“Where have we met?” Cearnach persisted.
She shrugged. “You must have met someone who looks similar to me at some time or another.” She thought of telling him she hadn’t been to Scotland before, but he would sense she wasn’t telling the truth.
“I… attempted… to… rescue you,” he said, slowly, deliberately, as if he was trying to recall the circumstances, or he already knew and was waiting for her to fess up.
His mouth curved up. He gave her another sly glance, a wolfish look that meant he wasn’t going to give up. “I will remember,” he promised, his voice dark and seductive and intrigued.
He was determined, if nothing else. The game would soon be up.
She thought back to the way he had reacted to her when he first saw her get out of the rental car, as he strode up to meet her in his kilt and sword, armed and dangerous and hot and sexy. The way he’d perused her, moved into her space, indicating he was determining that she was a wolf like him and also attempting to learn what her response to his close proximity would be. Was she an alpha? Or beta? Was she skittish or had she been as fascinated with him as he had been with her? Oh, yes, she had been. Enthralled. Absolutely.
He’d seemed to like that she was an alpha. Not all wolves would.
She appreciated that he was a first-class alpha and unwilling to bend to pressure. They’d been in a church full of hostiles, and he had held his head high, not in the least bit intimidated. She had hoped to see someone wearing a kilt while she was here, but she’d never expected to see a Highland wedding or a church full of Highlanders in kilts.
Or all wearing dirks and swords. Or ready to do battle. Or stepping into the midst of it herself and getting a bruised face because of it.
“You’re so quiet, lass,” Cearnach said. “What are you thinking about?”
Cearnach had stood out among the rest of the Highlanders. She wasn’t sure if that was because of the way he took charge of her like a Highland warrior on the battlefield. Or maybe she appreciated him more because she sensed he really was concerned for her welfare, like he appeared to be about Calla. Why had he been that way the first time he’d met her?
This time he probably felt responsible because he’d taken her to the church. The first time they’d met, his protectiveness had been because of something else.
“Just tired,” she said. “From… the jet lag, you know.”
She hadn’t meant to look at him, because she knew if she did, he’d probably read the truth in her expression. She glanced at him anyway.
He gave her a small smile, one that said he believed she was thinking about quite a lot that she didn’t wish to share with him.
He would be right.
She raised her brows at him, smiled, and turned away.
He was tall and his hair was a little shaggy, dark brown with a reddish tint. His square jaw was clean-shaven. The ferocious, dark look that he had given her when he first approached her car had made her think of a thunderstorm approaching—like the one that had finally caught up to them. His eyes were dark brown, just a shade lighter than black.
“The way you are smiling, lass, has me believing that you’re thinking about something pleasant. Will you not share with me? I’d love to hear your thoughts.”
She blushed. She couldn’t help the way her skin flushed so easily.
“I was thinking about how you seem… so… casual at times, as if you are trying to set people at ease. That you would be kind of carefree, if it weren’t for the circumstances we met under.”
“Aye, that I am. So you were thinking of me and that’s why you were smiling?”
Another volley of heat shot through her, and she tried not to squirm.
“Just for a moment. Are you certain I was smiling? The weather is so bad that I’m sure I was frowning quite profoundly.”
“Nay, lass, you were smiling.”
About him, she was certain he wanted to tack on. She didn’t dare ask him what he had been thinking about, afraid he’d say he thought about her. She certainly didn’t want to know what he was thinking of her—like, where he’d met her before.
His casual demeanor was appealing, but she thought deep down he was passionate, powerful, and forceful when he needed to be. The kiss had showed just how powerful, passionate, and sexy he could be.
Even though he wore a jacket, vest, shirt, and a plaid pinned over his shoulder and wasn’t bare-chested, she could imagine him sword-fighting without the rest of his clothes. Just a kilt and boots. She liked the way she could tease the gruffness from him, and he’d parry with her in a lighthearted way. The way he was so protective of her in front of the other wolves was endearing, too.
She did feel awful that he’d ruined two tires. Not because it was her fault. He’d obviously been driving too fast, trying to make it to the church on time. Still, she did feel bad about it.
“I’ll wait with you until you get someone to help replace the tires on your car,” she offered, wiping rainwater from her face with some tissues from her purse.
“I can’t seem to place the time or circumstance, but I recall trying to help you and… somehow you got away,” he said, as if he couldn’t believe anyone could escape him if he didn’t wish it.
She shrugged, then drew closer to the heater again. She was trying to dry her dress, but her wet hair kept dripping water all over it. She was irritated with herself for being so off on her timing for her own appointment. Robert Kilpatrick would probably be upset that she hadn’t arrived at the agreed-upon time. She was certain he had tried to contact her and hoped he realized she had phone trouble.
“Where are you staying?” Cearnach asked.
The car slid on the wet pavement, and she grasped the leather seat to keep her balance. She glanced at him. “Flora’s Bed and Breakfast.”
Frowning, Cearnach gripped the steering wheel as he maneuvered through another puddle of water.
“What’s wrong?”
“How did you learn of that place? It’s not listed anywhere as a rental. The bed and breakfast is for family and friends who need to stay in the area for the night.”
“The man I’m meeting said it was close to the castle ruins.”
Cearnach wore that dark warrior expression again. “What is his name?”
“Kilpatrick.”
Cearnach stared at her, then shook his head.
“What?”
“Which Kilpatrick?”
She didn’t like the sound of this. “Robert.”
Cearnach snorted.
“I take it you don’t like him, either.”
“He’s a lecher.” Cearnach glanced at her. “He’s the man who was practically sitting in your lap at the church. You must have noticed.”
She gaped at Cearnach, then frowned as he continued to watch the road. “Which one was he?”
“Both are Kilpatricks. The one sitting on your right was Robert. What does he want with you?”
She hesitated to say. It really was none of his business. But what difference did it make at this point? The whole situation was odd. If Robert had the wedding to get to, he hadn’t allotted much time for their meeting. She wondered why not. What was Robert planning? Clearly he had chosen their meeting place to keep her far away from the rest of his family. The truth was bound to come out—to an extent. “He’s…” Then she saw the humor in the whole situation and started to laugh.