A Highland Werewolf Wedding

Chapter 22

As they sat in Ian’s solar discussing the reasons why Robert Kilpatrick wanted Elaine in Scotland so badly, Cearnach asked her, “Could it be that your kin wanted to get hold of your properties because they are profitable?”

“It’s possible that’s what this is all about.” She sighed. “I don’t wish to delay this any further. I want to see the properties,” Elaine told Ian. “I want to see if they might hold the goods my uncles stole from you and just take a look at the places also.”

“I’m certain your cousins would have searched them thoroughly. It appears to me that your uncles used the stolen goods to make sound investments. These, in turn, are now back in MacNeill hands, but are more valuable than the original goods your uncles stole from us,” Cearnach said, as if worried she might be disappointed.

She agreed he might be right. Yet, she wished she could have seen the goods. She envisioned a dragon hoarding its treasure. She had hoped they were more than a few barrels of useless stuff. She’d never realized her uncles had been good at making investments. Her mother and father had been, but she’d always thought of her uncles as the kind of men who lived off of one cache of stolen goods to the next. Never did she imagine that they could have been wealthy landowners.

It saddened her to learn she’d had an older brother, lost to an earlier war, whose death had upset her parents so much that they’d moved to the Americas. Had they worried about losing her, too? Why hadn’t her parents ever told her about him? Or about the other son who died before he was born.

“If you wish to survey your lands, I’ll make the necessary arrangements. You will have a guard force at all times,” Ian said.

She frowned, not wanting to create more work for his clansmen. “Do you believe that’s really necessary?”

“Aye. I don’t know what the McKinleys and Kilpatricks are up to where you’re concerned. You’re one of us now. I won’t permit either you or Cearnach to travel alone until we learn that the treasure doesn’t exist or discover some other reason why Robert is so desperate to see you—alone.”

“I don’t want you or your people to feel put upon.”

Ian and Cearnach gave each other smiles. “The thing of it, lass,” Ian said, “is that we live for adventure, train to fight, and protect. I will have a time choosing some clansmen to accompany you without offending those who are not chosen.”

Elaine smiled at that. Instead of a group of men taking a step backward when asked for volunteers to accompany them, she envisioned kilted warriors, swords in hand, all stepping forward.

“If you’re sure…”

“I am, lass.”

Elaine stood and said to Cearnach. “I want to go on a treasure hunt. The first manor Mr. Hoover mentioned is not too far from here.”

“I’ll send word at once to have a force of men attend you,” Ian said. “As to the keep, it’s about five hours south of Argent Castle. I’ll ask Guthrie, Duncan, and Oran and a few other men to check out the place. The men will be thorough. The renter might be one of your kinsmen, despite what your solicitor said. I didn’t care for his hesitation when he responded after you pointedly asked if the wolf was related to you.”

“Make sure they take notice if the property is near a loch or has a waterfall nearby.”

“Aye, lass. They will make sure of it.”

Despite not expecting to be overly impressed, Elaine was when they arrived at the first estate.

Heavy stone walls and massive oak doors gave the immediate impression of the medieval three-story building being just as hardy as the Highlanders accompanying her.

“No loch,” she said to Cearnach, thinking of what her uncle had eluded to.

“Aye. No waterfalls near here. No pile of rocks.”

Two vanloads of warriors joined them as Elaine knocked on the door of the manor, the renters already informed of their visit. Wide-eyed, a matronly woman stared at all the men standing around.

“My husband’s kinsmen,” Elaine said, “wanting to see the property also. They’ll just look at the grounds. My husband will accompany me on a brief tour of the manor. The others will remain outside.”

“Of course, Mrs. MacNeill. Come in. I’m Tricia Haverstein.”

Calling Cearnach her husband when he wasn’t—and when her kind normally didn’t wed, nor had she ever planned such a thing—felt odd.

Inside, she toured the seven bedrooms, all with fireplaces and small glazed glass windows. Antiques filled each room, and all the walls were papered in floral designs. The older woman related details about the place as they moved through it. About all the people who had made changes to the building over the years. How at one time the manor was a monastery. She pointed to the window seats. “Prayer seats for the monks.”

Three spiral staircases led from one floor to another in the same manner as the stairs at Argent Castle, for protection in case of invasion. The kitchen looked old with its stone walls and fireplace, but was modernized with new appliances. A wine cellar where Elaine thought a treasure might have been hidden proved to hold nothing but racks of wine.

The woman motioned to one of the racks. “At one time a ship sank and casks of wine were brought here to be enjoyed by the vicar and the parson. It was called the ‘right of wreckage’ in the Middle Ages.”

“Finders, keepers,” Elaine mused.

“Aye.”

“Thank you for your time, Mrs. Haverstein.”

They left the manor, and when Elaine climbed into the car with Cearnach, she said, “The other manor is only three hours from this one.”

Cearnach studied her for a moment, then nodded. He called Ian and okayed the trip to the next medieval manor.

They stopped for a meal at a quaint little eatery and then they were off again.

The next manor was similar to the first, with ancient, beautiful oak doors and floors, stone walls, and antique-filled rooms.

Like the other, the place was not near any water. “This couldn’t be where they hid the treasure,” she said. “No loch. No waterfalls.” She couldn’t help the disappointment in her voice.

“Aye, but remember the properties are worth far more than the merchandise your uncles stole. And they are yours.”

“Ours,” she reminded him.

“They are that.” He called Ian to let him know of their progress. “I’ll tell her. See you later.” He set the new phone down on the console. “They haven’t brought your car to the castle yet, Ian said.”

“Do you think they will?” Elaine asked.

“I don’t know, lass. Because you wouldn’t do as they asked, maybe not. It’s time to go home.”

She worried now what other measures Ian might take to get her property back and restitution paid for Cearnach’s vehicle. She hoped it didn’t mean a battle between wolf packs.

Duncan and Guthrie and the other men scouted the area surrounding the keep that Elaine owned. No one was at home, but they noted the smell of a gray wolf and suspected he might be Elaine’s kin and trouble. If they’d been human, they would have had to abide by human laws, such as those against illegal search and breaking and entering. But shape-shifting wolves had their own set of rules to live by. It was the only way their kind could live among humans without detection and survive as long as they had. Using a key, Duncan, Guthrie, and Oran entered first.

Even though his attention should have been on searching for hidden places within the keep, Duncan kept wanting to look through the drawers of the desk, learn the contents of the computer sitting atop it, and rifle through every cabinet, nook, and cranny in every room of the keep.

“He’s not any of the McKinleys or Kilpatricks we know,” Guthrie said, watching Duncan as he stared at another confounded bureau drawer.

Then he jerked it open and began searching through it. “He’s been here forever. Long enough to have known her uncles.”

Guthrie turned to the other men with them. “Search everything. All the drawers, cabinets, everything for any clue as to who he is. Or any connections he might have with the Kilpatricks, McKinleys, or Elaine.”

Either the guy was a neat freak or he had a maid who was one. Socks were rolled up in one drawer. Briefs in another. Sweaters were neatly folded in another.

Duncan made a mess of them, not bothering to neaten up after himself. Guthrie smiled at him, knowing that with the way a wolf could smell scents, the renter would realize another wolf had handled his property. No sense in trying to hide the fact.

They returned to the office, and while Guthrie worked on breaking through the wolf’s security code on his computer, Duncan searched through all the drawers in the room, then began to pull books off a shelf and flip through each and every one of them.

Duncan found nothing, which was more than odd. He turned to watch Guthrie.

No matter how good his skills were at hacking, Guthrie was unable to get into the man’s computer. He glanced at Duncan, then at the mass of books thrown on the floor in a heap. Guthrie knew Duncan wouldn’t intentionally make a mess of someone else’s place unless he had good reason. To make a statement. To make the wolf beware. Elaine now had family, a new family, to protect her. Duncan couldn’t help feeling antagonistic about the wolf who lived here.

“What do you suspect, Duncan?” Guthrie asked, standing.

Oran and his brothers came to the doorway of the office, shaking their heads as Duncan considered them. “We didn’t find any clues,” Oran said.

“There’s nothing personal here anywhere. How can anyone live so long in a place and have nothing that would clue others in about his habits, interests, lifestyle?” Duncan said. “I have a feeling he’s connected somehow to Elaine, her family, something. And it’s not in a good way.” That’s all Duncan had to say. A wolf’s instincts were often right.

“Okay.” Guthrie sat back down at Mr. Hazelton’s computer. “Let’s see what we can learn about old Samuel here.”

Much later that evening, Cearnach and Elaine returned to Argent Castle, where she almost felt at home. Calling a massive castle in a different country “home” seemed strange. Actually, being at the castle wasn’t what made her feel that way, but being with Cearnach. He was home for her.

Most everyone had retired for the night, although Ian told Cearnach that his brothers and cousins were still at the keep, trying to break into the renter’s computer. No sign of the man as yet. And no indication that he was related to Elaine or that any treasure was hidden within.

“I’m worried about them,” Elaine said to Cearnach.

“They’ll be fine.”

Dismissing her concern, he told her they were warriors, used to business like this. She still couldn’t help herself. She hadn’t thought they’d do anything more than she and Cearnach had done. Search the place. Not try to break into his computer. But Cearnach had warned her they would be thorough.

She could see that Cearnach had only one thing in mind as he hurried her up to their bedchamber. As soon as he shut the door, she yanked aside the curtain on her side of the bed. He turned to see her sitting on the mattress, yawning. She attempted to fight the tiredness that racked her body, but she couldn’t shake it off. After the ghostly problems last night and the jet lag from the day before, then washing all those huge pups earlier today and running all over Scotland searching for treasure, she was exhausted.

Cearnach stalked toward her, his gaze predatory, not in the least bit tired. He crouched before her and pulled off one of her boots, then the other. “It’s late and way past time for bed.”

She smiled at him and cupped his face, then lifted it to look up at her. “If anyone had told me I’d be sleeping with a Highland wolf in a castle in Scotland…”

“Mated to a wolf,” he corrected her. “There’s a vast difference. Last night, you slept with a wolf. Tonight, you’re with your mate.”

Mated to a wolf. She liked the way he said it. The connection that now stood between them for the rest of their days.

His warm fingers stroked up her belly underneath the sweater, higher until he ran his hands over her breasts and squeezed them. Already his erection was heavy against her thigh, his breathing rough, hers getting rougher. She’d never known being with a wolf could be this good.

He pushed the sweater up, exposing her breasts. Cool air from the room mixed with his heated breath to make her nipples stand at attention. Her breasts felt heavier, achy, needy. Just like the area between her legs was feeling needy. Then he licked her nipples, tasting, swirling his tongue around one and then the other.

He raised his mouth to hers, his soft sweater brushing her bare breasts as he rocked his erection against her leg, simulating being inside her. Her mouth caressed his, her tongue sweeping out to lick his, her teeth gently nipping his lips in a wolfish way.

He groaned with need, his fingers combing through her hair as she tugged at his sweater to pull it up. To feel his heated skin rubbing against hers. The pleasure of his mouth on hers, his tongue teasing her own, his body sliding against hers, all made her want to be naked, to have him deep inside her… now.

“I want you,” she whispered against his mouth. Her hands glided down his bare back and managed to slip into his jeans. He wasn’t wearing any boxers. Good. She cupped his ass. “Now.” Her hushed voice came out a low growl.

He smiled, then whispered in Gaelic, making an ancient connection with her—not just a wolfish one, but a Highland one as well.

She loved hearing the words that said he loved her, and she repeated them to him even though hers had an American accent. He seemed to love the way she said the words, no matter what her accent was. Then he stripped off her sweater and then his, tossing them to the floor.

This was more like it. Her bare chest to his. Skin to skin. Nipples to nipples, his just as erect as hers were.

He nuzzled her face, kissed her throat, and licked it, sending a new wave of heat coursing through every blood vessel. The pleasure was so intense that she felt her sex wet and prepared for him.

He brushed his lips across her throat, then lower, licking a trail down between her breasts all the way to her navel, his fingers working feverishly to unfasten her pants. He unzipped her jeans, then plunged his hand inside between her legs, feeling her wetness, his fingers entering her, cupping her, demanding.

She was on fire, the sensation of his touch, determination, and urgency sending her up in flames. Waves of orgasm struck as if the sun had just warmed the room, the bed, and her, even though it was dark out, cold and gloomy.

His jeans and hers were on the floor before she realized just how fast he could move.

He climbed on top of her, pressing her thighs apart. He pushed his cock slowly into the center of her being, deepening the drive, not in a hurry, although he looked as though it was killing him to hold back. His mouth sought hers and she took him in, his tongue slipping inside, deep and penetrating.

She wanted him to make love to her as fast and furiously as he was able. She tightened around him—her sheath, her body, her legs, her arms, her lips around his tongue—holding the powerful wolf in her grasp. He was hers. Every glorious, muscled bit of him. And she loved him.

Feral need demanded action as Cearnach slid deeply into his mate, his love, her erotic scent assaulting his senses and making him plunge deeper, faster. He wanted to go slower, but the way she was digging her heels into his arse and her nails were gliding down his back, the way she clenched his cock and rocked upward to meet his thrusts, he couldn’t hold on. Then she sucked on his tongue and he nearly lost it.

He’d wanted her ever since he’d made love to her in the kennel. Wanted to taste her and feel her clenching him in the most pleasurable way, to hold her close like a mate would, to love her.

She was the only one for him. The girl from so long ago. The woman now cradling him between her legs. He thrust his aching arousal into her, her pulse and his rapidly beating in unison, the tiny waves of pleasure wracking her body and feeding his own need to make her come again.

Pulling his mouth free from hers, he nuzzled her face, then licked her jaw. He clutched her hips as he pumped into her, her body grinding against his, the blood pooling in his groin, the climax so close that he barely breathed.

Then he came, explosively, deep inside her, bathing her in his seed.

He thought briefly about the puppy Elaine wanted from Sheba’s litter and how soon she’d have her own werewolf litter to love, too. He’d make sure of it in the most pleasurable of ways.

In the middle of the night, Elaine woke with Cearnach’s body wrapped soundly around hers. She heard the muffled sound of the dogs barking in the kennel, alerting of trespassers or something. She couldn’t sleep until she discovered what the matter was.

She untangled herself from Cearnach, pulled aside the curtains, and left the bed. After crossing the floor, she opened the window to look out. The air was cold and damp, and she shivered.

That’s when she heard wolves howling farther away in the woods surrounding the castle. Were they some of Cearnach’s people? Running as wolves in the woods tonight?

Or were they some of her kin? Why, if they were McKinleys or Kilpatricks, would they be prowling the woods here?

She returned to Cearnach’s side of the bed and said softly to wake him, “Cearnach.”

He didn’t stir. She walked back over to the window and saw men on the wall walk looking in the direction of the forest. She couldn’t sleep anyway, so she might as well find out what was going on. She quickly yanked on her sweater, jeans, and boots, then left the bedchamber, half expecting others from the keep to also be headed outside to learn what the matter was. Unless the wolves were just the MacNeills—then no one would be paying any attention to them.

She considered that she might look foolish, worrying about something she had no need to be concerned about, but she was checking the matter out just the same.