Taming the Highlander

by May McGoldrick

  Though she didn’t want to admit it, even to herself, her only disappointment was that she hadn’t seen Conall Sinclair even once since her tumble into his arms on the staircase. She couldn’t ask about him directly, but Jinny told her that the word among the servants was that the earl often went off to the Sinclair hunting lodge unannounced, and for weeks at a time. Some thought he’d gone there the day of the wedding.

  It was for the best, Innes told herself. Her fascination with the man was futile. It would be better for all parties if she scratched out those brief moments from her memory.

  And she enjoyed her routines. Most days, she wrote and sketched. She listened to and argued with Ailein whenever her sister tired of her daily tasks as the laird’s wife. Only on occasion did Innes join the others in the Great Hall for meals, and no one complained when she visited the kitchens for a tray of food.

  And she explored. Innes loved this shoreline. The wildness of the sea and the variety of birds thrilled her, giving her ample material for her sketching and her collecting. And the long stretches of stony beach provided solitude that she cherished. Once she traveled beyond the gardens protected from the wind by stone walls and the fields filled with flocks of sheep, she could walk for hours without seeing or talking to a living soul. Away from Girnigoe, she would occasionally come upon deer that immediately bounded off, and red shaggy cattle that regarded her with mild interest for only a moment before lowering their great heads again to graze.

  Every morning at dawn, regardless of the weather, she made her way down to the rocky strand. As she walked, she was often joined by the seals who would follow her just offshore, their sleek heads and brown eyes appearing, focused on her, and then disappearing. In the evening, she stayed on the path along the bluffs where she could look down on the roaring sea and the occasional stone huts of the families that fished the waters, or sit in a protected spot and watch the golden sun descend slowly in the western sky.

  Tonight, she had no setting sun or rising moon to enjoy. No sky above her, no sea stretching into the distance. A chill gray fog obscured everything, limiting her vision to a few yards around her. She was glad she’d left her leather case of charcoal and paper in her chambers when, a mile or so from the castle, the rain began to fall.

  Innes pushed back the hood of the cloak and raised her face to the sky, welcoming the touch of rain on her skin, in her hair. Closing her eyes, she listened as the sounds of nature came to her like a melody. Waves crashed over the rocks beyond the cliffs. Sea birds cried out as they hovered above her in the breeze, warning of the impending storm. The wind whirred and rustled as it caressed the hills.

  A growl, deep and menacing, raised hackles of fear in her scalp.

  Innes’s eyes opened and her head jerked toward the sound. The animal was huge, larger than any dog she’d ever seen. He stood only a dozen paces from her, at the crest of a low rise. When he took a step toward her, her heart pounded in her chest. In an instant she took it all in: the shape of the head and the ears, the lips pulled back, the show of teeth that could tear out her throat, the piercing glare of eyes almost orange.

  This was no dog. It was a wolf.

  Cold sweat broke out on her face. She couldn’t breathe. She hadn’t heard him approach.

  “Hello,” she said, finding her voice. She once heard her father’s lead huntsman say that wolves were more afraid of people than people were of them. She hoped that was true. But this one did not look frightened.

  “Where did you come from?” Her voice quavered.

  She realized she was hugging the basket tight against her chest, as if that could possibly offer some protection.

  “I didn’t know any of you were left in these parts, and yet here you are. I think someone might have warned me, don’t you?”

  The wolf cocked his head, looking at her as if she were an idiot, thinking he would talk back.

  “As handsome as you are, why don’t you just go your own way?” She was surprised at how calm she sounded, in spite of the terror clutching her insides. “Really. You go your way and I go mine.”

  The dogs and cats that roamed free in Folais Castle and in the farmland surrounding it generally kept their distance from her. She always thought it was because they sensed her power. But to a wolf, especially one the size of this one, she was the next meal.

  “I promise not to tell anyone I saw you.”

  She took a step backward. The wolf moved with her, lowering his head. Cold sweat spread to the rest of her body. She couldn’t outrun him. She had a small knife at her belt, good for little more than cutting her food.

  “You seem well fed,” she said, taking another step back. “As you can see, I have little meat on my bones.”

  She didn’t want to do anything to appear hostile. In all the pasts of the men and women whose lives she had peered into, not once had there been a wolf attack. Not that any of that mattered at this moment.

  The wolf moved in closer, his eyes never leaving her face. Suddenly, the beast bounded toward her.

  Innes froze, unable to move, unable to think, unable to even cry out.

  The animal circled, sniffing her as he went.

  The wolf was even larger up close, and he exuded power. Raw power that showed itself in his smooth, fluid movements.

  She was dead; she had no doubt now.

  Even as she thought with cold dread of her imminent demise in those jaws, Innes recognized the sheer beauty in this animal. His thick coat wasn’t just gray, but banded with black, white, gold, and brown. His eyes, so clear and alert, had thin bursts of green amid the orange.

  He nosed her elbow, her hip. She stood still, not breathing, every muscle in her body tense. Her hands were shaking. She’d heard that people often fainted in situations such as this, but she decided she must be too frightened to pass out.

  “You see, beast? I’m no threat. Go on your way. Find a fat rabbit for your supper.”

  He sniffed at the empty basket and then raised a paw and batted at it. It fell from her hands, but she didn’t dare reach down for it. He cautiously put his nose in it, all the time keeping an eye on her. Evidently satisfied that there was nothing in it to eat, the wolf turned his full attention back to Innes.

  “This is it. I’m going to die,” she murmured. “Blessed Virgin, intercede for me at this moment of my—”

  She got no further. Raising himself up onto his hind legs, the wolf put both front paws on her shoulders. She gasped and staggered back a couple of steps under his weight, but the animal moved with her.

  Somehow, Innes managed to keep her balance.

  And then, with a mix of horror and astonishment, she stood still as the beast licked her entire face—her nose, her cheeks, even her eyes. He nibbled at her jaw and chin, but never scratched her skin.

  Affection! The realization struck her suddenly, and her fear dissolved like a morning mist in summer. She heard herself laugh, which only seemed to encourage him.

  She tried to back away, push him down, but she couldn’t do it. “Do we know each other?”

  The absurdity of the situation and the way he paused at her question made her laugh again. She reached up and touched the thick fur at his shoulders. Her fingers sank into softness.

  Suddenly, his weight was too much and she went sprawling onto her back.

  The wolf danced in a circle around her, nipping her hair, kissing her ear, tugging at her clothes and shoes. Clearly, a game had begun.

  “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” She pushed him away, only to have him jump back at her.

  Innes put her arms over her face to protect herself. She was no longer frightened, but overwhelmed by the speed and enthusiasm of the animal. The wolf’s heavy paws landed on her chest, and he put his full weight on her. His teeth wrapped around her elbow, mouthing her arm but clearly with no intention of hurting her. She peered into the animal’s eyes, and a thought crossed her mind.

  She’d never done anything like this before, but curiosity compelled her now
.

  Her free hand reached up and she touched the soft fur by his ears. He paused, watching her warily. She caressed the ears and nose. And as she did, an image rushed into her mind’s eye. A man was lifting the pup into his arms.

  She knew the man’s face. Conall Sinclair.

  “Thunder!” The shout rang out and the voice was as familiar to her as the face in her vision. An unexpected thrill raced through her.

  The ground shook as a horse approached, and the wolf released her elbow and looked back at the rider.

  “Get away from her, you beast.”

  The wolf gave her face a final tongue lashing before following his master’s orders.

  Boots hit the ground. Innes tried to wipe her face and eyes clean with her sleeve. She was covered with the wolf’s kisses. The earl’s dark figure appeared over her.

  “Are you hurt?”

  The gray mist made his bearded face even darker. He knelt down beside her, and she stared into blue eyes so dark that they seemed almost black. They were the color of a clear sky an hour before dawn. She was speechless, seeing him this close. The long hair was now tied back, revealing his face. Since the time of the portrait, his nose showed signs of being broken. A scar ran across his cheek. One might consider this a fearsome face, but his eyes showed nothing but concern.

  The wolf’s face now appeared next to his master’s, showing no concern at all. The animal was ready to play again.

  “Did he hurt you?”

  Innes stared from one beast’s face to the next and couldn’t stop a smile from forming on her lips. “My dignity is a wee bit bruised. But nay, he didn’t hurt me.”

  She tried to sit up. He stood and stretched out his hand. She didn’t know where her gloves had gone. Bracing herself for what she knew would come next, she took his hand.

  Her mind joined his, and this time she was in the dark stairwell, caught in the protective embrace of his arms. He was staring at her lips with desire.

  The image disappeared, replaced by a darker moment. The place was dank, foul smelling. A dungeon. She felt the weight of the shackles on his arms and legs. The air stank of human waste and death. She could taste blood in her mouth. She grunted in pain as a heavy lash cracked across her back.

  A voice came from a great distance. “You’re not well.”

  She clutched desperately at his shirt, feeling faint from the agony of the whip.

  And then she resurfaced from his past. His arms were wrapped around her, holding her upright. The scent of man and horse and fresh sea air flooded her senses. Her face was pressed against his heart, and she felt the solid, steady beat against her cheek. The painting, their brief encounters, her mind conjuring him while he was gone—they all combined to make this moment seem more like a dream than reality. The closeness and the sense of protection were unlike anything she’d ever experienced. And, for a few brief minutes, she welcomed it.

  Sanity and propriety returned. She pushed herself out of his arms and took a step back. The light rain had eased to a fine mist.

  “I’m fine,” she said. “Just a moment of light-headedness.”

  He stood looking at her. She tried to straighten her clothes. Her hair was loose. One shoe lay in the wet grass a few feet away. The basket lay farther off. The wolf sat beside it, alert and poised, with what looked like a smile on his face.

  The earl towered over her, watching her every move. She was flustered by his nearness. Here in the open, he was taller than Bryce, wider across the chest, more impressive than she remembered from the East Tower stairwell. Like the last time, he wore black beneath his tartan. She noticed the way the shirt hugged his powerful arms.

  “I believe you’re not well.”

  She shook her head. “I’m fine. Truly. I can manage.”

  He fetched her shoe and gloves and handed them to her.

  Innes was still ruffled by all that just happened, and the shoe slipped through her fingers. He bent down and offered it to her again. This time, he put an arm around Innes’s shoulders to steady her.

  She pulled on the gloves and slipped on the shoe before going to pick up her basket. The wolf simply watched her. The few early bluebells she’d cut were scattered on the ground.

  She could breathe again, now that he wasn’t looming over her. It was easier now to break free of the spell of attraction. She glanced over at the chestnut steed he rode. The animal pawed the ground.

  “I don’t believe we’ve ever been formally introduced. I am Innes Munro, sister to your brother’s wife.”

  “And what are you doing out here in this weather?”

  She was surprised by the reprimand. “Perhaps I could ask you the same question.”

  “Aren’t you aware of the dangers?”

  “I’m taking my evening walk.” She motioned in the direction she’d come. “I’m not so far from Girnigoe.”

  “Clearly, you’re not familiar with these lands. Dangers abound here. You should not leave the castle unescorted.”

  “I don’t see what business it is of yours.” The roughness of his tone irked her. “But as it happens, I’ve done the same thing every morning and night of my stay while you were gone. I’ve seen no sign of any danger.”

  “Fortune has been kind to you so far, despite your disregard. Don’t tempt her.”

  She liked him better when he was worried.

  The memory of him holding the pup came to her mind. The wolf now watched the two of them with great interest.

  “I survived a vicious wolf attack today,” she said. “I believe I can face whatever dangers these hills hold.”

  “What would happen if this were a real wolf attack?”

  She looked at Thunder. “He looks real enough to me.”

  “Bandits? Outlaws? Any traveling renegades who found you alone on these moors?” he snapped, not amused by her answer. “Don’t you see the danger you’d be in?”

  “I carry nothing of value. People like that would hardly bother with someone like me.”

  “Foolish woman,” he muttered under his breath. Striding to his horse, he swung up into the saddle.

  “Oh . . . thank you,” Innes called out. “And I really enjoyed the pleasant introduction.”

  The great horse tossed his head and stamped his hoof, as restless and agitated as his owner.

  “Return to Girnigoe before you trouble someone else.”

  She had no chance to reply. He tugged at the reins, and his steed wheeled and galloped away. The wolf bounded off after him.

  Innes watched the three disappear into the fog.

  If the man were this gruff because he saw her as a difficult guest, she could only imagine how upset he’d be if he realized she was privy to his past without his knowledge or permission.

  She’d make sure he never knew.

  The rain began to fall in earnest during her trek back, and she was soaking wet by the time she crossed the drawbridge.

  The stable yard and Outer Ward, quiet when she left, now bustled with activity. It was as if the castle had awakened. She attributed it to a key presence that was missing and had now returned.

  An upper chamber in the West Tower drew Innes’s gaze. A dark shadow watched her, waiting for her safe return.

  In spite of their brief skirmish on the moor, Innes was glad that the earl had come back to Girnigoe.

  Chapter 5

  Conall stood with his back to the fireplace, warming himself.

  What a luxury, he thought, having a fire and clean, dry clothes. After a year in the English dungeons, he’d never again take these things for granted.

  Two candles flickered on a table by the window. Two more burned on either side of a chessboard that he’d laid out on a low table.

  Conall knew word would reach his brother the moment he was back.

  The West Tower had been built to provide one large room on the top floor that Conall used as his bedchamber, and this floor directly above the stables where he could work. Duff, his servant, occupied a small alcove sectioned o
ff from the rest. It continued to be a bone of contention with Bryce that, in a castle as large as Girnigoe, Conall chose to live here.

  But Conall was adamant. He needed to be able to come and go freely. A year ago, he’d been in chains. He had no future. He wanted none, not at his clan’s expense. And where would he be a year from now? He had no idea. For the present, he would stay at Girnigoe to help Bryce and try to repay a small portion of what he owed his people.

  He glanced over at Thunder. The beast had shared Conall’s supper and now lay contentedly in his corner.

  It had been an uneventful ride from the lodge, until the end. He frowned. When he rode over that hill and saw Thunder standing over Innes Munro, the rush of mixed feelings nearly overwhelmed him. Fear for her, anger that she was out alone, concern that she might have been hurt. What other feelings? He didn’t want to admit them, never mind feel them.

  Damn the woman!

  Conall only returned to the castle when he thought she’d be gone. Why didn’t she leave after the wedding?

  This complicated everything.

  The problem was—and it was a problem—he loved holding her in his arms. Twice now, he’d done it. Knowing she was safe in his embrace warmed him, satisfied him. It was so strange, especially for him, since he barely knew her. There was something primal and right about being close to her, touching her, and for those brief moments his inner demons weren’t so close to the surface.

  He realized now that he’d thought of little else but Innes while he was away. And something had swelled inside of him when he saw her laughing while Thunder licked her face.

  “Damn it,” he swore aloud.

  The wolf raised his head, looked at his master, and laid it back down.

  Before any knock came, Thunder was on his feet. The animal flew at Bryce as he came in, but he was ready. Grabbing the wolf by the scruff of the neck, Bryce held him a safe distance away from his face as the excited animal tried to nip and play.