Heart of the Highland Wolf (27 page)

The innermost portcullis made its way down behind the wolves and dogs. And now they were all trapped together.

Then the wolf raised his head to Oran again and this time, the middle portcullis was raised.

The wolf let out a dark “woof,” and the hounds raced in to unseat the riders. To Julia's amazement, the horses didn't rear, but the dogs snapped at the men's legs, threatening to bite, and the men quickly dismounted. Basil attempted to grab Julia from the saddle, probably to use her as a shield again, but the wolves got between the horses and the men and waited.

Someone clucked behind Julia at the innermost portcullis, and the horse she was riding and the other turned and walked over to it.

“Hold on, my lady,” Oran said. He reached through the gate and grasped for her tied hands, but no matter how much he tried to unknot the shirt strip, he couldn't.

Then the growling began in earnest. Low growls and barks and yips and snarls.

“Wait,” Oran said to Julia, who felt helpless and sick to her stomach and not at all like a heroine was supposed to feel in one of her stories. She was supposed to get free and help her mate.
Damn it.

Oran pulled out a dirk and cut the ties on her hands, careful not to injure her. He reached up to remove the gag keeping her silent.

But her head pained her so much that she couldn't manage to move in any direction. As much as she wanted to know what was happening, she couldn't see Ian and his men and what was occurring behind her. Oran made the horse come around so that her feet were now facing him, and then he worked on the tie binding her ankles. She raised her head a little to see one wolf dead, now in the form of a naked man, and the other fighting for his life against Ian.
Basil.

The bastard didn't stand a chance against an infuriated Ian. He stalked him, and Basil backed himself into a corner against the outermost portcullis. He bared his teeth at Ian, his head slightly bowed, but that didn't concern the pack leader. Ian lunged, and their teeth connected in a clatter of enamel. Ian backed off and again attacked, this time with the two riding high on their hind legs, teeth clashing and growls erupting, the sounds vicious as they spilled across the dark night and were amplified by the stone walls.

As in the previous sword fights with Basil, Ian had the upper hand. He was cool and made the moves that would benefit him most, proving to his men and to her that he was their leader and why. He was not only
her
Highland hero, but theirs.

Footfalls ran toward the portcullis from inside the holding, and it sounded like the whole of Ian's clan had been alerted to the trouble.

“Can't we open the gate to get to Julia?” Heather asked.

Julia moaned with relief. Heather was back and safe.

Oran said, “No, not without Ian's permission. If we open the portcullis, Basil may try to escape into the courtyard and injure any number of people before Ian takes him down.”

Julia wanted to slip off the horse, but the way she was feeling, she figured she'd slide, fall a hundred feet from the tall horse, hit her head like she'd done when she'd rolled off the haystack, and then pass out.

She kept telling herself she had to do something that was more heroine-like than this. How could she write heroic scenes if in a crisis the heroine couldn't do something for herself or for her mate? Not that her mate needed her help. In truth, she'd probably be a horrible hindrance.

But at least she could stand and cheer him on instead of lying on her belly on the back of a horse wearing only a damnable sheet.

“Julia, are you all right?” Ian's mother asked, her voice laced with concern.

They couldn't see her except for her backside hanging over the horse so they must have figured she'd passed out, which was another reason she needed to get off the horse. “Yes,” she said weakly, but with all the growling the two wolves were doing, she wasn't certain anyone heard her.

“Someone help her down from the horse,” Aunt Agnes said.

One of the wolves looked in her direction but then continued to watch the fight between Ian and Basil. She was safe, they figured, out of harm's way and not in need of anyone's assistance at the moment. And the fight was much more intriguing than Julia.

Ian and Basil continued to bite at each other's faces, each blocking the other from grabbing his throat and scoring a kill, but Basil was wearing down. Ian still had the fight in him, and he was relentless.

“He will never give up,” Oran said. “Ian will not let him live this time.”

“And he shouldn't,” Ian's mother said. “The bastard dug his own grave when he tried to take our Julia.”

Our Julia.
Tears swam in Julia's eyes. Ian's mother had finally accepted her.

Basil attempted to go low and bite Ian's leg, maybe intending to break it so he could go in for the kill. Julia wasn't certain why, but Basil's movement gave Ian an opportunity. He jumped on Basil's back and bit into his neck, killing the wolf instantly.

Ian whipped around then and headed straight for his horse. She smiled weakly at him, feeling like a total idiot, perched atop Rogue on her belly wearing only the sheet.

But Ian's eyes were still black as night as he motioned with his head to Oran to raise the portcullis. Ian shape-shifted, and then mounted the horse, totally naked, and lifted Julia into his arms. He was hot and hard and protective and comforting. And loved.

“Are you all right, lass?” he asked, tightening his hold on her.

“Now I am.” Her voice was shaky, and her eyes filled with tears. Her head throbbed with renewed pain.

He kicked the horse's flanks and rode her to the keep as his people hurried after them. “Did I ever tell you how transparent you are?”

She gave him a small smile and let out her breath. “How would it sound if I told you my head hurts so bad that I feel I'm going to pass out any minute? How heroine-like is that?”

He raised his brows. “But it is the truth, lass. And that's all I want to hear.”

She only heard a muffled curse as the jolting of the horse sent her head into a spin and blackness overtook her once again.

For three days, Ian stayed with Julia in the bed- chamber until she was feeling well again, the shadow of a bruise still discoloring the side of her temple and cheek where Basil had struck her twice. But the headaches and the ringing in her ears and seeing double had all vanished. Yet, she had not wanted to leave the chamber. Not for any other reason than she wanted to stay with him, alone, as if they were on a honeymoon, away from everyone else. It was blissful just to be with him. It was a heady feeling to be desired that much by one so desirable.

“Will you make love to me again?” she asked, stretching her hand out to him as he stood in his boxers looking out the window, glad that the movie madness was done and Sutherland's people hadn't retaliated for the death of their pack leader and the other man who'd died.

He gave his bonny mate a smile. “You're insatiable, wench.”

She smiled back, pulling the cover aside, baring her breasts, and encouraging him to join her.

“Whatever gives you pleasure, Julia.” He was stalking back toward the bed when a thump in the lady's chamber adjoining his sounded and made him go for his sword instead. His first thought—some of Sutherland's men had breached his underground tunnels again.

But when he entered the room with sword readied, he saw Flynn standing near the massive bed instead. Ian frowned at him. “I have already forgiven you, you ingrate. After you tried to save Julia in the tunnels from that bastard Basil, I told you that you had my undying gratitude. So what is it that you want now?”

If there was one thing he wouldn't tolerate was Flynn's interruption when Ian and Julia had more intimate plans.

Wearing only a T-shirt, Julia peeked into the room. “Did you want something, Flynn?”

He bowed to Julia, scowled at Ian, motioned to one wall, and then vanished.

“What now?” Ian asked, more to himself than to Julia.

“Don't you think we ought to see what he wanted?”

The chest had been shoved aside and behind it, two stones caught his eye. The grouting around both was slightly shallower. He would never have noticed if Flynn hadn't pointed out the area to him. Ian returned to his chamber, pulled a dirk out of his drawer, and crossed the lady's chamber to where Julia was crouched, examining the stones. “They're not loose,” she said.

He chiseled at the grout between the stones, and then as the powder fell to the floor, he jiggled the topmost stone. “They are now.”

He pulled the stone out, and the next one also. And in the opening sat a rosewood box.

“It's… it's got to be the one.” But when Ian pulled it out from its hiding place, she touched the lock. “My grandfather said not to break the lock.”

Not to be thwarted, Ian left her again and returned with a set of lock picks. She was running her fingers over the carvings with a gentle touch, her breathing light, her eyes wide.

What would they find in the box? He told himself it wouldn't change anything between them, no matter what was contained within.

He wiggled the lock pick in the keyhole as he felt Julia still and barely breathing beside him. Then, with a click, he unlocked the box, pausing before he opened it. He thought of letting her see the contents in privacy to prove he trusted her. But he was dying to see what was so valuable in the box.

Still, he wanted her to know that she was more important than anything the box could contain. He kissed her cheek and said, “I'll leave you to explore the contents. Then, if you'd like, we can see your friend Maria before she leaves. Flynn made a special appearance just to give her a thrill.”

“Was she all right?”

“Aye. At first she was just stunned, but then she asked him so many questions that she wore him out.”

Julia chuckled. “Sounds like Maria.”

Ian ran his hand over Julia's arm in a loving caress. “Your father and grandfather are coming here in a week's time.”

“Are they upset with me?”

“For mating me? The laird of Argent Castle? Your grandfather was resigned to it. Said as soon as I knew of the contract, I'd never let you go.”

She smiled. “The contract had nothing to do with it.”

“Nothing at all.” Ian kissed her cheek and then rose to leave her, but she grabbed his hand.

“Stay. What's mine is yours. If it's nothing of importance to us, we can let Grandfather have his box and all its contents.”

He pulled her up from her crouched position on the floor, box still in her hands, and embraced her with heartfelt love. “
You
are all that is important to me, love.”

She smiled and led him to the lady's bed. “I love you, too.” Then, with shaking hands, she opened the box and set it down on the bed between them.

Five brooches embedded with rubies and emeralds sat next to a Bible on top of several documents. But it wasn't the jewelry that caught her attention. Or the papers, either. Her eyes had widened at the sight of the Bible, her mouth parting a little in surprise, and then her fingers had lingered on the leather-bound cover.

She set the Bible on the mattress out of the way and reached inside for the papers, quickly inspecting them—one, a household accounting of payments and receipts for every aspect of maintaining the castle. Another, the contract between the Sutherlands and the MacPhersons concerning the betrothal with Fiona MacPherson and, if that did not come to pass, with the next female heir and the laird of Argent Castle. Also, the earlier contract between the MacNeills and the MacPhersons for the betrothal of Fiona with the laird. That was all. Nothing new. Nothing riveting.

Julia looked disappointed. But then she smiled brightly. “It's good that there isn't any bad news in the box.”

Ian wasn't so certain. He'd seen the way she'd revered the Bible, as if she knew something important about it, some tie to the past, something that she was afraid to reveal to him.

“Anything in there?” he prompted, motioning to the book.

She looked up at him and attempted the most innocent expression, which was the most telling. “An old Bible?”

“Aye. You never know what secrets could be contained within a Bible.”

“Did I ever tell you of my great-uncle who listed all his children in his Bible, birth dates and death dates, only I couldn't figure out why he listed H by some and M by others and nothing for seven of them? A middle name, maybe? But what was it? Grandfather told me his brother loved his children as much as his livestock. The H was for horses, the M for mules, and the ones without were his children.”

Ian smiled. “But who did
this
Bible belong to?” He thought by the look on her face that she knew, but it was almost as though she didn't want to know. “Julia?” he said softly.

She swallowed hard. “I… I think it might be the family Bible some of my ancestors were questioned about.” She looked from the Bible to Ian. “My father's great-grandmother was a Campbell.” She paused, as if waiting to see if perhaps his people didn't get along with a faction of the Campbells.

“Go on,” he prompted.

She sighed. “She was the daughter of the Duke of Argyll. But the Duke's descendants swear that she didn't exist. She ran off with a commoner Highlander who worked for the Duke as a groom. While she was at finishing school, she fell in love with him and they eloped. Anyway, the Duke stated that he would disown her and wipe her name from all records.”

“So if the lady had kept a family Bible…”

“It would be proof.” Julia took a hesitant breath and opened the Bible, scanned the dates, the names, and breathed in a deeper breath. Tears filled her eyes as she cast Ian a small smile and then closed the Bible with reverence. “It appears, Laird MacNeill, you have mated with a descendant of the Duke.”

With a stern expression, Ian shook his head, not believing the implications. “We haven't had good relations with the Duke and his family for centuries.”

Julia gently replaced the Bible in the box. “You are making real strides in that regard then, my laird.” She set the box on the bedside table and climbed onto the bed. “Is this my bedchamber?”

“Your family has higher rank than mine,” he said, utterly astounded.

She gave a breathy little laugh. “My grandfather feared that if we ever could prove our ties to the Duke's family, a Scotsman may want me for only that reason. Now I'm wondering if that had been my grandfather's reluctance about anyone seeing the contents of the box. But we don't have titles in America, remember?”

He eyed her lying on her back, her T-shirt barely covering her feminine treasures. “But in Scotland we do. Should we have DNA testing to see if we can lay claim to their castle? In the event you are a more direct descendant than those who are running the place now?”

She laughed and tugged him close. “If we participated in those circles, we'd have to get married, you know. As werewolves, we don't bother.”

“Since I am an earl, we must also.”

She frowned at him. “Basil said you didn't really have a title. That you could buy a little bitty piece of land and call yourself laird.”

“He did, did he? Well, he only said so because he was a baron. But a duke's descendant is within our pack now? How could I ever have gotten so lucky?”

“You truly didn't know it, did you, Ian? That isn't the reason you wanted me? That's why I normally kept the Campbell ties secret,” she teased, running her finger down his bare chest. “Well, that, and the fact I didn't have any real proof.”

Ian laughed. “You only had to be Julia for me to fall in love with you, lass.”

With that, he pulled off her T-shirt and shucked his boxers. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and he plied her with a deep, ravenous kiss, that she responded to with a kiss that was just as voracious. Her legs wrapped around him as she wriggled, trying to line herself up for his penetration. And then he plunged into her hard and fast and furious, only stopping briefly to stroke her until she was moaning and writhing under his touch.

Their breathing was ragged, their bodies covered in a light sheen of perspiration, when he thrust deeply inside of her again and felt the fervor of their lovemaking gathering and growing—the spasms of contractions deep inside her gripping him like a velvet sheath. And in an upsurge of white-hot heat, he was blown away by the combustion—the chemistry between them nothing like anything he'd ever experienced. Then he felt bone weary and satiated, and sank next to her.

Kissing her lightly on the mouth, he smiled at her as she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep. He sighed and spooned her body with his.

Somehow, he had to figure out some other way to keep the castle afloat, or he could very well be a titled laird without a centimeter of land to call his own.

***

A couple of weeks later, when Julia had finished mapping out her schedule with her publicist for her signing tour, Ian didn't take the news well at all.

“Worldwide book tour?” he grunted. “You said there would be one signing in the States.”

“It's scheduled, Ian. I'll be gone all next month. But you're welcome to come with me.”

“To do what?”

“Wear a kilt, stand behind me, and look ferocious or sexy as hell.”

That brought a small smile to his lips. He enfolded her in his arms. “I told you, lass, you would not traipse around the world without your mate at your side.”

“I know—there are wolves all over the place out there. And I thank you from the bottom of my heart for going with me. We'll have fun. You'll see.”

His eyes gleamed with intrigue. “Different beds every night. Could work.”

She laughed and poked him in the chest with her finger. “But you
can't
make me miss the engagements.” She reached up and stroked his cheek. “What about the movie premiere?”

He shook his head. “It is said that if anyone sees those shots of me fighting Oran and the others, women will be driven to climb the castle walls to get to me.”

Julia laughed. “Ah, but they would not dare tackle you with me around.”

And with that, she returned him to bed, a surefire way to get his mind off book tours and the like.

***

Within weeks, they were off on her worldwide tour, including stops in Australia and New Zealand and all over Europe, and then on to Canada and the States. Not only did Ian accompany her, but his brothers also. If he was going to protect her, so were they. But she knew it had to do in part with them using that as an excuse to see the world. She needed no one's protection from her fans.

On one leg of the journey, she sat behind a table set up at Powell's in Portland because Ian didn't want her greeting anyone unless she had a barrier between herself and her fans. He stood implacably behind her, arms folded and proudly wearing one of his kilts from a couple of centuries earlier that gave him an old-world appeal, even though her historical book featuring Highlanders wouldn't be out until the next year. She still thought Ian could help market the upcoming books and was showing him off as the inspiration for her hero. Unfortunately, he could not wear his dirks or swords for total authenticity.

Her first customer was a beautiful redhead who Julia recognized at once as a
lupus garou
.

“I'm Cassie Wildhaven, wolf biologist,” the woman said, her smile genuinely kind. She leaned over the table and spoke low, “Leidolf Wildhaven, my mate, is the pack leader here.”

Which meant she was also.

“And we'd love it if you'd come and have dinner with us tonight at our ranch.” She looked up at Ian and smiled. “And your friends here, too.”

“My mate, Laird MacNeill,” Julia said, motioning to Ian, “and his brothers Cearnach and Duncan.” Guthrie had surprisingly made plans to be elsewhere and hadn't even accompanied them to the hotel that night when they first arrived.

Leidolf stood close to Cassie, eyeing Ian's brothers as if he worried that the men might take an interest in the winning redhead. But Ian's brothers were too busy ogling Julia's fans, who were talking to one another in line, some with books they'd already purchased while waiting to have them autographed, and others who were ogling the Highlanders right back.