A Highland Werewolf Wedding - By Terry Spear Page 0,1
own wolf mate by then, we will see if Mr. Rafferty is still interested.”
Over her dead body.
After much arguing with her uncles, Elaine convinced them to allow her this one boon. With great reluctance, they arranged to have her estates managed until she returned.
***
Two days into the ocean voyage, Elaine heaved the contents of her belly into a bucket while attempting to rest in the captain’s quarters, sicker than she had ever been.
Everything went from bad to worse as soon as they arrived at the port city of St. Andrews, Scotland. The ship carried a new name and her uncles dressed as respectable merchants, but someone must have recognized them for who they truly were.
Word soon reached the authorities that the notorious, pirating Hawthorn brothers had returned. As armed men hurried toward them, her Uncle Tobias signaled to one of his sailors, who shoved her to the cobblestones as if she was in their way.
Men grabbed her uncles and several of their crew, led them away in chains, and tried them with barely any representation. To her horror, her uncles were hanged in the town square at the behest of Lord Harold Whittington who owned a fleet of merchant ships and claimed her uncles had plundered three of them.
Scared to death that someone would see her, believe she was part of her uncles’ crew, and hang her, too, she hastily wiped away the tears rolling freely down her cheeks and tried to slip away unnoticed in the chilly breeze. Her best hope was to return to Florida and her family’s estates.
As she started to steal away, she spied a broad- shouldered man observing her. He was wearing a predominantly blue and green kilt, the plaid gathered over his shoulder and pinned, a sporran at his belt, and a sword at his back— and he looked fierce. Her heart did a tumble.
She had dressed as plainly as she could in a dark-green muslin gown with a fitted jacket and a petticoat of the same color. With a cloak covering these and the hood up over her head, she had hoped to be shielded from the view of the men and women milling about. She thought she had been obscure in the crowd.
Elaine slipped away with the crowd as several men headed for the pubs to celebrate the hanging. She glanced over her shoulder. Curiosity etched on his warrior face, the man was still watching her. He appeared to be a Highland warrior of old, someone who had fought in ruthless clan battles and come out a survivor. Maybe a loyal friend of Lord Whittington who would want a noose around her neck, too.
He lifted his nose and appeared to take a deep breath, as if he was trying to scent the wind. As if he was trying to smell her. Which immediately made her think of a wolf. Her skin prickled with unease.
His eyes widened and he headed in her direction, a few other men following him. The force of powerful males made her heart trip over itself as she strove to get away but at the same time make it look as though she wasn’t trying to evade him.
Her heart pumped wildly as she tried to reach an alleyway, thinking she had gotten away. She was slipping down the narrow brick alleyway when a large hand grabbed her arm and effectively stopped her.
Barely able to catch her breath, she bit back a scream.
“Lass,” the man said with a distinctive Highland burr, his voice low, “where are you going in such a hurry?”
His dark brown eyes were narrowed, focused on her, yet a small smile curved his lips, as if he was amused that she thought she could evade a wolf. Because that was just what he was.
A gray wolf, tall, muscularly built, but more wiry than bulky. His hand was holding her still, not bruising her but with enough pressure that she knew he was not about to let her go. He was handsome as the devil, the crinkle lines beneath his eyes telling her he was a man who liked to smile, his masculine lips likewise not thin and mean like Kelly Rafferty’s, but pleasingly full with a curve that made her think he enjoyed life in a jovial rather than a cruel way.
His wind-tussled hair was an earthy shade of dark brown with streaks of red, and he had no hint of facial hair as if he had just shaved. He was lean and hard, not an ounce