A Highland Werewolf Wedding - By Terry Spear Page 0,61

at Argent Castle than any of them.

“Will he come back tonight? I mean, if I feel a hand on my breast again, would it be his?”

So much for her not believing in ghosts. Cearnach frowned at her. “He’d better not bother you again. Not with me here. I won’t be fondling you unless you wish it.”

She smiled a little at that but then shook her head. “Do you think he knows I’m kin to one of your enemy clans?”

“Aye, he knows. He hears and sees everything.” Cearnach shut the bed curtains on her side, then went around the bed and climbed in and pulled his curtains closed. As soon as he was under the covers, he reached over, not waiting for an invitation, and pulled her into his arms. She was his to protect from her flesh-and-blood kin and his ghostly cousin. He wouldn’t let her worry about any more visitations in the night.

She was cold, chill bumps traveling over her soft skin, and she was still trembling. He couldn’t warm her up quickly the way his body was urging him to do, but he enjoyed feeling her pressed against him, seeking his heat and protection.

She didn’t say anything for several minutes, and he thought she might have fallen asleep, but then she said, “He won’t try to make me think you’re attempting to take advantage of me in the middle of the night and cause friction between us, will he?”

He thought about that, wondering if Flynn would feel he was protecting Cearnach from the she-wolf. He could see him doing something to cause trouble between them if he thought he was being noble in defending Cearnach.

“I don’t know, Elaine. I’ve never brought a woman to the castle before. I’m not sure what’s going through his mind.”

She snuggled closer to Cearnach, her head resting on his bare chest, her arm linked around his waist, stirring a fresh need in him to have her. “He won’t come between us,” she said with firm resolve.

Flynn was causing more trouble than Cearnach could deal with—keeping his hands wrapped around the lass in a gentlemanly way, fighting back the urge to stroke her skin, to lift that filmy piece of gauze cloaking her body, and join her in the ultimate bliss. Mate with her for life.

“Good night, lass. Pleasant dreams.” Damn you, Flynn, for bothering the lass.

On the other hand, Cearnach was glad to have Elaine in his arms tonight, the first of many, he hoped.

It wasn’t until early the next morning when Cearnach woke to find Elaine’s borrowed gown bunched at the waist, his hand resting on her bare ass, her leg thrown over his legs and the most painful arousal he’d ever experienced to realize Flynn had not troubled them for the remainder of the night.

Cearnach quickly moved his hand off her derriere before she caught him. He smiled when she moaned in protest. At least it sounded that way to him.

He needed to disentangle himself from her bare limbs, and they should join his kin for breakfast before too much speculation about him and Elaine began to surface. Even if his kin didn’t share much of what they thought might be going on between Elaine and him, he didn’t want to fan the flames of conjecture any further.

Yet, she was sleeping so soundly that he hated to disturb her. Especially after what she’d been through the night before.

Continuing to sleep with the she-wolf could cause more difficulties than either of them could handle—until he could convince her that it was time to mate, and that had to happen before she began to make plans to leave Scotland.

Chapter 15

Elaine woke slowly in Cearnach’s protective and warm embrace, and realized several things at once. She’d actually slept the rest of the night undisturbed. She was relieved that she’d had no more issues with the ghost. But now she was in an untenable position, her gown gathered around her navel, Cearnach’s hand resting on her buttock, and her naked leg locking him in place as if she was a pirate and had captured him, and he was her prisoner. More-than-willing prisoner.

She wanted to keep the fantasy alive. Except she’d exchange the pirate’s cabin bed for this one in the castle, which was much more her style. Rocking on rough seas was not, considering how sick she got when traveling by ship.

He still wore the pair of black boxers, but that didn’t hide the fact he was fully aroused and that she was pressing against