went out the window. Since he was
downwind of the mammal, Cearnach raised his head to let the marten know he had company.

Because of the movement, the marten saw the two wolves, its eyes widening in horror,
and quickly scampered away. Elaine stared in the direction the animal had gone, and
then she sat up. Cearnach stood and nodded in the direction they needed to go. She
got up, leaned her head down, and licked the cut on his foreleg that had occurred
when he’d tried to reach his phone through the broken window in his demolished minivan.
She whimpered.

Touched by her concern, he nudged her face, telling her he was fine.

The castle was not too far now. No sliver of a moon could be seen in the darkness,
though the rains hadn’t started again. A heavy mist cloaked everything in shades of
wet gray, which was perfect for wolves who shouldn’t have existed in Scotland and
didn’t want to get caught out in the open.

They finally reached the long drive that led to Argent Castle, the portcullis and
wooden gates still open. Most likely because Cearnach hadn’t returned yet. Some of
his clan had to be out searching for him.

Before he could escort Elaine to the gate where lights illuminated the entryway, he
heard a car engine rumbling as it approached the castle, the headlights peering into
the gloom.

To be on the safe side, he kept Elaine hidden in the woods with him. The car didn’t
sound or look familiar.

In the kennel where they were rounded up for the night, the wolfhounds began to bark,
warning of intruders.

The black BMW’s tires crunched on the gravel drive, then stopped as the car parked
outside the gates. The occupants—the driver and a passenger—remained inside as if
waiting for an invitation. Cearnach glanced up at the castle towers flanking the gate
entryway. One of his cousins was watching from each of the cylindrical towers. One
was calling on his cell phone, warning Ian they had company, and the word would soon
spread throughout the pack.

Cearnach watched and waited, intending on lending wolf teeth to a fight if that’s
what was needed here. But his priority was keeping Elaine in the woods, quiet and
safe for now. She stayed close to him, her body touching his, her tail straight out.
She was tense, alert, and appeared ready for a skirmish.

Duncan, his youngest quadruplet brother, was headed for the gate, already armed with
a sword, shirtless, and wearing only black trousers and boots. Two other clansmen
flanked him, looking ready to shift and fight a battle to the death. Another two in
wolf form hurried to catch up to lend backup.

Cearnach wanted to let them know he was all right, but he didn’t want to let anyone
know Elaine was here with him, in case these men were the McKinleys or Kilpatricks
and they had finally figured out that the rental car they had stolen was their distant
cousin’s. He was afraid they’d attempt to take her with them. Not forcibly with all
the muscle the MacNeill had in place, but in more of a placating way:
We’re your kin, these people are not, and we have your belongings. Come back and we’ll
make it up to you.

The driver’s door finally opened and redheaded Robert Kilpatrick got out. Cearnach
stifled a low growl. Elaine barely breathed next to him, but then she growled even
lower than he did. She was just as pissed off at Kilpatrick as he was.

When she took a couple of steps closer to the edge of the woods, Cearnach nipped at
her, warning her not to go any further. He didn’t want them catching sight of her.
She turned to look at him, trying to read his intent.

He breathed in deeply, trying to settle his own concern for her. She gave him an almost
imperceptible smile. She wasn’t angry with him.
Good
. He didn’t want her to think he was that controlling. Even if he was pushing it at
the moment.

The passenger door opened and Baird McKinley exited, surprising the hell out of Cearnach.
Had he left his own wedding reception and bride to come here? Calla must have loved
that. Unless she had known what had happened and forced him to come here to check
on Elaine and him.

Cearnach was ready to tear into Robert, but he had a more important mission right
now. Keep Elaine by his side and out of sight.

“What are you doing here?” Duncan asked, not giving the men a chance to speak.

“Your brother came to my wedding.” Baird acted like that was a reason to wage war
in and of itself.

“He stole your bride?” Duncan asked, as though he assumed such and approved. “Time-honored
tradition.”

Cearnach had never considered that the pack might have believed that. Now with Baird
here, his actions made it appear that way. Cearnach couldn’t believe Duncan was defending
him for stealing Baird’s bride. The pack must have thought Cearnach was off somewhere
with Calla consummating the mating! He had to set his family straight as soon as he
was able.

Elaine bumped his cheek in a playful manner as if amused that his kin thought he was
off mating Calla when she was only supposed to be a friend. He licked her back, wanting
to tell her that he wanted
her,
and
not
Calla. For a second, he closed his mouth and quit panting. He hadn’t meant to be
so obvious so soon in their relationship.

For a moment, his and Elaine’s gazes locked, alpha to alpha in a purely wolfish way.
She knew what he was thinking just as he knew her own thoughts and desires. Humans
would look away from such a gaze if they didn’t know each other well, the eye-to-eye
contact too intimate between a man and woman who had just met, unless they were having
a bit of conversation and wanted to show their interest in the topic.

Wolves didn’t break eye contact that easily if they were attracted, regarding each
other, or reading each other. It wasn’t just their mutual gazes, but the special scents
they gave off that told
how
fascinated they were. Both breathed in deeply to learn what the other was feeling,
as if the men having a confrontation in front of the castle gates suddenly didn’t
exist.

Baird kicked at the gravel in a frustrated manner, catching Cearnach and Elaine’s
attention again. He scowled, but before he could respond, Robert raised his hand in
a motion that said they’d come in peace. “We’re here because…” Robert paused, looking
as though he was weighing his options: tell the truth or draw this out a little longer.
“Hell, he’s stolen my cousin,” he growled.

Elaine again began to move toward the driveway, growling softly. For a moment, she
appeared ready to show Robert what she thought of him in a purely wolf demonstration.

Cearnach quickly moved in front of her, blocking her. She didn’t growl at him or act
annoyed. Instead, she nudged his cheek with her nose as if to say she wasn’t going
to confront her cousin over his lies, even though she wanted to. Cearnach could envision
her racing up to Robert, her beautiful wolf teeth bared, and him falling back, shocked
out of his human skin. As a wolf, he wouldn’t be as easily intimidated. In his human
form, Robert wouldn’t stand up to her half as well. Not as alpha as she was.

Duncan stared at Robert for a moment as if he was processing that new turn of events,
then suddenly burst out laughing. “Your cousin? You have five male cousins. Which
one did Cearnach take a fancy to?”

The other men standing beside Duncan looked like they were trying to hold straight
faces but were barely managing.

“Elaine Hawthorn. We want her turned over now,” Robert said, not in the least amused.

“There’s no one here by that name. My brother hasn’t returned. If you’ve harmed him
in any way…” Duncan said, offering the threat but not finishing what he was going
to say.

Robert glanced at Baird, who nodded in agreement.

“All right, so she’s not at Argent Castle right now. But if she comes here, call me.
I’ll pick her up.” Robert’s voice was forceful but worried now.

“Why…
if
she’s your cousin
… would she come here?” Duncan asked, his expression darkening. “Is she with Cearnach?
Did you threaten them?”