Ian ran his hands through his hair and scowled at Flynn’s accusatory glare. “He knows what he’s doing. He’ll be all right.”
Ian wasn’t as sure as he tried to sound. Hearing footfalls stalking in the direction of his solar, Ian knew his youngest brother, Duncan, was coming to talk to him about Cearnach.
As soon as Duncan knocked on the door frame and Ian said, “Enter,” his brother stalked in, wearing all black and looking ready to do battle. Ian could smell the wind and pine and rain surrounding him. He knew his brother had been up on the ramparts waiting for Cearnach’s return. “He’s been gone too long,” Duncan said.
Ian didn’t have to guess who Duncan was referring to. Duncan bowed his head slightly to Flynn in acknowledgment, then shifted his stormy gaze to Ian. “Do you want me to gather some men?”
“Even if he just stayed for the wedding, he still wouldn’t have had time to drive all that way home yet,” Ian cautioned.
“Did he call you when he arrived?”
That’s what had been bothering Ian. His brother hadn’t let him know he’d arrived, although he should have reached the church hours ago. He was good about keeping in touch. All his kin were. So why hadn’t Cearnach called? Trouble was all that came to mind. His brother was in trouble.
“Send six men to the church and scout around.”
Duncan arched an eyebrow. The order was clear. Ian didn’t want Duncan to lead them.
Ian folded his arms. He’d already tried to convince Cearnach not to go to the wedding. He wasn’t about to explain himself to each of his other brothers concerning this matter. Then he shook his head. Hell. When had he become such a softy? When a little red she-wolf had turned his world upside down, that’s when.
“I need you here. If the men report that nothing is the matter, then we have no cause for concern. If there’s trouble, I’ll need you to take care of the matter.”
Armed with his sword sheathed at his back and a dirk in his boot, Duncan didn’t respond, his expression one of battle readiness. Ian didn’t want Duncan killing someone before he knew all the facts. That was one of the reasons Ian led the pack, not Duncan. That plus the fact that Ian was the eldest and Duncan the youngest by several minutes.
“Duncan?”
“Aye, Ian, but if anything’s happened to Cearnach…” He let his words trail away.
Flynn withdrew his ghostly sword and sliced through the air as if he would take on the men who dared harm Cearnach himself.
“Aye, Duncan. We will deal with it,” Ian said.
“In the harshest manner possible,” Duncan said, as if seeking clarification.
Duncan had to know that if any harm came to their brother, Ian would stop at nothing to pursue those responsible. “Aye.”
Bowing his head in deference to his brother’s leadership and position, Duncan turned around to give the word.
“Duncan, let your mate’s Uncle Ethan go with them.”
Duncan stopped in the doorway and offered a small smile over his shoulder.
The American had been giving Ian trouble ever since he’d arrived with Shelley’s family, but only because the Scots-born, transplanted Texan was a born leader of men. “He won’t be in charge.”
“Aye, one of our cousins will be.”
“Better make it Oran, then. He’s about the only one who can butt heads with Ethan and still remain on top.” Besides Ian and his brothers, that was, and Oran could barely keep the lead over Ethan.
Oran had a ready sword hand and a temper to match his red hair. Muscular and ready for a fight, he would face any foe. He had a steady head also, and he was perfect for the job.
“Shelley’s uncle will be grateful for the opportunity.” Then Duncan left the solar, and Flynn scowled at Ian and took off after Duncan.
Julia, Ian’s lovely red-wolf mate, entered the solar, her expression shadowed with worry. “Are you going after Cearnach?”
Ian gathered her up in his arms, kissed her lightly on the lips, then hugged her tight. “He’ll be all right. He’s a warrior at heart. He’ll be all right.” He repeated the words as if by doing so, he could make them true. But he wasn’t sure.
Cearnach should have called him.
Chapter 8
Cearnach dove after Elaine into the icy water, his heart skipping beats as he saw her lose her footing and the force of the river carry her away. He followed after her, paddling as fast as his legs could go to catch up. She looked worn out, trying to keep her head above water, dipping her nose in, then lifting it and sneezing. She was unable to keep her footing on the slippery rocks and pull herself out of the river.
In their favor, the sunlight was quickly fading. The farmers who had been shooting at them could no longer get close enough to the river while driving the truck, and Cearnach doubted they could see the wolves swimming in the dark water.
The roar in the distance warned Cearnach that the waterfall was coming up. The currents quickened, pulling them faster toward the sound of the falls.
All in a rush, the memories of the panic he’d felt when he’d been showing off to Calla as a young lad came back to him. He’d been teasing her, saying that he could hop from boulder to boulder without getting wet, while she’d played with an old rope, pretending to be fishing when no one in her clan would allow her to do such a thing.
With a shout of terror, he’d lost his footing on the slippery rocks and fallen into the swiftly moving water. Numb with cold, he had tried to reach the shore but couldn’t. He wasn’t all that old then, not as muscled, not as strong. She’d raced along the bank, shouting his name and desperately throwing the rope out to him, hitting him twice—once on the shoulder, once on the head—before he finally was able to grab hold.
She had quickly wrapped it around a pine tree and held on with all her might as he’d climbed onto the shore, choking on water that had gone down the wrong way.
Then he had collapsed on the frost-covered ground like a fish out of water, gasping for air.
Now it was his turn to rescue a she-wolf instead of a she-wolf rescuing him.
He was so close to Elaine that he could almost touch her. He didn’t want to startle her, so he bumped her side to let her know he was there and would help her. She yipped in surprise.
He woofed, letting her know it was just him. She cast him a quick look of relief over her shoulder.
With his powerful legs, he swam beside her, steering her away from the falls and toward the boulders littering the sides of the river. She slid over them, still unable to gain her footing. He pushed her again, moving her toward the beach, his whole body pressing against hers, offering a wall of muscle that she could lean against, protecting her while he worked at keeping her from being carried over the falls.
Almost there.
She stumbled on the slippery stones, but he kept nudging her toward the shore, wishing he could put an arm around her as a human or lift her out of the water and carry her to safety. As soon as she reached the shore, she scrambled over the rocks and ran straight for the trees, a spurt of energy apparently charging through her.
He shook the water from his fur, then hurried after her.
She shook herself as soon as she was in the woods. Sheltered from prying eyes, she collapsed on her side in the creeping ladies’ tresses and twinflowers, panting with relief and exhaustion, her wet mink fur clinging to her, her eyes closed. Fatigued, soaked, and beautiful.
He joined her, thanking God that she hadn’t gone over the falls. He was also glad that the farmer hadn’t managed to shoot either of them. He hoped the men would believe he and Elaine had been big dogs, not wolves. Strict rules governed the keeping of wolves in Scotland. If anyone truly thought that he and Elaine were wolves running loose, a bounty might be placed on their heads. Shoot to kill. All of his kind would be threatened then.