Observing him, Duncan stood rooted to the floor, his arms crossed. Guthrie sat down on one of the high-backed plaid-covered chairs, his back as stiff as the chair. Knowing him, he was pondering the financial ramifications of the matter. He was always thinking along those lines as their financial advisor.
His arms still folded across his chest, Ian leaned against his desk, but he wasn’t fooling anyone. He was wired and looked like he was only trying to put Cearnach at ease and not jump to rash conclusions.
“Julia’s father and grandfather asked to sit in on the discussion, but I wanted to know how bad this was first. They don’t know the parties who are involved so I didn’t want to have to go into a lot of history. Shelley’s uncles were also ready to sit in on the war council,” Ian said.
That meant they had a lot more muscle, in the form of Americans of Highland descent, to aid them this time around if they needed it.
“We don’t need to go to war, Ian,” Cearnach said, though he was still ready to battle Vardon for what he had done to Elaine. He wanted their properties returned, including a minivan like the one they’d destroyed, before he would agree to anything. Giving Elaine up wasn’t part of the bargain.
Duncan scowled at him. “You arrive without your car, running as a wolf with a lass you must have saved from them, and you’re saying everything’s fine?”
Cearnach laughed.
His brothers frowned at him. He couldn’t help himself. The situation did sound as if that was enough to start a fight, but they had the Kilpatricks and the McKinleys by the balls as long as Elaine stayed with them safely inside Argent Castle.
“All right, all right. The McKinleys destroyed my car and stole the lass’s rental vehicle.”
Duncan growled, “Sounds to me that that’s enough of a reason to want to exact revenge.”
“Oh, aye, they’ll pay,” Cearnach assured him.
Ian remained quiet and thoughtful, judging without speaking. That’s the way he ruled the clan, learning not only what was said, but what wasn’t.
“Who is she?” Guthrie asked, brows raised, his tone of voice sounding as if he might be interested in the new she-wolf for himself. “She doesn’t appear to be anyone we know. Duncan told us Robert Kilpatrick said you had stolen his cousin.”
“Elaine Hawthorn. American.” Not wanting to feed his brothers’ speculation about his own interest in Elaine, Cearnach fought telling Guthrie to stay away from her. He gave him a fierce look instead, which would garner the same result. All his brothers saw his reaction and could guess just where it was coming from.
Ian and Duncan exchanged knowing glances. American wolves could be a handful.
“You met this Elaine Hawthorn while she was attending Calla’s wedding?” Ian asked, trying to sort out the situation.
“No. Elaine ran me off the road.”
Duncan laughed out loud, then smirking, offered an apology, not meaning it in the least. He was still grinning from ear to ear. To see him that lighthearted when he thought they were ready to battle the McKinleys and Kilpatricks was uncharacteristic for him. Duncan poured a glass of whisky and handed it to Cearnach, as if welcoming him to his world of dealing with an American she-wolf.
Cearnach tossed down the smooth, warm liquor. “She was in my lane. To avoid hitting her, I ended up driving off the road and blew two tires. The lass gave me a ride to the wedding.”
“But all did not go well at the wedding,” Ian guessed, head tilted down, his expression severe. He looked like he would be considering battle moves as soon as he knew who the key players were that he needed to target.
“Two of the older McKinley brothers ordered us out.” Cearnach left out the part about Vardon striking Elaine in the face. Everyone would see the damage soon enough, and that would stir up the pack’s ire just as much. “When we returned to where we’d left my car, it was gone. I had the idea they might have dumped it over the cliffs near the Senton Castle ruins. So Elaine and I found the destroyed minivan.”
Duncan swore in Gaelic.
“Robert Kilpatrick taunted us from the cliffside, threatening to leave us stranded. We tore off to stop them, but the McKinley brothers had already stolen our clothes and Elaine’s rental car.”
“They must have suspected she was your girlfriend and that’s why she was with you at the wedding,” Ian said, thinking out loud.
Cearnach wasn’t about to tell them that she’d sat on the groom’s side until he moved her to his side of the church.
“What was she doing here? Is she vacationing in Scotland? If she was visiting her kin, why wasn’t she at the wedding already?” Ian asked.
Cearnach hated to tell his brother about her connection to the Hawthorns who had stolen the MacNeill merchandise.
“She was supposed to meet with Robert Kilpatrick—her distant cousin—about some business deal.”
Back to battle mode, Duncan shook his head. “I can’t believe you brought a Kilpatrick lass under our roof.”
Ian raised his hand to silence Duncan. “What kind of business deal?”
“She didn’t say. He was making the move on her at the church, but he didn’t know who she was, and she didn’t realize he was the one she was supposed to be meeting. I’m sure now that they’ve got her passport and driver’s license, they realize their mistake.”
Guthrie laughed. “I should say so. They left one of their kin in your hands to protect when they were too stupid to know any better.”
Cearnach wished he could’ve seen their reactions when they discovered their cousin was in his care. Stunned silence? Cursing and bellowing? Any reaction would have been worth seeing.
“I’m sure they believed she was my new girlfriend and thought my bringing her to the wedding was an insult to Calla. But Calla wasn’t upset about my being with Elaine. I’m sure the McKinleys and Kilpatricks intended for us both to pay for the insult, though.”
Duncan cast one of his darker smiles and poured himself a whisky. “The joke’s on them. She’s with us now.”
Ian frowned at Duncan. “He can’t keep her as a hostage. She’s American and is related to them.”
“What if she’s really a spy for them? She knew Cearnach was headed to the wedding, and she forced him off the road. Then she offered him a lift. What if she’s behind all of this?” Duncan asked, his wary nature suddenly kicking in.
Cearnach’s cautious temperament as a wolf had considered and dismissed the notion. She was American and had too recently arrived. Her cool behavior toward the Kilpatrick brothers at the church told him she hadn’t known them, nor had she appreciated that they moved into her space. Though she also hadn’t liked Cearnach dictating where she would sit.
The excitement she had exhibited while exploring the ruined castle was real. The terror he had seen in her eyes when she realized her clothes and rented car had been stolen was just as genuine.
“She’s an innocent in all this,” Cearnach said.
“Yet she’s one of them and she’s entering into some kind of business arrangement with Robert Kilpatrick,” Duncan warned.
Two hundred years ago, the Kilpatricks had entered into a “business arrangement” with the MacNeills that took them into a bloody battle that had lasted for months between their clans.
So what was it all about this time? It might have nothing to do with the two clans, but what if it did? Or what if it had something to do with the stolen merchandise her uncles had hidden in Scotland before their untimely demise?
If it was about the MacNeills’ stolen goods, they couldn’t let her hand over the loot to the Kilpatricks and McKinleys. It was a matter of pride. If she thought they would allow her to keep at least half of the proceeds, she didn’t know anything about her cutthroat cousins.
In any event, Cearnach believed that Elaine didn’t know what she was getting herself into. Just like Calla marrying Baird McKinley.
He wanted to help Elaine in whatever way he could while leaving her kin out of the matter.
In the elegantly fashioned guest bathroom where everything was brass or gold trimmed, the walls marbled tile, the shower and separate whirlpool tub stylish, Elaine felt like she was in a luxury hotel instead of an ancient castle as she finished dressing in a pair of black jeans and a long-sleeved, pale blue jersey, the clothes compliments of Julia.
Ian’s mate was a red wolf—Elaine could smell the difference—while everyone else she’d encountered thus far were gray wolves. Julia was a natural redhead with deep red-orange curls resting on her shoulders, translucent ivory skin, and olive-green catlike eyes that made her appear like she had Scottish roots.
Duncan’s mate, auburn-haired Shelley, had offered Elaine a pair of black leather boots because their shoe size was the same. Her eyes were a lovely shade of blue-green, and from the way she gazed at Elaine, Shelley seemed sympathetic to her predicament. She was of average height like Julia and wore a sweatshirt emblazoned with a silver Rampant Lion, silver belt buckle, black jeans, and a pair of black cowboy boots.
Was she from Texas?
As if reading her mind, Julia said, “I was living in California, Shelley in Texas, but we all had roots in Scotland. And you?”
“Florida,” Elaine said, thinking she was family to a bunch of pirates from Florida. Related to the pirates of the McKinley and Kilpatrick clans. She was the enemy in their midst.
“We’ve gathered some clothes for you to wear for tonight and the next several days, and left them on the dresser in the guest room,” Julia said, having concluded that Elaine was their houseguest for the long term.
Elaine had to admit she liked the way the mistress of the house, the alpha pack leader she-wolf, had welcomed her as if she was a long-lost friend. Or already part of the family.
The two American she-wolves remained standing. Cearnach’s Aunt Agnes was seated on a blue brocade chair and introduced to Elaine as Cearnach’s mother’s sister-in-law, although the two referred to each other as sister. Aunt Agnes’s silver hair was tucked up in a bun, her gray eyes studying Elaine like a wary wolf.