by Terry Spear
Another showing of the film would occur later for those who couldn’t attend this special first showing. Others wanted to see it at a regular cinema.
“Oh-oh, they left the fighting scene in there where you and Cearnach were battling it out with Robert and Patrick,” Heather said, cuddling with Enrick.
“I sure didn’t think the director would keep any of that.”
“You even look like Guy despite the slashes of mud on your cheeks,” Lachlan said.
“It looks like the director thought you appeared so ferocious that it was perfect for a close-up,” Colleen said.
“Hell, I should have been paid a higher amount for being his double for that scene then.”
Everyone laughed.
“They didn’t show me in the film,” Grant said, though no one had thought the director would keep any of those shots, not when Grant was barreling through the fighters with the other men, searching for any McKinleys who had infiltrated their ranks.
“You looked like you were too much in charge, the real leader of the men,” Colleen said.
Several said, “Aye.”
When they came to the part where Enrick was walking down all those stairs from the castle to the beach, they would cut some of it, even though he’d walked down them with a good steady pace. It was just too much filler otherwise.
Oran grunted. “Guy couldn’t have managed all those steps.”
“Nay, he’s a wolf like us. He could have. He just didn’t want to,” Enrick said, sticking up for him.
“He didn’t want to swim in the cold water either,” Heather said, loving this scene the best.
“I just hoped Enrick wouldn’t start to drown, because Callum and Jamie and I would have had to dive into that icy water and save his naked arse,” Oran said.
If Oran had been closer to where Heather was sitting, she would have socked her brother.
Everyone laughed though.
When Enrick was wading out into the sea in the film, Colleen involuntarily shivered. “This scene gave me chills just thinking about swimming in the water.”
Colleen had been washed out into the sea when she was trying to rescue a young boy, so she had firsthand knowledge of how cold that water could be.
“Me too,” Heather said.
“It’s not so bad after the initial shock.” Enrick scarfed down some more popcorn. “I love this buttered popcorn, Colleen.”
“Yeah, it’s real butter, not like what they serve in the theater, uh, cinema back home,” Colleen said.
Everyone was quiet when Enrick came out of the sea dripping wet. Then he lifted the shirt off the sand and shook it out and held it in front of his crotch, one sexy leg exposed. Heather squeezed his hand. He was so hot.
He leaned down and kissed her.
“Well done,” Lachlan said. “I’m glad it was you and not me. Grant told me if Enrick didn’t want to do it, I was next on the Guy look-alike roster to pull the duty. And Grant told me I was doing it.”
Everyone laughed.
“You didn’t want to go for a swim, Grant?” Enrick asked.
“Hell, I didn’t want to be on camera going for a swim.” Grant finished his beer.
When they had the scene with the wolves on the hunt, everyone tensed a little. Now when they watched the film, they weren’t just seeing the magic of the film production, but also being reminded of all the trouble they’d had with the McKinleys and Kilpatricks.
The filmmakers didn’t show any scenes where the wolves were fighting their wolves because it wasn’t part of the script, and Heather was sure they didn’t want to have the animal rights activists up in arms.
“Good, no wolves fighting in the film,” Grant said.
Everyone agreed.
Then they reached the scene where William bit the wrong extra who didn’t have all the additional arm padding. William quickly let go and turned his wrath on another man, the one he was supposed to attack in the first place, while the other man was quickly engaged in a fight.
“I’m glad they didn’t reshoot that scene and that I didn’t injure the other man,” William said.
“With all that was going on in that scene, it was an easy mistake to make,” Enrick said, everyone agreeing. “These sure aren’t all in the order we saw them shot.”
“Yeah, I kept thinking they cut out a whole bunch of scenes we were in, but then a few minutes later, there’s the scene we were in,” Oran said.
The wolves at the meal in the great hall was a fun scene where Colleen’s cousins were fighting over a bone.
“Was William supposed to win the bone?” Enrick asked.
William smiled. “We agreed whoever truly tugged hard enough and got the bone in the end kept it. Though after I left the great hall with my reward, I dumped it.”
“I let him have it,” his brother Edward said. “It was already slimy enough.”
Everyone laughed.
When they came to the scene where Enrick rescued Heather from the bone tossed on the floor, Enrick wrapped his arm around her shoulders protectively.
“Nice save,” Colleen said.
“If she’d needed saving,” Callum said, laughing.
Enrick smiled and kissed Heather’s cheek.
“I love how you spoke to William when he was wounded. I was sure they were going to reshoot the scene since you weren’t supposed to talk,” Heather said.
“He has a mind of his own,” Grant said. “I totally got where the director was coming from when Enrick did his own thing.”
Lachlan laughed.
“You too,” Grant said.
In the scene where Catherine McKinley contaminated the food with bacteria, everyone booed her. They clapped and cheered when Heather pulled her sgian dubh on her and Lana ran out of the kitchen to get help. They cheered when Enrick and his “guards” came to take the villain away. And cheered again when they saw the wizard questioning Colleen in the dungeon. She looked so stubborn and proud sitting on a wooden stool while the wizard tried to get her to confess and tell him who had put her up to it. Then she ate from the fish stew and, within minutes, fell from the stool, dead.
Everyone gave her a standing ovation.
Colleen stood and gave a curtsy.
Then they settled down to watch more of the film.
Everyone laughed out loud when Gutzie the goose ran after the stars of the film.
“I didn’t think they would keep that part of the scene. That goose has given more of us trouble than I can remember,” Lachlan said. “I’ve mentioned it before, and I’ll say it again: he would make for a nice dinner.”
“You would miss him the next time you took a date to the pond,” Colleen teased him.
“That’s exactly what Guy’s and Missy’s scene reminded me of. I’ve told Gutzie a number of times where he’s going to end up if he doesn’t behave,” Lachlan said.
Several scenes later, they had the one where Guy was trying to cross the stones to reach Missy on the other side of the creek.
“They cleaned the stones too much,” Jamie said. “Those were ancient mossy stones. They made it look like they’re practically new. Enrick should have done the scene.”
“If I hadn’t talked to him after he had fallen in the creek for the third time, we might never have learned he was one of us. Not just a wolf, but one of the families who had been part of our clan in the old days,” Enrick said.
“You still should have done the scene,” Jamie said. “It was painful watching Guy slip into the creek two more times. Of course, we were all laughing our heads off, him included, but still, it took forever.”
“It could have been me,” Enrick said. “Those stones were unstable too. Though they tried to prop them up so they wouldn’t be. It didn’t work.”
“It was just a good thing that Missy didn’t have to cross the ston
es herself,” Heather said. “She’s a city girl. She said she was glad she didn’t have to, or she would have been in the creek more times than Guy was.”
The final battle scene was the hardest for Heather to watch, though she noticed several others were also tensing during the scene. Between their wolves biting the two human actors, Guy falling and injuring his back, and Enrick getting cut, it was something she cringed to see.
“I had nightmares the eve before they filmed this scene,” Grant admitted.
“You and me both,” Colleen said.
William said, “We practiced and practiced with our own people, trying to get the feel of biting and tugging, but not crushing bones. It was probably the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to do.”
“I agree,” Edward said.
“That makes you perfectly skilled wolf actors,” Enrick said.
Everyone laughed.
The battle scene was over and the villains dead, the celebratory feast over, and the last love scene done. Enrick squeezed Heather’s shoulders in a sweet embrace as Guy married Missy on the screen, a woman from the future with ancestors from the past who had been part of his world, in the ancient chapel several hundred feet from the main castle. And they lived happily ever after at Farraige Castle.
The movie ended and it was a feel-good one, Heather thought.
Grant clapped his hands first and everyone followed suit. “Well done, everyone. I’m sure I speak for all of you when I say you did an outstanding job. Colleen and I haven’t had time to mention it, but we’ve already had requests to use our wolves in a couple of other period pieces and one modern-day film. We’ll talk about it later. And Guy asked me to convince you, Enrick, to be his double for a new movie. He said you told him no, but he’s got a role for Heather to play too.”
Enrick shook his head.
“We should do it,” Heather said. “It’s in Scotland, all about a shipwrecked Highlander who was hired to kill the heroine and her young brother because they know the king murdered his own brother for the crown.”
“I can just see me being the one tossed about at sea, half-drowned in the surf, clinging to the rocks, and then finally reaching the shore.”
Heather smiled. “Aye, because you are the invincible braw Highlander, and nothing will stop you from completing your mission.”
“Except falling in love with the heroine.”
“Nay, that part falls to Guy to do. You get all the good scenes.”
Enrick laughed. “You just want me to play in another movie so you can advertise it and make lots more sales in your shop.”
“Our shop, and aye, though I will advertise it anyway because Guy is our kin.”
“I never realized it before seeing the film play out like this, but this is like Guy returning to his ancestors’ home and becoming part of it again,” Enrick said.
“Aye,” Grant said. “He will always be welcome at our castle, among our people and part of our wolf pack, no matter where his travels take him.”
“A friend of mine sent me this interview he’d done about his look-alike double,” Julia said. “He said Enrick and his brothers are his long-lost kin and that the film had an even deeper meaning for him when he met all of you.”
Heather was glad Guy had connected with his family, and she was glad they’d made friends with Missy, who’d vowed to stop in anytime she was in Scotland.
Now, it was time for the final scene as Heather took hold of Enrick’s hand and they said their good-nights and hurried off to bed. Tomorrow, they would be moving into their new home between Farraige Castle and her shop. “I keep thinking of you coming out of the water, dripping wet and gloriously naked after you swam in the cold sea.”
Enrick swept her up in his arms and carried her to his chamber. “I’m ready to make your fantasies come true.”
“And I yours.”
Don’t miss book one in the Highland Wolf series from Terry Spear
Available now from Sourcebooks Casablanca
Chapter 1
The ghostly fog made Julia feel as though she had slipped into the primordial past. She couldn’t believe she’d made it to the Highlands of Scotland where a castle beckoned, filled with secrets, intrigue, and hunky Scots—with any luck. Hopefully, none of them would learn why she was really here and put a stop to it.
Nothing would dampen her enthusiasm as she and her friend Maria Baquero headed for Baird Cottage, within hiking distance of Argent Castle—and the end of her writer’s block.
At least, that was the plan.
After flight delays and missed luggage, they’d had trouble getting their rental car at Inverness Airport—following a mix-up when a Scotsman declared their car was his. Another man had creeped Julia out when she realized he was watching them, and she’d felt apprehensive at the way his thin lips hadn’t hinted at a bit of friendliness. But then she dismissed him as she and Maria finally set off in late afternoon with Maria driving the rented Fiat into the deepening fog.
The laird of Argent Castle, Ian MacNeill, had been a royal pain to deal with concerning filming the movie at his castle. Luckily, as assistant director, only Maria had to do business with him. Pretending to be Maria’s assistant, Julia was to watch from the sidelines and take notes. But not for the film production. For her breakout novel. Julia Wildthorn was one of the United States’ most successful werewolf romance novelists and the only one, she was sure, who had ever suffered a writer’s block like this one.
Dense fog obscured the curving road as it ran through rocky land on either side. Pine trees in the distance faded into the thickening soup, which offered glimpses of quaint dry-stone dykes that must have stood for centuries, snaking across the land and dividing someone’s property from another’s.
Despite Julia’s enhanced wolf vision, she couldn’t see any better than a human in the soup.
Eyes widening, she caught sight of something running in the woods. Something gray. Something that looked a lot like a wolf and then melted into the fog like a phantom.
Heartbeat ratchetting up several notches, she tried to catch another glimpse, her hand tightening on the door’s armrest as she peered out the window, her nose almost touching the glass. “Did you see anything?” she asked Maria, her voice tight.
Maria gave her a disgruntled snort. “In this fog? I can barely see the road. What did you think you saw?”
“A…wolf.” Julia strained to get another glimpse of what she’d seen. “But it couldn’t have been. Wolves here were killed off centuries ago.”
Off to Julia’s left, the mist parted, revealing older aspen, the bark covered with dark lichen stretching upward, while tall, straight Scots pines and stands of willowy birch clustered close together in the distance. But no more signs of a wolf. Julia blinked her eyes. Maybe because she was so tired from the trip, her eyes were playing tricks on her.
Julia straightened and faced Maria. “Maybe it was a lupus garou, if I wasn’t imagining it.” She smiled at the thought. “A hunky Highland werewolf in a kilt.”
She’d never considered she might run across a lupus garou in Scotland. Not as elusive as their kind were, hiding their secret from the rest of the world. Unless she bumped into one and could smell his or her scent, she wouldn’t know a lupus garou from a strictly human type.
“Hmm, a Highland werewolf,” Maria said thoughtfully, sliding her hands over the steering wheel, “although getting hold of a Spanish conquistador would be just as intriguing.”
An Iberian werewolf whose ancestors had been turned by a wolfish conquistador, Maria was a beauty with dark brown hair and thick, long eyelashes.
Being a redhead with fair skin, Julia turned heads on her own, but the two of them together often stole the show.
Maria was still stewing about the laird who was in charge of Argent Castle. “Laird Ian MacNeill is being a real hard ass about the filming particulars—res
tricting our use of the castle and grounds, the times, the locations, and who knows what else when we arrive.”
“Maybe he won’t be so bad once the filming begins.” Although Julia didn’t believe that—and the sour look on Maria’s face said she didn’t, either. Julia pulled the laird’s photo from her purse. Maria’s boss had paid a private investigator good money to obtain the picture. “Exactly how did the guy get a picture of the laird like this if it’s so difficult to catch a glimpse of him?”
“The P.I. followed him to a Celtic festival. The laird was surrounded by his men and a couple of women, so the detective snapped one shot right before the laird took part in a sword-fighting demonstration.”
“Who won?”
“The laird and his men. According to the P.I., the MacNeills had a real workout against the Sutherlands. Bad blood has existed between them for centuries. The fighting looked so real, he thought organizers of the show might step in and stop the demonstration.”
In one word, Julia summed up Laird Ian MacNeill’s appearance: dangerous.
It wasn’t his handsome features—his short, very dark coffee-colored hair, the rich color of his eyes, the rigid planes of his face, and his aristocratic nose—that made him appear that way. Not his broad shoulders or firm stance or unsmiling mouth, either. It was his unerring gaze that seemed so piercingly astute, like he could see into a person’s very soul.
That worried her.
In the photo, the man was prime hunk, wearing a predominantly green and blue kilt, an ermine sporran belted in front, and a sword sheathed behind him. From the looks of the hilt partially peeking over his shoulder, the sword served as a warning that he was armed and deadly, much more so than just his looks. He wore a shirt belted, hanging open to the waist, and revealing sexy abs a woman would love to caress. At least this woman would. Just as rugged, his castle sat in the background, formidable, commanding, and resilient.
She could just imagine him wielding that lethal sword against his enemy.
Maria shook her head. “He’s arrogant, hard-nosed, too far above us, and on top of that, we’re Americans and working—or at least he’ll think you’re working—with the film crew he so despises. So just remember that in case you’re getting romantic notions from that picture of him. He’s too wickedly sexy for his own good… or maybe I should say, for your own good.”