A Highland Werewolf Wedding - By Terry Spear Page 0,63

to do with your cousin Flynn.” She glanced around at the bathroom and realized she didn’t have any clothes with her here. She would need to either get them out of the guest bedroom and return here, or shower over there.

Flynn wouldn’t bother her now that it was daylight, she assumed. If he had meant to get her and Cearnach together, he’d already done so.

She left the bathroom.

Cearnach stood in front of the bed, stretching his muscles, his brows raised as he watched her, probably wondering what she was up to. She tore her gaze away from his muscled chest and arms, perused the bulge in his boxers with interest, and curbed a smile. He was just too sexy for a morning wake-up vision in the flesh.

She waved to the guest room across the hall. “I’ll use the one in the guest chamber since my clothes are there.”

“Ah,” he said, giving her rumpled appearance a long, fascinated look. “I’ll escort you down to breakfast as soon as you’re ready to go.”

At least no one was about when she left his room and rushed across the hall to her chamber.

She closed the bedroom door, then hurried into the bathroom to take a shower. The guest room was well equipped with travel-sized soaps and shampoos, packaged guest toothbrushes, and mini tubes of toothpaste, perfect for a guest whose kin had stolen her suitcases. After brushing her teeth, she pulled off the gown and tucked it over the gold bath towels on the towel rack, then entered the glassed-in shower stall.

She was in the middle of soaping her hair with the sweetest-smelling lavender shampoo, the hot water sluicing down her body making her nearly moan with pleasure, when she felt a hand brush across a nipple.

She screamed, opening her eyes at the same time, and realized too late that the soap was running into them. She saw no one in the second of reprieve she had before her eyes filled with tears mixing with shampoo.

Rubbing frantically to get the burning shampoo out of her eyes, she heard the door to her chamber open.

“I’m all right,” she called out to whoever it was, suspecting it was Cearnach since his room was so close and he was so protective.

Footfalls moved across her chamber, headed for the bathroom anyway. She still couldn’t see, her eyes tearing up as she continued to try and wash the soap out of them.

“Elaine,” Cearnach said, standing outside the glass door of the shower stall.

She shook her head, barely able to see him through her stinging eyes. He was wearing a towel, soap in his hair and a scowl on his face. She shoved the door to the stall open. “Come in.”

“What happened this time?” Cearnach asked, sounding annoyed with what he suspected was his cousin’s unsettling her, but then he caught sight of her naked body covered only in a light coating of soapy water. He dropped his towel on the countertop, then stepped into the shower and closed the door.

“I don’t think he wants me here. Not the way he keeps hassling me.”

Cearnach moved in behind her and began to wash the shampoo out of her hair, gently, lovingly as if they were already mated. He didn’t say anything as she continued to try and wipe the soap out of her eyes. They felt better, but they still stung and tears reappeared as they tried to wash away the sting.

Yet something about his protectiveness, his wanting her—his pheromones were so hot she could smell them over the scent of the shampoo, the water, him—the way he was declaring his interest, yet not pushing until she agreed, and his tenderness touched a need so deep that she couldn’t deny she also wanted him in a desperate way.

“What did he do?” Cearnach sounded angry, although he was attempting to couch that anger.

His voice broke the magical spell he’d cast over her.

She hesitated to tell him, afraid he’d be so furious that he’d want to exorcise the ghost, and she didn’t want that. She supposed, as far as spirits went, Cearnach and his kin were family and Flynn deserved some happiness. Not that she wanted him touching her.

“Elaine?” Cearnach wasn’t saying her name as a question but more as a command. “Tell me. What did Flynn do to you?”

“He touched my breast.” She was thinking that Flynn had to be a breast man. Or… had been. Well, still was.

She heard Cearnach gnash his teeth. He didn’t touch her, beyond rinsing out her