Hero of a Highland Wolf
Page 3
Ian shook his head. “I forewarned you that Americans can be…odd. And do the unexpected. You might not get rid of her that easily. How old is she?”
“She’s twenty-six. Not too old that we might give her a heart attack, or too young we could scar her for life.”
“Have you considered that she might like all that you’re going to do? That she might want to stay even longer? Not that you could keep the charade going for all that long. Have you thought, perhaps, that if you went about your routine lives, she might be so bored that she’d leave? Visit the surrounding countries while she has a chance? I doubt her inheriting the properties is contingent on her being here every minute of the day for three hundred and sixty-six days,” Ian said.
“Aye. I’ve thought of it. But you know me. I’m not a patient man, and the sooner I can get us back to doing things as usual, the better.”
“Car approaching!” one of Grant’s men shouted atop the curtain wall.
Grant gave Ian an evil smile. “As the Americans would say, it’s showtime.”
Chapter 2
Colleen knew she’d have trouble with Grant MacQuarrie and his men as soon as she contacted him to tell him what she was tasked to do to earn her inheritance. She truly thought an outside pair of eyes—hers—could help see where improvements could be made in the management of her properties. After she had lived there for a while.
From Grant’s reluctance to speak with her about any of it, she knew she would have difficulties with the old goat. Not that he was that old. Thirty, she thought. But his stubbornness made her think of him in that way.
It wasn’t her idea to live at the castle for all that time. Like Grant and his people, she also had to make the most of it.
As soon as she turned into the winding, private drive that cut through a forest, she felt a shiver of excitement and a hint of trepidation. “Okay, you can do this.”
She kept reminding herself that the castle was her family’s, and Grant was only its manager. Not its owner. She was certain he’d try to intimidate her into not wanting to stay. But she could do anything for a year and a day if it meant keeping the family legacy that she would someday pass on to her own descendants. How many Americans could say they owned a castle in Scotland? Who were also wolves?
She spied a waterway where ducks and swans swam. She smiled. Then frowned. She was glad to see so many trees where she could run safely as a wolf, but she would have to avoid disturbing the birds’ habitat.
Her good friend Julia Wildthorn, now mated to Ian MacNeill, called her on her cell. Colleen stopped the car, thinking that if Julia had anything else to warn her about before she reached the castle, she’d better hear her out.
“Ian and some of his kin should already have arrived at your castle to battle it out with the MacQuarries in an unscheduled fighting match. But my mother-in-law has ensured the rest of the brothers and their kin remain busy. That will keep them away from Farraige Castle, so you’ll have fewer men to deal with if they mean to give you a hard time,” Julia said, a smile in her voice.
Colleen had never met Julia’s mother-in-law, but she already loved her.
“Ian wouldn’t let me come this time—though that would have been a hoot when they realized we are best friends,” Julia said, chuckling.
Colleen smiled. “I’m almost there, I think. I just reached the canal-like pond where the swans are swimming.”
“Okay, just a couple more turns, and you’ll be there. I can’t wait to hear how they react when you arrive. Keep me posted when you can,” Julia said, sounding excited about the prospect.
Colleen suspected Julia would use her story in a future werewolf romance she would write.
“I will. I suspect Grant and the others had the notion that a little rough swordplay would scare me off.” So Colleen had come prepared.
“Oh, yeah, typical macho-male ploy. Love ya, Colleen. Don’t let them give you any guff.”
“I won’t.” Colleen had every intention of having a little fun with this. “Talk later.”
She opened the car windows before she drove around the last two bends in the road so that she could listen for the sound of fighting. She heard none.
When she saw the great gray wall and the four corner towers, she held her breath in awe at the sight. Her castle. It was beautiful. Then she saw movement on top of the wall walk and heard a man shout down that a car was coming, warning of her impending arrival.
She wanted to laugh.
Even so, her heartbeat accelerated. She was certain they were getting ready for her. She had two male cousins who had always teased her growing up, and she was used to dealing with them. She would have no problem dishing it out where Grant and the others were concerned. Except her cousins were betas. Grant was human, but he was still all alpha, from what her father had said.
She didn’t know all that they had planned and she didn’t know them, so she was somewhat apprehensive, though she hated to admit it.
She drove into the inner bailey and saw the sight she had tried to envision on the way here. But nothing had prepared her for this. Hot, hot, hot men in kilts with oiled abs, pecs, and bare legs, and wearing leather boots—some ancient, others more modern. The men were absolutely drool worthy! The only thing she regretted was that she hadn’t been given the opportunity to oil them down.
She even considered stopping some of the sparring men and offering to rub oil on any spots they had missed, just to show they didn’t intimidate her.
“She’s twenty-six. Not too old that we might give her a heart attack, or too young we could scar her for life.”
“Have you considered that she might like all that you’re going to do? That she might want to stay even longer? Not that you could keep the charade going for all that long. Have you thought, perhaps, that if you went about your routine lives, she might be so bored that she’d leave? Visit the surrounding countries while she has a chance? I doubt her inheriting the properties is contingent on her being here every minute of the day for three hundred and sixty-six days,” Ian said.
“Aye. I’ve thought of it. But you know me. I’m not a patient man, and the sooner I can get us back to doing things as usual, the better.”
“Car approaching!” one of Grant’s men shouted atop the curtain wall.
Grant gave Ian an evil smile. “As the Americans would say, it’s showtime.”
Chapter 2
Colleen knew she’d have trouble with Grant MacQuarrie and his men as soon as she contacted him to tell him what she was tasked to do to earn her inheritance. She truly thought an outside pair of eyes—hers—could help see where improvements could be made in the management of her properties. After she had lived there for a while.
From Grant’s reluctance to speak with her about any of it, she knew she would have difficulties with the old goat. Not that he was that old. Thirty, she thought. But his stubbornness made her think of him in that way.
It wasn’t her idea to live at the castle for all that time. Like Grant and his people, she also had to make the most of it.
As soon as she turned into the winding, private drive that cut through a forest, she felt a shiver of excitement and a hint of trepidation. “Okay, you can do this.”
She kept reminding herself that the castle was her family’s, and Grant was only its manager. Not its owner. She was certain he’d try to intimidate her into not wanting to stay. But she could do anything for a year and a day if it meant keeping the family legacy that she would someday pass on to her own descendants. How many Americans could say they owned a castle in Scotland? Who were also wolves?
She spied a waterway where ducks and swans swam. She smiled. Then frowned. She was glad to see so many trees where she could run safely as a wolf, but she would have to avoid disturbing the birds’ habitat.
Her good friend Julia Wildthorn, now mated to Ian MacNeill, called her on her cell. Colleen stopped the car, thinking that if Julia had anything else to warn her about before she reached the castle, she’d better hear her out.
“Ian and some of his kin should already have arrived at your castle to battle it out with the MacQuarries in an unscheduled fighting match. But my mother-in-law has ensured the rest of the brothers and their kin remain busy. That will keep them away from Farraige Castle, so you’ll have fewer men to deal with if they mean to give you a hard time,” Julia said, a smile in her voice.
Colleen had never met Julia’s mother-in-law, but she already loved her.
“Ian wouldn’t let me come this time—though that would have been a hoot when they realized we are best friends,” Julia said, chuckling.
Colleen smiled. “I’m almost there, I think. I just reached the canal-like pond where the swans are swimming.”
“Okay, just a couple more turns, and you’ll be there. I can’t wait to hear how they react when you arrive. Keep me posted when you can,” Julia said, sounding excited about the prospect.
Colleen suspected Julia would use her story in a future werewolf romance she would write.
“I will. I suspect Grant and the others had the notion that a little rough swordplay would scare me off.” So Colleen had come prepared.
“Oh, yeah, typical macho-male ploy. Love ya, Colleen. Don’t let them give you any guff.”
“I won’t.” Colleen had every intention of having a little fun with this. “Talk later.”
She opened the car windows before she drove around the last two bends in the road so that she could listen for the sound of fighting. She heard none.
When she saw the great gray wall and the four corner towers, she held her breath in awe at the sight. Her castle. It was beautiful. Then she saw movement on top of the wall walk and heard a man shout down that a car was coming, warning of her impending arrival.
She wanted to laugh.
Even so, her heartbeat accelerated. She was certain they were getting ready for her. She had two male cousins who had always teased her growing up, and she was used to dealing with them. She would have no problem dishing it out where Grant and the others were concerned. Except her cousins were betas. Grant was human, but he was still all alpha, from what her father had said.
She didn’t know all that they had planned and she didn’t know them, so she was somewhat apprehensive, though she hated to admit it.
She drove into the inner bailey and saw the sight she had tried to envision on the way here. But nothing had prepared her for this. Hot, hot, hot men in kilts with oiled abs, pecs, and bare legs, and wearing leather boots—some ancient, others more modern. The men were absolutely drool worthy! The only thing she regretted was that she hadn’t been given the opportunity to oil them down.
She even considered stopping some of the sparring men and offering to rub oil on any spots they had missed, just to show they didn’t intimidate her.
