A Highland Werewolf Wedding - By Terry Spear Page 0,47

yellow gorse, and the dark green forest.

In the kitchen, racks held glistening stainless-steel serving ladles and pots and pans that hung over a large, freestanding island. All the counters were golden granite flecked with black. Three stainless-steel fridges, two dishwashers, and three ovens filled the kitchen, plus a microwave built into the cabinets on one wall. Elaine couldn’t begin to imagine the chaos that must ensue when everyone came in to eat. Unless the pack ate their meals in shifts.

She’d never considered what it would be like for a working pack to live together on an estate like this. The teasing, the camaraderie, the sharing of stories and jokes and good humor. Used to eating her meals alone in front of a TV screen after work, she thought how nice it would be to actually enjoy wolf company instead.

Shelley poked around in one of the fridges. “I have to admit I never make meals here. When I was back home, I cooked some, but lots of times I just microwaved meals. Here they have a woman who cooks for the pack. When I met Duncan on Grand Cayman Island, he was our chef extraordinaire.

“It’s an ongoing joke. Ian’s brothers say they can’t cook, except maybe to make a pizza if Cook isn’t around. But I caught them all making ham-and-cheese omelets and mimosas one morning when I slept in late and they had missed the morning meal, too. Which meant Cook wasn’t going to fix them breakfast. It also meant that not only can Duncan cook, but so can his older brothers.”

Amused that the brothers played such a game on their pack leader, Elaine smiled. “Do you think Ian really knows the truth?”

“Probably. He seems to know everything that goes on in the castle.”

A pretty brunette hurried into the kitchen, her cheeks flushed, her dark eyes wide. She appeared to be about Shelley and Elaine’s age and smelled of the outdoors, rain, and wind. “Oh, I can’t believe it. I take one night off to visit a girlfriend, and our whole pack is ready to go to war with another pack.”

She smiled brightly at Elaine as if that was a good thing, that she knew who had started it, and she wholeheartedly approved. Then she turned her attention to Shelley. “What are you doing? You don’t cook.”

“Attempting to figure out what Cearnach and Elaine can eat for dinner. I was thinking of making them sandwiches and a salad.”

“I’ll do it. I’m Heather MacNeill, Cearnach’s cousin,” she said, offering her hand to Elaine. She smiled broadly again.

Elaine shook her hand and smiled back. She really hadn’t expected everyone to be so friendly, all but Cearnach’s mother and aunt. They were Old-World Highland nobility and probably thought Elaine was some uncultured, uncouth American nobody.

Well, kin to pirates. That was worse. Particularly because Elaine’s kin had stolen from Cearnach’s kin. Not to mention being old-time enemies.

“You will have to fill me in on all the details of what’s going on.” Heather peered into the fridge as Shelley stepped aside and let her take over. Heather glanced over her shoulder at Elaine. “Where’s Cearnach? My brother, Oran, said that Cearnach was glued to you.”

“His mother is talking to him,” Elaine said, not at all happy about it.

Heather lifted her chin a bit, then frowned. “Oh.”

Elaine thought that one little word said it all. The talk wouldn’t go well. “I’m not all that hungry.” Too many butterflies were flitting about in her stomach. After the long flight and running with Cearnach to get here as wolves, she was ready to collapse and try to sleep. Though everything was so unsettled that she wasn’t sure she could.

“I am hungry,” Cearnach said, stalking into the kitchen like a ray of sunshine on a gloomy day. He instantly gave Elaine an appreciative smile and wrapped his arm around her shoulders as if saying, “Mine.”

For the first time since they had arrived at Argent, she really noticed what he was wearing—a pair of well-worn jeans, the fabric soft and faded, and a lamb’s wool sweater just as soft, with grays and browns woven into ancient patterns. Hiking boots finished the ensemble. He looked like he was ready for the great outdoors. The sweater made her take a second look. She wanted to run her hands over it, under it, feel his muscles bunching like when he’d worn no shirt at all.

Heather straightened and looked at him. “What would you like to eat?”

“Anything that’s easy to make,” Cearnach said.

Elaine couldn’t