by Terry Spear
He thought back to her name, Elaine Hawthorn, and how it could be related to the Kilpatricks and McKinleys. They were pirates. But what about the Hawthorns?
The memories came back to him in a sudden rush. “Hawthorn,” he said under his breath, both surprised and glad he’d finally figured it out.
The public hanging of the Hawthorn brothers so many years ago. Robert Kilpatrick and four of his kin had been desperate to locate the men’s niece, Elaine Hawthorn, because they had believed she was the key to finding the stolen goods. Cearnach had been the one to catch up to her�� and lose her in one fell swoop.
Now she was back. Suddenly, he felt possessive all over again. Wanting to protect her. Wanting to keep her.
She glanced at Cearnach. “What?”
He recalled her haunted expression when she was but a young girl, the way she’d appeared guardedly hopeful until the man slugged him and she escaped Cearnach’s grasp.
“Why did you run away in St. Andrews, lass?” He spoke quietly, not wanting to put her on the defensive, and then he added, “I only meant to protect you.”
He pulled into the car park below the castle ruins, which they could see off in the distance. Four towers and three of the walls were still standing. Despite how rundown some of the buildings were, Cearnach still loved seeing the ancient ruins, though his own people had fought the McKinleys a time or two in the distant past and had caused some of the damage themselves.
Elaine let her breath out in a whoosh, as if she might have finally given up on the charade, but she didn’t speak.
Did she think he still didn’t know who she was? Most likely, and she wouldn’t come clean unless he shared with her all he knew. “You are the niece of Tobias and Samson Hawthorn. My brothers and I were passing through St. Andrews when we heard about the public hanging.”
“Why would you have wanted to protect me? Yes, my uncles were hanged. I probably would have been also. Had Lord Whittington known I was their niece, he probably would have figured I had been pirating along with them. But I could barely keep my head out of a bucket the whole time I was on the ship.”
“You had never traveled with them before?” Cearnach asked, not surprised. Despite the way she’d been dressed, wearing more clothes and with her hair hidden from view, she’d looked as lovely then as now, although perhaps a bit more pale.
She shook her head. “My parents had just died. My uncles were in St. Augustine visiting them when it happened. They received an offer of a mating for me back home and said yes to the man. I refused to mate with the wolf who wanted me. I coaxed my uncles into agreeing to take me with them on this one voyage. I never expected…”
She paused, her voice choking with emotion. “I never thought my uncles would be taken from me and put to death.” She took a settling breath, but he noticed her eyes were swimming in tears, and he regretted upsetting her. “What would you have gained by protecting me?” she asked.
He stopped short of giving her the whole truth, telling her all he could for now. “You caught my eye when you disembarked from the ship. A flower among thistles. Once your uncles were taken prisoner, along with most of their crew, I knew the wolves would be after you, too. I could see how shaken you were when the Hawthorn brothers were hanged. I knew you must have had some close connection to them. When they were gone, I saw how young you were, how alone, and smelled on the breeze that you were a wolf.”
Those—and where the loot was that had belonged to the MacNeill clan—were the most pressing concerns he’d had at the time. “I didn’t know if you were a royal and able to shift to wolf form at will, or if the full moon dictated your shifts. I feared you might be in for more trouble because of that.”
“I’m a royal,” she said. “Because I have very few human roots many generations ago, I don’t need to shift unless it’s my own choice. Did you attempt to pay people to locate me?”
“Nay. I used my sense of smell.” He studied her, waiting for her to explain further, and after a bit of a hesitation, she did.
“A maid came to my room saying that someone was trying to buy information about me. I didn’t know who else might have figured out I was with the ship when it came into port.”
“The McKinleys or Kilpatricks. They were there.”
She stared at Cearnach. “They did nothing to try and stop the hangings. They didn’t try to rescue my uncles or their crew, either.”
“I’m certain they felt their hands were tied, lass.”
“Why would you defend them?” she said, her voice angry. “You don’t even like them.”
“Aye, but I know venturing a rescue with all the armed guards in the square would have been impossible for them. The best they could have done was to locate you and keep you safe.”
“Would they? Or would they have been afraid of risking their necks for me?”
Cearnach let out his breath, not about to hide the truth from her any longer, though he wasn’t certain she would have believed him if he’d told her the reality of the situation back then. “Honestly? I imagine they wanted to see if you knew where your uncles had hidden their bounty. Maybe they would have ensured that you mated with one of their kinsman, again to keep the money in the clan.”
She gave a little grunt of disgust. “That I can believe.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “I still don’t know why you wanted to protect me.”
“Haven’t you realized that I’m a defender of women and small children?”
She gave a little laugh that told him she didn’t believe him—well, maybe to some extent.
She was right not to have trusted his motives back then. He would have done anything to hide her from the law and her disreputable kin after seeing how sweet and innocent and vulnerable she had looked. But he’d had pack reasons, too, for wanting to take her under his wing and hide her away.
“After searching for you for months, I assumed you’d slipped away on a ship bound for America or somewhere else.” He hadn’t stopped thinking about her—and the way she’d appeared so lost and tearful and fragile—for years.
Now? She was very much an alpha, sexy and gorgeous, and he wouldn’t be surprised if she’d broken a lot of hearts over the years.
“What about the man you were supposed to mate back home?” he asked.
“Long story. Some other time.”
That meant she wasn’t going to talk about it anytime soon. He would ask again later when he had the chance and she seemed more willing to talk.
“You stay here. I’ll check out the area to see if I can locate my car.” He would have a long way to walk to reach the site, and Elaine wasn’t dressed for the weather or a hike so he thought she should remain behind.
“Wait. I’ll go with you.”
Surprised at her declaration, he watched as she turned around and kneeled on the seat. Then she leaned way over the seat back to reach her suitcase and tugged at it, twisting it around until she could reach the zipper.
If he hadn’t been confined by the steering wheel, he could have reached for whatever she needed, but the sight in front of him was too mesmerizing to ignore. Her red dress clung to her buttocks, showing off her sexy derriere. Like all wolves, she had to be a runner, and her toned legs and ass showed she was in great shape. His whole body jerked to attention again.
Calla was a beautiful wolf, but she’d never had a sexually charged effect on him like Elaine did.
Again he forced himself to look away, remembering the way the gown she’d worn in St. Andrews had hidden all her curves. The times sure had changed. He was damned glad he was the only one witnessing the way she looked right now, though. He didn’t want another male wolf salivating over her like he was doing.
She unzipped the suitcase and pulled out a pair of boots, snagged a long raincoat, then turned back around. She sat back down on the seat. He eyed the raincoat.
Chin tilted down, she gave him an annoyed look. “Yeah. I had a heavy-duty raincoat with me. You pulled me out of the car so fast at the church, complai
ning we were late to the wedding that only you had planned to attend, that I didn’t have a chance to grab my coat.”
An uncomfortable guilt washed over him. He should have asked. He should have considered the weather and how she could be affected by it.
Not about to admit it, he said instead, “Good. I’m glad you’re more prepared. I wouldn’t take you up there wearing that slinky dress or those high-heeled shoes and…” He considered her dress and couldn’t help looking at the way the fabric was plastered against her rigid nipples or the way he could even see the indent in her belly button, which was just as sexy. “You’d freeze to death.”
“I accept your apology,” she quickly said, brows raised, challenging him to contradict her.
One corner of his mouth quirked up.
“I’ll be fine. What about yourself?” she continued, as if he had admitted he had apologized to her and the issue was no longer important.
He smiled. The she-wolf was a treasure.
“Wool kilt. Water repellent. I’ll remove my jacket and vest.”
She sighed, eyeing his torso. “You could take off your shirt.” She focused her brown eyes on his shirt, as if she was ready to help him remove it and wanted to see how he looked in just a kilt.
She could take off her dress, too, he was thinking.
What he found most engaging was that she wouldn’t meet his eyes.
When he didn’t say anything, waiting for her to look into his gaze and fighting the urge to grin at her, she looked up, her eyes wide and innocent. There was no earthly way that the lass had been thinking purely innocent thoughts.
Her cheeks blossomed with color. “It’s not waterproof. Your shirt, I mean,” she explained.
“A good point.” He was still smiling, loving the way he could read her feelings so easily.
“All right.” She slipped off her soaking-wet pumps and pulled on her boots while he struggled to get out of his jacket and vest in the confined space between the driver’s seat and steering wheel. She tugged the raincoat over her arms and buttoned it up, glancing at him to see if he’d removed his shirt yet.
He was in the process of unbuttoning it, but when she looked at him with such keen interest and anticipation, he felt his pheromones taking over again. Just her watching him strip half naked had the darnedest effect on him. He would have felt smug, hearing the way her heartbeat had accelerated, indicating her intrigue, except that his heart was thumping just as rapidly, revealing how much he was just as intrigued.
As if she was reminding him of where this was going—and that this was not something more, like him removing his kilt next and then her coat and dress—she pulled the hood of her coat over her head.
That made him remember how the hood of her cloak had hid most of her features when she was but a young lass. In that instant, he felt the fates had smiled on him. He couldn’t have protected her before, but he would help her this time.
He pulled off his shirt, and her gaze shifted to his torso. For an instant, he felt like he was on a wolf’s version of the marriage mart. A mate mart instead. Did he meet her expectations?
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.
Chapter 6
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.
