A Highland Werewolf Wedding

Page 25

Even his mother—what a surprise it was that she wanted Elaine to become part of their pack. She knew the woman hadn’t said so lightly. That felt comforting in an odd way.
Yet, Elaine had to keep herself from falling into a false sense of security, remembering that they were family and she was still an outsider, kin to an enemy clan.
Sighing deeply, she removed her clothes and slipped into the borrowed, silky, pale blue nightgown sitting atop the dresser that made her feel like a fairy princess. A lace-trimmed bodice dipped low, showing the swell of her breasts. Long flowing sleeves trimmed with lace tickled her knuckles. An ankle-length edging trimmed with lace swished as she walked.
The fabric was opaque enough for modesty, although when she glimpsed herself in a gold-gilded mirror, she noted that her nipples stood out against the material. She swirled around, loving the luxurious, silky feel of the gown, feeling sexier than if she’d just climbed into bed naked, which was how she usually slept—like most wolves did.
The fatigue catching up to her again, she climbed onto the bed and pulled the bed curtains closed, then slipped underneath the burgundy covers. The comforter was velvety soft, covered in rich, gold floral embroidery, warm and comforting as she burrowed beneath it. The sheets smelled like they had been washed in sweet fragrant roses, and she breathed in deeply to enjoy the scent.
She felt small and pretty and at home in this huge bed. What would have made it even better was Cearnach sleeping with her here. Not sleeping. Making love.
Then her thoughts turned to meeting Cearnach again after all these years, how she’d felt about his offer of assistance so long ago, wishing he could have helped her, and wondering what would have happened had she accepted it. How different might her life have been if she had stayed with Cearnach back then?
Now he was offering to assist her again, protecting her against her kin while attempting to help her locate the goods her uncles had hidden away.
She couldn’t avoid thinking about the heat that had erupted between them and the desire to do something about it.
She sighed and closed her eyes in the dark room, needing to sleep, not believing she could shut off thoughts of Cearnach kissing her in the car… how his tongue had danced with hers, the way he let her set the boundaries yet was so enraptured in the kiss that he’d quickly become the aggressor—passionate, craving more, just like she had.
Now tonight, kissing him again had felt just as right. She knew he was having as difficult a time reeling in his desire as she had with him. She suspected they would become mates sooner rather than later. As long as he didn’t change his mind, or someone or something didn’t change it for him.
With a heavy sigh and forcing herself to push away the images of Cearnach and what she had to do concerning her cousins, she finally succumbed to sleep.
Only to be awakened a couple of hours later by a soft, whispered breath touching her cheek. She tried to ignore the sensation. Tried to tell herself she was dreaming.
“Elaine,” a male voice whispered, the voice so disembodied, so wispy, so soft that she didn’t pay any attention to it.
She was so tired that she assumed it was her imagination in her partly dream-filled, slightly inebriated consciousness.
Until a chilly hand brushed over her silk-covered breast.
Chapter 14
Lying on her side, Elaine woke enough to realize the man’s hand that had felt her up wasn’t a dream. Heart pounding, she jerked her head around to see who it was, expecting Cearnach and not sure how she would react. Angry that he would sneak into her bed. But wanting him, too.
Yet, no one was beside her on the mattress in the dark. As a lupus garou, she could see some in the pitch blackness. A shiver stole up her spine.
With the blood rushing in her ears, she did what any red-blooded woman—whether half wolf or strictly human—would do under the circumstances. She let out an ear-piercing scream to wake everyone in the whole castle.
She scrambled to get out of the bed and away from the intruder. Her feet and legs became tangled in the silky sheets and velvet comforter. Panicked, she twisted and jerked. Freeing herself, she shoved aside the heavy curtains, desperate to get out of the bed where the man had to be hiding under the comforter.
In her haste, forgetting just how high the mattress was, she leaped from the bed, catching a foot in the curtain and the long nightgown, and went down on her knees with a thump.
Ouch! Dull pain radiated through her kneecaps, and she cursed under her breath.
Not wanting her back to the man, she spun around and sat in the dark, staring up at the bed, studying the outline of the draped canopy, listening for any rustling in the sheets or creaking of the box springs.
She saw no movement. Heard no sound.
With her heart racing and her breathing so rapid that it made her light-headed, she watched and waited to see the man clamber out of the bed before the whole household came running.
No one left the bed.
Arrogant bastard!
What was she thinking? She would shift and take care of the intruder herself. Before she could pull off the nightgown, a door across the hall banged against a wall. Footfalls rushed toward her room. Cearnach?
The door to her chamber opened with a whoosh. Cearnach shouted from the threshold, “Elaine!”
His gaze swept the room, searching for her.
“Here,” she said quickly. Warm relief at seeing him washed over her chilled body as he stood in the doorway.
Looming large, silhouetted by the hall light, Cearnach was scowling. He was wearing only black boxers and holding a sword as if he was ready to kill the intruder.
On some wolfish level, she had known he hadn’t been the one touching her. She would have noticed the delicious, tantalizing scent of him. Yet when she thought about that, she realized she hadn’t smelled any sign of a wolf in bed with her. Just the rose-scented sheets.
He hit the light switch with his free hand, momentarily blinding her.
“Are you all right, Elaine?” he asked, his voice dark with concern.
Still sitting on the floor, her aching knees tucked up close to her chest, she squinted in the bright light and pointed at the bed. “Yes, I’m… I’m all right. A man was in there.”
Cearnach rushed forth and yanked the curtains open.
Wearing a plaid haphazardly thrown on, Duncan hurried into the chamber, sword in hand, looking just as dangerous. Ian was right behind him, and Guthrie next, both wearing boxers, both also carrying swords.
She would have laughed to see so many braw Highlanders ready to defend her, but she was still so shaken that she managed only a small smile.
Cearnach shook his head at his brothers, letting them know there was no one in the bed, which was impossible for her to believe.
He reached down and helped Elaine from the floor, then pulled her into his warm, comforting embrace. She realized then just how icy cold the floor had been.
“Are you okay?” he asked again. This time his words were spoken soothingly, not brusque with concern that she might have been injured.
“Yes, I’m okay.”
He brushed the top of her head with a kiss. “What exactly did you see?”
“Nothing. I didn’t see anything. I thought maybe… maybe he was hiding beneath the covers. I felt… I felt a hand touch me.”
“Are you sure you weren’t having a nightmare?” Cearnach sounded more hopeful than certain.
She trembled in his arms, not sure why she was so shaken, when normally not much shook her. The fact she hadn’t seen the man, only felt his icy touch, the way his breath had caressed her ear, the way he’d said her name, unnerved her something awful. She could deal with someone she could see. Not something like this.
The brothers all shared looks, and she suspected they thought she’d been having a nightmare. She knew the man had been real. He had to have been. She couldn’t have dreamed it.
“Flynn,” Ian said, his voice a growl, “damn you. Stay out of this guest room. Leave the lass alone.”
Flynn? She hadn’t remembered meeting anyone by that name.
“No one else is here. I would have noticed if he opened the door and left,” Elaine said. Then she frowned. “Unless you have secret passages in the castle. A secret paneled entrance into the room.”
That’s when she looked around at the walls again and wondered if a secret entrance was hidden behind one of the tapestries.
“You didn’t tell her about him, did you, Cearnach?” Duncan’s tone was a warning, and she didn’t like the sound of it.
“Flynn MacNeill’s a ghost, one of our cousins, Elaine. He has a passion for dallying with the ladies,” Cearnach explained. Then he looked at the ceiling and said in a voice rough with barely controlled anger, “Flynn, if you weren’t already dead…”
“Remind him that we can always hire someone to do an exorcism,” Ian said.
“He’s harmless, although he annoys the lassies sometimes.” Duncan waved his sword around as if he was slicing the ghost in two anyway. “Did you want anything from the kitchen, lass? A glass of milk to help you sleep?”
A ghost? She didn’t believe in such things, though she tried to always keep an open mind. She shook her head and rubbed her arms, feeling the goose bumps trailing up and down them.
“Good night, lass, then,” Duncan said. “If he bothers you again, just call out. We’ll chase him away.”
“Thank you, Duncan.”
He bowed his head, then left the room.
Guthrie cleared his throat. “Same with me.” Then he stalked out of the room after his brother.
“I’ll take care of her,” Cearnach told Ian, and she realized that since Ian was the pack leader, he felt responsible for her.
Cearnach was clearly showing he was the one who would take care of her as he kept her pressed against his hard—and getting harder—body.
Ian bowed his head slightly, gave Cearnach a look like he’d better be careful with their guest, and exited the bedchamber.
“My room or the guest room?” Cearnach asked.
“What?” She wasn’t sure if he was joking or not, yet he looked damned earnest.