A Highland Werewolf Wedding

by Terry Spear

Page 47

 

  Fear for her engulfed him. He tore after her, his brother racing beside him. His stomach was knotted, every muscle tensed, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

  Male snarls and snaps greeted her as she responded in kind. Her cousins were trying to force her to return with them, and she was telling them in wolf terms—no way.

  Someone yipped twice.

  Not her. He remembered the sound of her yip when he’d startled her by coming up behind her in the river.

  Then a yip sounded from her.

  Cearnach saw red.

  Chapter 27

  If his tongue wasn’t lolling out of his mouth as he ran, Cearnach would be grinding his teeth. He’d kill the bastard who had frightened her so.

  He knew her cousins would be pissed off at her. They’d take out their frustrations on her because of her perceived disobedience.

  What did her cousins plan to do with her? They couldn’t knock her out with drugs, not while pursuing her as wolves. They had to be trying to corral and take her back to the cars parked at Senton Castle and to that bastard Rafferty. That’s all Cearnach could imagine they’d try to do.

  He wanted to call out to her, howl, bark, to let her know her Highland warrior was on his way. But he didn’t want to alert her kin that he was coming to rescue her, afraid they might deal with her more harshly if they thought their time was quickly running out.

  Instead, he moved swiftly over the glen and through the woods, scattering birds, and then he dashed across a shallow stream, sending the water flying, trying to judge where she was.

  Dogs began to bark south of them. Oglivie’s collies. He frowned and glanced over his shoulder, couldn’t see anything but trees. He and Duncan were too far from the farmhouse for the collies to come this way. Unless… Guthrie had to be passing the farm. Cearnach briefly worried about the old man getting into his rusty pickup truck and trying to hunt Guthrie down.

  Then Cearnach saw Elaine standing proud and tall, tail straight out behind her, her fur standing on end to make her appear more threatening. Five male wolves circled her, ganging up on her, bigger, meaner, more powerful. She was just as aggressive as they were. Every time one moved in close, she charged him, and the wolf would veer out of her path.

  Trees surrounded the area on all sides but one, and that backed up on a swiftly moving river.

  It was a game for them. A well-executed game. She knew it, but she had no other options but to keep them at bay.

  They were trying to wear her down. Five against one. They were resting in between. She was tense, and with one perpetually attacking her, she didn’t have time to rest. Even so, everyone’s tongues were hanging out.

  He noted then that Vardon’s ear dripped with blood.

  She had bitten him? Her mouth was bloodied. That’s who had yelped? The biggest, strongest of the wolves?

  Damn, the woman had balls.

  He saw the blood streaking down her right hip. Someone had bitten her.

  Cearnach turned his head to look at Vardon again. The wolf’s mouth was bloody also. He was a dead wolf.

  Vardon and Robert saw Cearnach and his brother first. Their mouths snapped shut, their ears perked, and their gazes focused on the bigger, more dangerous male wolves.

  They realized at once who Cearnach and Duncan were. Knew that they had a real fight on their hands now, not just with a she-wolf who was battling five males at once. The odds were still in her kin’s favor, but the odds were a wee bit better now.

  She swung her head around to see what had taken the wolves’ attention. At first, Cearnach saw the relief in her expression and then the sorrow. She was mated to him but couldn’t be. The other wolves quickly moved around to face the oncoming males, but only Vardon need have worried about fighting a male.

  Cearnach hit Vardon so hard with his body in a frontal assault that the wolf fell backward and landed hard on his side with an oompf. He quickly scrambled to his feet as Duncan growled low, warning the other wolves not to interfere.

  Cearnach attacked Vardon again, ripping at his other ear, the flap dangling and bloodied. Vardon howled in pain and anger, then swung around to bite Cearnach, but then paused, looking past him.

  Cearnach didn’t dare look to see what was happening behind him. A wolf never turned his head away from another that he was fighting if he wanted to live.

  Guthrie gave a low growl, letting Cearnach know he had arrived. So now they were more evenly matched in the event that the other wolves wanted to fight this out.

  Vardon growled at Cearnach and lunged again, but Cearnach tore viciously into him, ripping at the skin of his throat. The wolf fell back and ran even farther away, turning quickly in case Cearnach was following him. He wasn’t. He was standing his ground, not about to put more distance between him and Elaine.

  Vardon’s gaze shifted to another wolf. Out of the corner of his eye, Cearnach saw which wolf it was.

  Baird.

  He’d inched closer to Cearnach, wanting to attack next. Cearnach was certain Baird was still angry that his presence at the wedding had changed Calla’s desire to mate with Baird.

  As soon as he took Baird on, Vardon attempted to move in closer to Elaine. Guthrie ripped into Vardon. The other wolves watched and waited, Duncan keeping an eye on them as Cearnach fought with Baird.

  Baird was too angry, too wild in his actions, too unfocused, making mistakes that he probably wouldn’t have otherwise. Cearnach was about to make some headway with the wolf when a snarling wolf came out of the woods and hit him broadside.

  Elaine barked and tore into the male wolf. The newcomer. The one that had to be Rafferty. His eyes nearly black with rage, his fur a little grayer than any of the wolves here, he was still strong.

  He swung his head around to bite Elaine as Duncan charged Vardon, and Guthrie went after Baird.

  Cearnach attacked Rafferty with a snarling, growling bite to the face.

  The Kilpatrick brothers and the remaining McKinley brother could have made a difference, but none of them advanced. Suddenly, those wolves turned their heads and listened to sounds from the direction of Senton Castle. Tires crunched on gravel. Car doors slammed. One, two, three, four, five, six. The three wolves looked back at the ones still fighting, then ran off toward Senton Castle.

  Cearnach knew they’d never reach their vehicles in time to stop his kin from using their lockpicks to break into the vehicles and move them to a new location.

  With his concentration back on Rafferty, Cearnach knew he had to kill him. The pirate wolf would never lay another hand on Elaine’s sweet body, never mar her creamy skin, never break another one of her bones, never say another cruel word to her or kill anyone that she loved.

  For being an older wolf, Rafferty was well matched in size and strength. Cearnach was glad for that. Taking down an old wolf who was too weak to defend himself wouldn’t be his way. Though he had to remind himself he couldn’t let the wolf have a chance at Elaine again, ever.

  Their teeth clicked as enamel struck enamel. Both Cearnach and Rafferty fought to get the upper bite, then leaped back away from each other to attack again. Cearnach noted that the other wolf was pushing him toward the river. Did he think he could drown Cearnach the way he’d so easily dispensed with Elaine’s parents? Did he think that since he had survived his crew’s mutiny and been left to fend for himself for who knew how long in the ocean, he had the advantage in the water?

  The idea that Cearnach had nearly drowned as a young lad flitted across his mind as the wolf shoved him onto the mossy stones, the water shallow and running slower at the edge.

  Elaine ran anxiously behind Rafferty. Cearnach cast her a look that told her to stay out of it. He’d be fine.

  Baird suddenly yipped in pain, and Cearnach glanced briefly in his direction to see the wolf sitting on his ass, his injured leg lifted off the ground. Guthrie had torn the wolf’s ligament. That had t
o hurt like a son of a bitch. It would heal, but he’d be limping three-legged on the long walk back home and for a prolonged time after that.

  Vardon—his ears both torn, his throat a mess—yelped when Duncan took a bite out of his flank.

  After that, Rafferty’s companions in crime lost their urge to fight. Vardon sat on his butt near Baird, both of them heaving, as Cearnach fielded another lunge from Rafferty.

  Cearnach and Rafferty’s teeth connected again, their forelegs shoving at each other, trying to get the advantage. This time Cearnach lost his footing and fell backward into the river. Cursing himself, he attempted to stand, but he was already shoulder-deep in the water, and it was carrying him away from Elaine. Panic drove him toward the shore, even though he knew his brothers would protect her from Rafferty.

  Rafferty wasn’t about to give up his lead in the fight. He attacked Cearnach, getting the upper hand, though he also was soon caught up in the swift-moving water. That’s when Cearnach gained the advantage. He pushed the wolf farther into the river. Using his upper-body strength to knock Rafferty off his feet, he lunged on top of him. Cearnach quickly pinned him under the water, his teeth at Rafferty’s throat.

  Drown, bastard, Cearnach silently prayed. Rafferty deserved nothing less. Just as Rafferty had drowned Elaine’s parents.

  The wolf fought him but couldn’t get to his feet, couldn’t shake loose of Cearnach’s fearsome grip, couldn’t save himself this time.

  When the wolf stopped fighting him, Cearnach dragged him to the shore. They couldn’t let a dead body be found in the river with wolf teeth marks in the throat.

  The damn wolf was fighting for air. He wasn’t dead. Cearnach thought to pull him into the water again, but Elaine came running up, then slowly approached him, poking her nose at Rafferty’s arm, as if seeing if he was really dying and could never be a threat to her again.

  Elaine’s heart was ready to burst out of her chest because she’d been so worried about Cearnach.

  Rafferty looked like he didn’t have long for this world. His face was gray, and he coughed water up as he shifted into his human form.

  Him, the mighty pirate of the seas, whom she thought had drowned eons ago, was finally dying—this time at the hands, well, teeth of one of the good guys.

  Cearnach growled at her, and she knew he didn’t want her to get close to the man, as if he could suddenly hurt her. Or maybe he was afraid she’d feel something for Rafferty now that Cearnach had injured him fatally.