Hero of a Highland Wolf

by Terry Spear

  “You’re not saying my father had anything to do with it,” she said, wanting to clear up any misconception she might have.

  “Your father felt he should manage the castle. After John died, my father took over the role as my family has done for centuries. But Theodore was furious. He swore he’d get back at his mother—your grandmother—by marrying a young American she-wolf and left for the States. He shunned your grandmother, refused to answer her letters, and didn’t care what she did with the castle.”

  She noted Grant had avoided saying he believed her father had anything to do with Eleanor’s death, but he hadn’t denied it, either. Had her father been capable of murder? She couldn’t believe she’d been so clueless about all of this.

  “But my grandmother willed it to him anyway,” Colleen said softly.

  “Aye. Theodore was still her son. She had another, but he, too, left. And that one was the younger of the two.”

  “My cousins’ dad. He died young also.”

  “Aye. Theodore did return home on occasion, maybe to ensure she didn’t give the estates to his younger brother, or maybe so that she didn’t will them to my father. Your father was visiting Farraige Castle when my brothers and I were twenty and away at college. One dark and stormy night, Robert MacQuarrie fell to his death from the same cliffs.”

  Colleen couldn’t help the tears that filled her eyes. She looked away. Grant didn’t say it—just like he didn’t come out and tell her that her father was responsible for Grant’s mother’s death—but the implication was clear.

  “Did my father still want to…manage Farraige Castle?” she asked, not wanting to hear the answer.

  “Aye. Theodore and Neda had a big row. Instead of her installing him in the position, she called me home right away.”

  “And you were only twenty.” She took in a deep breath. She could imagine her father wanting to kill Grant for the slight.

  “Theodore returned to America, and years later, Neda left the castle to your father. Like you, he came here for a year and a day to observe and then he returned to Maryland to be with his mate, leaving the castle in my care. In the will, knowing the bitterness between your father and my people, your grandmother ensured the MacQuarries would continue to live here. Theodore could have replaced me as manager, but he would still have been stuck with us living here and so he left it in our hands, though he made every change possible while he was here. I think he realized at that point, he really couldn’t have managed the properties himself or found a replacement for me who would have done as well. Then you inherited the castle when your parents died.”

  “I’m so sorry about your grandfather’s and your parents’ deaths. But I really don’t see what Archibald has to do with his grandfather killing your grandfather.”

  If her father had been at the heart of it, she hated him for it. How could Grant or his pack feel anything but animosity toward her? She wasn’t like him, but she hadn’t lived here like Neda had. She didn’t know them. And she hadn’t wanted to come in to displace Grant. Yet she’d pushed him out of his bedchamber, which could make it appear she was doing just that.

  “From what I understand, Uilleam wanted to manage the estates,” Grant continued. “Not that many wolf packs have the honor of such a task. Often, the owner of a keep would have his own pack to run it. But your grandfather, Gideon Playfair, was a lone wolf and earned the right to build the castle after fighting in battles for the king. He also had his own barony. What he didn’t have was his own pack. Gideon mated Neda, and they had the castle built and needed a wolf pack to manage the estates.

  “Uilleam Borthwick, Archibald’s grandfather, had his own family, but not a pack to run the place. John MacQuarrie, my grandfather, had a title and his own pack, but no land to call his own. Your grandfather gave the job to John, and Uilleam couldn’t accept it. When my pack learned he had killed John, they hunted him down like the dog he was.”

  She couldn’t believe all that she was hearing. She was glad that Grant’s family had resolution in the case with his grandfather, sad as it was that he had to lose him in such a way. But what about his parents? She felt sick thinking her own father could have been involved.

  “I take it you never learned who killed your parents.”

  “My mother had no reason to be on the cliffs in the dark of night. Neither had my father. Your grandmother adored me and my brothers, and Theodore hated us for it. Your grandmother was like a mother to us, doting on us. Theodore felt she loved us more than she had him when he was that age. According to my father, it wasn’t so. Theodore had been a moody and perverse child and teen. Without her mate to help control Theodore, Neda dealt with him the best she could. He showed her no love or respect like my brothers and I did. I apologize for speaking the truth to you, lass, when he was your father, but I feel the words need to be said.”

  “I’d rather know the truth of the matter,” she said, not wanting to divulge that she had never gotten along with her father. She knew all about the moodiness. She had experienced it firsthand.

  Taking the news in, Colleen poked at her egg. She’d never known the details of why her father hadn’t gotten along with her grandmother. Her father had only said he and his mother had never seen eye to eye and when he mated Colleen’s mother, they had left and he had never gone back. Until he inherited the castle and was forced to. Just like Colleen was. Only she had thought she would enjoy the experience if she could get past Grant’s defenses.

  Now to hear her father had returned to the castle on occasions unbeknownst to her? How many more lies had he fed her?

  She had never even met her grandmother. Her father had said she was a hateful woman who despised having to raise a couple of kids. He had never said anything about Grant or his brothers. She would ask Grant more about her grandmother later, feeling bad she hadn’t gotten to know her before she died.

  How had her father acted toward Grant and his brothers when he came to live here for a year and a day? She had been away at college and couldn’t take time off to visit. Not that she would have. She had avoided her father as soon as she was old enough to do so.

  Her father’s relationship with Grant put a whole different spin on the situation. Her gaze steady on his, she said, “I take it when my father came to stay here, the experience was rather…tense.”

  “Aye.” Grant didn’t expound.

  She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear all that had gone on. She suspected her father had been awful to live with. Just as he had been while she had to live with him. Mainly because of the drinking. Since he already held bad feelings toward Grant and his brothers, she could only imagine how well that had gone over.

  He wasn’t one of those happy drunks, either. No. When he’d had too much, he’d been surly and mean.

  Was that why Grant had been wary of her staying with them? She had to dispel any notion that she was anything like her father. She was more like her mother—even-tempered, cautious, and to her way of thinking, great about considering both sides of an equation before she made any decisions. She did appreciate that though she owned the place, she didn’t live here. She certainly had no intention of making a bunch of changes at the castle unless they would improve its financial state or conditions for the people who lived here.

  Still, she didn’t understand why Grant had taken such an aversion to Archibald.

  “I understand why you would have a lot of animosity against Archibald’s grandfather since he murdered yours, but why Archibald? He’s just the grandson.”

  “Like grandfather, like father, like son,” Grant said simply.

  “How so?” she asked. What Grant revealed said nothing.

  “You know why he shows interest in you?” Grant asked.

  She thought about what Grant had remarked on. It all had to do with running the estates. Like grandfather, like father, like son. So they had all wanted the job and would do anything to
get the position?

  She stiffened at the insinuation that Archibald wouldn’t be intrigued with her just because she was…intriguing. She didn’t believe he was up to no good. Grant was projecting that Archibald would be just like Uilleam Borthwick because they were related. When it could be the furthest thing from the truth.

  Guys liked her. Normally. They became interested in her if she showed any interest back. She had to admit Archibald’s attention had flattered her. She didn’t believe in love at first sight, but something might develop between them. Given time.

  Though she had to admit when she saw Grant fighting Ian in the inner bailey, working that hot body of his, she did believe in lust at first sight.

  She sighed. She could never be accused of being gullible. “Of course, I know why Archibald is interested in me. He wants me to have his babies.”

  Enrick choked on whatever he was drinking with his breakfast.

  Lachlan glowered at her. Grant stared at her as if she’d turned into the Loch Ness monster on a bad day.

  “Well, in truth, I didn’t tell him that I owned the castle. Just that I was visiting for a year.”

  “You don’t think he knew who you were? That he was there only to meet you and attempt to win you over?”

  No, she hadn’t suspected any of that. “So you think he believes he might get his hands on the castle, even if he has to mate with me to do it.” She smiled, amused at the notion. But that changed the rules a bit where Archibald was concerned. She would be more careful with regard to dating him, having fun but ensuring he understood she was leaving in a year. And not mating a Highland wolf who would lay claim to her properties and stay here while she returned to Maryland.

  “You can’t be serious,” Grant said, his face red with anger.

  “What? That I’d go along with such a farce? Or that he intends this charade?” She noted the hall was completely silent.

  “Then you realize what he’s up to,” Grant growled.

  She smiled. “I think it’s too early to say about anything.”

  “Why did you have him come here?”

  “I didn’t have him come here. He took it upon himself to see me here. But I would like to know why you think he’s such a problem.” She still didn’t see the correlation between Uilleam killing her grandfather and the grandson.

  “Archibald tried to tell your father what a poor job my clan and I were doing. He hoped to get rid of me when your dad stayed here before.”

  “Ah.” Though she was surprised to learn that Archibald had latched on to her father. Maybe there was some truth to him having a motive for why he was now so friendly with her.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “You believe I will be just like my father.” She wouldn’t tell Grant otherwise. She wouldn’t expect him or anyone else to take her word for it. She’d have to prove it by showing just who she was.

  He grunted.

  “Well, suffice it to say, you have nothing to worry about—for the moment. I am really easy to get along with and don’t intend to make any changes for the present without seeking your consideration. So, do you have someone in mind who can show me the properties today?” she asked.

  “I will,” Grant quickly said.

  Truly surprised that he would offer, she wondered why Grant hadn’t thought of trying to seduce her. If they mated, he and his family would never have to give up their home. If he hadn’t tried so far, she didn’t think he was interested. And yet she swore from the way he was looking at her now, he wasn’t acting just as her manager, but like a Highland wolf desiring a wild and sexy romp with a she-wolf.

  In her dreams.

  Chapter 8

  Grant wasn’t sure what to think of the lass. He had thought she would be just like her father. That she would have the same superior attitude and the same disagreeable personality, and hold the same grudges. But she didn’t seem to be anything like him.

  Grant had a hard time believing she could be so different.

  He’d relaxed some after they’d had their talk at breakfast, and he was sorry to hear she hadn’t known how much her grandmother wished to meet her. He took her on the grand tour, showing her the castle grounds and the farmland connected to the property. But the highlight of the tour seemed to be the Highland cows grazing in their grassy pasture. She was fascinated with the “cute” woolly cows and had to get out of the car for a closer look, which couldn’t help but amuse him. She was just as enthralled with the vista of the North Sea. Unlike her father, who couldn’t have cared less about anything but the finances and his next drink.

  “I think I was a sea sprite in my other life,” she said wistfully, breathing in the sea air. “I love being near the sea.”

  He stared at her, surprised to hear her speak about something so personal. “At home where you live, are you land bound?”

  “I am. I love visiting Annapolis, and the Inner Harbor in Baltimore, but otherwise, I live way inland. This is beautiful.”

  “It can be bitterly cold and stormy.” He didn’t mean to ruin her impression of the area, but if she had romantic notions that it was always this way, he wanted to dispel them.

  “Yes,” she said, as if the notion pleased her.

  The weather had been nice since she’d arrived, except for this morning when it was so cold and foggy and she’d taken the walk with Borthwick in the gardens. Grant wondered then if really bad weather would faze her—her father had hated the wet weather and cold. Though Grant didn’t remember anything that Theodore had actually liked.

  Grant drove her to the last stop they’d make, where a white, frothing burn poured over moss stones in a quiet glen. Green, grassy hills surrounded them, and sheep wandered near the top of one of the hills.

  “Can we climb them?” she asked, prompting him to pull over into a car park.

  He was surprised to see her smiling face, her eyes sparkling with fascination. He hadn’t expected to see her this enthralled with the land. Of course she’d appreciate what the land could mean financially to her, but to treasure it like he and his kin did? Definitely unexpected.

  She was out of the car in a flash and climbing the nearest hill before he could hurry to catch up. The grass was like velvet and the climb easy as they made it to the top. He pointed to a waterfall cascading down one of the hills way off in the distance.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said. “I wish I had my camera.”

  “I can bring you here again,” he said, not sure why he said so. She could come here on her own any time she wanted and didn’t need him to escort her. Dark strands of her hair whipped across his shoulders, and he was reminded of his first encounter with her when he wore his kilt and how her hair and skirt had whipped at his bare skin, tantalizing, teasing, tickling him.

  Her lips parted in awe as she surveyed the surrounding lands. She turned to see the hills behind them that stood even taller. “Can we climb those?” She spoke with such enthusiasm that he smiled.

  “Aye, if you wish it.”

  “I do.” She hurried down the incline like a sure-footed sheep, then raced across the narrow footbridge built over the burn. When she reached the other side, she began the climb.

  Grant nearly laughed at her exuberance. He hadn’t expected to enjoy the outing, just assumed it would be a grueling duty, nothing more. He could envision her racing up and down the green hills in her wolf coat, with him in hot pursuit. No one lived out here for miles around, yet even then, visitors to the area might see them, and running at night would be a better choice.

  He had no idea why he was even thinking along those lines. Why would she want to run with him through the hills at night as a wolf?

  He always joked and played with his clansmen when they were through with their work for the day. Well, even while they worked. But being with Colleen here like this felt different. For a moment, he didn’t feel like he s
erved as the manager of her estates while she was the owner and taskmaster. He felt like a man with a woman on a Sunday jaunt in the glen. Except she wasn’t just any woman. She was a she-wolf, her cute little arse jiggling ahead of him as he climbed the hill to join her.

  When he reached the top, she was trying to catch her breath and swayed a little. He grabbed her arm, and he didn’t know what came over him. But suddenly he was looking down into her smiling face, as if she was smiling at him, and he wanted in the worst way to kiss her.

  She didn’t pull away from him, either.

  He shouldn’t kiss her, but damn, he wanted to.

  Still breathing hard, her heart beating fast, she placed her hand on his chest. He expected her to push him away, but she didn’t. She just stood there looking up at him, waiting for him to do something. He breathed in her scent, all woman and she-wolf and…interested.

  They stood high on top of the hill overlooking the glen, the water rushing by, the sheep grazing on the green grass across the burn, and white clouds passing overhead against the blue sky.

  He still had hold of her arm, but then he released her, cupped her face with both hands, and kissed her.

  When his lips met hers, he knew he shouldn’t do this. He intended to make it sweet and unassuming, to quench some damnable need that he had to satisfy. He didn’t presume it would go anywhere, and he almost imagined it would be lame and unappealing—after having built up the expectation that kissing that sweet mouth of hers would make his world spin and topple over. He hadn’t thought she’d crave the intimacy as much as he did. Yet when she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, she exhibited an eagerness that turned his world on end.

  She was more than willing.

  He held back, not wanting to frighten the lass. From her response, she didn’t appear to be the kind of she-wolf who frightened easily. Her soft lips pressed against his, her body caressing his own, when he was only thinking in terms of lips and kissing and not of rubbing their bodies together as if in preparation for something even more intimate! Despite the cool breeze sweeping around them, he was burning up. He should end this now, not wanting her to think he had designs on her to gain her properties. Yet, just from the way she wasn’t pulling away, he couldn’t either.