A Highland Werewolf Wedding - By Terry Spear Page 0,52

sitting on the table outside, Heather and Shelley’s scent lingering in the air. He loved his family.

He carried the trays inside, closing the door with his boot.

Elaine had moved to the table but finished off her wine as if it would brace her to speak to Cearnach about that bastard Rafferty. He wanted to return to the sofa, to pull her into his arms, and comfort her while she spoke. But he needed to get some food down her.

Cearnach studied her as they ate the hearty lamb stew Heather and Shelley had prepared. Or… at least he ate the food. Elaine merely moved chunks of celery and lamb meat around in her bowl.

The warm fire, the orange-red flames licking the air, the aroma of the stew, and the wine all added ambience, he thought. The golden lights silhouetted her, and she looked like a wolf goddess. His wolf goddess.

She leaned her chin on her hand, resting her elbow on the table, and he wondered if her tired posture had to do with the wine. Then she perked up a little, and he thought she was going to eat. Instead, she refilled her empty wineglass. He raised his brows, wanting to ask if she normally drank that much or felt the need because of what she’d been through today.

“Okay, here’s the story. Kelly Rafferty was furious I had left St. Augustine with my uncles.” She tipped her wineglass one way and then the other, watching the wine tilt like waves on a shifting sea. “I meant to sail home after my uncles were hanged.” She swallowed hard.

“I planned to secure as much of my inheritance from my parents’ estate as I could and then flee the city.” She looked down at the table. “Pirates attacked our ship.” She glanced up at Cearnach, eyes narrowed, and gave a little snort of derision. “Imagine that. Sailing on the high seas wasn’t safe at all. Worse, the ship was one of Rafferty’s.

“He wasn’t the captain of the vessel, but one of his men recognized me, which was probably good since some of his men were ready to treat me as fair game. He locked me in the captain’s cabin to keep me safe so I wouldn’t be spoiled goods. They returned home with all haste. You see, I was the biggest treasure of all. They didn’t want to anger Rafferty if they should somehow lose me before they could turn me over to him.”

Cearnach clenched his hand around his fork, afraid of where this was headed and not liking it one bit.

“My parents maintained a manor home, a couple of lodging houses, and three ships. When Kelly forcibly took me as his mate, he owned all of it.”

Cearnach growled low, wanting to kill the bastard.

“He’d actually been in competition with my family for years before that. So mating with me was strictly a business arrangement. He possessed me and everything I could bring to the relationship. I was the perfectly reticent mate, waiting for his return each time he went out on a voyage.”

“I have a difficult time imagining you being reticent,” Cearnach said, stabbing a chunk of potato and wishing he could have protected her so long ago.

She humphed. “I prayed he’d perish every time he went out to sea. Rafferty had bodyguards, werewolves who were completely dedicated to him and who would have died before they let anything happen to me, including allowing me to escape. Not that I didn’t try. When he returned home, his men told him that I had tried to run away, and Rafferty beat me for it. No one raised a hand to stop him. It was his right to do with me as was his will. He would have done the same to any of his men, had they gotten out of line. Or he would have done worse.”

“He better be dead,” Cearnach growled.

She nodded and suddenly looked even wearier as she sank down in her chair.

He noticed the dark shadows beneath her eyes, but he had to know more before they retired for the night. He still hoped she’d eat some of the stew.

“Did you have children?” He could hardly bear the thought of the pig lifting her skirts and rutting into her like some wild animal. Cearnach was certain, given her description of the man, that he couldn’t have cared about pleasuring her.

“No. I protected myself. I didn’t want children who would be treated as harshly as I was. Nor did I want to