A Highland Werewolf Wedding - By Terry Spear Page 0,92

pumped into her, her body grinding against his, the blood pooling in his groin, the climax so close that he barely breathed.

Then he came, explosively, deep inside her, bathing her in his seed.

He thought briefly about the puppy Elaine wanted from Sheba’s litter and how soon she’d have her own werewolf litter to love, too. He’d make sure of it in the most pleasurable of ways.

***

In the middle of the night, Elaine woke with Cearnach’s body wrapped soundly around hers. She heard the muffled sound of the dogs barking in the kennel, alerting of trespassers or something. She couldn’t sleep until she discovered what the matter was.

She untangled herself from Cearnach, pulled aside the curtains, and left the bed. After crossing the floor, she opened the window to look out. The air was cold and damp, and she shivered.

That’s when she heard wolves howling farther away in the woods surrounding the castle. Were they some of Cearnach’s people? Running as wolves in the woods tonight?

Or were they some of her kin? Why, if they were McKinleys or Kilpatricks, would they be prowling the woods here?

She returned to Cearnach’s side of the bed and said softly to wake him, “Cearnach.”

He didn’t stir. She walked back over to the window and saw men on the wall walk looking in the direction of the forest. She couldn’t sleep anyway, so she might as well find out what was going on. She quickly yanked on her sweater, jeans, and boots, then left the bedchamber, half expecting others from the keep to also be headed outside to learn what the matter was. Unless the wolves were just the MacNeills—then no one would be paying any attention to them.

She considered that she might look foolish, worrying about something she had no need to be concerned about, but she was checking the matter out just the same.

Chapter 23

Wolves still howled in the woods beyond the walls of Argent Castle, calling to Elaine as she left the warmth of the keep and headed for the gates in the frigid weather. Gray clouds blocked any sign of stars clinging to the heavens tonight. She realized she should have borrowed Heather’s coat again.

She also realized she couldn’t see anything beyond the walls surrounding the inner bailey, which was the point of being protected by massive walls of stone. The heavy oak gates were closed for the night so the only way she would see what was going on outside the castle would be to climb to the top of the castle wall. She imagined that the stairs to the wall walk were encased in the two towers flanking the gate.

Brass lanterns lighted some areas—the doorway to the kennels, to the horses’ stalls, and to the castle. Since only lupus garous lived here, they could see well enough in the dark.

Six men were watching the forest from the top of the wall walks, four on one side of the gate, two on the other. She didn’t recognize any of them and hoped they wouldn’t mind her joining them up there.

She hurried across the courtyard, and when she reached the doorway to one of the gate towers, she yanked at the door handle, half expecting it to be locked. It wasn’t and the door squeaked open, alerting anyone above that she was on her way to join them.

When she reached the wall walk, the four men were looking in her direction, not at the woods.

“Lass,” the one said, his eyes wide, appearing startled to see her there. “Does Cearnach know ye are here?”

She shook her head. “He’s still asleep. I couldn’t wake him.”

“I’m his cousin, Oran,” the man said. He was smiling with boyish charm, yet he was all muscle and braw warrior and tall like the rest of his kin. He was one of Heather’s brothers. “Ye just didn’t give him the right incentive to wake.”

Her face blossomed with heat, and she quickly walked over to the wall and peered out at the woods. “Whose wolves are howling? Yours?”

“Nay, lass. Yours.”

The only reason they were interested in her being family was because of the stolen goods. Maybe… her properties as well. She saw eyes glowing in the woods. Wolves’ eyes. They stopped howling, watching her as she observed them. They obviously knew who she was. Was Robert Kilpatrick among them? The brute Vardon McKinley?

“Why are they here?” she asked.

Oran pointed to the private drive.

She glanced to the left and saw a car sitting some distance from the closed gate on the