Hero of a Highland Wolf

It wasn’t her idea to live at the castle for all that time. Like Grant and his people, she also had to make the most of it.

As soon as she turned into the winding, private drive that cut through a forest, she felt a shiver of excitement and a hint of trepidation. “Okay, you can do this.”

She kept reminding herself that the castle was her family’s, and Grant was only its manager. Not its owner. She was certain he’d try to intimidate her into not wanting to stay. But she could do anything for a year and a day if it meant keeping the family legacy that she would someday pass on to her own descendants. How many Americans could say they owned a castle in Scotland? Who were also wolves?

She spied a waterway where ducks and swans swam. She smiled. Then frowned. She was glad to see so many trees where she could run safely as a wolf, but she would have to avoid disturbing the birds’ habitat.

Her good friend Julia Wildthorn, now mated to Ian MacNeill, called her on her cell. Colleen stopped the car, thinking that if Julia had anything else to warn her about before she reached the castle, she’d better hear her out.

“Ian and some of his kin should already have arrived at your castle to battle it out with the MacQuarries in an unscheduled fighting match. But my mother-in-law has ensured the rest of the brothers and their kin remain busy. That will keep them away from Farraige Castle, so you’ll have fewer men to deal with if they mean to give you a hard time,” Julia said, a smile in her voice.

Colleen had never met Julia’s mother-in-law, but she already loved her.

“Ian wouldn’t let me come this time—though that would have been a hoot when they realized we are best friends,” Julia said, chuckling.

Colleen smiled. “I’m almost there, I think. I just reached the canal-like pond where the swans are swimming.”

“Okay, just a couple more turns, and you’ll be there. I can’t wait to hear how they react when you arrive. Keep me posted when you can,” Julia said, sounding excited about the prospect.

Colleen suspected Julia would use her story in a future werewolf romance she would write.

“I will. I suspect Grant and the others had the notion that a little rough swordplay would scare me off.” So Colleen had come prepared.

“Oh, yeah, typical macho-male ploy. Love ya, Colleen. Don’t let them give you any guff.”

“I won’t.” Colleen had every intention of having a little fun with this. “Talk later.”

She opened the car windows before she drove around the last two bends in the road so that she could listen for the sound of fighting. She heard none.

When she saw the great gray wall and the four corner towers, she held her breath in awe at the sight. Her castle. It was beautiful. Then she saw movement on top of the wall walk and heard a man shout down that a car was coming, warning of her impending arrival.

She wanted to laugh.

Even so, her heartbeat accelerated. She was certain they were getting ready for her. She had two male cousins who had always teased her growing up, and she was used to dealing with them. She would have no problem dishing it out where Grant and the others were concerned. Except her cousins were betas. Grant was human, but he was still all alpha, from what her father had said.

She didn’t know all that they had planned and she didn’t know them, so she was somewhat apprehensive, though she hated to admit it.

She drove into the inner bailey and saw the sight she had tried to envision on the way here. But nothing had prepared her for this. Hot, hot, hot men in kilts with oiled abs, pecs, and bare legs, and wearing leather boots—some ancient, others more modern. The men were absolutely drool worthy! The only thing she regretted was that she hadn’t been given the opportunity to oil them down.

She even considered stopping some of the sparring men and offering to rub oil on any spots they had missed, just to show they didn’t intimidate her.

She parked and just stared out the window, jaw dropping as she watched the men slashing at each other with humongous swords, the metal clanking and the sound reverberating off the castle walls. She was dumbfounded and enthralled. This was nothing like the movies, or even the Renaissance fairs or Celtic fests she’d attended. The battling men were so close up and real. And so many of them. Maybe thirty?

She took in a deep breath and her heart began skipping beats. She smelled wolves! Not humans. Wolves. Oh…my…God. Her father had lied to her. Why? This changed everything. Butting heads with an alpha human was a lot different from taking on an alpha male wolf. He could smell everything about her that she could about him. She thought she’d have the advantage in dealing with him. Not now.

The hot testosterone poured off the men in waves. And their wolfishly delicious scent was a real turn-on. She doubted anyone could smell her interested scent, considering how much the men exuded.

Focus! She sat for a while just watching from the car as the men mostly ignored her, although a few glanced her way, checking her out. Probably trying to determine if she was quaking in her low heels yet, afraid to leave the car. That worked well for her. Let them believe what they would about her. She’d prove them wrong when she was good and ready.

She wondered which one was Grant, or whether he was even out here fighting with the men. Taking in a deep, admiring breath of all that gorgeous Highland wolf flesh, she dug through her bag and pulled out her camcorder. Armed, she left her car and began videotaping the scene. Once she was back in the States, she’d view this whenever she wanted to enjoy some really hot Highlanders in action.

A few stopped to watch her then, smiling, which surprised her because she assumed their fearless leader had ordered the men to put on the show of a lifetime to discourage her from staying. Smiling at her wouldn’t have the right effect, unless they thought she was a timid beta wolf and their interested smiles were meant to scare her off.

Or maybe her skirt whipping around in the wind had caught their eyes. The gypsy-like floral, silky, partly sheer fabric was a tease, allowing the viewer a glimpse of legs, but the built-in very short underskirt stayed put, hiding all the important parts. Still, they seemed to be waiting to see her skirt fly above her ears. They would be disappointed. Or maybe they thought watching her would cow her. She concentrated on looking for Ian MacNeill, at his wife’s request.

Most of the men were still fighting. From the pictures Julia had shared with her of Ian and Grant, Colleen recognized the MacNeills outfitted in their predominantly blue-and-green kilts. The MacQuarries wore red-and-green plaid.