by Terry Spear
“I can be the bad guy and you’re her savior.”
Cearnach shook his head. “I think she sees herself in that role.”
His mother chuckled with wry amusement. “Aye, then she can be yours instead.”
He shouldn’t have allowed his mother to speak with Elaine first. “Is that all you wish of me, my mother?”
“Aye, go sweet-talk the lady. I’ll speak with you later.”
Shaking his head, he stalked out of the library and down the hall, wondering just what his mother had said to Elaine during their exchange. He hoped Elaine wasn’t too upset over the whole affair.
Left to their own devices, he figured he and she could work out their relationship just fine. But he had to keep his mother out of it at all costs.
Now it was time to repair the damage.
Chapter 12
Cearnach’s talk with his mother filled Elaine’s thoughts—though she was trying not to think about it—as she walked with Shelley through the great hall where cushioned chairs, sofas, and pillow-covered benches were situated in front of a large fireplace. Flames flickered, casting light against the shadows, the wood crackling and snapping. Elaine felt oddly at home here. She could see the clan gathering here for special activities, particularly when the weather was wet or cold.
Yet her thoughts instantly returned to what was being said between Cearnach and his mother. Did she always rule the roost? More importantly, what she was saying to Cearnach about Elaine now?
As Shelley led her into the kitchen, Elaine was impressed with the newness and size, having expected it to be less than modern and much smaller. But it had to feed a fairly large wolf pack—around thirty or more, she estimated. She wasn’t used to thinking in terms of pack life.
To her surprise, the need to belong to a wolf pack like this one crept into the marrow of her bones. To be understood by others of her kind. To be protected and to protect.
A long honey-oak table was situated next to a wide window overlooking the gardens below, a hedge surrounding them. It made her think of a labyrinth where she could get lost with Cearnach, just strolling and talking like two people on a special date, as small brass lanterns illuminated the paths, a touch of warm yellow light on a dark gray night. The tall hedges hid most of the gardens from view, giving only glimpses into the sectioned-off, outdoor living rooms, making them seem mysterious and intriguing.
The table in the kitchen seated about twelve. Pack members could drop in for a quick meal between working various jobs at the castle and beyond, she assumed. She’d passed through a formal dining room on the way into the kitchen where a dark mahogany table and chairs took center stage. The table would seat around twenty people, and the high-back chairs wore forest-green brocade with braid trim edging the seats. Paintings of local scenery were displayed on the walls, showing snowcapped mountains, dark blue lochs, fields of purple heather and yellow gorse, and the dark green forest.
In the kitchen, racks held glistening stainless-steel serving ladles and pots and pans that hung over a large, freestanding island. All the counters were golden granite flecked with black. Three stainless-steel fridges, two dishwashers, and three ovens filled the kitchen, plus a microwave built into the cabinets on one wall. Elaine couldn’t begin to imagine the chaos that must ensue when everyone came in to eat. Unless the pack ate their meals in shifts.
She’d never considered what it would be like for a working pack to live together on an estate like this. The teasing, the camaraderie, the sharing of stories and jokes and good humor. Used to eating her meals alone in front of a TV screen after work, she thought how nice it would be to actually enjoy wolf company instead.
Shelley poked around in one of the fridges. “I have to admit I never make meals here. When I was back home, I cooked some, but lots of times I just microwaved meals. Here they have a woman who cooks for the pack. When I met Duncan on Grand Cayman Island, he was our chef extraordinaire.
“It’s an ongoing joke. Ian’s brothers say they can’t cook, except maybe to make a pizza if Cook isn’t around. But I caught them all making ham-and-cheese omelets and mimosas one morning when I slept in late and they had missed the morning meal, too. Which meant Cook wasn’t going to fix them breakfast. It also meant that not only can Duncan cook, but so can his older brothers.”
Amused that the brothers played such a game on their pack leader, Elaine smiled. “Do you think Ian really knows the truth?”
“Probably. He seems to know everything that goes on in the castle.”
A pretty brunette hurried into the kitchen, her cheeks flushed, her dark eyes wide. She appeared to be about Shelley and Elaine’s age and smelled of the outdoors, rain, and wind. “Oh, I can’t believe it. I take one night off to visit a girlfriend, and our whole pack is ready to go to war with another pack.”
She smiled brightly at Elaine as if that was a good thing, that she knew who had started it, and she wholeheartedly approved. Then she turned her attention to Shelley. “What are you doing? You don’t cook.”
“Attempting to figure out what Cearnach and Elaine can eat for dinner. I was thinking of making them sandwiches and a salad.”
“I’ll do it. I’m Heather MacNeill, Cearnach’s cousin,” she said, offering her hand to Elaine. She smiled broadly again.
Elaine shook her hand and smiled back. She really hadn’t expected everyone to be so friendly, all but Cearnach’s mother and aunt. They were Old-World Highland nobility and probably thought Elaine was some uncultured, uncouth American nobody.
Well, kin to pirates. That was worse. Particularly because Elaine’s kin had stolen from Cearnach’s kin. Not to mention being old-time enemies.
“You will have to fill me in on all the details of what’s going on.” Heather peered into the fridge as Shelley stepped aside and let her take over. Heather glanced over her shoulder at Elaine. “Where’s Cearnach? My brother, Oran, said that Cearnach was glued to you.”
“His mother is talking to him,” Elaine said, not at all happy about it.
Heather lifted her chin a bit, then frowned. “Oh.”
Elaine thought that one little word said it all. The talk wouldn’t go well. “I’m not all that hungry.” Too many butterflies were flitting about in her stomach. After the long flight and running with Cearnach to get here as wolves, she was ready to collapse and try to sleep. Though everything was so unsettled that she wasn’t sure she could.
“I am hungry,” Cearnach said, stalking into the kitchen like a ray of sunshine on a gloomy day. He instantly gave Elaine an appreciative smile and wrapped his arm around her shoulders as if saying, “Mine.”
For the first time since they had arrived at Argent, she really noticed what he was wearing—a pair of well-worn jeans, the fabric soft and faded, and a lamb’s wool sweater just as soft, with grays and browns woven into ancient patterns. Hiking boots finished the ensemble. He looked like he was ready for the great outdoors. The sweater made her take a second look. She wanted to run her hands over it, under it, feel his muscles bunching like when he’d worn no shirt at all.
Heather straightened and looked at him. “What would you like to eat?”
“Anything that’s easy to make,” Cearnach said.
Elaine couldn’t believe how considerate he was. Most men she knew would ask for the world if someone else was doing the cooking.
“What about some of the stew Cook made? I didn’t get a bite of it either, but it smells delicious.” Then Heather frowned as she shoved things around in the fridge. “There don’t appear to be any leftovers.” She started pulling packages of food out of the fridge. “I can make up a fresh batch.”
“Are you sure it won’t be too much trouble?” Elaine asked.
Heather waved a hand of dismissal. “No. I love to cook. I heard you’re an American and you ran Cearnach off the road, which is how you met so fortuitously.”
Cearnach shook his head as if he couldn’t believe meeting like that would become the topic of conversation, but at least h
e was smiling.
“He was driving too fast for a one-lane road,” Elaine said, one brow raised as she crossed her arms beneath her breasts.
Heather grinned at her and pulled out a peeler, then began removing the skin from a potato. “I like her. Don’t chase her off.”
Cearnach grabbed a bag of carrots and celery.
“Here, let me do that.” Shelley extracted a knife from the drawer and took the vegetables from him. “You wouldn’t want Ian to know you can cook. Not after you and your brothers have guarded the secret for so long.”
“I can manage,” Cearnach said.
Elaine wondered why he was so intent on offering when the ladies treated him as though he was just in the way.
Heather grinned at him, and Elaine assumed she knew him so well that she had figured out what his game was. “Go, Cearnach. You can show off to the lady some other time. Take Elaine to the garden room. Someone’s started a fire in the fire pit so it should be nice and toasty warm. Talk with her. Take her for a stroll in the gardens. The rain has stopped. I’ll have something palatable ready in half an hour or so.”
A strange look crossed Cearnach’s face, one of questioning, Elaine thought. She’d gotten the impression he had planned to take care of this in his own way, and now his cousin had thrown him totally off stride. Had he really intended to show her he could cook? How utterly sweet of him.
She’d never known a man who could switch plans so quickly and not be a little rattled, though. His cousin just smiled, feigning innocence, but the look appeared more calculating than angelic to Elaine.
A setup. That’s what Elaine felt was going on here. A means to move a romantic relationship forward at a jackrabbit’s pace instead of a snail’s. She got the impression that Cearnach didn’t often show interest in a she-wolf around his clan members, and Heather was pushing for something to happen.
“Do you want to take a walk in the gardens, lass?” Cearnach asked, finally taking his cousin’s cue as he motioned gallantly to the door with a gracious sweeping gesture.
“I’d love to. Thank you, Heather and Shelley, for preparing a meal for us.” Even if Elaine didn’t think she could eat any of it, she appreciated their kindness.
“You’re so very welcome. It’s not every day we have such an uproar in the pack.” Heather waved a hand at the coats hanging on a rack. “The yellow one is mine. Feel free to use it.”
“Thanks,” Elaine said, and Cearnach quickly helped her into it.
Cearnach threw on a black rain jacket and escorted Elaine out the kitchen door. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and kept her close, as if they were lovers already, as he guided her along a brick walkway, down steps, through a four-foot-wide living boxwood arch, and into the gardens.
“The steps are mossy and wet and slippery,” he explained, as if that was the real reason he was holding her close.
She slipped once and he tightened his hold on her in response, so she had to agree he was right.
She loved the intimacy between them, the closeness, the warmth of his body pressed against hers. She loved getting away from the castle, his kin, and the overwhelming feeling that everyone wanted to know more about her when she had always been a very private person… and wolf. Still, she wanted to learn what his mother had said to him. Not that she meant to defend herself. In truth, she wanted to know how difficult it would be for her to stay here until she got her car and personal items back.
Leaving him was another story. For the first time ever, she really cared about someone. The spark between them was so intense that she wanted to explore further possibilities. How could she when their families were so at odds?
She took a deep breath. “Your mother…”
“Later,” he said.
The news couldn’t be good.
She tried to concentrate on the gardens, the way the small brass lanterns lighted all the paths, the water glistening on the smooth stones. Yew hedges rose high around the gardens, as massive as stone walls, only bright green and living.
He held her tightly against his side, heating her all the way to her core. Her nose was cold and so were her toes, but the rest of her was heating up just fine.
Hedges sectioned off the various gardens, and she could hear the pleasing sound of water as it spilled over stone fountains into lower basins or into small pools of water. The fountains were visible through vine-covered, wrought-iron trellises or hedges trimmed into living archways. A misty fog draped the area as Cearnach moved her from one garden section of herbs to another with flowers, past a garden with a waterfall, a glass greenhouse, and separate garden rooms for every interest.
She smiled when she saw the building made of glass walls with corner stone towers that mimicked the castle and its towers situated on four corners of the curtain wall. A roof made of skylights showed off the stormy gray night, and the warm, orange flames of the fire beckoned them inside.
She peered through one of the windows as he opened the door. Soft moss-green couches wrapped around the fire pit, connected in a gently curving fashion like a stream winding through woods. Brocade pillows generously embroidered in gold thread with Celtic designs covered the couches, while pots of plants hung from the rafters or sat high above on small shelves beneath the massive windows.
Cearnach escorted her inside where the warmth encircled her, then closed the door and locked it. She raised her brows. He smiled and pressed a few buttons on a panel. Shades began to slide down over the windows.
Her mouth dropped open as she watched the room, which had been bared to the gardens, suddenly become private.
“We can have real privacy here or in my bedchamber.” Cearnach offered to take her coat.
Somehow, she didn’t think either place would be safe.
He helped pull off her coat, then draped it on a coatrack that looked like a wrought-iron, leafless tree.
“We need to talk,” he said with all seriousness, yet his eyes held dark interest, not at all what she would expect if he was going to tell her she needed to leave Argent Castle at the earliest possible moment.
She tried not to stiffen too much as he removed his coat, hung it up, and led her to one of the couches. He sat down with her but not too close, as if he needed to keep his distance.
She sank into the soft cushions, saw a bottle of wine and two glasses set next to it, and thought of the way Heather had been so flushed when she had hurried into the kitchen.
“I take it your mother wants me out of here as quickly as she can manage.”
“Wine?” he asked, already pouring her a glass.
She accepted the glass and sighed before she took a sip. She knew she shouldn’t drink anything after not having eaten for so long. With the meal, fine. Or after the meal. Not before.
For the first time in a long time, though, she felt she needed the fortification, wishing everything could be different between them.
Cearnach studied Elaine as she pressed her lips against the wineglass, recalling when she was so young in St. Andrews. He wondered how innocent she’d truly been. Had she known what her family had worked at? Where they had gotten their wealth?
Not caring what she’d known back then, he shook his head and lifted his glass of wine. “My mother said she wanted me to mate with you.”
Elaine had just taken a sip of wine and choked on it. Sputtering and coughing, she tried to catch her breath, her eyes tearing.
He patted her back, wishing he had waited until after she swallowed the mouthful of wine before he made the comment.
She held up a hand, tears in her eyes, as she indicated she would be all right.
He still rubbed her back, craving the intimacy between them. She didn’t move away and, in fact, leaned a little closer to him as if wanting more of his touch. He wanted to give it. But they had to talk.
When she finally caught her breath, she hoarsely said, “You can’t be serious. She hates me. From everything she said, her posture, all of it.”
“No, Elaine,” he said
tenderly. “My mother can be hard to read. I believe she sees in you something of herself. A fighter. Someone who would protect one of her own when she had no stake in risking her own neck. She likes you. That’s saying something, believe me.”
She gave a harsh laugh. “If the way she reacted to me indicates she likes me, I’d hate to see her when she hated me.”
“She tests a wolf’s mettle. You have what it takes to impress her.”
She let out her breath softly. “I didn’t think she appreciated what I’d done—standing up for you against Vardon.”
“Hmm, lass, enough to suggest I mate with you. She wouldn’t make a proposition like that flippantly.”
Elaine laughed again, softer now, more amused than bitter. “Did she choose your brothers’ mates for them?”
“No.” He recalled how angry his mother had been when she learned Ian had taken Julia as his mate but hadn’t bothered to consult her. When Shelley became Duncan’s, his mother had actually been glad that the she-wolf had helped to recover their money, so she was more than willing to open her home to her. Shelley’s Uncle Ethan was an added benefit because Cearnach could see that his mother was becoming quite smitten with the American.
“So why does she think she can decide who you mate?” Elaine asked.
“She thinks I’m in lust with you and that can turn into something deeper,” he boldly said, watching her reaction. Elaine had to know how much he wanted her already, and not just because of the way she heated his blood with sexual craving.
Her eyes sparkled in the soft lights, her mouth curving up. God, how he wanted to cup her face in his hands and kiss her like they hadn’t a second to lose.
She finished her glass of wine and poured herself another. “So what has that to do with anything? Lust is lust. It doesn’t necessarily lead to a long-term relationship. Not between wolves who mate for life.”
He cocked a brow. “She believes that the feeling is mutual.” He knew the feeling was mutual because Elaine’s pheromones told him so. Because of the way her heart raced when he drew close to her. Because of how he felt the air sizzle with sexual tension between them. Aye, the lass lusted for him as much as he did for her. There was no denying it.