Taken By The Highland Wolf (The Clan MacGregor Book 2) (6 page)

"Are ye all right?" Alastair asked me. He placed his hand on my shoulder and turned me to face him.

"I think..." I paused to consider for a moment and took a shaky breath. "I think I am. I'm tired of being weak. I want to be able to defend myself and the people I love. I want to be able to defend your people. Our people."

"Glenna, I've never thought of ye as weak. You've always had a fire in ye that I admire."

"I want you to bite me," I told him.

He took his hand from my shoulder and took a step back. "No. Ye don't know what you're asking."

"I do know, and I'm not asking you lightly. I want us to be together. Properly, as man and wife. I want to stand beside you and bear your children and help you to protect these lands from whoever is coming our way."

"Glenna, I could not do that to ye."

"Why not? We could finally be together. Completely. We would no longer have to fight to be together. We could be wed." I took his hand in mine and brought it to my lips. "We could be one."

"Glenna, love, when you're bit the change is painful. It is very, very painful. I would not put ye through that. And more than that, not every one who's bit completes the change. Not everyone makes it through to the other side. Sometimes people go mad. Their minds canna handle it. Or they simply die from the pain of it."

"I am strong enough for it, Alastair, I know that I am," I pleaded with him. "Do not deny me this chance to be with you. Whatever the pain. I will endure it if it means that we can be together."

Alastair's face was awash in conflicting emotions, and I prayed for him to agree to my request. I knew that he wanted nothing more than to keep me safe, but this was what I wanted. And I wanted it more than anything I had ever desired before in my life.

He lifted my hand and kissed its palm, then reached out with his free hand and caressed my cheek.

"Glenna Gordon, I've loved ye from the first moment I saw ye. You're the most loving, brave and beautiful woman I know. I would be honored to spend the rest of my life with ye, lass. And if turning ye is what it takes and you're certain that it's what ye wish, then that's what we shall do. So what do ye say? Will ye marry me, Glenna, and spend the rest of your days with the dreaded MacGregor? Will ye be my wife and mate?"

My heart swelled with love for him and I launched myself into his arms, bursting with joy. "Aye!" I shouted with laughter. "Aye, Alastair, I will marry you and I will love you until the end of my days and beyond."

He lifted me off the floor and pressed a long, lingering kiss to my lips, his long red hair forming a flaming halo around his grinning face.

It amazed me that an evening that had started with such horror could end with so much joy.

***

Later that night Alastair and I awoke to the sound of insistent pounding on the chamber door. The room was still dark, with no sign of the early morning sun on the horizon. We must have only been asleep for a few hours.

"Sir, miss, ye must come quickly," came Donald's harassed voice through the door.

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and hurried to dress myself in my nightgown before wrapping a plaid around my shoulders for modesty's sake. Alastair dressed in naught but his kilt, and opened the door to face a red-faced Donald.

"I'm sorry to have awakened ye, but there's been a messenger. He insisted that I wake ye both at once. He's brought a package with him."

"Where is it?" Alastair asked him as we quickly followed him.

"In your study. Gregory is watching the messenger in there as well," Donald explained.

"Did he say who it came from?" I asked.

"No, my lady, he didn't. But with the threats against us I thought it best to keep him here for questioning for the time being."

The lamps had been lit in the study by the time we arrived and a short young man cloaked in black sat in one of the leather chairs. Gregory, the clansman who had been with us in the library when Camden had been brought before me, was watching him suspiciously.

"Who are ye, and what brings ye here in the middle of the night?" Alastair asked the stranger, dispensing with the niceties.

The man—a boy, really, for he looked little older than seventeen years of age—stood and looked toward the wooden box that sat on the large desk.

"I was sent here with a message for ye, MacGregor," he said.

"And just who is this message from?" Alastair asked him.

"I have no name for ye," the boy told him.

"Do ye expect me to believe that you rode here to deliver me this message without knowing from where it came?" Alastair took a menacing step forward and glared down his nose at the boy. "Or maybe ye simply require some persuading to tell me what ye ken?" he asked quietly.

The boy swallowed audibly but did not back down. I admired his courage, but it would not help him if Alastair decided that he was a threat. The safety of the clan came first, always. And now we all had to be more careful than ever.

"Ye do not scare me, MacGregor," the boy said with only the barest of quivers in his voice. Then, suddenly, moving quickly, the boy produced a knife and slashed out at Alastair.

Alastair lifted his arm to defend himself from the strike and the knife slashed into his forearm. Ignoring whatever pain the wound must have caused, he moved without hesitation, and reaching out with both hands he took hold of the boy's head and twisted it sharply to the side, effectively snapping his neck.

I watched wide-eyed as the lifeless body of the boy fell to the floor. My eyes traveled from the boy to Alastair and back again, my heart full of sadness. This was not the first time I had seen Alastair take a life. He had protected me from another like him, a man cursed with the wolf, paid by Allina to assassinate me. But I had never seen him take a human life before, and for it to be one so young, even if the boy had been an assassin, shook me.

"For them to send a boy to try to kill me," Alastair said, shaking his head. "They had to know he would fail." He looked down at the boy's body, an expression of extreme regret on his face.

"I dinna think he was meant to succeed," said Gregory. "More likely he was meant to be another mark against ye. A spark in this war they're determined to bring to our door."

"Aye, Gregory, you're probably right," Alastair said, his voice tight with frustration. He walked around his desk and opened drawers until he located a handkerchief, which he pressed to his arm to stanch the blood flow.

"What about the box?" I asked. I walked over to the large, hinged box and placed a hand lightly on the lid.

It was well crafted. The wood was a deep, rich brown and well oiled. The metal hinges were of an intricate knotted design, and there was no mistaking the fact that it was obviously very valuable.

"Shall I open it?" I asked, looking over my shoulder at the three men. My fingers were already tracing the seam around the edge of the box and I began to lift the lid.

"Glenna, wait," said Alastair, but it was too late.

I tossed the lid back and looked down. "My God!" I gasped.

The men came over to examine the contents of the box.

"Damn them!" Donald yelled, kicking the desk in his anger. Then, glancing over at me, he added, "Pardon my language, lass."

The palms of my hands had gone damp but I reached over and grasped his hand anyway.

"Damn them," I whispered in agreement.

"Come away, Glenna," said Alastair.

"No," I told him as I continued to stare into the box. I could feel something inside myself hardening at the sight of it, as if an invisible wall were being built around my heart. It had truly begun. They were coming for us. And with this declaration of war, I knew without a doubt that I would do whatever it took to defend my new family and fight by their side.

The wolf had been a natural-born one, not someone with the curse. I knew this not only due to the comparatively small size of the wolf's head resting in the box, but by the fact that it was the head of a wolf. If it had been a clan member, then the body would have reverted to human form upon death.

We could breathe a little easier in the knowledge that this was not someone we had known sitting before us. It was a small consolation in the light of things, but a welcome one.

"Why is it covered in tar?" I asked, confused. The wolf's fur was tangled and matted, liberally streaked through with black.

Alastair leaned forward and inhaled. "To mask the scent," he said. "See how the inside of the box is coated in it as well? He pressed a finger to the inside of the wooden box and tested the tackiness of the dark substance. "The tar masked the smell of the wolf. The boy never would have gotten inside the keep otherwise."

"Do ye think that's why it was so difficult to track Camden and whoever was helping him with the murders? They were covering up their scent like this?" asked Gregory.

"They must have been. It's the only thing that makes sense," agreed Alastair.

"I want you to do it now," I said quietly.

"Are ye sure this is the time?" Alastair asked, understanding my meaning completely.

"There will never be a better time," I told him. "Do it."

"Donald, Gregory, I'd ask ye to excuse us, please."

"No," I said, stopping them before turning back to Alastair. "I would have them witness this. I want there to be no doubt. No question."

"It would be an honor, miss," said Donald, bowing low to me.

"Aye," said Gregory, giving me a sharp nod.

Alastair looked at me with a mixture of hope and trepidation in his eyes as he began to remove his plaid, slowly unwrapping the pleated folds of his kilt. I could feel the warmth rising in my cheeks. I had seen him get undressed countless times before, and I had watched as he and his men disrobed and shifted as a group. But this, now, in the hushed silence of his study, seemed even more intimate than all of those times put together, especially with both Donald and Gregory looking on.

Alastair looked into my eyes as the last of the fabric fell away and landed with a soft thump on the study floor. I held his gaze intently as he began to shift, until standing before me was a giant black wolf.

The beat of my heart kicked up as I looked at him. My fear of him in his animal form had been dispelled long ago, but as I gazed upon him now I could not help focusing on the sheer size of his massive jaws. He had to bite me with those jaws, and I did not see how he would be able to manage it without removing one of my limbs completely.

"Hop yourself up on the desk there, lass, and shift to the side a bit so he can get your thigh," Donald offered, sensing my concern.

I swallowed and nodded. I sat on the edge of the desk with my legs dangling over the edge and turned to the side.

"Now, if you'll just, umm... lift your skirts a bit," he continued. His face went just as red as I was sure mine was. "A little higher, now. There ye are."

The gathered fabric of my skirt pooled at the top of my thigh, exposing the entirety of my leg. I stared down at the unmarked skin of my thigh and then looked to the wolf that was Alastair. He padded forward slowly but stopped before reaching me. Waiting, he tilted his head to the side, as if to ask one last time if I was sure that this was what I wanted. I held out my hand to him and he closed the distance between us, allowing me to run my hands over the familiar, comforting feeling of his fur.

When I had first arrived, the wolf had been my only friend, my companion as well as my guard, and I had come to care for it. Then, when I learned that the wolf was Alastair, I came to love the man. Neither man nor wolf had ever hurt me nor brought me harm, and as I touched his soft coat, I knew that there was naught to fear from him now.

"I'm ready," I told him, my voice strong and sure.

The wolf threw his head back and howled, then moved very quickly and wrapped his jaw around the soft flesh of my upper thigh. Pain like fire shot through my leg but I did not cry out. My hands clenched into tight fists and my nails dug into my palms but I did not make a sound, and his sharp teeth were gone from me almost as quickly as they had broken the skin.

Dazed, I looked down at the bite and noticed that it was surprisingly shallow as blood began to well up. Donald and Gregory hurried forward, but I shook my head. I did not need their help. Grabbing the edge of my wrap, I pressed it to my leg, stanching the flow on both sides.

It was over. I was bitten. I couldn't believe that it had finally happened.

"Glenna," came Alastair's voice.

The sound of his voice made me jump. I had not even noticed that he had shifted back.

"It is done," I whispered in wonder. "I thought there would be more pain, but it is passing already. The bite almost feels cool now."

Alastair looked stricken, and I noticed Donald and Gregory exchange quick glances.

"What is it?" I asked. "What is wrong?"

Alastair gathered me into his arms and held me tightly, pressing my face against the warm skin of his chest.

"I am so sorry, Glenna, my love, but it is not over yet," he said into my hair.