Read A Highland Werewolf Wedding Online
Authors: Terry Spear
A Highland Werewolf Wedding
Copyright © 2013 by Terry Spear
Cover and internal design © 2013 by Sourcebooks, Inc.
Photography by Jon Zychowski
Styling by Brynne Rinderknecht
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To my Rebel Romance Writer critique partners who are all about rebellion: Vonda, Judy,
Tammy, Carol, Randy, Betty, and Pamela. We were in another group when a really sweet
woman joined us. Her abusive husband began to stalk us. He wouldn’t let her contact
our group and said horrible things. When we wanted him blocked, the only way to do
it was ban the writer. The person moderating the group, who wasn’t part of it, said
we couldn’t. We had no control over who could join or who could be dismissed. Only
she did. So the group went completely silent.
We were afraid to correspond, knowing he was lurking, reading our emails, responding
in a sick way, and reading our uploaded chapters. We took our chapters down. We could
no longer critique. The group was dead unless we could change the moderator’s stance.
We couldn’t.
We rebelled and created our own safe haven. We’re still together after forming our
Rebel Romance Writer group in 2004! Thanks to my rebel writer friends who have helped
me to edit my books, come up with titles, deal with deaths in the family, and do so
much more. I love you!
1782, 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, or hear them 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.
In her presence, her uncles always seemed uncomfortable, fidgeting and avoiding speaking
with her as if she didn’t exist. Now, they were forced to do something with her. Neither
had children of his own, or at least not any that either of them acknowledged.
“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 viable
wolf pack in the area and has asked for you to be his mate. We have concurred.”
The air rushed out of her lungs, and she felt light-headed. She grasped the side table
to steady herself. Gathering her wits, she responded with outrage. “You did not even
ask
me! I will not marry that arrogant, conceited wolf! He has never been interested
in me. Never! Not until he thought he might gain my parents’ properties!”
That made her wonder if
he’d
had anything to do with her parents’ carriage accident. Wasn’t it a little too convenient?
Her family had been in competition in the pirating business with Kelly Rafferty all
these years—and suddenly her parents die when Elaine is old enough that Kelly can
mate with her and take over her parents’ estates?
“Your father should have ensured you were already mated by this time, Elaine,” Tobias
said, half annoyed, half gruffly as if this business was now his to deal with, and
he was going to do it however he saw fit.
Expediently.
From what she’d heard, Rafferty was nearly two decades older than she was and ruthless
besides.
“My father would never have forced me to mate someone I did not care for! What if
Rafferty was responsible for my parents’ death?”
Uncle Tobias folded his arms, looking at her like she’d make up anything to get out
of taking a mate. Now that Rafferty had offered for her, no other wolf in his right
mind would ask for her hand. Not if he wanted to live long.
“Take me with you. Let me see the world first. Then when we return to St. Augustine,
if I have not found my own wolf mate by then, we will see if Mr. Rafferty is still
interested.”
Over her dead body.
After much arguing with her uncles, Elaine convinced them to allow her this one boon.
With great reluctance, they arranged to have her estates managed until she returned.
***
Two days into the ocean voyage, Elaine heaved the contents of her belly into a bucket
while attempting to rest in the captain’s quarters, sicker than she had ever been.
Everything went from bad to worse as soon as they arrived at the port city of St.
Andrews, Scotland. The ship carried a new name and her uncles dressed as respectable
merchants, but someone must have recognized them for who they truly were.
Word soon reached the authorities that the notorious, pirating Hawthorn brothers had
returned. As armed men hurried toward them, her Uncle Tobias signaled to one of his
sailors, who shoved her to the cobblestones as if she was in their way.
Men grabbed her uncles and several of their crew, led them away in chains, and tried
them with barely any representation. To her horror, her uncles were hanged in the
town square at the behest of Lord Harold Whittington who owned a fleet of merchant
ships and claimed her uncles had plundered three of them.
Scared to death that someone would see her, believe she was part of her uncles’ crew,
and hang her, too, she hastily wiped away the tears rolling freely down her cheeks
and tried to slip away unnoticed in the chilly breeze. Her best hope was to return
to Florida and her family’s estates.
As she started to steal away, she spied a broad- shouldered man observing her. He
was wearing a predominantly blue and green kilt, the plaid gathered over his shoulder
and pinned, a sporran at his belt, and a sword at his back— and he looked fierce.
Her heart did a tumble.
She had dressed as plainly as she could in a dark-green muslin gown with a fitted
jacket and a petticoat of the same color. With a cloak covering these and the hood
up over her head, she had hoped to be shielded from the view of the men and women
milling about. She thought she had been obscure in the crowd.
Elaine slipped away with the crowd as several men headed for the pubs to celebrate
the hanging. She glanced over her shoulder. Curiosity etched on his warrior face,
the man was still watching her. He appeared to be a Highland warrior of old, someone
who had fought in ruthless clan battles and come out a survivor. Maybe a loyal friend
of Lord Whittington who would want a noose around her neck, too.
He lifted his nose and appeared to take a deep breath, as if he was trying to scent
the wind. As if he was trying to smell her. Which immediately made her think of a
wolf. Her skin prickled with unease.
His eyes widened and he headed in her direction, a few other men following him. The
force of powerful males made her heart trip over itself as she strove to get away
but at the same time make it look as though she wasn’t trying to evade him.
Her heart pumped wildly as she tried to reach an alleyway, thinking she had gotten
away. She was slipping down the narrow brick alleyway when a large hand grabbed her
arm and effectively stopped her.
Barely able to catch her breath, she bit back a scream.
“Lass,” the man said with a distinctive Highland burr, his voice low, “where are you
going in such a hurry?”
His dark brown eyes were narrowed, focused on her, yet a small smile curved his lips,
as if he was amused that she thought she could evade a wolf. Because that was just
what he was.
A gray wolf, tall, muscularly built, but more wiry than bulky. His hand was holding
her still, not bruising her but with enough pressure that she knew he was not about
to let her go. He was handsome as the devil, the crinkle lines beneath his eyes telling
her he was a man who liked to smile, his masculine lips likewise not thin and mean
like Kelly Rafferty’s, but pleasingly full with a curve that made her think he enjoyed
life in a jovial rather than a cruel way.
His wind-tussled hair was an earthy shade of dark brown with streaks of red, and he
had no hint of facial hair as if he had just shaved. He was lean and hard, not an
ounce of fat, and determined, his jaw set, his brows raised a little now as he examined
her more closely. He was taking a good long look, not in a leering way but taking
in her distinctive appearance.
The three men who had been trailing behind him were now immersed in a brawl outside
the alley, fists swinging.
“Are you here alone, lass?” the man asked, his voice seductively low. He was an alpha,
in charge, wanting answers.
“Let… me… go,” she growled. She was trying not to make a scene.
“Come with me and my brothers, and I will protect you,” he offered.
A shiver stole up her spine. He must know she was related to the hanged men. The fight
was growing closer—she could hear men’s shouts and cries of pain, scuffling, and thuds
as some went down.
She tried to wriggle loose of his strong grip, tried to peel his powerful fingers
off her arm, but to no avail. He seemed mildly amused that she’d try.
“Let… me… go,” she repeated, scowling up at him.
“If Lord Whittington learns you were one of the Hawthorns’ kin, it willna go well
for you,” the man said. “My name is Cearnach MacNeill, and those behind me…” He glanced
over his shoulder, then turned back to her, and amended, “Who
were
following me are my brothers. We will see you to safety.”
If he was not kin, why should he and his family wish to aid her? She didn’t trust
his motives.
She shook her head. “You are mistaken about me, sir. Release me at once.”
He did not seem inclined to do so, but a beefy half-drunken man came up behind him,
skirted around the Highlander, and slugged Cearnach in the jaw. He immediately released
Elaine so that he was free to pelt the drunk.
She darted down the alleyway, glancing back to see Cearnach struggling to rid himself
of the brigand. He took a swing at the drunk, and when he had knocked him back several
steps, Cearnach looked for her and spied her getting away. Her heart did a flip. He
appeared both troubled and exasperated.
She ran out of the alley, dashed down the street until she found another alley, and
ducked down it. She would find a ship and return home on her own.
Somehow she had to figure out a way to deal with Kelly Rafferty next.
***
Cearnach MacNeill swore as another lout smashed him in the jaw with a mighty punch.
By the time he’d laid the man out with a couple of smashes in the face, Cearnach had
lost sight of the she-wolf in the crowd. He suspected she was related to the Hawthorn
brothers, which was the only way they would have taken her aboard their ship. He was
almost certain that the only reason they had docked in St. Andrews was to gather their
stolen goods and squirrel them away in some other location.
Did the lass know where the brothers had hidden the goods?
All he should have cared about was retrieving his family’s stolen property from the
now-dead brigands. When he’d looked into the girl’s stricken face, he’d felt a deep
regret that she’d just lost her family and now he intended to use her to reclaim his
clan’s goods. He was sincere about keeping her safe. At least until he could secure
passage for her and send her home.
He’d seen the uncertainty in her dark brown eyes, the guarded hope he might rescue
her from this nightmare. He’d felt a twinge of need—to protect her.
He picked up her wolf scent and headed for the wharves. Then he saw Robert Kilpatrick
and the McKinley brothers and overheard Robert saying, “We have to get her before
Whittington does.”
Were they kin to the Hawthorn brothers? Most likely they wanted the same information
from her as Cearnach did: where was the stolen property the Hawthorn brothers had
hidden in Scotland?
She didn’t stand a chance unless Cearnach could reach her first.