Hero of a Highland Wolf (25 page)

He wanted to tease her out of her distress—as she was still crying—happy tears, aye, but still…

He wisely thought better of trying to make light of his dunking in the sea and said, “I am fine, lass. And I love you with every fiber of my being.”

“Oh, Grant,” was all she said as her whisky-flavored lips and tongue stroked his.

He rather liked the taste on her as he hugged her tight and kissed her reverently, passionately, possessively. He stroked her hair in a loving, reassuring way, then said, “Next time you wear that sexy minikilt, nothing is stopping me from having my way with you.”

She smiled. “I will hold you to that.”

Gladdened to the depths of his soul that she was safe, he ran his hands over her slippery skin and felt every soft inch of her. His fingers worked down to her center and stroked between her legs. She panted and moved against his probing fingers. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the tiled wall out of the water's spray as he let the warm drops wash away the sea collected on his skin.

God, how he loved her. She appeared to revel in his touch, lost to it. He wanted more than anything to chase away all that had happened to her in the last hour or so, to warm her, to love her. They were together, mates forever. Nothing would take that away from them.

He brushed his mouth against hers, meaning to be gentle, but she didn't seem to want gentle. She clung to him, kissed him boldly on the mouth and cheeks, his throat, his chest.

And piercing awareness struck him. She was the owner of the castle, the estates, and of him—his heart, his body, his soul. She owned him outright. He loved the knowledge that the she-wolf had claimed him, just like she had claimed her beta mates.

He threaded his fingers through her wet hair, glorying in every aspect of her, from the way her silky hot body molded to his to her soft curls hiding a wealth of feminine treasures and tickling his leg as she rubbed herself against him.

Her breasts rose and fell against his chest, her nipples taut with need.

Her breath was as ragged as was his. His raging desire to satisfy both their needs pushed him to kiss her deeper. His fingers tangled in her hair and his body caressed hers, wanting more. Her tears had long ago subsided, and she was wrapped up only in the love they shared.

He trembled with the pent-up need to have her as he leaned down to kiss one wet breast, his fingers lowering to stroke her sex.

Colleen thought she would come apart as they kissed and suckled and rubbed against each other. They were meant for each other. The sea could not separate them.

He was stroking her and licking her nipple, making her arch up, wanting him to satisfy the wild desire cascading through her. He glanced up at her. She saw the turbulent look in his eyes, the concern there, and she loved him all the more.

“Keep going,” she whispered, her voice husky.

He grinned at her, though he couldn't hide the concern still there. But he did continue to rub her into climax, and before she could fall from the exquisite torture of the moment, he centered himself and entered her. He filled her and stretched her to accommodate his rock-hard erection as her inner muscles quivered with climax. She wrapped her legs around him, and he plunged all the way, deep, demanding, and needy.

God, he felt so good. She wanted to keep him like this inside her forever, never letting go. Never scared to death she'd lose him again.

She tightened her legs around him as he held her buttocks in his hands and continued to push into her. Being joined like this with her mate felt so right. So complete.

The friction between them, the way he tongued her mouth and deepened the thrusts, awakened the need to climax again. The sweet ache between her legs burned for it. She felt it coming, felt the giddy sensation of sexual fulfillment, and fell over the edge just as he let loose with a heartfelt growl. He released his seed deep inside her, bathing her womb in heat and love.

He continued to thrust and rock against her as their mouths melded with renewed kisses.

Somehow, they managed to turn off the water, dry themselves, and climb into bed.

“Did you want to eat anything, lass?” Grant asked, wrapping his naked body around hers, not only his arms, but his legs also, as she nestled against his chest and groin. “Anything to drink?”

“You,” is all she murmured against his chest. It had to be around five that morning or later already. Even if she'd wanted anything, which she didn't, she would not have asked anyone to get it for them. “You're okay? Not injured? Not bruised?”

“A Highland warrior doesn't tell his lassie about bruises he might be wearing.”

She smiled against his chest.

He caressed her back with his rough hand. “He might mention in passing that he sustained a sword wound if it was very deep.”

She chuckled, caressing his waist with the same tender touch.

Then he grew serious, his voice filled with regret. “I should never have left you alone, fool that I was.”

“You did what any sane man would have thought was right. Who would ever have suspected Archibald would do something so crazy?” Colleen asked. “Or even know that he could gain entrance in that manner?”

“I can't believe he intended to kill you. He had to know he wouldn't have lived once we found him.”

“He had a raft. He said he intended to use it for his escape. That he had no intention of dying this day or any other.”

“His raft was not fit to use, from what Enrick said. He wouldn't have made it.”

She nodded. “I didn't smell his scent. I assumed he used something to disguise it. If he had gotten away with murdering me…”

“He wouldn't have,” Grant said, his voice a deep growl.

“If he had, would you have known it was him?”

“Aye, I would have. Our men saw him at one point, but then he disappeared. So we knew he had been in the area, but none of us could track his scent. Now I know why. But his attempt to kill you didn't make any sense. What good would it have done him?” Grant asked, kissing the top of her head reverently, tenderly.

“His actions all had to do with taking me away from you. You might have the run of the castle, but he would have taken away something from you that—”

“I want more than life, lass.” Grant held her tighter, not wanting to let her go. He'd nearly died when he saw what Archibald intended to do with her, fearing he would not reach her to rescue her in time.

“Why were the pipes still there?” Colleen asked, sounding puzzled.

“Neda wanted to keep them for nostalgic reasons. Part of the history of the place. Something to show her grandchildren and their grandchildren. I told her we should have sealed them off for good years ago for safety's sake.”

“I understand her thinking, but if we have any more enemies lurking out there, seems to me the pipes should be sealed off at once. I agree with you. First thing, when we have a chance. But for now, all I want to do is rest up for the wedding.”

Grant smiled at that. As crazy as things had been and as excited as his people were, he assumed this was the only bit of rest they could indulge in. Which meant he didn't intend to let Colleen out of his sight for a good eight hours or longer. To sleep…or whatever else they had in mind to do.

The wedding preparations were tiring, and her cousins would be arriving soon. Needing a respite before the celebration, Colleen finally slipped away to Neda's room and sat on her grandmother's bed. Tears formed in her eyes as she ran her hand over the blue bedspread embroidered with gold threads in the pattern of the tree of life. “Thank you for raising Grant and his brothers to be the men they are today. I love you, Grandma, even if I never was able to meet you. I wish I had. I wish I hadn't listened to my father.”

She took a deep breath and sighed. “I'm marrying that Highlander you raised like a son and made your manager. He's all I ever needed in a mate. He and his kin won't ever lose their place at Farraige Castle. I just wanted you to know that, because I know you loved them as much as I do.”

She glanced at all the journals sitting in stacks and remembered they hadn't finished looking for the journal for the time period when Grant's mother had perished.

Knowing this wasn't the time to search for it, she couldn't help it. She wanted to know what her grandmother had thought about Grant's mother's death.

She sorted through the remaining journals and finally found the one. As she suspected, Neda had been beside herself with grief. Water, probably from her tears, had made much of the ink run on several pages as Colleen envisioned her grandmother writing down the events of what had occurred. Neda had loved Eleanor, whom she'd considered her daughter. And she'd loved Robert like a son. Much more so than her own son, Theodore, whom she suspected had murdered Grant's mother. And then Neda had taken solace in raising Grant and his brothers as her own grandchildren, caring for them, teaching them to read and write, and keeping them in line.

Colleen smiled through her tears, loving her grandmother all the more.

Then she heard someone enter the room and turned to see Grant studying her. “Calla and Julia were worried about you, lass. Search parties have gone out. Some thought you escaped the keep to avoid wedding me, though you have no chance at that.”

She smiled and sniffled.

“But I thought that you might be here.” He glanced down at the journal in her hands. “About my mother?” he asked gently, probably afraid Colleen would burst into tears. How would that look when she was about to get married?

She nodded.

He closed the distance between them and pulled her from the bed. She quickly set the journal down and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“She adored you and your brothers,” Colleen said softly.

“Aye, what's not to adore, eh, lass?”

She laughed. “I have to agree.”

“Are you ready for this?” he asked.

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

“Good. Your cousins will be here any minute, and Calla and Julia want to get you into your wedding gown, or I'd take you back up to our chambers and have my way with you.”

She loved him. “I'm ready. For the wedding, that is. I'd never straighten my hair out in time if we returned to our chambers first.”

“All right.” He called Calla on his cell and let her know where they were, and then with one lingering kiss, he waited for the ladies to arrive before he left Colleen alone.

She knew he did so to ensure she didn't get all sentimental and burst into tears before the ladies could deal with her emotions.

“Ohmigod, here you are,” Julia said.

Calla nearly ran into her, attempting to enter Neda's room at the same time as Julia, wedding gown and veil in their hands.

“We thought for sure you'd run off or something.” But Julia said it with a twinkle in her eye. She knew Colleen better than that.

An hour later, Colleen paced the inner bailey, dressed in her white organza and lace-trimmed wedding gown and veil, looking like a fairy-tale princess, with her hair piled high on her head, tendrils curling down about her ears and neck, and pearls placed in several coils of curls. She was anxious to see her cousins, Edward and William Playfair, who were going to arrive at any moment. She would not let the ceremony begin until they arrived.

Edward was darker haired like Colleen, his brother blonder, and both looked uneasy as Lachlan and Enrick escorted them from their rental car to meet her. The MacQuarrie and MacNeill clans had all dressed in kilts and the men carried swords to the wedding, traditional for them as in centuries past.

She smiled at her cousins and hurried to greet them, the wolfhounds also racing to meet them.

Thankfully, both her cousins loved dogs as much as she did and knew how to make them mind. William pulled out a pen and clicked it. Just like he'd taught her. All three dogs sat before him, and then he hugged Colleen. Edward did the honors next, looking much relieved to see her.

“Lachlan MacQuarrie said we were just in time for a wedding,” William said, eyeing her in her white gown. “He said nothing about our cousin marrying anyone. He wouldn't say who was marrying whom. We thought it was one of his clanswomen. Not our own cousin.”

“Who are you marrying?” Edward asked.

Both sounded shocked to learn she was getting married. Well, she hadn't called them about it and hadn't thought to. She never asked their opinion when she embarked on a mating. She didn't feel she had needed to this time, either. Of course, part of their surprise was probably because she never actually had a wedding before.

Grant stalked out of the keep to join them, looking like a warrior on the battlefield. Her cousins looked like they wanted to take a few steps back, but they stood their ground, even though Grant appeared to be a threat.

Colleen tilted her head at her mate, giving him a look to play nice. The men were only her cousins. She suspected his alpha male posturing had to do with greeting new males to a pack and showing them that no one—not even her family—had any say in what she or he did.

She made introductions and Grant shook both their hands, then said, “Welcome to the pack.”

She was glad Grant had said so, except he wasn't offering but telling them, and she loved him even more for it. Her beta cousins might have tucked tail and run if given the choice after seeing all the kilted men armed with swords and
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tucked in their socks and just as fierce-looking as Grant was while they checked her cousins out.

Grant offered his arm to Colleen. “We have our wedding to attend and you're just in time.”

“You're marrying Grant MacQuarrie?” Edward asked, hurrying to catch up to them.

“You didn't ask us what we thought,” William said. “I mean, ask for our permission.”

She almost laughed at the idea. She loved them. “Well…what do you think?”

Grant gave them each a look that said they'd better agree with this, or else.

“Oh, sure. We agree, if you're happy,” William said, glancing at Grant's sword.

“You can live here if you'd like,” Colleen said. She wasn't sure if her cousins could manage on their own without her to watch their backs. Here, they'd have a whole pack watching out for them. And she'd really prefer it that way.

William and Edward shared looks, then smiled. “We thought we were just making a visit here. But…yeah, sure,” Edward said.

“Sword practice in the morning,” Grant warned. “The two of you will have a lot of catching up to do.”

They nodded, looking a little as though they weren't sure what they were getting into.

“And you'll wear kilts,” he added, his voice gruff, brooking no argument.

They glanced down at Grant's kilt. He gave them an evil smile. All men of the clan wore kilts on special occasions, Grant more often than the rest—and for that Colleen was grateful. She wondered what her cousins would think of the practice when they weren't supposed to wear anything under the kilts and it was a bit breezy around the place.

Grant squeezed Colleen against him. “You are the most beautiful bride.”

“You are the handsomest kilted Highland wolf a woman could want for a groom.”

He smiled down at her.

Guthrie opened the door to the keep for them and said, “You couldn't delay the wedding for another month or so, could you?”

“Guthrie,” Colleen said, “When you and Calla are back at Argent Castle, you won't even notice she's there.”

Guthrie didn't look like he believed her.

They entered the chapel and Shelley's Uncle Ethan offered his arm to Colleen to walk her down the aisle while Grant made Edward and William join him to serve as a couple more groomsmen, even if they were dressed in only jeans, sneakers, and sweatshirts.

She swore Ian's mother was ready to burst into tears, as if Colleen was her daughter, too. Colleen fought her own tears at knowing that her best friend's clan was taking her in just as much as Grant MacQuarrie's.

Frederick took all three wolfhounds in hand, though they wanted to follow her down the aisle, and made them stay with him at the back of the chapel. When the minister asked for objections, Hercules barked, letting her know he wanted to join her up front. Everyone laughed.

“Sorry, Hercules,” Grant said. “She's all mine.”

Which meant absolutely no way was Grant sharing his bed with anyone but her.

Before long, the ceremony was over and Colleen tossed her bouquet to the eager women, not knowing her own strength. The roses flew up and way over their heads.

Uncle Ethan caught the roses as they headed straight for him, and he blushed crimson. She was trying to send it to either Heather or Calla. Guthrie looked much relieved.

Everyone roared to see the older man holding on to the bouquet, his face the same color as the red roses.

“You're supposed to let a lass catch the flowers,” Ian's mother said, scolding him and taking the flowers away from him.

More laughter ensued.

And to a shocked audience, Uncle Ethan said, “All right, ma'am. I accept.” He took Lady Mae's arm and tucked it under his own.

“Accept what?” she asked crossly.

“A mating. Marriage. Whatever you'd like,” he said, looking down at her with an adoring expression.

Cheers went up and Colleen swore Ian's mother looked like she would expire on the spot.

Ian and his brothers were clapping hard and whistling and cheering, showing their approval for their mother's mating with Shelley's uncle. Now, whether their mother would agree was another story. She probably wanted to sock him for saying so at Colleen's wedding, but Colleen loved it.

Grant had the privilege of removing the garter from Colleen's leg, running his hand over her bare thigh a little too intimately, and several of the men teased him about the show. Then he tossed the garter to a groom-to-be. It hit Guthrie in the chest, and he caught it, turned red-faced, and tried to hand it off to one of Colleen's cousins, who both shook their heads vehemently and wouldn't touch it.

Laughter resounded and then the music started and Grant and Colleen had their first dance, followed by everyone else, mated wolves and singles. Ian's mother and Uncle Ethan even danced at his coaxing and he held her so tenderly that Colleen assumed they were in for a mating.

The reception was buffet style, and though they knew they should stay longer, Grant and Colleen had another mission in mind. They went up to their bedchamber, and he removed her gown, then ditched his kilt and shirt. Both of them shifted into wolves, then ran through the castle while everyone hailed them with toasts of champagne.

Three of the men had to grab the wolfhounds to ensure they didn't chase after Grant and Colleen. Guthrie opened the front door for them. The mated couple ran out and through the inner bailey and then beyond. They ran and ran until they reached the glen where the sheep grazed on the green hills and the white, foaming burn rushed under the wooden footbridge.

The weather had turned colder, perfect for their fur coats, a wet mist draping over them as they reached the place they had shared their first kiss. On top of the hill as the sky turned yellow, orange, and pink and the sun began to set, Grant nuzzled Colleen's face in a wolf's way of courtship and she licked his face. And for a brief moment, they shifted, embraced each other tight, and kissed again.

Only this time they were husband and wife and mated wolves.

“God, I love you, Grant.”

“Hmm, lass. You are my one and only love. Are you ready to return to the keep and our chamber?” he asked, rubbing her chilled arms.

She smiled. “I thought you'd never ask.”

And then they shifted and raced off across the glen, in love with each other, with their home and their pack. Not in a million years would Colleen have ever thought she'd inherit a castle and a mate and his family all in one fell swoop.

Grant had run as a wolf through this glen so many times that he couldn't count the number, but seeing Colleen ahead of him, her tail wagging in delight, and knowing just what they were in for when they returned home, he couldn't have been happier.

He still wondered: if he'd been chivalrous and welcoming when Colleen had first arrived, would they be where they were today? All he knew was he was damn glad that the she-wolf had captured his heart and made him see the error of his ways.