by Terry Spear
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.
He was used to the conditions. The strong, cold wind still whipped about but it wasn’t as frigid in the bailey, most likely because of the high, four-foot-thick walls that surrounded it. But even so, a naked body would find the air cold and the light rain chilly. Still, the cold didn’t bother him much.
“I’ve swum in the icy loch, lass. Keeps a body strong. And virile.”
Her eyes sparkled with humor, her mouth curving up just a hint.
He continued, “A little autumn rain won’t hurt.”
She laughed. “I’m from Florida, and when the winter hits, even if it’s not all that cold, I wear a coat and avoid the ocean.”
He shook his head. Yet he was thinking how he’d like to keep her here in Scotland so she’d grow accustomed to their weather. Better than that, he knew just how to warm the lass, even if she didn’t become acclimated to their weather quickly. “You’d never last in our climate when winter arrives, but I could help a lot there.”
“I’ll be long gone before then,” she promised, giving him a small smile. Before he could respond—to tell her he hoped to change her mind, even that he planned to change it—she slipped into the bathroom and closed the door.
He waited outside the ladies’ room while she undressed and shifted. He couldn’t help thinking about her taking off the clingy, wet red dress and him seeing her naked.
When she scratched and whimpered at the door, he broke loose of his vision of her as a naked woman, forgetting she’d be a wolf now, and pulled the door open. A beautiful, mink-brown wolf with dark brown eyes emerged. She wagged her tail and stood by the ladies’ room, waiting for him to get her personal effects.
He scooped up her boots and the bundle of clothes that she’d wrapped inside her raincoat, then tucked them under his arm and strode across the inner courtyard to the outer one. Leaning down, he stuffed her things deep inside the cannon. Then he started to strip, putting each article of clothing inside the weapon as soon as he’d pulled it off.
While he did so, he watched her as she raced all over the castle ruins. She seemed to be chasing smells and unsure which way to go first because everything seemed just as intriguing as everything else. She sniffed around the stone stables, busily exploring them. Then she dashed across the bailey, glanced in his direction, looked at his kilt still riding low on his hips, then bolted up narrow, winding stairs into one of the castle towers. He’d just finished removing his kilt when she peered down at him through a broken part of the wall.
He smiled to see her head poking out of the broken structure as if the hole in the wall was a new window, her gaze perusing his naked form, her eyes catching his as he observed her reaction. If she was in her human form, would she be blushing again?
He willed his wolf half to take over. His muscles stretched, the tendons and ligaments warming as he called upon the change. Shifting felt like getting a gentle workout, but before the shifter had a chance to really experience the warming sensation, he or she was standing as a wolf, a genetic necessity to prevent humans from seeing them during the shift. If anyone observed the change, hopefully they would see a blurring of forms as if their eyes were playing tricks on them.
Now he was fully clothed in wolf fur, kneading the ground with his paws and stretching his legs before he raced to join her. Watching her explore the castle ruins and seeing her enthusiasm about running as a wolf made him feel a surge of lightheartedness, something he hadn’t felt since Calla decided to mate with Baird McKinley a month earlier.
Sure, he had to see if his car was anywhere about. But with helping to run Argent Castle and the pack, he hadn’t taken much time for himself of late. If his clan could only see him now. Though he was always kidded for being the most easygoing of the brothers, this was something entirely new for him—putting aside a crisis to enjoy the company of a she-wolf, forgetting duty or the pack for the moment.
He quickly joined her on the tower stairs. When she unexpectedly licked his face in greeting, he cast her a wolfish grin.
She had to know her actions were considered part of the courtship phase between wolves. Werewolves might not date, but they definitely courted in their own way. He was all too ready to go along with it.
She ran up the rest of the stairs, wagging her tail and stopping to sniff at a corner of the tower and then on the step before her while he nearly rammed his nose up her butt because of her sudden stops and starts.
He could have laughed at the way she was so delighted to cast off her human form and play in her wolf one.
Probably some of her enthusiasm was due to the long flight, confinement on the airplane, the drive here from Edinburgh, and now her first chance to really stretch her legs, like a wild wolf released from a cage.
After circling around the tower room, she wrinkled her nose at a hole in the floor where men would have urinated when they were on guard duty. Then she stood on her hind l
egs to look out a perfectly round window at the water, where whitecaps frothed over the tops of moss-covered boulders. She smelled the wind for the longest time, breathing in the scents, filling her lungs, letting out the air, and doing it again. While he was smelling her. The way she was so ecstatic, excited, loving it.
She dropped to her paws, whipped around, and licked his cheek again. Before he could lick her back, she raced down the circular stairs until she reached the bottom as he flew down the steps after her.
She circumnavigated the inner courtyard, her thick fur coat protecting her from the chilly light rain. She poked her nose at the water-filled well, which had large, leafy plants floating on the surface as the rain splattered into the well. Then she dashed into the cellar, smelled the ovens where bread used to bake, the storage area where meat and grain had been stored, and then ran up the stairs to the baron and baroness’s chambers, where the roof was long gone. She sniffed around, then headed back out again. Exploring the chapel in the same excited way, she smelled the scents that had collected over the years, none of which humans who were purely humans could detect.
Staying close, he took delight in seeing her joy. He realized then how easily Elaine had made him forget his mission, his anger at the McKinleys and the Kilpatricks, showing him how important life’s little pleasures were.
She headed for the tunnel that led out of the inner bailey and raced down the one hundred and fifty stairs cut into the cliff like she was possessed. She was sure-footed despite her rushing because of the fur on her pads, just like when he could run on ice without slipping. He had to laugh deep inside as he easily kept up with her. He trailed just behind her, watching the upper stairs that led down, then looking up to the castle tunnel, to ensure that no one was coming or might see them.
No one was out in this weather.
Then she leaped the short distance to the beach and ran to the water’s edge, snapping at the churned-up surf smashing against boulders. Whitecaps danced across small waves, as the wind blew his and Elaine’s fur. The water was too stirred up for boats to be out in this weather.
She glanced out across the loch, then loped along the edge of the water, looking all along the beach and up at the cliffs.
The rain hadn’t started pouring again, though as dark as the sky was, it looked like it might any minute. The outer guard hairs on Elaine’s and Cearnach’s thick coats repelled the water, keeping the downy, soft fur close to their skin dry and warm from the bitter cold wind.
She stopped to observe the castle, looking at it in awe and with reverence. The massive stone structure truly was a sight to behold. Anyone who had wanted to storm the castle must have had a death wish.
His own kin had put a few holes in the walls back in the early days just to make a statement concerning the Kilpatricks’ thieving ways.
He stood beside her, listening to her heart pounding and the way she was panting and resting for a bit. He was damned angry about his car, but all he could think of was escorting one beautiful she-wolf out to dinner later tonight. Thinking in that direction was strange because he was always business first, pleasure second.
He nudged at her to join him and they continued searching away from the castle, around a bend in the cliffs so they couldn’t see the ruins any longer. That’s when he spied the debris straight ahead. The ragged remains of his minivan. His ire rose instantly.
The van looked like a flattened aluminum can, resting on its top, tires sticking straight up in the air. Cearnach raced over to the vehicle, smelling every part of the scraped and gouged metal, and analyzing the scents. He smelled the two younger McKinley brothers—the same two brothers who had arrived late at the church.
Elaine was taking in the scents also, sniffing around the vehicle as if she was one of his wolf pack, not a stranger who shouldn’t want to be involved, not someone who was related to the men who had done this. She would memorize their scents and know them again if either of them got close to her.
Her tail was down, while his was straight out, fully alpha, aggressive, in charge. She wasn’t cowed, but she wasn’t happy, either. He quickly moved to nudge her face in a show of solidarity. She licked his cheek in understanding, maybe trying to tell him how sorry she was. She wagged her tail a bit, but it was a sad kind of wag.
He hoped he could get to his cell phone so he could tell Ian where he was and what was going on. He moved back to the minivan and tried to reach in through the window with his right front paw. The glass shattered, but the gap between the roof and the door now was too narrow to even reach in with his foreleg. He scraped his leg on the broken glass, cutting it and swearing inwardly, growling outwardly.
When he stood, he saw Robert Kilpatrick’s red curls crest the bluff right before he saw the rest of Robert’s head. “Hey, Cearnach, whatcha doin’ out here, mon, wearing your wolf coat and running with your new girlfriend? Better take care or you might get stranded. Then where would you be?” He gave a harsh laugh, his green eyes glittering with menace, then he hurried away from the cliff.
Cearnach would climb the cliff and pay Robert back if he could, but the cliffs were so steep here that he’d have a better chance of climbing them if he were a mountain goat.
Then he began to think of what Robert meant. Stranded. How could they be stranded unless… hell. Cearnach ran full out toward the castle ruins.
He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Elaine was keeping up. She was following, her face grim and her tongue hanging out.
When he reached the path, he looked back again, but he had to stop the men if they were attempting to steal Elaine’s rental car. She was close, nearly to the path. He jumped up and climbed the few feet to the stone path, then ran as fast as his legs would carry him up all the stairs and around the walkway that wound through the cliffs until he could see the car park.
Her car was gone. The car park was empty.
Damn it to hell.
Despite the rain, he could smell that two of the McKinley brothers had been here on this path. Why would they have been here?
He glanced back to see if Elaine was following him. She was nowhere in sight. His heart plummeted. He dove back the way he’d come. He was fairly certain that none of the McKinleys would harm them. The brothers were just annoyed enough about Cearnach crashing the wedding—to their way of thinking—and stirring up trouble that they wanted to pay him back. He hadn’t thought they’d go to these lengths.
He ran as if his life depended on it, frantic that Elaine might have come to harm, or that they might have somehow gotten hold of her. But he was certain she would be growling, baring her teeth, charging, and snapping her jaws if anyone had tried to approach her, and he would hear her feral outrage.
When he reached the bottom of the long, narrow steps, where they had headed for the beach, he didn’t see Elaine. His heart slamming into his ribs, he looked up at the steps leading into the tunnel that took them into the inner bailey. She wasn’t anywhere that he could see. Not on the stairs, the path, or the beach.
He smelled the air. She’d been here recently. He ran for the steps leading to the castle tunnel, and by the time he’d come to the entrance, she was entering it.
He’d never seen a more beautiful sight. He wanted to hug the life out of her now that he knew she was all right. She paused, looking upset, but with her tail held out straight behind her.
Even before he joined her to nuzzle her, to greet her and tell her how relieved he was to see her safe, he knew that she’d learned their clothes were gone, stolen from the cannon.
Chapter 7
Elaine had feared the worst once she realized Robert Kilpatrick and his kin—her kin also, as much as she hated to admit it—had planned to steal her car. Had they found the clothes in the cannon?
She smelled the men’s scent on the stairs and where they had moved all over the place looking for where she and Cearnach had been.
They would have smelled their scents and discovered their clothes in the centuries-old weapon.
Before she even poked her nose inside, she knew her clothes were gone, and she felt her whole body tense in anger. At first, she had stared dumbly at the ancient weapon as if by looking at it hard enough and peeking in again, she could make their belongings reappear.
She smelled the scent of the two men who had brushed up against the cannon and recognized them as the same two who had approached them, one being Vardon, who had hit her.
Seeing Robert Kilpatrick gloating over what they’d done to Cearnach’s car infuriated her. The bastards. She should be on her cousin’s side, but not when she didn’t know him and he’d done this mischief. And not when she had seen the way Cearnach had acted in the church. He hadn’t protested Calla’s wedding or disturbed the ceremony in the least. Well, maybe a little. Angered that the men would steal her belongings and Cearnach’s and destroy his car, she growled softly.
She felt utterly defeated. Everything she’d brought with her on the trip was in the car. Passport, driver’s license, money, clothes, credit card—everything was in there. The vehicle was insured under her name. Which meant she was liable for the car, too.
Because they were werewolves, they couldn’t go to the police about matters like this. Not with the concern that someone might end up in police custody. A confined wolf who couldn’t control his shifting could spell danger for all their kind.
Cearnach licked her face and urged her to come with him.
She hesitated, though she really didn’t have any alternative. Most likely he intended to take her to his castle, and his pack would help her out. What made her hesitate was the knowledge that running through the countryside as wolves could be a dangerous business. Even in Florida, where wolves no longer roamed free, she had to be careful. She’d been mistaken for a German shepherd once, or at least a mixed breed of some sort.
