A Highland Werewolf Wedding - By Terry Spear Page 0,60

trying to envision just what had happened. No matter how much she tried to explain away the cold hand on her breast or her name whispered in her ear or the wisp of icy breath on her cheek, she could think of only one thing—the man had been real. Not a ghost. Not a figment of her imagination.

He was real.

Despite closing her eyes and willing herself to sleep, she couldn’t. Like having her house broken into once when she had been sleeping and then fearing the same thing would happen again, she couldn’t relax her tense muscles, couldn’t shut down her fears. Only this time instead of fearing the thieves would return, she waited for a ghostly touch and whispered words to come again.

***

Cearnach paced across his chamber, furious with Flynn. Damn him.

His ghostly cousin would never give up the lassies. Liking them way too much had been his downfall in the first place. But Flynn didn’t always bother them, not unless he really liked them or he really disliked them.

Cearnach wondered if the fact that Elaine was kin to an enemy clan had bothered Flynn. Or did she really intrigue him?

“Leave the lass alone,” Cearnach growled under his breath. “I mean it, Flynn.”

Flynn did not make an appearance in Cearnach’s bedchamber, nor could he feel Flynn’s presence in the form of chilled air in this room. He had noticed it right away in Elaine’s room. Particularly in her bed. He was furious that Flynn would molest her.

Of all the cousins, Cearnach had been the closest to Flynn. He supposed it had something to do with them both being jovial sorts who saw most circumstances in a good light. Flynn just couldn’t quit dallying with the lasses, not even when they had been married, not even now that he was just a ghostly version of himself.

Cearnach was ready to return to bed when another shriek erupted from Elaine’s chamber.

“Flynn, damn you,” Cearnach roared, throwing his door open again and storming across the hallway to Elaine’s chamber. She was not sleeping the rest of the night alone! He wouldn’t allow his cousin to bother her all night.

Cearnach yanked open her door and felt a soft body crash into his before it registered that the body belonged to Elaine.

“It’s all right,” he said, wrapping his arms around her in a comforting embrace, loving the silky soft feel of her, wishing she was in his arms for reasons other than Flynn scaring her.

She was trembling worse than before.

“He was there again,” she finally managed to get out, sounding angry, exasperated, and uneasy.

His brothers stalked down the hall ready to do battle again. “Cearnach?” Ian asked.

“Aye,” Cearnach said. The temperature in the guest chamber was much colder than in his. “Flynn is up to his old tricks.”

“We’ll find an exorcist on the morrow, mark my word!” Ian shouted. “Do you hear me, Flynn?”

Cearnach knew Ian wouldn’t do it. Flynn was their kin, even if not in the flesh any longer. Though Ian tried to hide his feelings from his people, Cearnach knew he’d always regretted having sent Flynn away from the pack before he was murdered. Not that the reason he’d been sent away hadn’t been Flynn’s own doing. He was still family. After he was killed for another of his transgressions, Ian had felt some responsibility. That if he’d kept Flynn at home, he would still be alive today.

Not that most of their kin truly believed that.

“You’re coming with me,” Cearnach said to Elaine, not about to let her argue with him over the matter.

She wasn’t arguing this time, he realized as he nodded to his brothers and led her into his room, then shut the door.

Elaine took a deep breath and tilted her head up to look at him, brows raised, her look hopeful. “This isn’t a trick to get me into your bed with you, is it?”

Cearnach laughed out loud. “No, it’s not a trick. You saw the look Ian gave me. He wants me to behave myself with you, but Flynn is not someone we conjure up out of the blue. I’ll tell you more about him later.” He helped her into his bed. “I wonder just what Flynn is up to.”

“I don’t… I don’t believe in ghosts.”

He thought she didn’t sound as sure of the statement as she wished to be. He wasn’t going to tell her what she wanted to hear—that she was right. That Flynn didn’t exist. Because he did, and he might end up living longer