by Terry Spear
Read on for a sneak peek at Terry Spear’s long awaited next Highland Wolf
Coming soon from Sourcebooks Casablanca
Chapter 1
“We’ve got trouble,” Lana Cameron, the baker, said to Heather MacNeill, motioning with her head to the big glass windows of the Ye Olde Highland Pie Shoppe, located in the quaint village near the MacNeill’s Argent Castle.
Heather glanced out the window and saw Lana was right. Heather had been hoping the rumors about having more problems with the Kilpatrick brothers wouldn’t prove true. But redheaded Robert and his equally redheaded brother, Patrick, were climbing out of their truck, looking around to see who was eating at the café tables outside, and then speaking to each other before they entered. They looked like wary gray wolves.
They should be wary. After Patrick had killed the wolf Heather was going to mate, she wanted to end Patrick herself. The only thing stopping her was that the fight had been her mate-to-be’s fault.
Lana joined Heather behind the counter. “Did I tell you Enrick MacQuarrie came in when you were gone yesterday afternoon?” Lana raised a brow and gave her a smile.
Heather frowned. “On purpose?”
“Of course he came in on purpose.”
Heather let out her breath in annoyance and folded her arms. “He came into the shop when he knew I wasn’t going to be here?” As owner, manager, and general hand-on-deck, Heather was nearly always there, though she was training Lana to take over whenever Heather had to be away.
Lana let out a long-suffering sigh, placing her hands on her chest and looking heavenward. “Aye, if ’twere up to me, I would chase the hunky Highlander all through the heather until I had him pinned down to a mating. But alas, he sees not me as a prospective mate.”
Heather continued to frown. “Me then? Why come when I wasn’t here? On purpose.”
“He is a hardy warrior but with feelings running deep for ye.” Lana was keeping in character with her role here at the shop. The medieval Highland theme of the shop and the food was what brought in customers locally and from around the world for a unique dining experience. Who wouldn’t want to try something both different and authentic?
“’Tis you he wished to see, but he fears you’re still in mourning over Timothy and doesn’t want to approach you too soon for a courtship.”
Heather didn’t lose the frown. Lana couldn’t be serious. Was she up to a bit of matchmaking where none would be possible? “He has never had time for me…ever. He’s a workaholic, he doesn’t believe in having fun. He’s a…stick-in-the-mud.” With her. Not with others. She let her breath out in a huff. “Okay, so then what did he do?”
“He asked me how you were feeling.”
“And you said?”
“Good.” Lana laughed.
Heather curbed the urge to sock her.
Lana sighed again. “That you were ready to date if he would get on with it and start making an overture. Don’t expect too much at first. I’m not sure he took me at my word.” Lana smiled, then frowned. “Just think if he were your mate.” She motioned to the windows where the Kilpatricks still looked unsure about coming inside or not. “He would toss them out on their ear if they came in. Or at least Enrick would make them shake a bit in their boots. They wouldn’t be so cocky then.”
But Enrick wasn’t here to serve and protect, so she was on her own.
Protective, oh, yes. Enrick and his two brothers were protective of her when Heather chanced to go to the MacQuarrie castle. But the brothers thought she was too wild, too impetuous. And that irritated her. She’d overheard them talking to her brothers about it, how difficult it was to keep her in check. She sure didn’t need a mate who felt that way about her.
She was seriously surprised Enrick had come to talk to her friend and feel her out about how Heather felt about dating again. As much as she’d had a crush on the wolf forever, he wasn’t the one for her. She’d figured that out a long time ago.
What was wrong with wanting to do things on the spur of the moment? To take a chance and do something fun and whimsical? That was who she was, and she wasn’t changing who she was to fit some concept a male wolf had of the perfect she-wolf.
Take her business here. It had been a risk to start something like this and a few said she couldn’t do it. Well, she had proved she could. She’d worked hard to make her dream come true. And it was her dream, no one else’s.
“Oh, I’ve got to tend to the bread.” Lana hurried off to check on it while Heather glanced back at the glass door.
She’d heard the Kilpatricks and their McKinley cousins had been furious they hadn’t gotten the film contract to have a new fantasy film shot at the McKinley’s castle in the Highlands. They would be even madder once they learned the MacQuarries had gotten the contract to have it filmed at their castle and grounds instead. Since some of the MacNeill wolves, her own clan, would be participating with the MacQuarries as extras in the film, and the MacNeills were McKinley rivals, there was bound to be trouble. Had the Kilpatricks already learned where the shoot was going to be held and that’s why they were here? She knew they weren’t here to apologize for Patrick killing Timothy. Patrick had felt perfectly justified, and truthfully, he had been.
The MacQuarrie pack leaders were keeping quiet about the film location for now, except they’d told Heather’s pack leaders because they needed some of the MacNeill clan to sign up as extras. Heather knew because she was going to be in charge of the MacNeill female extras during the filming. She hoped the McKinley wolf pack would leave the pie shop out of their quarrels. The Kilpatricks—members of that pack—had been passive-aggressive of late with both the MacQuarries and MacNeills at pubs or wherever they chanced to meet. It was sure to escalate once the word reached the world where the film production would actually be shot.
She had her cell phone out, just in case she needed to text her pack leaders for some Highland wolf muscle. The shop was busy and she couldn’t afford a disruption.
The aroma of fresh bread baking, of hearty beef stew bubbling in a cooker, and of sweet pastries filled the air as Lana brought out another loaf of Scottish soda bread from the oven. In full view of the customers, Lana made buttermilk bread and soda bread in a brick oven, just like in the old days. Originating in Scotland, the bannock bread made of oatmeal dough was cooked in a skillet, so they were making it in their kitchen. The ladies working in the shop were all wearing long dresses with narrow sleeves, long tartan overskirts, boots, and wimples for an old-world charm. Lana’s kilt was the Cameron tartan of red, green, and blue, while Heather’s was the blue and green tartan of the MacNeill clan.
Heather’s pack leaders—gray wolf cousin Ian MacNeill and his red wolf mate, Julia—had assisted Heather in establishing the shop a year ago to help some of their wolves remain gainfully employed and Heather achieve her dream. Julia had loved the idea of Heather sharing the clan’s old-time recipes with the world. Julia was American with Scottish roots and had fallen in love with all things Scottish when she joined them a couple of years back. Since the wolves lived such long lives, aging a year for every thirty, many of them had been around for a very long time. Heather was always cooking for Ian and his brothers so she had wanted to own a shop like this to share the old-world charm of the recipes she’d personally prepared. She just hadn’t had the means to do it on her own without the pack leaders’ assistance.
Heather manned the cash register as a man and his wife paid for two venison and cranberry pies.
The woman said, “We’ve been wanting to come here since the shop opened. It’s so fun and best of all, the food is great. I love your costumes too.”
Heather smiled. “Thanks, I’m so glad you enjoyed the visit.”
Agreeing with his wife, the man nodded to her and carried out the pies as the couple left.
No one could accuse her staff of wearing costumes that weren’t true to the perio
d. Though about that time, some of the women were casting their wimples aside.
Ironically, many of the clansmen who cooked and served in the shop had sworn they never wanted to work under medieval conditions again, but those who did make the food and helped run the shop had gotten a kick out of the nostalgia. Conditions were much harder back then. Now they had modern ovens and stoves and fridges in the back to keep up with the growing business, and, of course, fresh running water instead of having to carry the water from a well like they did in the old days.
She glanced outside and noticed a family taking seats at one of the tables before they came in to order, perfect for nice weather like today—sunny, warm, breezy.
Everything was going fine, busy as usual, when the two men of the enemy wolf clan finally walked into the shop, making her feel as if they were turning her sunny day into something dark and dangerous. The brothers glanced around at the customers eating and visiting there. Were they checking to see if any of the men of her clan were there, ready to stop them in whatever they were up to?
The lupus garous attempted to look nice and easygoing, when she knew they were anything but. Their clan had been fighting with her people through the ages. They’d been pirates in the old days, and were still trying to cheat or steal from others in this day and age. Robert epitomized cunning and deviousness. He was a cutthroat who wouldn’t hesitate to kill someone who got in his way. His brother went along with everything he did.
She wanted to tell them they weren’t welcome here, but she didn’t want to cause a scene in front of her customers. As long as they were behaving themselves and had only come in to shop, she just had to deal with it and leave her feelings out of it.
The wolves dealt with their own kind if they were involved in criminal acts. They didn’t want a wolf incarcerated long-term, even if the rogue wolf could control his shifting during the full moon phase. So if the Kilpatricks caused any trouble, she couldn’t call anyone other than her own wolf pack leaders to handle it.
A chill ran up her spine as she eyed them with a wolf’s wariness. Sometimes there were MacNeill clansmen working in the shop, but not right this minute.
There were three women in the back cooking, and Lana was still baking bread, while another two servers were in the back filling trays with the meals. Another was handling takeout orders in the back.
Robert Kilpatrick, the older of the two brothers, gave her a tight smile. It wasn’t warm or friendly or reassuring in the least. More calculating. She didn’t trust him or his brother.
Robert had never forgiven the MacNeill clan for the time Heather’s cousin Cearnach MacNeill had rescued the Kilpatrick’s cousin, Elaine Hawthorn, and her Highland properties from their greedy grasp. Too bad.
Cearnach had given Elaine a good home with the pack and loved her with all his heart. All the pack did. Her relatives had only cared about the properties she’d owned and wanted her mated to someone loyal to their clan.
To their way of thinking, Elaine had mated with the enemy. Cearnach and his brothers had to kill a couple of Robert’s cousins, as there was no stopping them in the fight the MacNeills had wanted to avoid. A grudge between the clans would go on forever because of it.
Another couple of customers entered the shop, two men, all smiles, wearing T-shirts from the Big Apple, jeans, and sneakers. Americans? Maybe.
The Kilpatrick brothers glanced at them, but the Americans ignored them and continued to the counter. “We’ll take two of the steak pies,” one of the men said.
She knew that face. He looked suspiciously like Guy McNab, the star of the movie they would be filming at the MacQuarries’ castle. Heather smiled brightly at him. “Aye, sure.” She rang up their orders and noticed that when Lana glanced at the two men, her jaw dropped.
Don’t burn the bread or drop it, Heather wanted to tell her.
She wanted to ask if they were here because of the film, but she couldn’t in front of the Kilpatricks. She was dying to know if the man was Guy—or maybe it was his stunt double.
The Kilpatrick brothers were reading the sign listing all the meat pies. Realizing she was watching them, Robert smiled at her a little again. It still wasn’t a friendly smile. Patrick didn’t bother. They sauntered over to the glass case filled with sweet desserts on display: clooties, black buns—Scotland’s version of a fruitcake—shortbread cookies, empire biscuits—shortbread filled with jam, with a bit of icing and a cherry—and Heather’s favorite, millionaire’s shortbread, filled with caramel and chocolate, with a shortbread base.
A Canadian customer was taking pictures of the medieval décor: brass lanterns and swords and shields, and a bow and quiver of arrows, and was sharing them with friends and family, which always helped Heather’s business. Paintings of Highlanders in ancient kilts and even wolves and Irish wolfhounds standing with them in full color, with a textured look to give them an aged appearance, hung on the stone walls. Of course, it seemed like a paradox since wolfhounds took down wolves in the old days, but with the wolf packs, the lupus garous raised wolfhounds as pets and hunting dogs from early on. Of course their dogs hadn’t hunted the wolf kind.
Heather smiled at a lady from Wales who came up to the counter to get a sweet dumpling to go. She chose a clootie dumpling filled with sultanas and currants, made with breadcrumbs, sugar, spice, milk and golden syrup all mixed into a dough, boiled in water, then dried in the oven. Heather boxed it up for her and set it on the counter, then took the money for it and thanked the woman before she left.
No one in the pack had envisioned the shop would be such a success when it first began, though Julia, a well-known romance author, had written about it in some of her stories and had intrigued visitors who read her books to check out the pie shop while on vacation to the area. Even the locals who lived nearby loved it.
The shop had started to get party requests for medieval meals, and it looked like they were going to be expanding their staff and building to accommodate the orders. Not only that, but her shop was contracted to help cater the main meals during the shoot. Heather was thrilled at the opportunity.
“We’ve heard so much about your shop, we had to come and check it out,” Robert said, leaning against her counter.
She didn’t believe him for an instant. Her phone was sitting on the ledge below the high counter and out of his sight, so she started to text Ian to see if he could send some backup—other than her three brothers, Oran, Jaime, and Callum, who would just as soon kill the Kilpatricks and ask questions afterward—if she needed help keeping the peace.
The doorbell jingled again, and she looked up, afraid it would be more of the Kilpatrick’s kin. Instead, Enrick MacQuarrie pulled the door closed behind him and a bit of relief washed over her. Now he was a welcome sight. Not for his supposed interest in dating her. That was so farfetched, she couldn’t believe Lana would even think that. But Heather knew he was protective when it came to her or any other she-wolf of the MacNeill wolf pack.
She didn’t send the text message to Ian, figuring Enrick could deal with the clansmen if they gave her any trouble.
Enrick looked so much like the man with the New York T-shirt sitting with the other at a table, waiting for their steak pies, that he could have been his double. Ever since Guy McNab had made it big as a film star in America, Enrick had been mistaken for him whenever he ventured out of the area.
He was the middle triplet brother of Grant and Lachlan MacQuarrie, tawny-haired and good-natured—except if he was defending the pack members or his friends, then watch out. He had a warrior’s heart, yet she’d seen a real softy side to him too—playing tug-of-war with the Irish wolfhound pups, chasing the kids around the inner bailey in a game of tag, growling as if he were a wolf in his fur coat, making the kids squeal in delight. She’d seen him playing with his brothers as wolves and he was totally aggressive, not wanting either of his brothers to win the battle between them. And in a snowball
fight, he was the fastest snowball maker and thrower she’d ever seen. If they played on teams, she wanted him on hers.
So he did let his hair down, so to speak, with the kids and with his brothers and others. With her? He clearly thought she was trouble.
But he was a wolf with a pack friendly to her own and she smiled brightly at him, glad he was here in case she needed him.
There was no smile for her; his look instead was dark and imposing as he glanced from her to the Kilpatrick brothers, who were apparently still trying to figure out what they wanted to buy. They hadn’t noticed Enrick’s arrival and she hoped he wouldn’t start a fight when the other men were behaving…for the moment. There were so many customers in the shop, she didn’t want to see a brawl break out in front of them. It surely wouldn’t help business.
Robert pointed to the sign on the wall listing the kind of pies they sold. “We’ll take a couple of the steak and kidney pies to go.”
Okay, so they weren’t causing trouble. Yet. Enrick was observing them with a do-anything-I-don’t-like-and-you’ll-die look.
Robert leaned against the oak countertop. “We hear there’s supposed to be a movie filmed at one of the castles nearby.”
Her heartbeat quickening, Heather’s gaze darted to Enrick’s and he raised his brows at her. Man, she really wasn’t supposed to give away the secret yet. She knew he would question her next, once the Kilpatricks had left. He could probably hear her heart suddenly beating way too fast.
“We had that movie filmed at our castle a few years back, but that’s it.” Heather placed their order with RUSH stamped on it. She’d never used the stamp before, but this was certainly one of those times it came in handy.
“Not that film. A new one. More of a…fantasy,” Patrick said. “Featuring wolves, even.”