A Highland Werewolf Wedding (7 page)

Keeping a straight face, he flexed his muscles a bit, and her gaze shot up to his.
Her cheeks instantly filled with color again. She might be an alpha wolf, but he realized
how much he flustered her.

He tried to minimize his smile, but he was having a hard time doing so. He was having
even more trouble keeping his kilt from tenting under his sporran.

She quickly said, “We could run as wolves. It’s raining hard enough and no one’s parked
here, so no one would see us.”

Her suggestion completely took him by surprise. In part because his other head was
thinking for him and he needed a minute to focus on what she was saying.

“Our wolf coats would keep us drier. We’d be more sure-footed and could travel faster
and farther,” she added.

“Are you game?” He couldn’t remove the rest of his clothes while he sat behind the
steering wheel. She could climb into the backseat and take off her clothes and shift,
then he could follow her.

“Not sure. What do you think?” she asked.

He’d much prefer to run as a wolf. They could smell the scents up close, nose to the
ground, which they couldn’t do walking upright as humans. But he was surprised she’d
ask his advice. Any young girl who could escape him and his brothers while they were
attempting to track her down—not to mention Lord Whittington, once he’d received the
news that she was in the port city, as well as her kin, who were trying to get hold
of her—seemed able to get along without seeking anyone’s opinion about anything. She
evaded all of them, which meant she had been a lot more capable than he’d given her
credit for.

“We can shift up at the castle. There are enough enclosed rooms to shield us from
prying eyes. A cellar where bread was once baked and walls to the baron’s and baroness’s
rooms still stand. No roof, though. A chapel and a tower. A couple of other rooms,
stone stables for the horses…” He paused. “Yeah, even a couple of locking restrooms.
That should work.”

“Okay. We can do it.”

As angry as he felt about his car, he couldn’t help but be pleased that Elaine wanted
to help him with this. And run as wolves? Even better.

He considered the left side of her face again.

She took a deep breath and pulled her hood forward more. “The bruising will be gone
before long, and you don’t need to be angry about this anymore.”

But he was.

“Let’s do this,” he said, right before they left the car. He noticed her gaze had
shifted again, and she was giving his torso another appreciative look.

He smiled. Briskly in the cold wind, they walked the half-mile winding path to the
castle. The walkway was mossy green and shiny wet. The rain had thankfully let up
to a light drizzle. The whole area was shrouded in a blanket of thick mist, making
it look surreal, otherworldly, ghostly.

The wind was still blowing fiercely across the cliffs and tugging at Elaine’s hood
to such an extent that she had to hold it in place around her face. The air was cold
and wet as it pounded his bare chest, but he barely noticed, as hot as she made him
feel from the way she seemed to enjoy his appearance. More than that, he knew that
his shirt would have been soaking wet, plastered to his skin, and just about as cold.

He shifted his gaze from Elaine to the cliffs overlooking the loch that surrounded
the ancient ruins on three sides and had made the place nearly impenetrable from encroaching
enemies.

When they reached the mossy stairs to climb down one of the cliffs, he took hold of
her hand because the steps were slippery. At least initially that was the reason,
but he felt as though he was on a date with the she-wolf. Wolves didn’t date. They
had casual sex with humans, or they found a wolf that would be the perfect mate. Dating
was a human condition.

Yet, for the first time ever, he felt like a man on a date. A very agreeable date.
One that he didn’t want to end.

Cearnach observed Elaine as she watched the water dashing against the rocks below,
white froth splashing over stones bathed in green moss. She was taking deep breaths,
her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

“It’s breathtaking,” she said, her voice filled with awe.

Just as breathtaking as she was. “Aye. Just imagine when the castle was wholly intact.”

“It would have been intimidating then.” She looked up at the castle that rose high
above the cliff opposite the one they’d climbed down. The stairs carved into that
cliff were just as steep and deadly.

He smiled darkly, thinking of how dangerous laying siege to the castle had been. “Aye,
and with men at the ramparts, armed and watching every move, if we had approached
it back then.”

They reached the bottom of the steps, traversed a long slippery walkway, and then
headed back up another hundred and fifty or so stairs until they arrived at a stone
tunnel, its mouth gaping open, that led into the inner bailey of the castle.

“This is so cool,” she said, staring at the moss-covered rock walls, the rainwater
running off the gray stones. “To think that the people who lived here in ancient times
passed this way regularly.”

“Yes, but if you were a foe, you’d be dead.” He pointed at the mossy stone walls that
rose high above and the arrow slits from which archers could riddle an intruder with
arrows before he could defend himself or escape.

She shivered, and he rubbed her arm and smiled. “You’re a distant cousin of the Kilpatricks
so no worries.”

“Yes, but I’m with one of their staunchest enemies, a MacNeill wearing his clan plaid,
although you left your sword behind. Besides, they’d probably figure I was besotted
with the enemy and a traitor to the Kilpatricks’ cause.”

Cearnach laughed. “So you do like the kilt.” He said it as a statement of fact. If
she said she didn’t, he wouldn’t believe her.

She gave him a smile that said she liked a little more than that. The way she still
held his hand—not immediately releasing it when the way was no longer slippery—made
him think she enjoyed his company too.

They headed through the tunnel, their footfalls echoing off the rock walls and floor
before they reached the opening into the inner bailey. Despite it being October, the
courtyard was covered in soft, bright green grass that was short, as if someone came
in and mowed it on a regular basis.

“Where can we hide our clothes? If we shift in the restrooms or anywhere else, our
clothes could be found,” she said, finally releasing his hand. “If anyone came along
who was crazy enough to be out in this cold, rainy weather.”

He pointed to an eighteenth-century cannon protecting the keep. “See the cannon that
was used to defend the castle in later years? I’ll tuck our things in there. No one
would ever think to look for them there.”

“You’d have to undress the rest of the way and shift by the cannon.” Her eyes honed
in on his chest, the chilly rain dribbling down it.

He was used to the conditions. The strong, cold wind still whipped about but it wasn’t
as frigid in the bailey, most likely because of the high, four-foot-thick walls that
surrounded it. But even so, a naked body would find the air cold and the light rain
chilly. Still, the cold didn’t bother him much.

“I’ve swum in the icy loch, lass. Keeps a body strong. And
virile
.”

Her eyes sparkled with humor, her mouth curving up just a hint.

He continued, “A little autumn rain won’t hurt.”

She laughed. “I’m from Florida, and when the winter hits, even if it’s not all that
cold, I wear a coat and avoid the ocean.”

He shook his head. Yet he was thinking how he’d like to keep her here in Scotland
so she’d grow accustomed to their weather. Better than that, he knew just how to warm
the lass, even if she didn’t become acclimated to their weather quickly. “You’d never
last in our climate when winter arrives, but I could help a lot there.”

“I’ll be long gone before then,” she promised, giving him a small smile. Before he
could respond—to tell her he hoped to change her mind, even that he
planned
to change it—she slipped into the bathroom and closed the door.

He waited outside the ladies’ room while she undressed and shifted. He couldn’t help
thinking about her taking off the clingy, wet red dress and him seeing her naked.

When she scratched and whimpered at the door, he broke loose of his vision of her
as a naked woman, forgetting she’d be a wolf now, and pulled the door open. A beautiful,
mink-brown wolf with dark brown eyes emerged. She wagged her tail and stood by the
ladies’ room, waiting for him to get her personal effects.

He scooped up her boots and the bundle of clothes that she’d wrapped inside her raincoat,
then tucked them under his arm and strode across the inner courtyard to the outer
one. Leaning down, he stuffed her things deep inside the cannon. Then he started to
strip, putting each article of clothing inside the weapon as soon as he’d pulled it
off.

While he did so, he watched her as she raced all over the castle ruins. She seemed
to be chasing smells and unsure which way to go first because everything seemed just
as intriguing as everything else. She sniffed around the stone stables, busily exploring
them. Then she dashed across the bailey, glanced in his direction, looked at his kilt
still riding low on his hips, then bolted up narrow, winding stairs into one of the
castle towers. He’d just finished removing his kilt when she peered down at him through
a broken part of the wall.

He smiled to see her head poking out of the broken structure as if the hole in the
wall was a new window, her gaze perusing his naked form, her eyes catching his as
he observed her reaction. If she was in her human form, would she be blushing again?

He willed his wolf half to take over. His muscles stretched, the tendons and ligaments
warming as he called upon the change. Shifting felt like getting a gentle workout,
but before the shifter had a chance to really experience the warming sensation, he
or she was standing as a wolf, a genetic necessity to prevent humans from seeing them
during the shift. If anyone observed the change, hopefully they would see a blurring
of forms as if their eyes were playing tricks on them.

Now he was fully clothed in wolf fur, kneading the ground with his paws and stretching
his legs before he raced to join her. Watching her explore the castle ruins and seeing
her enthusiasm about running as a wolf made him feel a surge of lightheartedness,
something he hadn’t felt since Calla decided to mate with Baird McKinley a month earlier.

Sure, he had to see if his car was anywhere about. But with helping to run Argent
Castle and the pack, he hadn’t taken much time for himself of late. If his clan could
only see him now. Though he was always kidded for being the most easygoing of the
brothers, this was something entirely new for him—putting aside a crisis to enjoy
the company of a she-wolf, forgetting duty or the pack for the moment.

He quickly joined her on the tower stairs. When she unexpectedly licked his face in
greeting, he cast her a wolfish grin.

She had to know her actions were considered part of the courtship phase between wolves.
Werewolves might not date, but they definitely courted in their own way. He was all
too ready to go along with it.

She ran up the rest of the stairs, wagging her tail and stopping to sniff at a corner
of the tower and then on the step before her while he nearly rammed his nose up her
butt because of her sudden stops and starts.

He could have laughed at the way she was so delighted to cast off her human form and
play in her wolf one.

Probably some of her enthusiasm was due to the long flight, confinement on the airplane,
the drive here from Edinburgh, and now her first chance to really stretch her legs,
like a wild wolf released from a cage.

After circling around the tower room, she wrinkled her nose at a hole in the floor
where men would have urinated when they were on guard duty. Then she stood on her
hind legs to look out a perfectly round window at the water, where whitecaps frothed
over the tops of moss-covered boulders. She smelled the wind for the longest time,
breathing in the scents, filling her lungs, letting out the air, and doing it again.
While he was smelling
her
. The way she was so ecstatic, excited, loving it.

She dropped to her paws, whipped around, and licked his cheek again. Before he could
lick her back, she raced down the circular stairs until she reached the bottom as
he flew down the steps after her.

She circumnavigated the inner courtyard, her thick fur coat protecting her from the
chilly light rain. She poked her nose at the water-filled well, which had large, leafy
plants floating on the surface as the rain splattered into the well. Then she dashed
into the cellar, smelled the ovens where bread used to bake, the storage area where
meat and grain had been stored, and then ran up the stairs to the baron and baroness’s
chambers, where the roof was long gone. She sniffed around, then headed back out again.
Exploring the chapel in the same excited way, she smelled the scents that had collected
over the years, none of which humans who were
purely
humans could detect.

Staying close, he took delight in seeing her joy. He realized then how easily Elaine
had made him forget his mission, his anger at the McKinleys and the Kilpatricks, showing
him how important life’s little pleasures were.

She headed for the tunnel that led out of the inner bailey and raced down the one
hundred and fifty stairs cut into the cliff like she was possessed. She was sure-footed
despite her rushing because of the fur on her pads, just like when he could run on
ice without slipping. He had to laugh deep inside as he easily kept up with her. He
trailed just behind her, watching the upper stairs that led down, then looking up
to the castle tunnel, to ensure that no one was coming or might see them.

No one was out in this weather.

Then she leaped the short distance to the beach and ran to the water’s edge, snapping
at the churned-up surf smashing against boulders. Whitecaps danced across small waves,
as the wind blew his and Elaine’s fur. The water was too stirred up for boats to be
out in this weather.

She glanced out across the loch, then loped along the edge of the water, looking all
along the beach and up at the cliffs.

The rain hadn’t started pouring again, though as dark as the sky was, it looked like
it might any minute. The outer guard hairs on Elaine’s and Cearnach’s thick coats
repelled the water, keeping the downy, soft fur close to their skin dry and warm from
the bitter cold wind.

She stopped to observe the castle, looking at it in awe and with reverence. The massive
stone structure truly was a sight to behold. Anyone who had wanted to storm the castle
must have had a death wish.

His own kin had put a few holes in the walls back in the early days just to make a
statement concerning the Kilpatricks’ thieving ways.

He stood beside her, listening to her heart pounding and the way she was panting and
resting for a bit. He was damned angry about his car, but all he could think of was
escorting one beautiful she-wolf out to dinner later tonight. Thinking in that direction
was strange because he was always business first, pleasure second.

He nudged at her to join him and they continued searching away from the castle, around
a bend in the cliffs so they couldn’t see the ruins any longer. That’s when he spied
the debris straight ahead. The ragged remains of his minivan. His ire rose instantly.

The van looked like a flattened aluminum can, resting on its top, tires sticking straight
up in the air. Cearnach raced over to the vehicle, smelling every part of the scraped
and gouged metal, and analyzing the scents. He smelled the two younger McKinley brothers—the
same two brothers who had arrived late at the church.

Elaine was taking in the scents also, sniffing around the vehicle as if she was one
of his wolf pack, not a stranger who shouldn’t want to be involved, not someone who
was related to the men who had done this. She would memorize their scents and know
them again if either of them got close to her.

Her tail was down, while his was straight out, fully alpha, aggressive, in charge.
She wasn’t cowed, but she wasn’t happy, either. He quickly moved to nudge her face
in a show of solidarity. She licked his cheek in understanding, maybe trying to tell
him how sorry she was. She wagged her tail a bit, but it was a sad kind of wag.

He hoped he could get to his cell phone so he could tell Ian where he was and what
was going on. He moved back to the minivan and tried to reach in through the window
with his right front paw. The glass shattered, but the gap between the roof and the
door now was too narrow to even reach in with his foreleg. He scraped his leg on the
broken glass, cutting it and swearing inwardly, growling outwardly.

When he stood, he saw Robert Kilpatrick’s red curls crest the bluff right before he
saw the rest of Robert’s head. “Hey, Cearnach, whatcha doin’ out here, mon, wearing
your wolf coat and running with your new girlfriend? Better take care or you might
get stranded. Then where would you be?” He gave a harsh laugh, his green eyes glittering
with menace, then he hurried away from the cliff.

Cearnach would climb the cliff and pay Robert back if he could, but the cliffs were
so steep here that he’d have a better chance of climbing them if he were a mountain
goat.

Then he began to think of what Robert meant.
Stranded
. How could they be stranded unless…
hell
. Cearnach ran full out toward the castle ruins.

He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Elaine was keeping up. She was following,
her face grim and her tongue hanging out.

When he reached the path, he looked back again, but he had to stop the men if they
were attempting to steal Elaine’s rental car. She was close, nearly to the path. He
jumped up and climbed the few feet to the stone path, then ran as fast as his legs
would carry him up all the stairs and around the walkway that wound through the cliffs
until he could see the car park.