Heart of the Highland Wolf (19 page)

Julia had fallen asleep again. He dressed and then left her naked and buried under his covers in his bedchamber while he summoned his aunt to the solar. He assumed she would know something about the MacPhersons, more than what she'd mentioned earlier in the kitchen about their portraits being in one of the tower rooms.

After she arrived at his solar, he started with the questioning at once before Julia became aware he'd left her alone. “What connection do we have with any red wolves by the name of MacPherson?”

“I've been looking into the records, but… well, no one told me the woman was a red wolf and not a gray.” She looked down at her lap and thought about it for several minutes. But when she looked up at Ian, he could tell from her expression that she didn't recall anyone like that.

“I'll keep looking through the records, though. I meant to have someone type them up and save them on a computer.” She waved a hand dismissively at Ian. She had never been interested in computers. “But you know what a chore that will be, and no one in the family has been interested in doing the work.”

“If you discover anything, will you tell me?”

“Aye, of course.” She frowned at him. “You know she writes about werewolves? Do you know what the stories are about?”

“Heather reads them. She said she has a whole collection of them.”

Aunt Agnes wrinkled her nose. “They are not literary in the least.” She shuddered. “Books about sex, that's what they are.”

“Guthrie has asked Heather to get one of her books for him to look at.”

“
I'll
take a look at it. Unless it has to do with financial reports, he doesn't read.”

Ian couldn't help smiling a little. His aunt was of the opinion that unless the book was nonfiction, it wasn't worth reading. So the thought she would want to
peruse
a romance novel
filled with sex amused him. “Cearnach said he would read it.”

Agnes gave a snort of laughter. “Cearnach doesn't read, unless it has to do with how to carve a new handle for a dirk.”

“Duncan said he would.”

Agnes stared at Ian in disbelief. “A romance novel? You can't be serious.”

Very serious.
In fact, Ian had the feeling that all his brothers planned to flip through the books, looking for anything that might catch their interest.

“Do you recall anything about a red family who was named MacPherson? You must have some idea.”

Aunt Agnes eyed him warily. “Seems to me you've been interrogating the lass all morning and half the afternoon. Surely you've made some headway with her.”

Ian leaned back in his chair. “She says I'm betrothed to her.”

His aunt didn't react one wee bit. She didn't laugh at him or look shocked. She didn't show any expression that would reveal she'd even heard him.

Then her face split into a grin. “It's about time. If there's nothing further, I'll be on my way to see what I can learn about the lass. Do tell your mother about this latest betrothal. I'm sure she'll be pleased with the news.” And then before he could respond, his aunt hurried out of the solar.

He assumed she hadn't heard of this contract, either, or maybe she had but had never seen it. Without locating it, they really had nothing to go by.

He'd fully intended to return to Julia in his chamber when Cearnach knocked on his door frame. Which was, in and of itself, not something he usually did. Ian leaned back in his chair, considered Cearnach's dark expression, and knew something dreadful had to have happened.

“Come. What's the problem, Cearnach?”

Cearnach closed the door.

Now Ian
knew
the problem had to be dire.

Ian waited, although the suspense was killing him. But he could tell Cearnach did not want to be the messenger. And the last time he looked this worried was when he'd had to tell Ian about Flynn's transgressions with Ian's betrothed.

“Flynn and Ghleanna are the past, Cearnach. Nothing could be that bad. Now, what is the news?”

Cearnach sat in a chair in front of Ian's desk and shifted uncomfortably. “I think your telling Flynn you'd exorcise him when he locked us in the tunnels hurt his feelings. I haven't seen him about bothering anyone of late.”

That
was what this was about? Ian knew Cearnach and Flynn had been best of friends, and telling Ian about their cousin's affair with Ian's betrothed had probably been the most difficult thing Cearnach had ever done, but hell, their cousin had deserved worse treatment than he'd received. Ian frowned. “He knows I wouldn't get rid of my own kin.”

Cearnach cleared his throat, the inference being that Ian had indeed sent Flynn away from clan and family.

“Aye, well, he had lain with my betrothed, Cearnach. Was I to keep him here and pretend it did not matter to me? How could I have led the clan, the pack, if my own kin would steal my betrothed right under my nose and I did nothing about it?”

“Aye, and a cold fish she was.”

Ian stared glumly at the window.

“He saved you from a fate worse than death.”

Ian looked at his brother.

“He was… is still our kin. Whether he planned to or not, he gave you the freedom to mate whomever you please, as long as the woman is truly the right one for you.”

“Are you referring to Julia?”

Cearnach's eyes darkened and narrowed. “You know
nothing
about the lass, Ian. If it were me, I'd tread lightly where she's concerned.”

Surprised, Ian stared at his brother. Cearnach sounded truly angry, when he was barely ever angry. “What has happened?” Ian asked in a gentler tone.

“You don't know her, Ian.” His brows furrowed deeper. “She could be sleeping with the enemy for all we are aware.”

Ian had considered that Julia might be in the enemy's camp and that could be the reason for her trying to sneak into the castle. But sleeping with his enemy—

He studied Cearnach's grim expression. “Speak freely.” Although Ian didn't want to hear what Cearnach had to say if he truly had uncovered evidence Julia was in the enemy's camp—or worse, in bed with his enemy.

Cearnach's jaw was clenched, but he said nothing. He swallowed hard and rose from the chair, crossed the floor, and looked out the window. “Just be careful.”

He turned and looked at Ian, his eyes misty with tears. Just like when he'd learned Flynn had died at the hands of an angry husband. “Be careful,” he said again. Then he quit the room, and Ian felt the joy he had known when he was in Julia's arms wither.

What had she done?

When Julia woke from her long sleep, Ian rose from the chair nearby where he'd been watching her. He couldn't quash the concern he had that she might be in collusion with the Sutherlands, to what end, he didn't know, though. Yet, damn his bloody soul, he couldn't help wanting her anyway. “Are you hungry, lass?”

“Hmm,” she said, stretching in the bed, the covers barely covering her breasts.

He wanted to look away, not see how enticing the siren was while the words of warning his brother had given him still tugged at his conscience. “What do you know of the Sutherlands?”

She took a deep breath, peaceful, not in the least bit worried. Either she was a consummate actress along with being a great storyteller, or she hadn't been part of a plot with his enemy after all.

“Basil Sutherland,” he added, studying her.

She shook her head. “I don't know any Basil Sutherland. No Sutherlands, either.” She suddenly pulled the covers higher and sat up. “Maria! She'll wonder what became of me.”

Purposefully changing the subject? “She was told you're with me.”

Julia rolled her eyes. “I'm sure that went over well.”

“She wanted to see you. Once you're dressed…” Ian clenched his teeth. He wanted this business resolved with the Sutherlands. “How did you know where the secret entrance was?”

“I told you.” She sounded taken aback. “My grandfather told me. But I couldn't find it, and then I just happened to hit it with my boot and realized the trapdoor was there.”

“Why didn't you tell me about this betrothal contract in the beginning?”

“At first I didn't know about it. Then when I told my grandfather I wanted to ask your permission to locate the hidden box, he said I couldn't. He said… if you were mated, or I was, the next female in my line would be betrothed to the next laird of Argent Castle.” She attempted a smile. “I told him I would tell you about the betrothal contract, and you'd end this nonsense now. No more problems with a blackmailer. You'd just say, ‘No way in hell,' to that, and that would be the end of the difficulty.”

He raised his brows a little. Did she think he really found her that objectionable? “Because I don't love you.”

“Well, sure, and because I don't have a title…” She paused.

“Hmm?”

She continued, “I'm American. And a werewolf romance author.”

“I haven't read your books. Maybe they would interest me.”

“I doubt it.”

He leaned back in the chair. “Have you had visitors to the cottage?”

She frowned at him. “You… and your brother. I was here most of the night or in the woods or the tunnel or… why?”

“Cearnach dropped by the cottage to get your bags so you'd have a change of clothes since your trousers were ruined in the tunnel and your sweater was wet.” Although Cearnach hadn't told Ian what he'd found in the cottage when he had picked up Julia's bags and her notebook, Ian assumed he'd smelled a Sutherland's scent in the place.

“And?”

Ian shrugged. “A Sutherland had stopped by.”

“I don't know any…” She paused. “Maybe he talked to Maria?”

Ian had considered it, but Cearnach's words of warning—she was sleeping with the enemy—made him think otherwise. “No, Julia.”

She chewed on her lower lip, and then her eyes widened. “Maria's okay, isn't she?”

Her change of topic threw him.

“Maria's here, working on the film.”

Julia's whole body was tense now, and her gaze searched the room. “My bags. Where are my bags?”

“What's going on, Julia?”

“Someone called me last night when I was trying to reach my grandfather to ask his permission to tell you that I needed to search for the box. I couldn't get hold of him at first. As soon as I hung up the phone, it rang, and when I picked it up, thinking my grandfather had called me back, it was
him
—the blackmailer.”

“The blackmailer.” No matter that Ian meant to sound like he believed her, he was having a hard time relying on anything that came out of that beautiful mouth of hers now.

“Yes.” She spied one of her bags in the corner of the room and, without wasting another moment, climbed out of bed in all her naked beauty and crossed the room to her bag. “His voice was cold, threateningly so. And I realized then,” she said, tugging on a sweater, no bra this time, “why Maria thought he was dangerous and not just some flake.” She jerked on a pair of jeans, no panties.

He frowned. “Where are you going in such a rush?”

“I've got to speak with Maria. Warn her he knows where we're staying. That he called last night. I don't think he's after her. He's after me. He said he didn't want me to find the contract. He's blackmailing my grandfather. Aren't you listening to me? I told you about it this morning. Or most of it. But she can't stay at the cottage any longer. If he's out to get me, he could use her to come after me. Don't you see? She'll have to stay at Harold's rental with the rest of the film crew. Well, I will, too.”

Ian didn't want her to stay with Harold, or anyone else, for that matter. No matter how crazy it seemed, given Cearnach's warning about Julia, he wanted her here with him. Whether it was because he thought he might be able to keep her from doing whatever Sutherland wanted, or because he truly thought she might be in danger, he couldn't decide.

She grabbed a pair of socks and sat down on the bed. “He knew it was me answering the phone, Ian. He knew before I said anything. He was watching the cottage when he spoke with me.” Her eyes widened as she looked up at him.

“Omigod, he didn't pick our lock and let himself in while we've been gone, did he?” She shook her head and yanked on her socks. “I've got to talk to Maria. Ask if someone came to see her last night while I was running through the woods… um, and tunnels at your place.”

“Between the time you were with me and by the time you ended up in the tunnels, you had been at your place for a number of hours.”

“Sure, sleeping some. I wrote in my journal. And I had the two phone calls. What else…?” Her eyes narrowed. “What is this all about?”

“I'm not certain. Cearnach wouldn't tell me. Perhaps we should take a ride over to your place and check it out?”

She hurried to slip on her boots and frowned. “Fine. I'm ready. But I have to warn Maria about the blackmailer.”

If anything, she was consistent about this story. But he didn't think Cearnach was wrong, either.

He led her into the hallway, down the stairs to the great hall, and then outside where he walked her through the inner bailey to the outer one. When he saw the director talking to some of his people near the stables, Ian took hold of Julia's arm and led her toward them. “Come on.”

“What… what are we doing?”

“Maria's nowhere around,” he said, motioning to the outer bailey. “You can talk to her when you get back.”

“Yeah, but—”

He motioned to one of his cousins as he came out to greet him. “Saddle Rogue.”

“Aye,” Oran said, and hurried into the stable.

Julia rubbed her arms and chewed on her bottom lip. “I've never ridden a horse before. Well, except for a trail horse, and they're ornery as all get-out. Not in the least bit obedient. One was a stubborn old nag that tried to rub me off on every tree we passed. I love them, but… from a distance.”

He smiled at her. He couldn't help it. “And you're writing a cowboy story? Don't they have horses?”

She frowned at him. “Sure, but the heroine doesn't have to have a horse.”

“Unless she steals one.”

She just stared at him, her lips parted, kissable. God, how he wanted to kiss them. Then she narrowed her eyes. “When Cearnach picked up my bags, he wouldn't have also lifted my journal, would he have?”

“You wanted to write. How could you without your notebook?”

She glowered at him. “Don't you know it's wrong to read someone's private journal?”

“My name was in it. Seemed acceptable to read what you'd written about me.” Although he hadn't stopped there.

She opened her mouth to speak, but when she saw Rogue, she didn't say a word, just gawked and shivered. “That's not a horse. It's as tall as your castle.”

He chuckled, mounted the horse, and then reached down offering his hand and, with a grip on her arm, swung her around the back of him. “Hold on, lass.”

She quickly wrapped her arms around Ian's waist, and the feel of her breasts pressed tight against his back, the snug feel of her arms around him, her head resting against him, felt damn good. He galloped in the direction of the gatehouse, hoping to hell Cearnach was wrong.

Everyone on the film crew and Ian's own men paused what they were doing to stare at Ian and Julia riding toward them. Their mouths gaped, while Duncan and Cearnach frowned at him.

“That's Laird MacNeill,” one of the members of the film crew said. “He owns the castle and lands around. Too bad he wasn't wearing a kilt and we could get a shot of him.”

Ian wasn't about to be in any blasted movie.

***

Heart thumping, Julia held on to Ian for dear life while the horse pounded the pavement with a monstrous gait. Most likely Ian was sick of the shambles the film crew was making of his castle and wanted to get away. She'd agree with him there.

At this point, he probably wanted to take a ride to the cottage at a more leisurely pace, well, if he'd slow the horse down, rather than drive her to the cottage in his car.

She admired the way he handled the beast, as if he had grown up riding a horse. And he probably had. Afraid for dear life that she'd fall off the horse's rump, she tightened her hold on Ian, his stomach firm and his thighs taut, hard, and hot. Loving the feel of him anytime she had the chance to hold onto him, she realized just how addictive he was.

But this horse was way too big, way too wild-looking, and galloping way too fast. Kind of like his rider.

Wolf whistles and cheers went up around the castle grounds. With her whole body burning with embarrassment, not to mention Ian's touch as she pressed her body close to his, and fearing she might just bounce off the horse's rump at any moment, she noted that everyone with the film crew who had witnessed the event was grinning. If Maria learned of it, she would definitely give Julia even more of a hard time later tonight after they were through filming for the day.

But once they were beyond the gatehouse, Ian slowed the horse to a trot, and they headed in a much more unhurried manner toward Baird Cottage as if he wanted to prolong the contact between them.
Or
delay the arrival at the cottage and whatever was bothering him about it. She didn't have a good feeling about that, although she tried to tell herself everything would be okay.

She slid up and down against Ian's back while the horse's gait slowed, the friction making her hot for Ian all over again. And she thought about her story, trying to put to good use all the sensory details she was gathering.

The hero had rescued the heroine from the enemy clan. She was too exhausted to take another step, while the enemy was in hot pursuit. The hero held her tight as he rode hard back into the outer bailey, his body scorching and solid, the smell of him all male, of the piney woods and the fresh clean air and the leather saddle.

As Julia clung to Ian, she wished he was wearing that loose-fitting tunic with the kilt that she'd seen him wear in the photo. She couldn't help it. Her cowboy story had morphed back into the Highland story again.

She was grateful he wasn't riding fast right now. Slow and easy was much more to her liking so she could enjoy their physical closeness more. She loved the way Ian smelled, all man and wolf, wild and untamable, his free arm hugging hers. She would never mind riding a horse if she got to travel with Ian like this.

Yes, he was just perfect for her story. Too bad she couldn't get him to act out all her scenes so she could write them without any effort.

“Are you all right, lass?” he asked, breaking into her dream world.

His thick burr tantalized her, adding to her love of all things Scottish. She imagined him stripping off his plaid and then her curling up in his arms at night in a cavernous bed, surrounded with furs and—

“Julia?”

She didn't want the fantasy to stop. She sighed. “I've changed my mind about horses.”

“What's that?”

She snuggled her head against his back and tightened her arms around his waist. “I rather like riding like this.”

“I'll have to teach you to love to ride on your own.”

That sounded a lot like he meant for her to stay. Yet something about his demeanor earlier had said something was wrong at the cottage, that it had to do with her and some man named Sutherland, and that it was a really bad something.

She was afraid to discover what it was.

***

When they arrived at the cottage, Ian helped Julia dismount and then swung off the horse and tethered him to a nearby tree. Julia fought rubbing her arms, chilled from the uncertainty of what she'd find in the cottage.

All wolves were great observers. They considered their surroundings, sniffing at the air to analyze scents from foe or prey or friend. They watched and listened and were wary and curious at the same time. But instead of using all his enhanced senses on the cottage, Julia noted Ian was watching her. It made her uncomfortable, as if he was observing her reaction, seeing if she had something to hide, when for once, damn it, she didn't.

She kept thinking he'd open the door, and there lying on the floor would be the body of a dead man. With a knife in his chest, with her fingerprints all over it. At least Ian acted as though they were entering a murder scene and she'd done the murdering.

Her hands ice cold, she took hold of Ian's hand, and he looked a little surprised. She was afraid he'd pull away, and he did, but only after he gave her fingers a small reassuring squeeze. It wasn't enough. He didn't trust her. She knew that for sure now.