A Highland Werewolf Wedding - By Terry Spear Page 0,12

forcing her to slow her pace.

“Truce,” Cearnach mouthed to the brothers, intending to stop the fight that was bound to happen, but before he could leave the church, the bigger of the men stormed into Cearnach’s path.

Vardon McKinley. Of all the brothers, he was the most volatile.

He swung his massive fist at Cearnach’s face. Before Cearnach could push Elaine behind him and block the blow meant for him, she jumped in front of him, as if to protect him! Or at the very least, to stop the fight.

Vardon wasn’t able to pull back in time and hit Elaine in the face. Gasps in the church resounded.

Elaine’s head jerked back from the impact, and Cearnach saw red. She fell against him and cried out in shock and pain.

Roaring a string of oaths, Cearnach tucked Elaine under his left arm and unsheathed his sword with his right hand in one swift move.

“No!” Elaine shouted, struggling to free herself from his iron grip. “We’re leaving.” Her voice was clear and hard, as if she was in charge of the situation.

A she-wolf did not dictate combat rules to a Highland wolf who was ready to avenge her injury, no matter how alpha she was. Unable to quell the rage-induced adrenaline running through his blood and the need to pummel the Highlander who had struck an innocent woman, Cearnach couldn’t let it go.

Even though Vardon normally bowed down to no one, man or woman, he did appear a wee bit contrite. At least he hadn’t unsheathed his sword, and he had taken a couple of steps back, his face looking a bit pale.

“Get out of our way,” Elaine said to the McKinley brothers, her voice a fearsome growl.

Cearnach had to give her credit for thinking with her head and not with her heart. He was still ready to kill Vardon. But he couldn’t run him through if Vardon didn’t at least unsheathe his sword. And he did have to think of Elaine’s safety. He couldn’t keep her tucked under his arm and risk her getting injured if he encouraged Vardon to draw his weapon.

She sensed Cearnach’s indecision and tried to take a step forward, attempting to take charge of the situation. Cearnach wouldn’t let her drag him off. Not when he still wanted to destroy Vardon.

Vardon’s other brother, Hagan, waited to see what the eldest brother would do, standing beside him, looking unsure. In the past, what had happened wouldn’t have been a big deal for men like Vardon. If a woman got in the way of a man’s fist during a fight, the fault was her own. But Vardon had done so in a church at his own brother’s wedding, in front of onlookers who might not respect him for what he’d done.

Cearnach growled in Gaelic, “An honorable man doesn’t strike a woman. Be ready. This isn’t finished.”

Vardon sneered at him, speaking in Gaelic in return. “As you’ll soon learn. Take your whore with you and get out.”

Chapter 3

With the most valiant of efforts, Cearnach cooled his temper enough to get Elaine outside the church without coming to blows with Vardon. Four of the McKinley brothers gathered at his back, the tension and anger rolling off everyone in dangerous waves. To Cearnach’s further annoyance, rain was now coming down in gray sheets.

“I apologize for what happened in there.” Cearnach was still angered beyond reason, not finding the words to adequately describe how he really felt about what had occurred. He sheathed his sword. Then he unbuckled his sash and covered Elaine’s head with it as he hurried her to the vehicle sitting on the lower end of the car park. “I shouldn’t have brought you here.”

He let out a heavy sigh, hating himself for having put her in danger, though he hadn’t thought it would come to that.

“I shouldn’t have sat on the groom’s side of the church.” She sounded repentant herself. “I should have stayed with you instead. I shouldn’t have been talking so much during the ceremony. I suspect no one would have noticed us as much if we’d remained silent.”

“They would have noticed. They weren’t angry with you but with me. Where did Vardon hit you?” he growled, trying to protect her from the pelting water with the sash of his kilt.

The raindrops bounced off the waterproof wool, but water was running down his neck and soaking his shirt beneath the jacket. He couldn’t cover her completely with the fabric, not unless he removed his whole kilt and wrapped her up