A Highland Werewolf Wedding - By Terry Spear Page 0,97
still thought that the pack’s extreme caution was unwarranted, though what did she know about Highland wolf fighting?
As soon as Ian and his brothers turned to see them approach, Ian gave her a bow of his head in greeting. Guthrie had his arms folded across his chest, his brow furrowed, and appeared very annoyed with her.
Duncan gave her a small smile.
Ian said to Cearnach, “You’ll stay with her?”
“Aye.”
So Cearnach would be forced to babysit her. “Cearnach can go.” She didn’t want him to feel obligated to stand beside her the whole time.
A few of the men chuckled. The wolves quit panting and swung their heads from looking at her to observing Ian.
“You’re my responsibility, Elaine, first and foremost.” Cearnach sounded proud of the fact.
Ian said to Duncan, “Ready?”
“Aye,” Duncan said and pulled out his sword.
“What if the men—saying that there are any out there, hiding, waiting—have guns?” Elaine whispered to Cearnach.
“Not sporting enough.” Cearnach folded his arms as he stood so close to her that his body was touching hers. She felt pleasure, warmth, and security in the intimate contact on this cold, windy, damp day.
Men lifted the first of the portcullises, which made a grinding sound all the way up.
Duncan and Ian headed toward the next one, six wolves walking beside them.
“Are the wolves still out there?” Elaine asked, her voice hushed. She hadn’t heard them in the middle of the night again.
“They might be. We don’t want to take any chances.”
The second portcullis whined as it was raised, and the men and wolves continued on their way.
Another dozen or so wolves, men, and Guthrie still stood protectively near Elaine.
The last of the portcullises was opened, and when Cearnach’s brothers and the wolves reached the final gate, Ian waited to give the order to open it.
He glanced up at the tower. Oran nodded that it was all clear. Ian said, “Open the gates.”
The gates creaked open as two men put their backs into moving them aside, the oak so heavy she imagined only muscled men could manage.
Then she saw her vehicle—undamaged. Thank God. Water droplets collected on its shiny silver surface, but the Mercedes looked the same as it had when she saw it last night; only in the daytime the scene appeared a lot less scary. A thick fog still clung to the trees surrounding the castle, and she couldn’t make out the long curving drive because of the heavy mist.
Tension was riding high as everyone in the inner bailey waited, barely breathing. She heard the swishing sound of a few swords being unsheathed to the left and right of her position as Ian and the other men and wolves headed beyond the gate and moved toward the car.
Every muscle in her body was straining with tension, and she could tell Cearnach’s were the same by the way he stiffened next to her. All eyes were on the men exposed beyond the castle walls. Several were standing on top of the wall walk, and she noticed then, they were equipped with bows and arrows. She felt she had suddenly become immersed in a Highland battle.
Ian approached the driver’s door of the vehicle, and she worried that her cousins might have planted a bomb inside. What if she had been the one to drive it into the inner bailey? They would know she wouldn’t. That one of the men would.
The wolves sniffed around the car, and she wondered if they could detect the smell of bomb-making material. Sure they could, as sensitive as their sense of smell was.
Duncan made a move to open the door. She held her breath.
He pulled the door ajar and the buzzer sounded, indicating that the keys were in the ignition. The car had been sitting in the drive all night with the keys in the ignition? Great. Someone could have stolen it. Then she rethought that scenario. The MacNeill men probably had been watching the vehicle from the wall walk all night long. If anyone had made a move to get near it, their archers could have prevented it.
Duncan jerked the passenger’s door open. Ian leaned inside. The trunk lid popped open.
Ian’s cousin Oran peered into the trunk, sword ready. “All clear,” he shouted.
So they thought her rental vehicle might be like the Trojan horse, bearing armed soldiers instead of gifts? Or in this case, her clothes and Cearnach’s?
She started to move forward now that the car was safe, but Cearnach seized her arm and glanced down at her, wearing a fearsome expression. “Wait.”