by Terry Spear
He would kill him. Grant stripped and shifted into his wolf form. Without a moment’s hesitation, he slid down the pipes, hoping he didn’t break a leg when he landed on the rocks below.
He tumbled out of the pipe onto the rocks and saw Archibald dragging a hand-tied Colleen down below to the breakers. His heart hammering his ribs, Grant knew tackling the bastard that close to where the sea was coming in could mean his and Archibald’s deaths. Maybe even the lass’s if he couldn’t stop them before she got just as close to the sea.
He would do anything to save his mate’s life. He knew his brothers and his pack would take care of Colleen as soon as he could free her from Archibald’s grasp.
Grant raced down the path in the driving rain, slipping a little, and lunged for the cur, praying he didn’t slide with him and pull them off the edge of the cliffs. Using his wickedly sharp canines, he grabbed Archibald’s arm and sank his teeth deep. The man cried out. With his free arm, Archibald reached for a knife in his boot. Before Grant could let go of him and jump back, a wave curled up over the rocks, threatening to take them both out.
Grant prayed Colleen had gotten back away from the breakers. The wave swept him and Archibald off their feet. His heart in his throat, Grant felt himself and Archibald being carried out to sea as he heard Colleen scream.
***
Colleen had heard the deep-throated growl that sent a shiver down her spine right before she saw the wolf dash for them. Grant. Even though she knew the threat was not directed at her, the sound was enough to curdle her blood.
A flash of gray fur lunged at Archibald. As a powerful, raging wolf, Grant grabbed Archibald’s arm, chomping down, forcing him to cry out and release her.
Heart somersaulting, she fell against the slippery rocks. Archibald swore and fumbled to get to a knife sheathed in his boot, the wooden handle sticking out for her to see, but Grant yanked him back toward the breakers.
Chilled to the core of her being, she moved toward them, unable to do anything with her hands tied.
A wave rose behind them, large enough to knock them down, and she screamed, “No!”
She dove toward them, not that she could do anyone any good, but the wave swept wolf and man into the sea before she could reach them.
“No! Colleen!” Enrick shouted as he hurried to reach her.
She barely heard the men scrambling down the rocks. And then strong arms pulled her away from the threat of the sea.
“No!” she screamed. “Let me go! Grant!”
The seawater and rainwater drenching her, she struggled to return to where he had disappeared. She wanted to help him in any way that she could, wanted to see the men bring him out of the sea. But Enrick and Darby hauled her back to the seawall.
“Lass, we will do everything we can to rescue Grant,” Enrick assured her while he cut the ropes binding her wrists. Then he lifted her over the wall to Lachlan.
She knew they could do nothing. Not in the dark in the roiling sea. Not when Grant was a wolf.
Lachlan had hold of her arm with a titan grip and hurried her to the keep.
She shivered and shook and couldn’t stop agonizing over wanting to return to find Grant. She didn’t remember everything that happened after that. She thought she hit Lachlan in the eye. She might have cursed a few choice words. How could they give up on him now? How could they keep her from him?
“We don’t want you to catch your death, lass,” Lachlan said, moving her against her will to the castle and trying to reason with her. “Grant would have our hides.”
He spoke as if Grant would survive, that he wouldn’t see it any other way.
Men hollered for Grant from the top of the cliffs.
“Others will head down to the rocky beach beyond the cliffs. We’ll find him,” Lachlan assured her again, sounding more this time like he was trying to convince himself it was true.
Had any of those living here over the centuries survived the sea, either in their wolf forms or human, other than she and Ollie who had been fortunate enough to have been seen and rescued in time? She didn’t want to ask for fear she’d hear no one had.
She fought to control her emotions. They would find him alive. They had to. He had been a wolf when the sea had taken him. He would be warm enough, but had he been injured? Could he fight the tide’s relentless pull? Could he keep from being dashed against the rocks?
When they reached the kitchen, Maynard prepared hot tea for her. “Here, drink this,” he coaxed. He was dripping wet like she and Lachlan were, and she assumed then he’d run back inside ahead of them to fix the hot tea for her. She wanted to cry.
Lachlan said with a stern word of warning, “Watch her. I’ll get a blanket for her.”
She wanted to return to the seawall, but she didn’t believe Maynard would let her take one step toward the door. She took a sip of the tea and choked on it. Whisky dosed the tea to a good degree, and she felt the liquid burn her throat and all the way down to the pit of her stomach.
“Drink up, lass. You’ll feel better.”
Numbed, she thought. Alcohol wasn’t good for making an ice-cold body warmer.
When she finished the tea, Lachlan returned with a white blanket covered with pink roses. She recognized it. The blanket had been on the little girl’s bed in the room that her grandmother had set aside so lovingly for her, hoping she would someday visit. And now her grandmother was lost to her forever. A couple of tears rolled down Colleen’s cheeks as she clutched the blanket tightly around her.
“We have to find him. We have to save him,” she gritted out between shivers.
Darby quickly joined her, and Lachlan slipped away while Maynard filled her teacup with more of that god-awful whisky laced with tea.
“We will,” Darby said. “I’m to see you to your room.”
Grant’s room. She burst into tears.
***
Grant struggled to swim against the swift tide, to free himself of the never-ending, swelling waves that threatened to bash him against the rocks.
Splashing wildly with his arms and legs, Archibald thrashed around, trying to keep afloat in human form. He would never last, not without someone’s help. He would succumb to the cold before long.
Grant’s fur coat kept the chill out, and he tried to swim away from the rocks, against the strong currents. But they pulled him in close to Archibald. Seizing the opportunity, Archibald grabbed hold of Grant and tried to use him as a flotation device. Grant swung his head around and bit into Archibald’s arm—his good arm. If he hadn’t, the bastard would drown them both. Archibald cried out, released him, and was swept away. That was the last Grant saw of him.
Grant continued to wolf paddle against the strong currents in the direction of the rocky beach well beyond the castle cliffs. The only way he’d manage was if he could swim away from the cliffs. Had either his mother or father been in wolf form when the sea had taken them, they might have survived. One thing he knew, he couldn’t make it back up the cliffs on his own.
Colleen. He couldn’t quit worrying that she hadn’t moved sufficiently away from the breakers after he knocked Archibald’s grip loose of her. What if she’d ended up in the sea with them?
His kinsmen had to have rescued her.
He heard his brothers shouting for him. They weren’t calling for Colleen. Which had to mean she was safe with them. Grant couldn’t howl in the water to let them know he was still working his way past the rocks. Sheer cliffs prevented him from seeing the shore or the area on the rocks where the trail led to the breakers below the castle.
A hint of beach finally appeared. Relief swept through him. Lights wavered all along the water’s edge. Barely keeping his head above water, he knew his kinsmen couldn’t see him in the black sea with the rain still falling in torrents.
Yelling for him, nearly twenty of his men watched the sea. Others, running as
wolves, looked for any sign of him along the rocky beach.
Desperately, he wanted to call out to learn about Colleen. Was she safe and warm? Was someone watching over her? He refused to consider that she had ended up in the frigid waters with him.
When he got closer to the shore, Lachlan shouted, “Thank God! Grant! He’s there!”
Flashlights all angled in his direction as men ran to reach him.
One of the men in wolf coats howled. As soon as Grant reached the shore, bedraggled and worn out, he shook the cold water from his fur and howled, too. A chorus of howls chimed in. Some came from the cliffs on the other side of the keep. Others came from the beach as the wolves hurried to greet him.
Grant gave Lachlan a stern look, asking in a silent wolf way about Colleen.
“She’s fine. Upset, of course. Fearing the worst. Maynard gave her hot tea, and Darby’s escorting her to your chamber to get a hot shower.” Lachlan smiled. “She gave me a black eye and a few choice words when I wouldn’t let her stay on the cliffs to watch for you.”
Grant gave him a wolf’s smile. He loved her. Not that he had wished for his brother to have a black eye or that Colleen had given it to him, but he loved his feisty mate.
Then he barked with joy that she was fine and raced up the long climb to reach the closed portcullis, hoping he wouldn’t encounter any of Archibald’s men on the way there. He didn’t want anyone to sidetrack him from seeing Colleen as soon as he could.
Wearing their wolf coats, ten of his pack members raced outside the gate as soon as it was lifted to greet him. No sign of Archibald’s men or Baird and his kin. It appeared it had all been a ruse so Archibald could reach the keep. Grant suspected they’d all left, planning to meet up with Archibald later after he’d drowned Colleen.
Lachlan was still climbing the steep stone steps up the cliffs, the rest of the men in human form following him.
As soon as Grant entered the inner bailey, Enrick hurried to join him. “The lass is safe and sound, thanks to you, Grant. Darby’s guarding the chamber to ensure she doesn’t leave it. I was about to run up there to tell her you were on your way, but thought you might like to have the honor. We found the raft Archibald used to reach the cliffs. The rocks had torn holes in it. He would never have survived the return trip home if you hadn’t taken him out already.”
Glad Colleen would be all right and that Archibald would have perished no matter what else had happened, Grant nodded and raced for the keep and entered it.
When he reached his chamber door, Darby grinned at him and opened it for him. “Let us know if you require something hot for the two of you to eat and drink. I know it’s late, but if you need anything, Maynard and I will get it for you. Just let us know.” Then he closed the door for Grant.
Grant shifted and stalked across the floor to reach the bathroom. The shower was running and he heard Colleen crying. He hated to hear her so distressed.
“Lass, it’s me, and you should know by now you can’t get rid of me that—” he said, about to reach for the clear shower door, the steam misting the glass so that all he could see was her delectable outline.
He didn’t finish speaking as Colleen jerked the door aside and threw herself into his arms, dripping wet, smelling of peaches and cream and…whisky. He smiled.
He swept her up and carried her back into the tiled shower and shut the door.
“I thought you never wanted to drink our whisky again,” he joked, trying to lighten the dark mood.
He thought she told him to shut up. He wasn’t certain, as she ravished him with kisses, her hands grasping his wet hair, and her body pressed hotly against his.
He wanted to tease her out of her distress—as she was still crying—happy tears, aye, but still…
He wisely thought better of trying to make light of his dunking in the sea and said, “I am fine, lass. And I love you with every fiber of my being.”
“Oh, Grant,” was all she said as her whisky-flavored lips and tongue stroked his.
He rather liked the taste on her as he hugged her tight and kissed her reverently, passionately, possessively. He stroked her hair in a loving, reassuring way, then said, “Next time you wear that sexy minikilt, nothing is stopping me from having my way with you.”
She smiled. “I will hold you to that.”
Gladdened to the depths of his soul that she was safe, he ran his hands over her slippery skin and felt every soft inch of her. His fingers worked down to her center and stroked between her legs. She panted and moved against his probing fingers. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the tiled wall out of the water’s spray as he let the warm drops wash away the sea collected on his skin.
God, how he loved her. She appeared to revel in his touch, lost to it. He wanted more than anything to chase away all that had happened to her in the last hour or so, to warm her, to love her. They were together, mates forever. Nothing would take that away from them.
He brushed his mouth against hers, meaning to be gentle, but she didn’t seem to want gentle. She clung to him, kissed him boldly on the mouth and cheeks, his throat, his chest.
And piercing awareness struck him. She was the owner of the castle, the estates, and of him—his heart, his body, his soul. She owned him outright. He loved the knowledge that the she-wolf had claimed him, just like she had claimed her beta mates.
He threaded his fingers through her wet hair, glorying in every aspect of her, from the way her silky hot body molded to his to her soft curls hiding a wealth of feminine treasures and tickling his leg as she rubbed herself against him.
Her breasts rose and fell against his chest, her nipples taut with need.
Her breath was as ragged as was his. His raging desire to satisfy both their needs pushed him to kiss her deeper. His fingers tangled in her hair and his body caressed hers, wanting more. Her tears had long ago subsided, and she was wrapped up only in the love they shared.
He trembled with the pent-up need to have her as he leaned down to kiss one wet breast, his fingers lowering to stroke her sex.
Colleen thought she would come apart as they kissed and suckled and rubbed against each other. They were meant for each other. The sea could not separate them.
He was stroking her and licking her nipple, making her arch up, wanting him to satisfy the wild desire cascading through her. He glanced up at her. She saw the turbulent look in his eyes, the concern there, and she loved him all the more.
“Keep going,” she whispered, her voice husky.
He grinned at her, though he couldn’t hide the concern still there. But he did continue to rub her into climax, and before she could fall from the exquisite torture of the moment, he centered himself and entered her. He filled her and stretched her to accommodate his rock-hard erection as her inner muscles quivered with climax. She wrapped her legs around him, and he plunged all the way, deep, demanding, and needy.
God, he felt so good. She wanted to keep him like this inside her forever, never letting go. Never scared to death she’d lose him again.
She tightened her legs around him as he held her buttocks in his hands and continued to push into her. Being joined like this with her mate felt so right. So complete.
The friction between them, the way he tongued her mouth and deepened the thrusts, awakened the need to climax again. The sweet ache between her legs burned for it. She felt it coming, felt the giddy sensation of sexual fulfillment, and fell over the edge just as he let loose with a heartfelt growl. He released his seed deep inside her, bathing her womb in heat and love.
He continued to thrust and rock against her as their mouths melded with renewed kisses.
Somehow, they managed to turn off the water, dry themselves, and climb into bed.
“Did you want to eat anything, lass?” Grant asked, wrapping his naked body around hers, not only his arms, but his legs also, as she nestled
against his chest and groin. “Anything to drink?”
“You,” is all she murmured against his chest. It had to be around five that morning or later already. Even if she’d wanted anything, which she didn’t, she would not have asked anyone to get it for them. “You’re okay? Not injured? Not bruised?”
“A Highland warrior doesn’t tell his lassie about bruises he might be wearing.”
She smiled against his chest.
He caressed her back with his rough hand. “He might mention in passing that he sustained a sword wound if it was very deep.”
She chuckled, caressing his waist with the same tender touch.
Then he grew serious, his voice filled with regret. “I should never have left you alone, fool that I was.”
“You did what any sane man would have thought was right. Who would ever have suspected Archibald would do something so crazy?” Colleen asked. “Or even know that he could gain entrance in that manner?”
“I can’t believe he intended to kill you. He had to know he wouldn’t have lived once we found him.”
“He had a raft. He said he intended to use it for his escape. That he had no intention of dying this day or any other.”
“His raft was not fit to use, from what Enrick said. He wouldn’t have made it.”
She nodded. “I didn’t smell his scent. I assumed he used something to disguise it. If he had gotten away with murdering me…”
“He wouldn’t have,” Grant said, his voice a deep growl.
“If he had, would you have known it was him?”
“Aye, I would have. Our men saw him at one point, but then he disappeared. So we knew he had been in the area, but none of us could track his scent. Now I know why. But his attempt to kill you didn’t make any sense. What good would it have done him?” Grant asked, kissing the top of her head reverently, tenderly.