Heart of the Highland Wolf (25 page)

Ian faltered. The tip of Ian's sword dipped just enough that Basil took advantage. With a wicked thrust, Basil stabbed at Ian's chest, but Ian jumped back and swung his sword to counter the momentum of Basil's weapon. Sweeping it aside, Ian felt the tip of Basil's blade slashing across his shirt, cutting it, slicing his skin, and drawing blood.
Hell.

Retaliating, Ian swung his sword so hard that when it hit Basil's, the jolt went up Ian's arm. Basil's haughty grin slid from his face.

“What do you know of the contract?” Ian growled, thinking of how Sutherland's people had invaded the MacPhersons' holdings and taken them hostage before his grandfather could claim his mate. Although if he had, Ian wouldn't be in the position he was now with Julia.

Both Ian and Basil kept their postures straight, their chests facing forward to maximize the ability to simply twist away from a dangerous strike.

“You can't be daft as all that. You besieged her castle. Vanquished us. The contract drawn up between Sutherland and the MacPherson clans stated Fiona MacPherson would be my grandfather's mate. That if the mating was not a success, another MacPherson lass was promised to the laird. Since that union never occurred, Julia is mine.” Basil's face was twisted, red, his eyes narrowed in confrontation, and even his breathing was reedy.

“Yours?” Elbows close to his body, sword poised, Ian lunged at Basil, not about to be thrown off guard again. “If that were so, how come it's taken you so long to realize this?”

“I only just discovered my great-grandfather's journal.”

Basil blocked Ian's blow with a frantic sweep of his sword. A clang of metal rang out across the inner bailey.

“The contract states the MacPhersons and MacNeills would be united through a mating before the Sutherlands seized Argent Castle,” Ian said. Although he didn't need any contract to say Julia was his.

“Did your da or anyone else tell you that a MacPherson would be yours?”

No. And that had bothered Ian, although Oran's arrival in the dining hall had made him forget to question Aunt Agnes about that. Why wouldn't his family have made him aware of a contract such as this? At the very least, he would have searched for the lass and resolved the issue. If all parties had agreed, he would have destroyed the contract himself with her family and his as witnesses. Unless his family had believed the MacPhersons had all died.

“You know what I say is true,” Basil said, winded as he fell back from Ian's thrust, the blade nicking Basil's shoulder. Blood tinged his garment. He cursed in Gaelic.

“The contract would no longer have been enforceable,” Ian countered, although among the
lupus garous
it would have been. Their long-standing traditions made it so.

“Ah, MacNeill, you don't believe that. You have taken my promised mate when she belongs to me. Your kin had taken my castle before this. How much more can a man endure?” Basil usually kept cool in a sword fight, but his stance was off, his forehead beaded with sweat.

“The lass's family owned the castle before you,” Ian said.

“They were weak and needed a protector. We came to their aid,” Sutherland said, finally getting a second wind.

Ian gave a dark laugh. Basil responded with a thrust of his sword, but Ian quickly countered and knocked it aside.

“You're a good storyteller, Sutherland. They may have needed a protector, but only from
your
kin.” Throwing his weight into the swing, Ian caught Basil's sword so hard that the blow ripped the sword clean from his hands and sent it sailing through the air.

Ian noted then how quiet the bailey was. No shouts or clanging of swords from the other men. No sound other than Basil's heavy breathing. The man dove for his sword.

Ian slammed into him, knocking him down, and Basil fell hard on his back against the pavement. His head hit with a dull thud. His eyes swimming with tears, he looked dazed.

Running footfalls caught Ian's attention, and he turned to see a pale-faced Julia racing toward him. Before he could sheathe his sword, she wrapped her arms around his body and held on tight, her mouth kissing his chest, her hands gripping him for dear life.

“Ian,” Julia murmured against his chest and with his sword flat against her back, he kissed her lips and felt the heat of her pressed against his body, her soft breasts and her hair tickling his skin where his shirt hung open.

The world stood still in that instant, everything fading into the background. Vaguely, he was aware that Basil's men cursed him in a steady stream of Gaelic, variations on the theme of whoreson, as they hauled the dazed Sutherland out of the inner bailey.

“Cut!” the director called, from what sounded like a million miles away.

“You won,” Julia whispered through her tears.

Ian hadn't won. The conflict between Basil and him was like a pot of stew, simmering, heating, and bubbling into a rage, then cooling down and simmering again until the next time. In the past, that hadn't mattered. Sutherland wanted the castle back, but he couldn't lay siege to it in this day and age. Now he wanted Julia, too. But he damn well couldn't have her, either.

Ian swept Julia up into his arms as cheers in Gaelic, whoops, and hollers rent the air. He stalked toward the castle with his bundle of soft, warm woman.

When he entered the keep, the place was quiet since everyone was still outside wrapping up business. His brothers and the others would watch the film crew and would not leave the inner or outer bailey until everyone who didn't belong was let out for the night and the gates shut and locked.

He carried her through the great hall to the stairs.

The sound of running feet behind him didn't make him slow his pace. He recognized the footfalls.
Maria's.

“Laird MacNeill,” she called out.

“Talk to her,” Julia said, her sparkling green eyes beseeching him.

“We have other business to attend to,” he said under his breath.

She made a face at him. “Oh, right, and it's not like you're subtle about it, Ian. I mean, everyone here today knows just where you're taking me.”

His mouth curved up marginally, although he still couldn't rid himself of Basil's haunting words. That Julia was his, not Ian's. “Everyone needs to know you are mine.”

“As if anyone would be that clueless.”

Maria dove in front of Ian, but he quickly sidestepped the lass. “Not now, Miss Baquero.”

“Laird MacNeill, Howard wanted me to tell you that you were brilliant,” Maria said, running beside him.

“Aye, he has the right of it.”

Julia shook her head. “Did he also mention how humble Ian is?”

Maria smiled and then continued, “You don't have much of a part at the final feast, but he wants to give you a bigger role. He wants you to kill off your archenemy on screen.”

Ian raised his brow at Maria.

“Not for real, of course. Will you agree?”

“I don't want Basil or his men inside the castle. My men and Harold's actors will be there.”

“We've discussed this before. They're contracted as background performers, and without just cause to let them go—”

“Maria,” Julia said, “you know the animosity that exists between the two clans and how dangerous that powder-keg combination can be.”

“That's what Howard loves about it. It looks so real. No one could act the way Ian and his men do when fighting against Sutherland and his men. Harold swore he was watching a real battle in the bailey just now.”

“Which he was,” Julia reminded her.

Ian headed for the stairs with Julia still clasped tightly in his arms.

“Please agree to do this small last part, Laird MacNeill,” Maria tried again. “He wants you to sit at the head table with John Duvall while Julia is sitting at one of the lower tables. Then Basil makes a move on Julia and—”

“No,” Ian ground out. “Julia will take no part in any of this.”

“He's offering a lot of money. He wants you both in this scene.”

Without answering her, Ian stalked up the stairs.

“If the price is right, we can do it,” Julia said, smiling up at Ian. “He can pay for my flight here, the cost of the lodging, and wages for the scene.”

“Who is the laird of Argent?” he asked Julia gruffly.

She smiled wickedly. “Oh you are, my laird. Settle the matter between you and Sutherland once and for all.”

“It'll never be settled,” he said darkly.

“I'll tell Howard you're agreeable.” Maria hurried back the way she came.

“Besides,” Julia said, smiling up at him in way too willful a manner, “I'm the lady of the castle, and you would be remiss in not remembering that. Particularly when it used to be
my
castle.”

“Then I will have to prove again to you who is laird.” And with that declaration, Ian carried his bonny mate into his bedchamber with every intention of making the world kneel at her feet as she did for him.

For days, while the filming continued on scenes involving the cast of main characters only, Cearnach and several of the MacNeill clansmen ensured that the director accessed only those locations already agreed upon. In the meantime, Julia, Ian, and his remaining brothers; a few cousins, including Heather; and even Aunt Agnes searched the castle for the secret niche where the MacPhersons had hidden the box. Aunt Agnes was sure she knew where the cache was hidden on numerous occasions and, when proven wrong, excitedly explained where she thought it might be next.

When they were still unsuccessful, Julia seemed so disappointed that Ian took her back to the falls, except this time, riding horses with the dogs in tow and an escort, as if they were living in the past and the enemy clan was all around them. And it had become so once Basil and his men had signed up as background performers and come after Ian and Julia in their wolf forms near Baird Cottage.

Her feet bare, her jeans rolled up and showing off her slender calves, Julia sat on the edge of a boulder and took in deep breaths to sample the fresh air and the cold moving water, her face tilted up to the sun, her eyes closed. Her red hair was loose and fluttering in the breeze, while light blue jeans and a pale blue sweater outlined her shapely curves. She was stunning, as much a part of the picturesque scene as the frothy water rushing across moss-covered boulders and trees shading the fringes.

Ian thought he'd never look at the falls in the same way again—as just part of the landscape with nothing to make him stop and enjoy them on a partly sunny summer day. He'd always equate the falls with Julia now, and the way she had made him take pleasure in the scenery and realize just how blessed he was with her in his life. Julia was the one who made all the difference in the world to him.

He removed his boots and socks, and then sat behind her on the rock, pulling her between his legs, his arms wrapped around her, his chin resting on the top of her head, his knees boxing her in. Her back melted against his chest, relaxed and at peace.

He wanted to find the box as much as he knew she did. He was curious about its contents and why her grandfather was so adamant that no one should see them. But all that
really
mattered was that Julia and he had found each other. “You know, lass, you are a treasure to me.”

“Hmm,” she said, snuggling closer. “If you're trying to make me feel better about not finding the box, you are. Coming here and being with you like this…” She sighed. “I wonder what it would have been like in earlier times.”

“Much like it is now,” Ian said. “The rocks, the water, the trees. We would have had the horses, a guard, and the dogs with us just like today. Will you write that in your story?”

She caressed his knee. “I will, but only in a fictional way. I need to talk to you about something else, though.”

“Aye.” He kissed her head, hoping the
something else
wasn't too grave an issue. “What is troubling you then?”

“I have a book signing scheduled for Powell's in Portland, Oregon, and other appearances I must make for a couple of new releases.”

He frowned. “More ‘Getting into Bed with Julia Wildthorn' interviews? Can you not at least disguise your author picture some?”

She chuckled. “Wildthorn is a pen name, and I won't be using the MacNeill name, which would scandalize your mother.”

“I believe she is coming to terms with what you do.” He leaned over and kissed Julia's soft cheek.

“Oh? She hasn't spoken to me once. At least your Aunt Agnes is helping us look for the box. She's funny. Her face lights up so when she has another thought of where it could be, and off we are on another wild-goose chase.”

“Aunt Agnes has read your books. Every one of them. And she even had Duncan rent a video of
Romancing the Wolf
and then watched it with several of our people in the pool room.”

“When?”

Julia sounded so surprised that he smiled and kissed her cheek again, and then hugged her tighter. “When you and I were abovestairs making love.”

“That really pins down the time.” She sighed. “So what did everyone think of it?”

“Aunt Agnes was livid that the heroine ended up with a human for her mate, when your story showed that she was mated to the alpha leader of the pack.”

“That's Hollywood for you. They thought that humans would appreciate it more if the heroine fell in love with the human and he didn't try to kill her. It's a human thing, I'm sure.”

“But it was not
your
story.”

“Yes, but to get a story into movie format, sometimes authors have to give in a bit. Your mother didn't watch the movie?”

He chuckled. “Unless it's BBC, Mum doesn't watch the telly. Aunt Agnes wanted to know if you could change your name to MacNeill on your books to honor us.”

“Hmm, I'm sure that would really go over well with your mother.”

“You only have to be concerned with how I feel about it.”

Julia looked back at him. “So how do you feel about it?”

“Whatever makes you happy, love. About these book commitments you have, can you just do them online?”

“No.”

Her bluntness amused him. “Then
I
will have to accompany you.”

She smiled, her look so pleased that he was glad to oblige. “Would you?”

“No mate of mine is running around the world by herself. Didn't I mention this when we first met? That there are too many wolves about?”

“Oh, Ian, I would love for you to…” She paused, and then her eyes widened. “You could wear your kilt.”

“I
only
wear it for special occasions.”

“Oh yes, this would be special. The women would fall all over themselves to see you in a kilt.”

“I would not want women hurting themselves to see me in a kilt, although I believe you exaggerate a wee bit.”

“Believe me, I don't exaggerate. One look at you in your plaid, and you'll have them swooning in the aisles.”

That made him recall his brother's comment that women would be climbing the gates to get to him. “You are not worried about the attention I might draw?”

“Only if the women are so wrapped up in you that they forget to buy my books.”

“I'm not good with talking to outsiders, Julia. I may not make the best of impressions. I may scare them all off.”

She smiled. “Lay on the brogue, and they won't know what you're saying, but they'll love every word of it.”

“Or I could speak Gaelic.”

“Ah, my wild Highlander, not even I will know what you'll be saying then.”

He kissed her ear and whispered in it, “Then you will have to learn, my bonny lass.”

“If you teach me,” she said, kissing his mouth back, “I'm sure I'll be a fast learner.”

After another hour of enjoying the falls, Ian led Julia to his horse and lifted her onto the saddle in front of him, while Duncan, Guthrie, and the two cousins escorting them looked on.

They'd only begun to canter back to the holding, when Guthrie said, “Will you need any other Highlanders to accompany you to America, lass?”

Duncan nodded. “I'm sure I could clear my schedule to see to your safety also.”

“Wearing kilts?” she asked brightly.

Ian shook his head.

***

The last day of shooting had come, the day to film the final feast where the hero of the movie would vanquish the villain forever. To Ian's surprise, his mother had become more worried about Julia's safety than he would have thought possible.

Wringing her hands, his mother caught him in his solar after trying unsuccessfully earlier—several times—to get him to change his mind about Julia being at the feast. “Ian, you really can't allow this. You are armed with a sword. Julia has nothing to protect her.”

“She has me.”

His mother frowned. “You will be too far from the table where she's to sit. I've seen the arrangements and talked to that damnable director, who merely smiles at me as if I've lost my senses, but he can't possibly understand the animosity the Sutherlands and MacNeills share. You must reconsider.”

“I've already agreed to the scene, although I've made some modifications. Duncan and Cearnach will be sitting near her. They won't let any harm come to her.”

“I've said all along this is folly. Do you know why I named you Ian?”

“Because you were so relieved to have the first of us birthed?”

She frowned at him. “Be serious, Ian. You were my firstborn, the one who would take over the clan and pack when your da was no longer able to lead. You are truly a gift from God, the one who has led this pack through prosperity and crises too numerous to mention. Everyone looks up to you, even during this madness that we've had to participate in to keep our castle solvent. You
must
make other allowances. Julia is too important to the pack to lose now.”

To the pack.
His mother still couldn't say that Julia was important to her. Despite Julia's conceding that it didn't matter, he knew deep down it did. “We'll be fine, truly. Have no concern.” Ian was apprehensive enough for both of them as it was without worrying about his mother's interference.

Shortly thereafter, he took his seat at the head table, nearer to the end, which, considering he was the real laird of the castle, should have irritated him, but didn't. The hero of the film and his antagonist would play out their roles in the final scene while they sat at the center of the table. Ian's focus was on Basil, seated at one of the lower tables across from where Julia was sitting with Heather. He was too close, and Ian didn't like it. His men were sitting near the two women, but the way Basil kept leering at Julia was for real, not acting in the least.

If Julia hadn't insisted that they play out the scene to earn some extra money and have Howard pay off her plane fare and lodging expense, Ian would never have gone along with it.

“You say you wish to know of my relationship with the lady,” the laird actor was saying to his nemesis. “You, Baron, would be well advised to deal with your own problems and leave us well enough alone in the Highlands.”

The baron growled, “I will know if the lady is to be your wife.”

“She is the cousin of my greatest ally. So, aye, she will be my wife.”

The baron jumped up swiftly, the laird actor's guards rushed forth, and Basil was on cue to try and grab Julia in the ensuing skirmish between the laird actor and his enemy. At once, the hall was filled with chaos. Basil's men leapt from their positions to fight Ian's, and Basil fought Duncan before Ian could get to him. But the bastard jumped onto one of the benches, which hadn't been part of the planned scene, leapt to the table where Julia had been sitting, and then lunged for her. Basil's own man swung a sword at Duncan, keeping him occupied so he couldn't follow Basil. Cearnach was likewise engaged with one of Sutherland's men.

Julia dashed out of Basil's immediate path, but Sutherland clansmen on either side of the fray hemmed her in, and she couldn't get far enough away.

Ian's plans to keep her safe were failing.

Basil seized her arm. She grabbed a mug off the table and tried to hit him up the side of his head, but he blocked her blow with his sword arm, knocking the mug from her grasp. Ian cursed in Gaelic, shoving actors and Basil's men out of his way, while trying to get to Julia.

“Julia!” he shouted.

“Ian!” She sounded desperate and afraid, her eyes wild as she struggled against Basil's iron grip.

Basil tugged her through the fighting men, attempting to get her out of the hall. In the script, he was to die, but Ian assumed Basil had never had any intention of dying. It appeared now that he'd only agreed to the bit of playacting to make a move on Julia while everything was so chaotic.

To add to the horror, Ian's mother appeared, wearing a dark blue gown with the MacNeill plaid
arisaid
fastened over it as she waved a
sgian dubh
, forcing men to move out of her way.
Hell
. Now he also had to rescue his mum.

But the clansmen on both sides moved out of her path as they continued to fight. As one of Basil's sub-leaders raised a sword to Ian, his mother reached Julia and shoved the black knife into her hand.

Basil was still trying to pull Julia against him as she struggled against his confinement. And then, she twisted her arm down and under and, with the maneuver, managed to free herself. When Basil looked at the
sgian dubh
she fended him off with, he merely sneered at her. “You would have to threaten me with something a little more imposing, lassie.”

He struck at her blade, and she dropped it from the impact with a gasp. He grabbed her arm when she was still too stunned to respond.

Knocking the man to the floor that he'd been fighting, Ian rushed to Julia's defense. “Release her at once, Sutherland.” Ian planted himself between Basil and the entryway. “You won't leave here with her.” He had to remind himself that he couldn't kill the bastard. That this had to look real for the movie, although at this point, he didn't care what was going on with regards to the shooting of the film.

Then the bastard struck at Ian's sword, willing him to fight as he kept Julia crushed against his chest like a human shield. “You can't fight me without risking her life, Laird.”

Ian focused on Basil's sword, attempting to strike it hard enough that he could tear it away from Basil's grip. But grabbing Basil's arm, Julia twisted her body, using her hip to catch Basil off balance. While Basil lost his grip on her as he fought falling, Duncan rushed in and yanked Julia away, and Ian went in for what he wished could be the kill.

Angered beyond reason, Ian slashed and thrust his sword at Basil, who tripped over a bench and backed into a table, cursing Ian in Gaelic.