“Where can we hide our clothes? If we shift in the restrooms or anywhere else, our clothes could be found,” she said, finally releasing his hand. “If anyone came along who was crazy enough to be out in this cold, rainy weather.”
He pointed to an eighteenth-century cannon protecting the keep. “See the cannon that was used to defend the castle in later years? I’ll tuck our things in there. No one would ever think to look for them there.”
“You’d have to undress the rest of the way and shift by the cannon.” Her eyes honed in on his chest, the chilly rain dribbling down it.
He was used to the conditions. The strong, cold wind still whipped about but it wasn’t as frigid in the bailey, most likely because of the high, four-foot-thick walls that surrounded it. But even so, a naked body would find the air cold and the light rain chilly. Still, the cold didn’t bother him much.
“I’ve swum in the icy loch, lass. Keeps a body strong. And virile.”
Her eyes sparkled with humor, her mouth curving up just a hint.
He continued, “A little autumn rain won’t hurt.”
She laughed. “I’m from Florida, and when the winter hits, even if it’s not all that cold, I wear a coat and avoid the ocean.”
He shook his head. Yet he was thinking how he’d like to keep her here in Scotland so she’d grow accustomed to their weather. Better than that, he knew just how to warm the lass, even if she didn’t become acclimated to their weather quickly. “You’d never last in our climate when winter arrives, but I could help a lot there.”
“I’ll be long gone before then,” she promised, giving him a small smile. Before he could respond—to tell her he hoped to change her mind, even that he planned to change it—she slipped into the bathroom and closed the door.
He waited outside the ladies’ room while she undressed and shifted. He couldn’t help thinking about her taking off the clingy, wet red dress and him seeing her naked.
When she scratched and whimpered at the door, he broke loose of his vision of her as a naked woman, forgetting she’d be a wolf now, and pulled the door open. A beautiful, mink-brown wolf with dark brown eyes emerged. She wagged her tail and stood by the ladies’ room, waiting for him to get her personal effects.
He scooped up her boots and the bundle of clothes that she’d wrapped inside her raincoat, then tucked them under his arm and strode across the inner courtyard to the outer one. Leaning down, he stuffed her things deep inside the cannon. Then he started to strip, putting each article of clothing inside the weapon as soon as he’d pulled it off.
While he did so, he watched her as she raced all over the castle ruins. She seemed to be chasing smells and unsure which way to go first because everything seemed just as intriguing as everything else. She sniffed around the stone stables, busily exploring them. Then she dashed across the bailey, glanced in his direction, looked at his kilt still riding low on his hips, then bolted up narrow, winding stairs into one of the castle towers. He’d just finished removing his kilt when she peered down at him through a broken part of the wall.
He smiled to see her head poking out of the broken structure as if the hole in the wall was a new window, her gaze perusing his naked form, her eyes catching his as he observed her reaction. If she was in her human form, would she be blushing again?
He willed his wolf half to take over. His muscles stretched, the tendons and ligaments warming as he called upon the change. Shifting felt like getting a gentle workout, but before the shifter had a chance to really experience the warming sensation, he or she was standing as a wolf, a genetic necessity to prevent humans from seeing them during the shift. If anyone observed the change, hopefully they would see a blurring of forms as if their eyes were playing tricks on them.
Now he was fully clothed in wolf fur, kneading the ground with his paws and stretching his legs before he raced to join her. Watching her explore the castle ruins and seeing her enthusiasm about running as a wolf made him feel a surge of lightheartedness, something he hadn’t felt since Calla decided to mate with Baird McKinley a month earlier.
Sure, he had to see if his car was anywhere about. But with helping to run Argent Castle and the pack, he hadn’t taken much time for himself of late. If his clan could only see him now. Though he was always kidded for being the most easygoing of the brothers, this was something entirely new for him—putting aside a crisis to enjoy the company of a she-wolf, forgetting duty or the pack for the moment.
He quickly joined her on the tower stairs. When she unexpectedly licked his face in greeting, he cast her a wolfish grin.
She had to know her actions were considered part of the courtship phase between wolves. Werewolves might not date, but they definitely courted in their own way. He was all too ready to go along with it.
She ran up the rest of the stairs, wagging her tail and stopping to sniff at a corner of the tower and then on the step before her while he nearly rammed his nose up her butt because of her sudden stops and starts.
He could have laughed at the way she was so delighted to cast off her human form and play in her wolf one.
Probably some of her enthusiasm was due to the long flight, confinement on the airplane, the drive here from Edinburgh, and now her first chance to really stretch her legs, like a wild wolf released from a cage.
After circling around the tower room, she wrinkled her nose at a hole in the floor where men would have urinated when they were on guard duty. Then she stood on her hind legs to look out a perfectly round window at the water, where whitecaps frothed over the tops of moss-covered boulders. She smelled the wind for the longest time, breathing in the scents, filling her lungs, letting out the air, and doing it again. While he was smelling her. The way she was so ecstatic, excited, loving it.
She dropped to her paws, whipped around, and licked his cheek again. Before he could lick her back, she raced down the circular stairs until she reached the bottom as he flew down the steps after her.
She circumnavigated the inner courtyard, her thick fur coat protecting her from the chilly light rain. She poked her nose at the water-filled well, which had large, leafy plants floating on the surface as the rain splattered into the well. Then she dashed into the cellar, smelled the ovens where bread used to bake, the storage area where meat and grain had been stored, and then ran up the stairs to the baron and baroness’s chambers, where the roof was long gone. She sniffed around, then headed back out again. Exploring the chapel in the same excited way, she smelled the scents that had collected over the years, none of which humans who were purely humans could detect.
Staying close, he took delight in seeing her joy. He realized then how easily Elaine had made him forget his mission, his anger at the McKinleys and the Kilpatricks, showing him how important life’s little pleasures were.
She headed for the tunnel that led out of the inner bailey and raced down the one hundred and fifty stairs cut into the cliff like she was possessed. She was sure-footed despite her rushing because of the fur on her pads, just like when he could run on ice without slipping. He had to laugh deep inside as he easily kept up with her. He trailed just behind her, watching the upper stairs that led down, then looking up to the castle tunnel, to ensure that no one was coming or might see them.
No one was out in this weather.
Then she leaped the short distance to the beach and ran to the water’s edge, snapping at the churned-up surf smashing against boulders. Whitecaps danced across small waves, as the wind blew his and Elaine’s fur. The water was too stirred up for boats to be out in this weather.