Hero of a Highland Wolf

by Terry Spear

  “No harm was done, except it cost me a little more sleep.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, but he looked somewhat relieved. “How did you know?”

  As if she couldn’t have determined what had happened with just a little sleuthing. “You said you tucked the dogs in for the night. You mentioned they weren’t ‘locked’ in, as if saying anyone else could have let one out. But you were responsible for them, and I suspected you had brought Hercules into the keep that night.

  “You also willingly mentioned he had to have used the wolf door, but he hadn’t. I checked. He used the side entrance after someone opened the door for him. Of course, a lot of smells circulated around the door at the time, but yours and Hercules were also present. Not one of the other dogs, though. And from what I’ve seen, the dogs aren’t ever inside the keep except for the special occasion when they were allowed to sit at the meal with us. True?”

  “Aye, my lady. I’m sorry.”

  “Since you were also responsible for bringing them in to dine with us, I assumed you had also brought him to my chamber.” Not to mention it seemed like something a boy would do. “You are forgiven. Besides, it was all Grant’s fault.”

  “Why is it Grant’s fault?” Grant asked, entering the study, a smile curving his mouth as his darkened eyes focused on Colleen.

  She felt a little thrill at the sound of his deep, dark, and very sexy voice. His tone wasn’t angry, but more—he wished to pay her back for saying what she did to the lad.

  Frederick jumped to his feet, tangling his shoes in the rug, and caught himself by grabbing the chair’s high back before he fell.

  Colleen wondered how long Grant had been eavesdropping. She’d been listening so intently to Frederick that she hadn’t even heard Grant open the door and slip into the room. Quietly. Like a wolf on a hunt.

  “Because you gave him the idea in the first place,” Colleen said sternly. When Grant opened his mouth to speak, she raised her hand to silence him. He cast her a small smile. “Not by giving him an order to do so, but by your actions earlier. Therefore, the responsibility is yours.”

  “So you wish to punish me for it, then?” Grant asked, looking like he enjoyed the idea.

  “Yes.” In a most agreeable manner. She couldn’t help it. Grant brought the wild wolf out in her. To Frederick, she said, “You are free to go. Thank you for telling me the truth.”

  “Thank you, my lady.” Frederick beamed, but then he quickly glanced at Grant to see his take on it.

  Looking pack leader serious, Grant shook his head. “In the future, remember what I said, lad.”

  “Aye, no more doing things on my own without your permission,” Frederick said. He quickly dipped his head to both and hurried out of the study.

  When the boy left, Grant approached Colleen. “You completely undermined me in front of my pack member.” He pulled her from the chair.

  “You completely deserved it.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “You weren’t supposed to talk to him about it.”

  “I couldn’t have him feeling bad about whatever it was, and he needed to apologize to you. Are you done with your budgeting?”

  “Only for the farms and the household budget. What did you have in mind?”

  “Hot sex.” He released her and locked the study door.

  “What…not in here.”

  He waved his arm at the rich, chocolate-leather, Victorian-style chaise lounge sitting in a far corner, a plaid blanket tossed haphazardly over it. It reminded her of a place a Grecian lady would lounge while a toga-wearing muscled hunk—similar to a kilt-wearing hunk—fed her grapes before she seduced him. She smiled.

  Surrounding it, the dark oak paneling was softly lit by wall sconces, giving it a warm glow. The books lining the shelves and reaching to the high ceiling and the flickering of the flames in the fireplace added to the coziness. Everything was ornate, the crown molding around the ceiling decorated in Celtic knots. Beautiful.

  It could work.

  She took Grant’s hand and led him to the chaise lounge and began kissing him. He wore jeans and a sweater, but not for long. The best part was that he wore the blue plaid boxers she’d displayed on the pirate’s flagpole at Argent Castle, and that made her smile. Right before she reached down and cupped him.

  “I knew there was a good reason to wear this for you,” he said, his voice husky and his expression helplessly in lust.

  “Yes,” she said in a hot and eager way.

  Grant hadn’t planned this. He’d never imagined having his way with his mate in any place other than their bedchamber. As hard as he was, he’d never manage all the stairs to their chamber without being in some discomfort.

  He soon had divested her of her soft sweater and jeans, smiling to see her wearing the bra he had so victoriously attached to the pirate’s flagpole, and kissed her more insistently. He bared her breasts, then leaned down to suckle one, not expecting her to melt onto the chaise lounge.

  She smiled up at him, wearing only her pale blue lace thong and bra now. “All we need is a cluster of grapes that you could feed me—”

  “We have all the fruit we need right here.” And then he slipped off his boxers and joined her, dragging her panties free and tossing her bra to the floor.

  His hand curled in her silky hair. He kissed her mouth before he moved lower to suckle her breast again. This time, she couldn’t escape him.

  Both their hearts drummed hard as their lusty scents mixed—she-wolf with male wolf, sweetness and spiciness. His erection pulsed against her thigh as he licked and pulled at her nipples with his lips, loving how they extended with his touch, loving her heated flesh.

  He knew before he reached between her legs that he’d find her ready and wet, eager to accept his rigid cock.

  Everywhere her hands touched him made his blood run hotter. He throbbed for her, needed release, needed her.

  He loved how she took him to task about the lad, yet at the same time teased him about it. They were perfect for each other, perfect as mates and leaders of his pack.

  Oh, yeah, perfect, he thought as his fingers sought to give her pleasure while his mouth met hers. Her eyes were closed, her expression one of concentration as he played with her clitoris, working it, bringing her higher. He pushed one of her knees up and then the other, spreading her. She smiled at him, her eyes half-lidded, her body open to him. And then he stroked her again until she cried out, involuntarily closing up on him.

  He pushed her legs apart again and entered her hard, heard her gasp, and meant to pull out, but she stopped him with a harsh, “No.” With renewed vigor, he thrust into her with hearty and lusty need. She anchored her heels against his arse and thrust her hips, connecting with him forcefully.

  “Lass,” he groaned as she gave him a cocky smile, knowing just how fast she could turn him into a powerful firestorm of craving, and just how quickly she could bring him to completion.

  He continued to thrust, to prolong the glorious feeling of being tucked inside her hot, wet, velvety sheath.

  Finished, but only for the briefest of times, he sank against her, their hearts still pounding hard and furiously, their breathing rushed, the only other sound the crackling of the logs in the fireplace.

  He toyed with a curl of her hair caressing her shoulder and kissed her cheek. “Now you were saying about this cluster of grapes?”

  “Yes,” she said, smiling, her hand stroking down his hip. “I envisioned you feeding me while I lay on the chaise lounge in a toga, one breast exposed, or maybe both. Then I’d seduce you.”

  His cock stirred inside her.

  She chuckled and kissed his ready mouth. “You’re insatiable.”

  “I can’t help it if the notions you have and your sweet body make me behave so wickedly. I will have to ensure Maynard adds grapes to the grocery list.”

  “I noticed he
added doggie treats so I wouldn’t make mincemeat of another choice steak.”

  Grant smiled. “Tell me more about your Grecian plan of seduction.”

  She ran her hand down his arm. “You’d wear a kilt. I thought of a toga, but I’d rather seduce a kilt-wearing Highlander, chest fully bared.”

  He leaned down and licked her breast, his cock pulsing again inside her.

  She laughed.

  He started to kiss her lips again. “Keep talking about this seduction. Show me.”

  Colleen couldn’t believe talking about her sexual fantasy would turn Grant into a raging inferno of love all over again. Then again, he’d really gotten into her being a pirate wench.

  When they finally retired to bed that night, she vowed she’d have to come up with more sexual fantasies for her Highland warrior, who was one hunk of a wolf in the flesh.

  Chapter 23

  Before Grant and Colleen ventured forth the next day, they cuddled together in their bed. If anyone had told her she’d be doing this while she came for her yearlong stay, she would have thought him crazy—especially when she had believed Grant and his kin were human. She sighed, then smiled up at him. “So…what are you going to do for your stag party?”

  “I’d skip it to be with you.”

  She sighed. “I’ve already promised the ladies, and they’re all game to have the bachelorette party.”

  Grant had every intention of learning just what the ladies had scheduled.

  After eating lunch, he met with his brothers in the study, while the ladies conversed in the great hall, discussing their secret schemes.

  “In the history of lupus garous, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of our kind having a stag party after the mating,” Enrick said.

  “I agree. Which is why we need to learn just where the lassies intend to go,” Grant said, wanting to have fun with the women, but feeling a little out of sorts when he learned they intended to leave the property and possibly run into unsavory sorts. Not only that, but he worried the other women might encourage Colleen to kiss a male stranger, or hug him, as a silly last farewell to single life. But their kind didn’t do such things—not once they were mated, which for lupus garous was more binding than any wedding ceremony.

  “Wait,” Lachlan said. “I thought we were talking about a stag party.”

  “Our job will be to ensure that we can participate in the lasses’ party like I did with Ian’s kin last time. We just need to learn where the women are going and—”

  Darby poked his head in through the study doorway. “They are headed for Kelton’s Pub, my laird. But first to Lily’s bed and breakfast.”

  Grant smiled, glad his valet was so capable of spying on the ladies without their knowledge. Then he frowned. Unless they knew very well that he’d overheard them speaking of their schedule.

  “Uh-oh,” Enrick said with a twinkle in his eye. “Does Colleen know about Lily?”

  “There’s nothing to know. She was a one-night stand and never anything more. And human. As for the pub, we’ll arrive before the lasses get there,” Grant said, not about to be thwarted. But he and his men wouldn’t go to the B and B. The pub was where they’d have their fun. “I want ten men to follow them without their awareness, purely as a precaution to watch over them.”

  Lachlan said, “Enrick, you’d better watch out. Heather MacNeill already stole your trunks. Never know what she might do if you show up to harass her.”

  Enrick gave him a look that said he was game, which surprised Grant, but he had more pressing concerns in mind. Such as getting to the pub before the women arrived, and ensuring the women had no troubles along the way.

  The bachelorette party was in full swing as Colleen and the rest of the ladies dressed in their clan plaids—MacNeill for some and MacQuarrie for others. Calla was wearing the Stewart plaid. The younger women wore minikilts. The older women’s skirts reached their ankles. Colleen felt so deliciously naughty. She was told in no uncertain terms that the lasses went regimental also. Not so much that it was a military or guy thing, but in the very old days, women went without. That was when the fashion was to wear long gowns—easier to use the bathroom. And, of course, if a woman chanced upon her lover in the glen and no one was about, that made things…easier.

  But even so, she felt absolutely scandalous wearing a minikilt and no underwear.

  Not that they had any intention of meeting up with the guys tonight. They had their own stag party going on somewhere.

  No matter how much Colleen protested not wearing underwear, Julia said, “When it comes to bachelorette parties, propriety goes out the window.”

  Colleen suspected Ian wouldn’t agree with her decision, and she was certain Grant wouldn’t, either.

  The men had been so busy talking in the study that she and the ladies had managed to slip out without their knowing. Someone would be sure to tell them eventually. But the ladies would be off on their adventure before that happened.

  In a caravan of several cars, the ladies stopped to take pictures of themselves by the green hills and sheep, their skirts blowing in the chilly breeze. Colleen posed for pictures with her friends and several of the MacQuarrie women who were her new kin now. No wedding was needed to make it so.

  They dropped by the B and B owned and operated by Lily, Grant’s former lover—or one-night stand or whatever she had been to him. Colleen knew she needn’t have bothered, but she wanted to make sure the woman knew Grant was now strictly off-limits.

  Lily raised her brows when the thirty women entered the small lobby of the B and B and then spread out into the living area.

  “Grant and I are getting married, and we’re having our bachelorette party tonight. So if it would be all right with you, we wanted to take pictures in your B and B since you are friends with Grant. We’ll be posting the pictures around, so you might even get some business,” Colleen said in a she-wolf got the he-wolf sort of way.

  The woman didn’t appear happy about Colleen’s claim to Grant, but the chance at free publicity had her hopping to, in an effort to take the best pictures of the group inside the inn and out.

  And then everyone chanted, “Pub! Pub! Pub!” and they were off again, only this time to enjoy a bit of brew.

  As soon as they arrived at the pub, they knew they were in trouble. Grant and his male friends and kin had parked their vehicles there. Colleen hadn’t meant to crash his party this early in the night or to do so at the pub, thinking more in terms of doing so at the castle, privately. But this was where she and her friends intended to go for her party. So it wasn’t exactly crashing his. Only she was certain that as soon as he got a look at her tiny kilt, he would insist the party was over.

  Shoulders straight back, Julia opened the door for Colleen and then she stepped in, followed by the rest.

  The men in the pub quit talking and laughing and turned to see all the women enter. But they didn’t look quite as shocked as she had expected. Well, maybe a little, as they eyed the women’s short tartan skirts. Then they smiled as if they’d pulled a fast one on the women. Had the men known the ladies’ plans?

  She suspected so. The cads. “Grant, what are you and the rest of the men doing here? Who told you we were going to be here?”

  “The castle walls have ears, lass,” he said, reaching for her arm.

  The crowd of men took up virtually every seat. The ladies would have to go outside and use the benches on the patio if they wanted to sit down. Grant patted his lap to offer her a place to sit, up close and personal.

  She smiled down at his wolfish grin. “You’re being a gentleman and offering your seat to me, right?”

  “Aye.” He patted his lap again.

  She laughed and shook her head.

  “Scottish hospitality, lass,” he said. Before she could let him know she was all for sitting on his lap and in his arms, he seized her arm and tugged
her down. She laughed as she sat rather hard on his lap. He groaned a little, and then she wiggled to get comfortable and made him groan some more. Served him right.

  Grant set the tone for the party, and ladies squealed as Ian and his brothers collected their mates and pulled them onto their laps. Others did the same.

  Calla ended up on Guthrie’s lap, but Colleen wasn’t sure if Guthrie offered her the seat or she had claimed him. Colleen glanced around to see where Heather had ended up. She was sitting on Enrick’s lap. Colleen wondered if Heather’s request for her to grab a pair of his trunks so she could display them on the pirate’s pole meant there had been something going on between the two of them before this—despite her denial.

  “You really aren’t here because you knew we planned to come here, are you?” Colleen asked Grant. She couldn’t believe he’d really want to crash her party again.

  “You don’t think I’d want my mate off running around, being with other men for any reason, even just to tease as part of a hen party prank, do you? And certainly not dressed like this.” He slid his hand over her bare leg. “Besides, you’ll catch your death in something so skimpy.”

  “No, which is why I’m not hugging men for pictures or anything. You would likely hunt them down otherwise, do them bodily harm, and ruin a fun party.”

  “Aye, you have the right of it, lass.”

  “You know this was supposed to be our last hurrah,” she said, smiling up at him as Julia took their picture.

  “Before you were mated. Not that I would have agreed to that, either. Once we were mated, any stag parties or bachelorette parties became unacceptable, unless we’re together at them. Besides, you have more fun when we crash your girlie parties.”

  She had to agree he added a lot of spice to the affair. “Fine. But it’s all chick flicks when we return to the keep and…”

  Grant kissed her full on the mouth. He was so right. They didn’t need the crazy parties to say they were free one last time. Not when they were already mated. That didn’t mean ladies’ night would be a thing of the past. On the contrary.