A Howl for a Highlander (37 page)

“Yes, Duncan, but you’ll be with me. Then my contract’s up, and we’ll return here.”

He sighed, and she realized he didn’t want to leave his own home. While she had him in the States, she’d show him as much as she could—starting by taking him to the steak house in the Panhandle where the steaks were bigger than the plates. She’d drive him to where the eccentric Texas millionaire buried ten Cadillacs with their tail fins pointing to the sky.

He’d most likely enjoy a real Texas cowboy outing with a meal served out of an old-style chuck wagon in the Palo Duro Canyon. She’d have to take him to the outdoor show
Texas
so he could see just a fraction of what Texas was all about. She was also thinking how much she’d like to take him down to South Padre Island for more water play.

Before long, he had his arms wrapped around her, helping to perfect her sword swing. His face was in her hair, against her cheek, nuzzling and kissing. She felt his erection pressed hard against her back, showing her just how much he wanted her. Then he tossed the wooden sword aside.

“I’ve missed my mermaid of the sea,” he said, his voice rusty with lust as he swept her into his arms and carried her to the falls, the sword practice forgotten. “I’m ready to return to paradise when I would never have thought to have enjoyed the experience. Ian insists. Says that since we brought the money home, we deserve another stay in paradise, only this time to strictly enjoy it. His orders.”

“Ah, Duncan, have I told you how much I already love your family?”

He smiled and hurried to strip her of her clothes. When he pulled his kilt off, she stared in wonder. He was ready for her, all glorious, hard, ready.

“You were naked under your kilt,” she said. Had every man been who’d been sword fighting?

Duncan laughed and lifted her into the falls.

Naked, his kilt and her jeans and sweatshirt cast aside on top of the rocks surrounding the man-made pool, he held her tightly in his arms under the falls.

“Were you naked under your kilt when you were in the movie, too?”

He smiled and kissed her wet cheek. “Aye.”

She grinned. And kissed his mouth back. “I will have to watch the movie exceptionally closely then.”

He chuckled. “You will never see the small part I played in the background.”

“I will see you, Duncan MacNeill.” She sighed. “I thought you said you wanted Ian to build you a pool, but you already have one.” She ran her hands up his wet chest as the water from the falls poured over them.

“I was thinking of an indoor pool that we could enjoy year round. After a while, this one will be too cold.”

The water was cool, not warm like the Caribbean, but that didn’t keep them from heating up.

He set her on her feet in the pool of water and kissed her, his fingers tangling in her loose hair, hers gripping his narrow waist. She loved him, loved how he’d brought her here to this special place to make love to her.

“You’re gorgeous.” She licked his nipple and then the other as he groaned, the falls drowning out the sound. “And so very hard.”

He smiled and cupped her face, kissed her mouth, and parted her lips so he could stroke her tongue with his. He didn’t stop until they were breathless and ready to sink into the pool. “Mermaid. Siren,” he said, lifting her against him.

Here, there were no waves to knock them over, no fish to nibble at their legs, no saltwater to caress their skin—just fresh, cool water running down their bodies in a steady, welcoming stream.

He reached down and lifted her under her thighs, wrapping her around his body. Before she knew it, he was inside her, thrusting, kissing, savoring her like she was savoring him.

Never in a millennium did she think she’d be in the heart of the most beautiful Highland gardens, making love to a warrior Highland wolf. In a few weeks, she’d be marrying him dressed in traditional Highland clothes.

She thrust her tongue deep into his mouth, and he groaned, moving her around so that she no longer faced the rock wall behind him. All that she could see was his beautifully sculpted chest. What was he doing?

She felt her buttocks slide onto a smooth ledge, and his fingers moved to stroke her clit while the water rushed deliciously down her body, making her nub even more sensitive until she was arching against his fingers, begging him to finish her off.

His eyes were dusky with need as he dipped his head and again kissed her mouth, thrusting his tongue into it until she was gasping for breath, the climax so close she felt as though she were being swept up the falls and ready to go over the edge.

“Ahh, Duncan,” she moaned against his mouth, straining to draw on every bit of pleasure he was giving her, making it last until the cord broke. She felt the release and his immediate need to take her again.

At first, he thrust inside her as she sat on the ledge, but he wanted more. Again he lifted her, hugging her close, penetrating her to the core, ramming hard, in and out. Her body shuddered with release around him until he burst inside her, groaning her name, speaking in Gaelic, cursing her or offering loving sentiments—she didn’t know and didn’t care.

He was hers and she was his, and she wanted to do a lot more of this before the day was through.

She sighed, expecting that she’d have to work for a living here, teaching everyone who wanted to learn about botany before long. For now, she hoped everyone would let her and Duncan have a nice long honeymoon of sorts.

After they dressed, their skin and hair still wet—next time they’d bring towels—Duncan pulled the piece of paper out of his sporran and said, “Now I’ll give you a tour of the gardens, lass.”

She was ecstatic. When she explored the gardens again, she fully intended to bring her camera and notepad.

True to his word, he gave her a grand tour of the gardens, stumbling over Latin names for the plants as he led her through each of the special gardens—herb and vegetable garden, the flower garden, more of the hedge maze and sitting gardens, and the greenhouses where flowers and fruits and vegetables were growing. What tickled her most was that his cousin Heather had made up the list of all the gardens and what they contained so Duncan could give her a proper guided tour.

“Do you have any wolves here who are not royals?” she asked.

“Aye, a few.”

“Have you noticed that any plants they might have ingested could have affected their desire to shift?”

He shook his head. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m searching for something that might help them to fight the change or to shift when they need to.”

His mouth parted, then he raised his brows. “That’s why you were in that forest?”

“I’m thinking that the Amazon might have such a plant.”

He looked at her with new admiration and hugged her close. He actually looked like he was enjoying sharing with her everything about the different kinds of plants and what they were good for, too, which she loved.

“I’ll speak to Ian about us going there sometime later, if you’d like,” he said.

“I’d like that.”

“Jaguars are the predators there, you know. Wolves don’t rule in the Amazon.”

She raised her brows. “We’ll make do. They undoubtedly have never seen a brave Highland wolf and what he can do.”

He laughed.

Before they could reach the gate to leave, they heard Duncan’s mother arguing with Uncle Ethan beyond the walled garden. Shelley stiffened a little. Duncan kissed her cheek and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, as if to tell her that whatever her uncle or his mother said or did had nothing to do with Shelley or him.

“Are ye never going to let go of the past, Ethan Campbell? ’Tis a shame you canna appreciate what you’ve had since you left Scotland and what you have now,” Duncan’s mother scolded.

“’Twas fraught with hardships,” Ethan complained. “Several died who had to make their homes in the States.”

Shelley had heard that old tale forever.

“Aye, well, several died who stayed in Scotland as well. You should learn to appreciate the present. Look at my son and your niece. They are happy together. You should be well pleased to see the match.”

Uncle Ethan and Duncan’s mother stopped walking, and so did Duncan and Shelley. Her uncle and Duncan’s mother didn’t know they were in the gardens. Neither couple could see the other, and Shelley wanted to hear what her uncle and Duncan’s mother said to each other—good or bad. She wished they’d quit bickering. They’d been at it since Ethan and Shelley had first arrived and Duncan had escorted Shelley to his bedroom to sleep.

“Duncan’s Aunt Agnes said you were in a movie,” Ethan said.

Shelley flicked a quick glance at Duncan. He smiled. “Aye,” Duncan whispered to her. “She rushed into the great hall during the dining scene and armed Julia with a dagger. The camera caught the scene, and they kept it. Apparently the director loved the realism.”

Shelley’s mouth gaped. “Why would your mother arm Ian’s mate with a weapon during the filming of a movie scene?”

“An enemy clan had breached the walls. Ian couldn’t get to Julia in time to protect her, and neither could Cearnach nor I.”

Shelley couldn’t believe he hadn’t told her that the fighting in the movie had been for real. “You’re kidding. Why didn’t you tell me this? What happened?”

Before Duncan could say more, his mother finally said to Ethan, “Aye, well, someone had to protect Ian’s mate. I told Ian not to allow Julia to be in the film. Stubborn men. You are all the same.”

Shelley’s brow quirked up at Duncan.

Duncan smiled at her. “Some lasses are more stubborn than
us
. A couple come to mind.”

“Ha,” Shelley said.

Duncan changed direction. “We’ll go to a different gate.”

“To avoid my uncle and your mom?”

“Most definitely.”

“And?”

Duncan wore the most devilish grin.

“And?” she repeated, as he tightened his hold on her.

“I didn’t get enough sleep last night, did you?”

He was just a wolf, always wanting to nap… and more. Which totally appealed to her own wolfish desires. She hurried him on their way.

Shelley sighed. She looked up at Duncan’s wet hair, water droplets speckled on his cheeks and naked chest, the way his kilt was slung low on his hips, the way he was smiling at her, the way he was moving her fast through a secret passage to his room. She slipped her arm around his waist and hugged him closer. One hard-core warrior wolf—and he was all hers.

Now that the clan had its money back and Ian said they could make the trip, she was planning a return to paradise soon. This time it would all be for fun. She just hoped while she and Duncan were gone, her uncles and mother would behave themselves at Argent Castle. She hoped her beloved standard poodles would behave, too, and didn’t get too frisky with Duncan’s Irish wolfhounds. She could just see a bunch of little Irish-French wolf-poo hounds running around.

Wendy was planning a visit, too, and Shelley thought she wanted to look over some of the available bachelor Highland wolves.

It had nearly killed Duncan when he’d first arrived at Argent Castle with his mate in hand, and he’d had to leave her off in his bed—alone. She had been so tired that she couldn’t last another moment without sleeping. The whole of his clan had wanted to hear about Shelley, her help in getting their money back, that she was now his mate, and how important she was to his people. They’d regaled him with plans of how they’d conduct a marriage ceremony, too.

Tonight, the first celebration of their union and the return of the clan’s money would take place.

Until then, he was joining his mermaid in bed, and nothing—short of the castle being under siege, and maybe not even that—would change his mind.

Read on for an excerpt
from Terry Spear’s

A Highland Werewolf Wedding

from Sourcebooks Casablanca

1785, St. Augustine, Florida

The heat of the October day made Elaine Hawthorn wilt as tears blurred her eyes. She choked back a sob as men shoveled the dirt onto her mother’s and father’s coffins. Never again would she see her mother’s bright smile or her father’s raised brow when she did something he thought was not quite ladylike. Never again would she feel her mother’s and father’s warm embraces, telling her how much they loved her. A fateful carriage accident had brought them to this.

Barely an hour later, her uncles Tobias and Samson pulled her away from the reception to speak with her privately. From their weary expressions—and the way Kelly Rafferty, a pirating wolf himself, had leered at her at the funeral—she was in for more dire news.

“Lass, you must have a mate,” Uncle Tobias said, towering over her like an Irishman ready to do battle. He was a seasoned fighter, sailor, and pirate—or as he often reminded her, a privateer, like his twin brother. Tobias never took any guff from his men. He and his brother had been born while their parents were crossing the Irish Sea from Ireland to Scotland so she believed seawater ran in their veins. They were also shape-shifting gray wolves.

“He has the right of it, Elaine.” Uncle Samson lifted his grizzled, tanned hands in an appeasing way. “At sixteen, you need a mate. Kelly Rafferty has the only wolf pack in the area and has asked for you to be his mate. We have concurred.”