A Highland Werewolf Wedding - By Terry Spear Page 0,18
or another.” She thought of telling him she hadn’t been to Scotland before, but he would sense she wasn’t telling the truth.
“I… attempted… to… rescue you,” he said, slowly, deliberately, as if he was trying to recall the circumstances, or he already knew and was waiting for her to fess up.
His mouth curved up. He gave her another sly glance, a wolfish look that meant he wasn’t going to give up. “I will remember,” he promised, his voice dark and seductive and intrigued.
He was determined, if nothing else. The game would soon be up.
She thought back to the way he had reacted to her when he first saw her get out of the rental car, as he strode up to meet her in his kilt and sword, armed and dangerous and hot and sexy. The way he’d perused her, moved into her space, indicating he was determining that she was a wolf like him and also attempting to learn what her response to his close proximity would be. Was she an alpha? Or beta? Was she skittish or had she been as fascinated with him as he had been with her? Oh, yes, she had been. Enthralled. Absolutely.
He’d seemed to like that she was an alpha. Not all wolves would.
She appreciated that he was a first-class alpha and unwilling to bend to pressure. They’d been in a church full of hostiles, and he had held his head high, not in the least bit intimidated. She had hoped to see someone wearing a kilt while she was here, but she’d never expected to see a Highland wedding or a church full of Highlanders in kilts.
Or all wearing dirks and swords. Or ready to do battle. Or stepping into the midst of it herself and getting a bruised face because of it.
“You’re so quiet, lass,” Cearnach said. “What are you thinking about?”
Cearnach had stood out among the rest of the Highlanders. She wasn’t sure if that was because of the way he took charge of her like a Highland warrior on the battlefield. Or maybe she appreciated him more because she sensed he really was concerned for her welfare, like he appeared to be about Calla. Why had he been that way the first time he’d met her?
This time he probably felt responsible because he’d taken her to the church. The first time they’d met, his protectiveness had been because of something else.
“Just tired,” she said. “From… the jet lag, you know.”
She hadn’t meant to look at him, because she knew if she did, he’d probably read the truth in her expression. She glanced at him anyway.
He gave her a small smile, one that said he believed she was thinking about quite a lot that she didn’t wish to share with him.
He would be right.
She raised her brows at him, smiled, and turned away.
He was tall and his hair was a little shaggy, dark brown with a reddish tint. His square jaw was clean-shaven. The ferocious, dark look that he had given her when he first approached her car had made her think of a thunderstorm approaching—like the one that had finally caught up to them. His eyes were dark brown, just a shade lighter than black.
“The way you are smiling, lass, has me believing that you’re thinking about something pleasant. Will you not share with me? I’d love to hear your thoughts.”
She blushed. She couldn’t help the way her skin flushed so easily.
“I was thinking about how you seem… so… casual at times, as if you are trying to set people at ease. That you would be kind of carefree, if it weren’t for the circumstances we met under.”
“Aye, that I am. So you were thinking of me and that’s why you were smiling?”
Another volley of heat shot through her, and she tried not to squirm.
“Just for a moment. Are you certain I was smiling? The weather is so bad that I’m sure I was frowning quite profoundly.”
“Nay, lass, you were smiling.”
About him, she was certain he wanted to tack on. She didn’t dare ask him what he had been thinking about, afraid he’d say he thought about her. She certainly didn’t want to know what he was thinking of her—like, where he’d met her before.
His casual demeanor was appealing, but she thought deep down he was passionate, powerful, and forceful when he needed to be. The kiss had showed just how powerful, passionate, and sexy he could be.
Even though he wore a jacket, vest, shirt, and a plaid pinned over