Heart of the Highland Wolf (24 page)

“I will join you in a moment after I wash up,” he said, removing his sword and setting it on the dresser.

“But… I don't want to wait.” Seeing Ian in his sexy kilt had made Julia hot and bothered the whole day, between getting everything in place for the shoot and then shooting the picture. And wearing no undergarments underneath her layers of clothing, plus with dampening her chemise so it felt like she barely wore anything beneath the gown, she felt sexy and wanton and had envisioned ravishing the Highlander once he'd finished fighting his enemy.

She leaned back against the mattress and touched the brooch securing the
arisaid
at her bodice, but after trying to unfasten it, she found she couldn't free it.

As he watched her, an almost imperceptible smile tugged at Ian's mouth.

She frowned and tried to unlace the ties at the sides of the gown, instead, but couldn't see what she was doing.

“Ye need a lady's maid, aye, lass?” He moved in closer to her, his gaze dark and speculative. He leaned down to remove the brooch at her bodice, his fingers touching her breasts and making her whole body heat with anticipation.

How could his simple touch turn her into a burning inferno?

His darkened eyes focused on her as he pulled the brooch loose and then set the pin on the side table.

“No, Ian, I only need you.” The fact of the matter was that she'd been very capable when she'd dressed earlier. But now under Ian's hot gaze, she couldn't seem to unfasten anything.

She ran her hands up his thighs under his kilt, brushing her thumbs upward and feeling his hard muscles tighten. Heat reflected in his eyes, desire flaring, the craving for her revealed in his predatory gaze.

His voice thick with need, he said, “You know, lass, the danger you're asking for?”

“With Sutherland?” She stroked Ian's thighs in a seductive way. “Or with you?”

“Julia.” That simple declaration told her he wasn't giving her up for anything. And she knew he loved her, even if he still didn't say the words.

His hands felt solid on her shoulders, gently pushing her back. But as he leaned forward, she moved her fingers underneath his kilt and between his legs, soundly cupping him. She felt the fullness and hardness and incredible length of him. Heard the intake of his breath and the groan, and then he briefly closed his eyes. The thought of taking a shower forgotten, he opened his eyes, quickly removed the belt at her waist, and tossed it aside. How easy it was to change his mind, and she loved that he craved her so willingly that he could be swayed in that way.

She wanted him to untie her laces at the sides of her gown, but instead, he leaned over and cupped her breasts beneath the smock and chemise and fondled them in a loving way. He pushed the gown lower, exposing her nipples, which were only screened by the sheer, damp chemise. His thumb stroked over a nipple, grazing it, and making it grow and tingle and stir her craving for completion even more. His gaze focused on hers, glazed with lust. Then he ran his hand down her waist, so lightly it tickled her ribs.

She reached down to grab his kilt and push it up, to get this show on the road, but he thwarted her, roughly tugging at her laces to untie her gown. She slipped her fingers inside his open tunic, felt his muscles tense beneath her touch, and wanted him naked and joined with her.

He tugged the blue gown off and then worked on the smock and her hose and garters, until all that was left was the paper-thin chemise. He took stock of her, his eyes roaming all the way down the clinging fabric from her breasts to her ankles.

His heated gaze made her feel sexy and vulnerable and desired.

He ran his large capable hand over the soft fabric draping her legs and then, with his strong fingers molding to her calf, pushed the fabric upward. His voice raspy with need, he said, “This reminds me of when I first saw you.”

When she was soaking wet at the tavern. Only she hadn't been quite this naked. And she'd felt his ravenous gaze then, too, only she'd been considering his wet clothes in the same interested manner.

He lowered his head and kissed her mouth as her hands caressed his hard muscled chest. She was having a difficult time concentrating on anything but the way he pulled up her gown, slowly, his hand brushing a sensuous stroke up her thigh. Every touch was loving and sexy, and she was thankful his dark mood had dissipated.

She tugged at his shirt to pull it free from his plaid, but it was too long. He yanked off his belt, and then his plaid and stood only in his long tunic, his legs bare, his look feral. She was reminded of the Scots of ancient times, how she was in a castle that was several centuries old and was living the fantasy with the Highlander of her dreams.

Then he hauled her chemise over her head and dropped it to the floor, and she gave a little pull upward on his tunic, which made him smile and wrench the fabric over his head. He was beautiful, every square inch of muscled man, the dark hair on his chest trailing down. And her gaze settled on the hefty size of him, primed just for her.

Fully naked now, she reached up, wanting to pull him down to join her, to fill the ache that was making her crave having him deep inside her.

But despite her being in a rush to make love, maddeningly, he seemed to be in no hurry whatsoever.

Ian stared at the beauty before him: the flush of her skin—which amused him because it seemed no matter how many times he made love to her, she wore that innocent blush whenever he viewed her—her darkened nipples tight and kissable, her fiery red hair splayed across his pillow, and the red thatch of curls between her legs, dewy with eagerness. He knew she was impatient to make love, but he wanted a moment to enjoy her naked splendor before that happened.

Then he pushed her knees apart with one leg, spreading her open so his fingers could plunge into the wet slickness between her folds. And she arched her leg pinned between his, pressing into his arousal. His control slipping, his touch greedy, he rubbed her in a lascivious manner. She responded with a sweet, sexy moan. He loved her, lusted for her, wanted her forever and knew she was the one he had needed to make him whole.

He kissed her breast, rubbed his whiskery cheek against the nipple, and licked and sucked and paid homage to one and then the other as his fingers continued to stroke her lower. She ran her hands through his hair, her heartbeat quickening, her body arching, restless and yearning, pushing to have him work her faster, and then she cried out his name in a sexually charged way. She sank against the mattress, her body quivering with orgasm, her mouth curved a little in a smile.

Taking advantage of her readiness, he stroked her silky thighs and then parted them farther so he could enter her. With a thrust, he slipped inside and claimed her again.

The lass's rocking against him, her hands gripping his backside, and the way she raised her knees for deeper penetration created a feverish hunger so great that he felt it would consume him until his passion exploded. He collapsed, satiated and drowning in fulfillment. He moved aside and lay on his back. Then he pulled her against him, loving the way her leg slipped between his, straddling him, claiming him.

Dinner would again be late as they slept first and then renewed their lovemaking.

Until he heard his mum's voice wrought with irritation as her quick footfalls drew toward his chamber.

She wasn't due to return until after the movie was finished. What was she doing home now?

“Where is he? What do you mean he's too busy to see me, Cearnach? I'm his mum! And I've returned to put a stop to this madness!”

For modesty sake, Ian pulled a cover over Julia and himself before his mother broke into the bedchamber. With brows raised, Julia tilted her lips up to his, offering herself to him. He kissed her smiling mouth, while his mum's tirade to Cearnach continued as they approached Ian's chamber.

If she barged into his bedchamber, which she was not prone to do, he would deal with it. But he was not leaving the bed just yet, and again he kissed Julia's willing mouth as his fingers combed through her silky red locks. She didn't seem to mind that his mum was nearly at his room in full-fledged battle mode and pressed her mouth against his with as much enthusiasm.

“He is the laird,” Cearnach reasoned with their mother. “It's his decision, and I think it best if you at least knocked—”

“
What
is he doing abed at this hour?” she railed. Then she shoved the door open.

Ian broke free of kissing Julia, turned to see his mum, and raised his brows. “You wished a word with me, my mother?” His voice was cold.

His mother's mouth gaped, but she quickly folded her arms, narrowed her eyes, and scowled, looking from Julia to Ian, while Cearnach standing slightly behind her appeared apologetic, grimacing as he offered a wee shrug.

She motioned to Julia. “
What
is
this
?”

He thought Julia was the reason for his mum's tirade. But apparently something else had angered her. He now suspected she didn't even realize that Julia was a wolf, thinking her just a human here for a little sexual pleasure. He wasn't surprised no one had told his mother about Julia, though. When his mother was in one of her unreasonable snits, it was impossible to get a word in edgewise. She was used to being the grand dame of the clan and the pack after his father died and Ian had still not taken a mate. But now Julia had the position of the lady of the manor, and his mother would have to step aside. He hadn't considered that part of the scenario.

“This is Julia Wildthorn,
my mate
. But I'm sure the introductions could have waited for a more…
suitable
time.”

His mum's mouth gaped again, and she glanced with a glower at Cearnach, who shrugged once more. “
Why
didn't
you
…” She paused and turned back to Ian, her face livid. “I want a word with you
at once
.”

Ian cast her the barest of smiles. She might think she could dictate to him like she had done with their da, but Ian was just like his sire, and he would do what he thought best for the clan and the pack.

“Later,” he said, his voice bordering on terse now, and he swept his hand down Julia's back in a gentle caress, hoping his mother wasn't upsetting her.

His mum opened her mouth to speak, her eyes still narrowed in contempt. Then her gaze shifted to Julia, her expression hardening even further, and she whipped around and stalked out of the room.

Cearnach bowed his head a little in apology and then shut the door.

Down the hall, his mother harangued Cearnach as their footfalls headed for the stairs. “Why didn't you tell me Ian had taken a mate? And
who
is she?”

Julia sighed softly, stroking Ian's nipple with her finger. “I take it she's not pleased about something. And… I don't think I've made the best first impression on her.”

He let out his breath. “I hadn't thought of how this might affect my mum, although she wasn't to return until month's end. By then, I would have sent word to her. Seems something else caught her ear. Maybe something to do with the film. The fact Basil and his men have gained entrance to the castle during the filming, Heather's participation, even our clansmen taking part in the film, perhaps. No telling what has gotten my mum's knickers in a twist.”

He continued to stroke Julia's back while she curled her fingers in his chest hair. When she didn't say anything, he asked, “Are you all right, lass?”

“My family's very small, Ian.” She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. “I love your brothers, and your cousins, too. I've met some of your other kin and clansmen and clanswomen, and I love how much they're dedicated to you and how kind they've been to me. I love being here and feel as though I'm home. But you have to know it bothers me that your mother doesn't seem to like me. And your aunt…”

“My aunt is my father's sister, and she will show you every respect. My mum, as well. Give them time. They'll come around.” And then he kissed Julia, a long lingering kiss that meant she had a pack, a clan, and an even larger family, and she was loved.

But the nagging worry that Basil would soon cause real trouble was at the back of Ian's mind. In the morning, the filming of a battle in the inner bailey was scheduled. Keeping Julia and his clansmen out of harm's way was his driving concern for now.

***

The next morning, Julia felt uneasy as Ian led her downstairs to breakfast. She worried his mother would make a scene at the meal, but she was hopeful that his mother wouldn't even show up. And that made Julia feel even worse. She hadn't expected Ian's mother to replace her own, but she had hoped they'd get along.

There she was, seated at the main dining table along with Aunt Agnes, the two older women waiting for Ian to join them like a couple of wolves anticipating their quarry. But both barely spared her a glance. His mother's red-gold curls were streaked with gray and piled on top of her head in an elegant coif, while her green eyes remained sharp and observant. She wore a black sweater and slacks and looked like she was in mourning as she cast Ian a scornful look. Aunt Agnes was wearing a pale blue sweater and slacks, which looked good on her, and she smiled a little at Ian.

His brothers and cousins milled around the kitchen, talking to each other about the upcoming scene, while Cook and a couple of other clanswomen worked on the morning meal.

“I will teach your brothers to cook,” Julia said, feeling the weight of his aunt's and mother's gazes return to her as she walked past them. “Then if Cook has other plans, they can fix meals fit for—”

“An earl and his lady,” Ian said, kissing her cheek and pulling out a chair for her. “I think that an admirable notion.”

His mother glowered at Julia. She didn't bother to see his aunt's reaction to their comments. Upon hearing Ian and Julia's conversation, everyone crowded into the dining room, offering greetings and small smiles, and then took their seats.

Half were dressed in kilts and tunics, ready for the start of the mock battle, and Julia envisioned the dining hall being part of the old world when the clan met to break their fast. Half were still wearing civilian clothes and would change after breakfast, which made her think of time travelers from the future who had landed in the middle of a seventeenth-century scene.

Everyone politely waited for Ian to say or do something.

He handed a platter of brown bread to Julia. She set a slice down on her plate and then passed the loaf to Heather.

“We took the castle from the Sutherlands,” Agnes said, without waiting for anyone else to speak, as the dishes of eggs and sausages made their rounds.

Astonished, Julia looked up from the bread she was buttering. Agnes's focus was on Ian.

“Argent Castle,” his aunt clarified, speaking to Ian.

He straightened. “Aye. My great-grandfather fought them and ousted them from the castle. That I'm well aware of, Aunt. Basil Sutherland reminds me every chance he gets.”

Julia stared at Agnes in disbelief. Her grandfather said the MacPhersons had owned the castle. Was he mistaken? She didn't believe so.

“Do you know why our family fought the Sutherlands in the first place?”Agnes asked.

“Territorial disputes, as far as I'm aware.”

So Ian hadn't believed that Julia's family had owned the castle. All this time, he'd been humoring her?

“Before this happened, your great-grandfather's son, your grandfather, was to mate a MacPherson,” Agnes said, her gaze drifting to Julia and then back to Ian.

Ian sat back in his chair. Julia closed her gaping mouth. But she wasn't the only one who appeared surprised. Forkfuls of food hung suspended in air, open mouths ready to take a bite and then stopping while the news hit them.

“I discovered it in some of the family journals. The union was meant to tie the clans together, to unite them against the Sutherlands,” Agnes continued.

“An alliance,” Julia whispered.

“Aye,” Agnes said, giving her a sharp nod.

“With the MacPhersons?” Ian's voice was rife with disbelief.

“Aye. But the Sutherlands didn't want this union. They stormed Argent Castle before this was to occur in a month's—”

Ian held up his hand to stop her. “The MacNeills stormed Argent, you mean.”

“No. The MacPhersons owned the castle.”

Julia's grandfather had been right. She felt a wave of relief that he hadn't been wrong and that she hadn't told Ian anything but the truth.

Ian frowned. “I don't understand.”

“Before our people arrived at Argent, Sutherland had already taken the castle after weeks of laying siege to it. We, the MacNeill clan and the families who owed us allegiance, seized the castle from Sutherland. But the MacPhersons? They had completely vanished. Some said they had escaped through secret passageways. Others, that they had been murdered for attempting to align with the MacNeills. No one ever discovered their whereabouts. It was said Sutherland had forced the MacPherson to agree to give his lovely daughter in betrothal to the laird of Argent Castle instead of the MacNeill.”

“But there were no females born to the MacPhersons,” Julia inserted.

“Oh, aye, there was. The woman in the oil painting. Fiona MacPherson. She was to be Ian's grandfather's mate. If anything were to stop that mating, the contract would be valid for a subsequent mating between a MacNeill laird and a MacPherson lady. We wished the ties between the clans.”

Julia cleared her throat and all attention focused on her. “But my grandfather said the contract was between the laird of Argent Castle and a MacPherson lady.”

“Aye. That contract was drawn up by the Sutherlands. Being so arrogant that they could see no other clan ever taking hold of Argent, they believed stating that the mating would be between a laird of the castle and a female MacPherson offspring would be sufficient.”

Ian smiled, lifted Julia's hand to his lips, and kissed it. “Except the MacNeills became the lairds and the contract would have been what the MacPhersons and MacNeills had intended in the first place. The old Sutherland outfoxed himself.”

Agnes gave a coy smile. “Seems you became the beneficiary of the contracted agreement instead of your grandfather.”

But his mother did not smile. “I wished to speak with you last night.”

“Aye.” Ian didn't say anything more, and his mother's face blushed with indignation.

“You shouldn't be in this film. Your da would be turning in his grave. As for the Sutherlands, they should never have gained entry to the grounds. And…” His mother gave Julia a glower. “…you should have told me you planned to mate some Yank. And a werewolf romance writer?” She gave an annoyed
tch
under her breath.

Before Ian could respond, his redheaded cousin Oran hurried into the dining room from the great hall. “The director is threatening to fire the whole lot of us if we don't take our places at once.”

“The nerve of the man,” Ian's mother said. “I will give him a piece of my mind.” She rose from her chair but waited for Ian to agree with her.

He gave her a wave of his hand. “By all means.” Then he turned to Julia. “Ready to don your gown?” He gave her a lascivious wink.

His expression said that if they went up to the bedchamber together, they'd never make it to the inner bailey for the filming of the scene.

Come to think of it, that would have suited her fine, if she had not known that Ian had to make sure his people remained safe with the threat of Basil and his men on the premises.

***

Within the hour, everyone involved in the film had taken their places. But it took many hours to get the scene right, and then when the actual filming began for the final take, Basil Sutherland didn't take long to move from where he was supposed to be fighting human actors to challenge Ian instead. Sutherland and he performed in the background while the camera's focus was primarily on the stars, but whether in practice or fighting a real battle, Ian concentrated on the man and the sword before him. His brothers and Heather's were watching the women while they battled nearby. But this was the fight Ian had darkly anticipated.

“You can't have her. She was meant to be mine!” Sutherland's whole body was filled with tension, tenser than was safe, as he swung his sword at Ian. Sutherland's breathing was heavy and his dark eyes narrowed with hatred, his patience shredded by all the retakes while filming the scene that had taken until nearly evening.

Ian blocked the blow with a hefty clunk. “You're a bloody fool, Sutherland. You tried to kill her on the road and—”

“Kill her? I disabled the car and meant to rescue her, but then I saw your bloody headlights approaching and drove off. They weren't supposed to run into the dyke.”

Ian thrust his sword at Basil, but the man rallied with a hefty block. A deafening clang resounded.

“Julia's mine,” Ian said, his voice low and controlled, his muscles loose, his breathing regulated. He thrust again at Sutherland's breast, keeping his feet spread a shoulder width apart for better balance. He glided across the pavement, planting the soles of his feet on the ground as much as he could to maintain equilibrium, and kept up the frontal attack.

Sutherland fell back again, his face red, his hands clenched tightly on the hilt of his sword. “The contract states otherwise, and you know it.”