by Terry Spear
“You smell of the wind and fresh air, of the piney woods and the moisture from the thick mist.” He breathed in the scents that had collected in her hair like those of a wolf that had gathered interesting smells in her fur while exploring the woods, returned to the pack, and shared the scents with the rest of the members.
“You smell of sandalwood soap and sexy man,” she murmured against his mouth.
He took that as an open invitation to another mating.
“Why didn’t you wake me?” he asked, sliding his hands beneath her sweater, his hands hot against her cold breasts.
“I tried,” she said, leaning back against the bed and closing her eyes as she absorbed the feeling of his fingers splayed across her aching breasts.
“Not hard enough,” he said, pushing the sweater up until her breasts were exposed. “You’re ice cold. You shouldn’t have been running around outside without me.” He licked a nipple. “Certainly not without wearing a heavy coat when you’re not used to our weather.”
He leaned across her waist and licked her other nipple.
She smoothed his hair down, her eyes watching him, a small smile playing on her lips. “I love you.”
“I know you do,” he said.
He grinned and her smile broadened, right before she tried to push him aside. He didn’t budge. Instead, he clasped her wrists with one hand and held them above her head. Then with his mouth, he trailed kisses from her low-cut jeans to her throat and her mouth again.
“You think you’re one hot, bad wolf and in charge of me, don’t you?” she taunted.
“One hot, sexy Highland wolf armed and not wearing his kilt,” he said, tugging her jeans button open, then pulling the zipper down.
He smelled her scent: intrigued, excited, and sexually aroused.
“You’ll have to let go of me if you want me naked.”
“Nay, lass. I know what I’m doing.” He flipped her over and pinned her down with his body, his hands sliding underneath her, over her belly, up to her breasts until he had handfuls of the beautiful soft mounds. His body moved over hers, letting her feel his growing desire for her.
“Hmm,” she groaned, even though she didn’t want him to know how much he was turning her on.
He slid his hand down the front of her jeans, lower until he cupped her mound. He held her like that, as if he held her treasure in the palm of his hand, waiting for her reaction.
“Cearnach,” she pleaded.
He inserted his middle finger into her as deeply as he could.
“More,” she whispered.
He pulled off her sweater, then kissed her naked back. He pushed her hair aside and licked her neck.
She shivered, loving the sensation, and tried to turn over.
“Nay, lass. I’m in charge. The big, sexy Highland wolf, remember?”
“Bad wolf,” she said, and took a deep breath of his musky scent, validating his level of arousal.
He chuckled. Grabbing her waistband, he slid her jeans over her hips and buttocks, down her thighs and shins, until he could tug them off completely and toss them to the floor.
He pushed her legs apart, his arousal already painful with readiness. Kissing her shoulders and back and neck, he slipped his hands under her breasts and gave them another gentle squeeze.
“You shouldn’t have left the bed, lass,” he said again.
She murmured a gratifying sound, not agreeing with his words, but with what he was doing to her body. Her nipples were sexy peaks, and he could smell her arousal, wet and ready for his penetration.
He kissed each buttock as she barely breathed.
He was throbbing already with pent-up need. Kissing her ear, he stroked her clit and rubbed his body against her soft globes, making her moan. She smelled and tasted and felt and sounded delicious. His fingers slid into her creamy sex, then stroked her swollen nub. Opening for him, she spread her legs, knees drawing up so he had better access.
He groaned with the need to penetrate her, to release the burning craving to have her.
He entered her folds with his hot, rigid penis and pushed hard.
“Oh, yes,” she panted, as he pulled his hips back, then plunged into her even more deeply. She moved against him, encouraging him, driving him.
His hand slid back into the thick curls covering her sex, and he stroked her bud again. He could feel her fever pitch, the rising tide nearly swallowing her whole, and then the crash as she buried her mouth against the mattress and screamed his muffled name.
He stiffened, driving into her until he felt the release coming. He jerked with the sensation, felt the shudders of her climax squeezing his cock in a pleasurable, wet, hot way, and collapsed.
He wanted to stay like this, buried inside her, pinning her to the mattress, keeping her in his bed where she belonged, not running around the inner bailey seeking a way to get to her rental car.
Tomorrow would be soon enough to learn what they could about the car.
Chapter 24
The next morning, tangled together and half asleep, the bed curtains drawn around them and hiding them from the world, Elaine cuddled against Cearnach. He was the most consummate, tender lover she’d ever had, and she was thinking that she never wanted to let go of him when a knock sounded on the bedchamber door.
Cearnach growled at the interruption of their half sleepy bliss. Elaine stroked his arm with a soothing caress. He uttered a low, “Hmm,” that was part loving her touch, part rough with need.
Guthrie said beyond the door, “Cearnach, a word with you.” He sounded gruff and concerned.
Cearnach groaned, moving out from under Elaine as she stirred. She realized then that she had captured him again in the middle of the night, her leg resting over his, locking him in place. He was hers. She loved possessing him when he thought he possessed her.
Only this time they were completely naked.
She wasn’t awake enough to fully register the worry in Guthrie’s voice. Or maybe it was that Cearnach didn’t seem to think the world was coming to an end in the way he moved, stretching his sleeping muscles and giving her a view of a hot body that was muscled, toned, and with an erection that had her taking a second look. She was ready to pull him back into bed with her.
As if he knew just what she was thinking, Cearnach winked at her, then threw on a pair of boxers and went to the door and pulled it open.
“Aye, Guthrie? What’s so wrong that you couldn’t have waited until later this morning?” He sounded like a growly Highland bear.
“Oran said that Ian wished to let you know he is having the gate opened and wanted you to be there.”
The car! How could she have forgotten all about it? Cearnach did that to her. Just the way he had worked his magic on her, bringing her to a thousand pleasures with his touch half the night.
She quickly sat up, wanting to leave the bed, get dressed, and race down to the gate. But she had no clothes near enough to the bed that she could grab. Guthrie stood on the threshold of Cearnach’s room, though he couldn’t see her for the curtains drawn around her side of the bed.
“I’ll be down at once,” Cearnach said. He sounded like he was ready for battle.
“Me, too,” Elaine called out from the curtained bed. She wasn’t going to be left out of this. “Close the door so I can get dressed.”
“Ian doesn’t want any women in the inner bailey until we ensure it’s safe for everyone.” Guthrie sounded as tactful as a man could be who was giving her orders.
“I’m going,” she reiterated, not about to be stopped in her mission.
Cearnach cleared his throat and said to Guthrie, “We’ll be right down.”
If he thought to change her mind, Cearnach was welcome to attempt it, but she wasn’t buying it. She half expected Cearnach to close the door, ending
the discussion with his brother. But he didn’t.
“Ian won’t like it,” Guthrie said to Cearnach.
“He doesn’t have to like it.” Elaine spoke as if the conversation included her. She wasn’t being left out of this. “The car is registered in my name. I want to make sure everything’s there.”
“You can do so once the car is within our gates and everything is secure. He’s your pack leader now, lass.” Guthrie acted as though she needed reminding.
“See you in a moment,” Cearnach said to his brother. The door shut, then Cearnach opened the curtains to her side of the bed and smiled down at her. He was all warmth and energy, and if not for the car business, she would have tugged him into bed again.
Frowning up at him, she let out her breath. “I won’t be coddled.”
“Or dictated to,” he said.
“Right.”
He touched her cheek with a gentle caress, eyeing the bruise that remained. “If you have your heart set on doing this, hurry and get dressed as Ian won’t wait for us once he’s decided to do something.”
She quickly climbed out of bed, then headed for the bathroom. “He really doesn’t expect a force of Kilpatricks and McKinleys to attack, does he?”
“As a battle-trained warrior and leader of men, he always prepares for the worst.”
She didn’t believe anyone would attack whoever retrieved the car. Not when the castle was so well defended. And not if Robert wanted to meet with her.
She quickly washed off in the shower, barely drying herself, then struggled to get into a pair of jeans and sweater, her skin still wet in places.
As if he knew her thoughts on the matter, Cearnach said, “We wouldn’t put it past them to offer a show of force. They will not like that they had to return your car here instead of you coming to them.”
She joined him in the bedroom and sat down, but before she could slip on a pair of boots, Cearnach leaned over and pulled one on for her. He wasn’t just doing so to help hurry her along. Smelling her scent, he was checking how she felt about this whole issue. He would recognize that she was both afraid and pissed.
She ruffled his hair with her hand. “I’m not worried.” She slipped her other boot on. Well, maybe a little worried. She was concerned for everyone’s safety, should her kin attack them. She was much more pissed, and she hoped that scent reigned over all else.
“You smell delicious,” he murmured, looking up at her as he crouched at her booted feet, his hands shifting to her knees, then sliding higher.
He pushed her knees apart, suggesting he wanted her again. Moving in between her legs, he cupped her face in his large hands and kissed her mouth tenderly and lovingly, his tongue darting into her mouth gently, and then hungrily as a groan escaped his lips. Liquid heat poured through every inch of her, making her instantly wet for him. He smiled, so wickedly sexy, and took another deep breath of her, his smile growing.
“You are so bad,” she said, shoving at his shoulders, but she didn’t budge him.
“What?” He feigned innocence as he rose and towered over her, pulling her to her feet.
“For making me want you so badly.”
He chuckled, grabbed her hand, and headed out the door.
His mother was on her way down the hall and quickly said, “I want to speak with Elaine.”
“Later, my lady mother.”
His mother furrowed her brows. “She can’t go out there. It’s too dangerous.”
“I will protect her.” He headed down the hall.
His mother snorted. He glanced over his shoulder at her.
“They’ll pull something. They’re pirates,” his mother warned.
“Aye, of that I’m well aware.”
When she and Cearnach left the keep and made their way across the inner bailey, she saw a small crowd of men and wolves gathered near the gates to the entrance of the bailey. She realized after they opened the wooden gates that the defenses protecting the front entrance included three portcullises with an area in between each other where invading armies could be scalded with boiling water or struck with arrows, reducing their chances of successfully entering the inner bailey. All of the portcullises were down.
She still thought that the pack’s extreme caution was unwarranted, though what did she know about Highland wolf fighting?
As soon as Ian and his brothers turned to see them approach, Ian gave her a bow of his head in greeting. Guthrie had his arms folded across his chest, his brow furrowed, and appeared very annoyed with her.
Duncan gave her a small smile.
Ian said to Cearnach, “You’ll stay with her?”
“Aye.”
So Cearnach would be forced to babysit her. “Cearnach can go.” She didn’t want him to feel obligated to stand beside her the whole time.
A few of the men chuckled. The wolves quit panting and swung their heads from looking at her to observing Ian.
“You’re my responsibility, Elaine, first and foremost.” Cearnach sounded proud of the fact.
Ian said to Duncan, “Ready?”
“Aye,” Duncan said and pulled out his sword.
“What if the men—saying that there are any out there, hiding, waiting—have guns?” Elaine whispered to Cearnach.
“Not sporting enough.” Cearnach folded his arms as he stood so close to her that his body was touching hers. She felt pleasure, warmth, and security in the intimate contact on this cold, windy, damp day.
Men lifted the first of the portcullises, which made a grinding sound all the way up.
Duncan and Ian headed toward the next one, six wolves walking beside them.
“Are the wolves still out there?” Elaine asked, her voice hushed. She hadn’t heard them in the middle of the night again.
“They might be. We don’t want to take any chances.”
The second portcullis whined as it was raised, and the men and wolves continued on their way.
Another dozen or so wolves, men, and Guthrie still stood protectively near Elaine.
The last of the portcullises was opened, and when Cearnach’s brothers and the wolves reached the final gate, Ian waited to give the order to open it.
He glanced up at the tower. Oran nodded that it was all clear. Ian said, “Open the gates.”
The gates creaked open as two men put their backs into moving them aside, the oak so heavy she imagined only muscled men could manage.
Then she saw her vehicle—undamaged. Thank God. Water droplets collected on its shiny silver surface, but the Mercedes looked the same as it had when she saw it last night; only in the daytime the scene appeared a lot less scary. A thick fog still clung to the trees surrounding the castle, and she couldn’t make out the long curving drive because of the heavy mist.
Tension was riding high as everyone in the inner bailey waited, barely breathing. She heard the swishing sound of a few swords being unsheathed to the left and right of her position as Ian and the other men and wolves headed beyond the gate and moved toward the car.
Every muscle in her body was straining with tension, and she could tell Cearnach’s were the same by the way he stiffened next to her. All eyes were on the men exposed beyond the castle walls. Several were standing on top of the wall walk, and she noticed then, they were equipped with bows and arrows. She felt she had suddenly become immersed in a Highland battle.
Ian approached the driver’s door of the vehicle, and she worried that her cousins might have planted a bomb inside. What if she had been the one to drive it into the inner bailey? They would know she wouldn’t. That one of the men would.
The wolves sniffed around the car, and she wondered if they could detect the smell of bomb-making material. Sure they could, as sensitive as their sense of smell was.
Duncan made a move to open the door. She he
ld her breath.
He pulled the door ajar and the buzzer sounded, indicating that the keys were in the ignition. The car had been sitting in the drive all night with the keys in the ignition? Great. Someone could have stolen it. Then she rethought that scenario. The MacNeill men probably had been watching the vehicle from the wall walk all night long. If anyone had made a move to get near it, their archers could have prevented it.
Duncan jerked the passenger’s door open. Ian leaned inside. The trunk lid popped open.
Ian’s cousin Oran peered into the trunk, sword ready. “All clear,” he shouted.
So they thought her rental vehicle might be like the Trojan horse, bearing armed soldiers instead of gifts? Or in this case, her clothes and Cearnach’s?
She started to move forward now that the car was safe, but Cearnach seized her arm and glanced down at her, wearing a fearsome expression. “Wait.”
The single word was both a command and a plea. He wished to protect her above all else.
She nodded, acknowledging that he knew the Highlanders and their tactics better than she did. Ian got into the car with Duncan and they drove in through the gates.
Guthrie said to Cearnach, “We finally broke into the man’s computer at the keep that Elaine owns.”
Expectantly, Cearnach and Elaine looked at him, waiting to hear what he’d learned.
Guthrie frowned. “Nothing. He’s lived centuries like us undoubtedly. Yet there was nothing in the keep or on his computer to say a thing about him. As if the place was a model home. Clothes in the drawers, and necessities in other drawers, food in the kitchen. Nothing personal. Not one thing. No financial statements, bills, nothing.”
“Which means?” Cearnach asked.
“He knew we’d investigate the place. Maybe that Elaine would, and he didn’t want her to know anything about him.”
Without warning, wolves snarled and growled in the woods, and then attacked.
