Taken By The Highland Wolf (The Clan MacGregor Book 2) (2 page)

"We should get you out of here, miss," Gregory said to me. "The MacGregor will need to be told about this straight away, and you will be much safer back at the castle. There's not much more we can do here for now."

"Of course," I said to him. "Mr. MacAlpin, Father MacGregor, I hope that you will excuse me if I leave you now. I'm sure that you will be able to conduct your business better without having me underfoot."

"A pleasure to see you again Miss Gordon, even if it was under such unfortunate circumstances," said Father MacGregor with a bow.

"Good afternoon Miss Gordon," said the magistrate gruffly, with the barest incline of his head.

"Good afternoon to you both." I turned and walked out the door as gracefully as possible, trying to not give in to my urge to slam the magistrate's front door.

"What an odious little man," I snapped once Gregory and I were safely outside.

"He doesn't have much love for ye, Miss Glenna, that much is for sure, but I don't know if 'little' is how I would be describing him." Gregory caught my eye and winked and I failed at stifling a giggle.

"Oh, well," I said with a sigh. "There's nothing I can do about it now. I doubt I will ever be able to win the man over."

"I've been coming with ye to Fortingall for the past two months now, watching ye visit the needy and bringing them what you can from the castle. You've a kind and gentle heart. You've taken to our people as if they were your own. And if it means anything to ye, I want ye to know that I would be proud to call ye Lady MacGregor."

"Oh, Gregory, thank you. It does mean something to me, more than I can express." I smiled brightly at him, then headed for where we had left our horses tethered. "Come on. We had best hurry about getting the news of what happened here to the MacGregor."

The air in the forest was crisp and I could see my breath on the air as my small heart beat rapidly with fear. My beautiful mother held a knife high above her head. Her long blonde hair framed an angelic face with crystal blue eyes, now wide and wild with fear.

A low growl came from out of the trees and I whimpered in fright. My mother took a step closer just as I was knocked down by an enormous animal. In the next moment the monstrous wolf was on top of my mother in the snow. With a swipe of its massive paw it tore her throat open and her blood spilled like countless rubies upon the pure white ground.

The wolf looked up from my mother's body and turned to face me.

"Glenna." The wolf's voice was a low rumble from deep within its throat.

"Glenna," came the voice again, this time more insistent...

***

"Glenna. Glenna, wake up, lass."

Large but gentle hands shook me by the shoulders, pulling me from my dream, and I opened my eyes to see a large form leaning over me in the dark bedchamber.

"Alastair?" I asked, my mind still foggy from sleep.

"Ye were having a nightmare. Are ye all right now?"

"I think so. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep."

"Do ye want to tell me about it?" he asked, pulling me into his arms.

I curled up against his side and rested my head on his chest, listening contentedly to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as it pounded soothingly beneath my ear.

"It was nothing, really." It was not like me to hide my feelings from him, but this dream was not something I knew how to share.

"Tell me anyway, love. It's not good to keep these things inside. Maybe it will give ye a bit of peace." His voice was low and thick from interrupted sleep and he ran a firm hand up and down the length of my back, urging me to confide in him.

"It's an old nightmare. It started when I was young. I hadn't had it for quite a few years, but then it started again a few months ago... just before I met you."

"Am I the thing of nightmares, then?" he asked me, only half-joking.

I swatted him playfully on the chest. The fact of the matter was that throughout most of the Scottish highlands the name Alastair MacGregor really was the stuff of nightmare and legends, even if that reputation was mostly unfounded. But none of that mattered to me, because I knew the man he truly was, and the kind and loving heart that beat within his broad chest.

"It had naught to do with you. The dream was about my mother. She died when I was but six years old."

"Ah, lass, I'm sorry for your loss. But why would seeing her again give ye such bad dreams?"

I bit my lip, unsure of how to proceed.

"There is something about my past that I've yet to tell you," I confessed. "It wasn't meant to be a secret. I just couldn't see what difference it would make."

I fell silent again and he nudged me with his leg, encouraging me to continue.

"You're not the first man cursed with the wolf that I've met. At least, I don't believe that you are."

Alastair froze but stayed silent. I could feel his entire body go tense against me.

"I didn't know, Alastair. I swear to you that I didn't know before you explained it to me. My mother and I were out for a walk one day in the trees behind my father's keep. It was deep winter, with a thick layer of snow on the ground. I can't actually remember any of this, mind you. I only know it from my dreams. In them I look down at the snow and my mother is there, lying dead before me. Her empty eyes are staring at me and her throat is torn open. I turn around and a wolf lunges at me. It's the largest creature I've ever seen. It had killed her and now it was going to kill me."

"Oh, Glenna, my love."

"My father said that my childhood mind had turned the man or men who had killed my mother into monsters so I could understand the horror of what I had witnessed. Eventually the dreams faded, but they returned a few weeks before my uncle took me. That night at your camp when I saw the wolf, I finally knew my dreams for truth. That I truly had seen a giant wolf that day. This dream was different, though. My mother was alive and brandishing a long knife aloft. She must have heard the wolf before I did and was trying to protect me."

"Why did ye never tell me?" he asked.

"To what end? Speaking of it would not bring my mother back. And I did not want you to think that I blamed you or your people in some way. Like you said, there are others out there cursed with the wolf, not just the MacGregors. It could have been a Gordon, for all I know."

"I suppose you're right. I just hate to think that ye'd one more reason to fear me before ye knew the truth of who I was," he said.

"But I do know the truth of you, and no dream or events from my past will change that, or my love for you."

He pulled me up from his chest so that we were face-to-face and kissed me softly until my lips parted for him so that he could slide his tongue past them. I sank into his embrace, running my hands through the light sprinkling of dark hair on his muscular chest.

He rolled me over onto my back and covered my body with his own. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I drew him down to me, enjoying the comforting weight of his much larger body. He kissed me slowly through my shift, over my chest and down into the valley between my breasts. My nipples hardened and I took a sharp intake of breath as the sensitive peaks brushed against the fabric.

With a deep chuckle he took the fabric between his teeth and tugged the front of my shift down, exposing the soft skin of my breast to his wandering mouth. I groaned with pleasure as his clever tongue swirled circles around first one nipple then the other, flicking them as he passed.

I ran my hands up his back and over his broad shoulders, pulling up the back of the shirt he had been sleeping in so that I could press my palms against his warm flesh.

Sitting up, he pulled the shirt over his head and tossed it aside. The shutters were closed and I could only make out the shadowed shape of his naked form on the bed before me, but simply knowing that he was there, completely exposed to me, made my heart beat faster.

I licked my lips as his hand found its way to my ankle, then slid up my calf and along the outside of my thigh. My heart began to race as it continued its journey inward, his fingers tripping across the front of my sex only to dip between my thighs, his thumb probing between my damp folds to find my sensitive bud.

I moaned and let my head fall back as he moved his thumb in small circles, pressing firmly at my core, until the pleasure in me started to build. After a minute the pressure disappeared and I whimpered at the loss. Alastair moved up and positioned himself between my legs and I could soon feel the head of his hard length teasing the entrance of my sex.

"Alastair," I panted, struggling for control of my need. "We cannot. You know we cannot."

He continued to kiss my shoulder but the probing beneath my legs stilled.

"Tell me again why we must not," he said, his voice strained.

"Because I cannot risk getting with child. I am not your wife."

"I love you, Glenna, and I would have you as my wife. We would be married now if the choice were mine alone," he sighed.

"I know," I told him, lifting his head so that I could look him in the eye in the dark. "But it is not. I am not yet your wife. And I will not risk giving you a son or daughter who does not carry the wolf within them. I will not do that to you, and I cannot do that to your people. You must have their support, and with my being here like this with you, there are many who resent me."

With a heavy sigh he moved off of me and fell back onto the bed.

"I know not how many times I have to tell ye that I would cherish any bairn ye were to bear me."

I smoothed my shift down over my knees and turned to him.

"I know you would. But I also know that a part of you would always regret that they did not have the gift. How would they gain the support of your people to lead? And if it were a son? Could we deny him his claim to be chief, simply because we were unable to temper our passion?"

"Am I to never lie with you as man and wife?" he grumbled.

Even as my heart went out to him, my patience was growing short with his stubbornness and unwillingness to see the truth of my words.

"You may lie with me as my husband when I am your wife, Alastair MacGregor," I snapped. "Or have you already given up all hope that you will be able to sway your clan in our favor? I love you, and would give myself to you completely. But I am not so blinded by my need that I cannot see the truth of our situation for what it is."

"I am the chief. I should be able to marry whomever I choose. With all my power, how is it that I am unable to do this one simple thing?" he asked.

I reached out and caressed his cheek, feeling the light stubble scratch against my palm.

"Because, as with everything else you have done, deep down you know that you must do what is best for your clan, no matter what your heart desires," I said sadly.

"The devil take my clan," he cursed.

"You do not mean that. Be mindful of what you say, lest someone take your words to heart."

Alastair grabbed me by the front of my shift and pulled me roughly against his body. His mouth crashed against mine and I submitted to the fury of his kiss, letting it overtake me. Our tongues tangled as he gathered my hair in one hand and yanked my head back, taking the kiss deeper.

"Ye are mine," he growled into my mouth. "No matter what comes, know that ye are mine."

He released me, stood up from the bed, and gathered his plaid from where it lay on the chair.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"Back to my chamber. You'll have no peace if I stay here, and I need to think."

My heart sank as he fastened his kilt and walked to the door.

"I will see ye in the morning," he said before slipping out of the room.

Once he had left I dropped back onto the bed and wrapped my arms around one of the pillows, holding it close. The room suddenly seemed incredibly empty with him gone.

There was a flurry of activity in the lower hall the next morning as I made my way through the castle. I hurried toward the sounds of shouting to see three of Alastair's clansmen carrying a fourth, unconscious, man between them.

"What's happened?" I asked them as they lowered the man to the stone floor. "Who is he?"

"We don't know, miss," said one. "We found him on the road like this."

My mind raced as I tried to think of what to do. "Bring him with me," I told them. "He must be seen to."

The man was picked up and brought with me to one of the guest chambers, where I directed them to lay him on the bed.

"Fetch me a bowl of hot water and another of cold. I will also need some fresh cloths. And see if Mrs. Fletcher has any willow bark for when he awakens."

"Right away, miss. Should we bring Mrs. Fletcher to see to him?" one of the men asked.

"No, there is no need. I'm sure she is busy enough already. I'll see to him myself."

The clansman nodded and hurried out the door with the others.

I put my hands on my hips and looked down at the bed, studying the unconscious man before me. His face and clothes were torn and covered with dust and dirt. It had mingled with the blood and sweat on his face, forming thick, cakey patches.

After the men came back with the items I had requested, I wasted no time in carefully cleaning away the blood and grime from the injured man's face.

By the time I was finished, the bowl of hot water was dark brown and the extent of the injuries on his face was exposed for my examination. I could see clearly that he had a black eye and a split lip, with some bruising along his upper cheek, but not much more damage had been done to his face. I bit my lip and wondered about the extent of the injuries to the rest of his body.

I could not strip him. But maybe, if I were to simply lift his shirt to see if there were any major injuries that needed to be seen to?

I moved hesitantly at first but then with more determination. Moving the top part of his plaid aside, I tugged his shirt from his kilt and raised it over his stomach to expose his chest, revealing a smooth expanse of muscle.

I could feel the warmth rising in my cheeks as I examined him, but tried to ignore it as I took in the extent of his injuries. Large patches of bruises covered his chest, as if he had been badly beaten. I prayed that nothing was broken.

First a man had been found murdered in the village, and now another had been beaten and left on the road. There was a violence working its way through Glen Lyon, something ugly and sinister, and I worried that these attacks were only the beginning of the viciousness that we were yet to see.

I brushed the light brown hair back from the man's face with a gentle touch. He would have to be questioned eventually. There was a chance that he would be able to identify his attackers and bring them to justice. Hopefully Alastair was having better luck in the village.

***

The setting sun bathed the room in a warm orange light as I quietly read and sipped my tea. There had been little movement from the injured man over the last few hours other than some slight shifting in his sleep, but I refused to leave his side on the small chance that he would awaken while I was gone.

The door opened behind me and I turned around to find Alastair standing in the doorway.

"I was told ye were in here," he said as he bent down to kiss me. "Is this our man, then?"

"Yes. He's been asleep all afternoon."

"Why don't ye come away, then, and have some supper with me? Ye should have a bit of rest."

"I've already eaten," I told him, pointing to the empty plate on the side table. "And I'm not that tired, truly. Other than tidying him up, there hasn't been much for me to do. My only worry is that he may have broken a rib or two. There is an awful lot of bruising. I'll not be able to tell for certain until he wakes, though nothing feels like it shouldn't to the touch. But, please, I want to know about your day. Were you able to find anything more out about the man in the village?"

Alastair heaved a sigh and ran his hand through his thick black hair, his emerald green eyes flashing in annoyance.

"Nay, 'tis the same as before. Four days now and hours of questioning, yet not a single person has been able to give something of use."

"But how can it be that no one saw anything the slightest bit suspicious? How could a body just have been placed in the square with no one the wiser?" I asked.

"I wish that I knew, love, truly I do. I'll not sleep easy knowing that a murderer may have slipped through our fingers." His hands clenched into fits at his sides.

"It was very strange, the way he was killed. Why on earth would someone choke him with fur like that?" I asked.

"Glenna, I know you're worried, but I don't think that this is something I should be discussing with ye. It's a grisly business, murder."

"Do you think I speak of this lightly? That I am one to be coddled and protected? I killed my own uncle Alastair. My hands are not free of blood. I can discuss these things without the need to cover my eyes and hide from the truth. I am not so fragile that I will break to think of the uglier things in this world."

He dropped to his haunches and took my hand in his, bringing it to his lips to kiss my fingers.

"You've seen more horror than you've a right to. And I'll not see ye cry over spilling your uncle's blood. Dougal would have killed ye. Ye had no choice. You're a strong woman, my little warrior, of that I've no doubt. But can ye blame me for wanting to protect ye from more pain and suffering when you've already seen so much?" He nodded toward the man on the bed. "And even when I leave to clean up one mess, another finds its way to ye."

"I don't mind getting my hands a bit dirty when the need arises," I told him.

"Aye, and I'm sure they'll get plenty dirty before the end."

"Well, if you won't tell me anything else, for now at least tell me this. Do you think that this murder is the only one we will see?"

He clenched his jaw, but then shook his head, giving in. "No. I don't think it is."