Heart of the Highland Wolf (Heart of the Wolf #7)

Heart of the Highland Wolf (Heart of the Wolf #7) Page 53

“You didn’t tell me she felt that way.”

“I didn’t want her upsetting you.”

Julia kissed Ian’s throat and shifted her leg over his, spreading herself to him, claiming him, and making him hard and horny. “Will Basil return, do you think?” she asked.

“He’ll not get in again,” Ian assured her, his voice bordering on a growl.

Nothing else mattered after that. Just that Julia and his people were safe and that she was his to love and to hold.

As the faint glow of sunlight disappeared from the sky, he kissed her willing mouth, loving how restless she became as he moved her onto her back and pressed more kisses across her jaw and down her throat, his fingers kneading a handful of breast.

He loved how she urged him to take her, loved the feel of her hands sliding over his skin, the touch making him hot and needy—ravenous to take his fill. He ached for her, craving her and hating how possessive she made him feel, how out of control when he had rarely felt that way at any time in his life.

Her breathing quickened as she combed her fingers through his hair with a tender touch, her eyes like shimmering jade focused on his, her lips parted, full and luscious, and his for the taking. She licked them as if anticipating tasting a sweet treat, and he cradled her head in his hands and kissed her mouth deep and hard, the soft, wet touch and the spicy, sweet taste intoxicating to his senses.

Her hands shifted to his arse, squeezing his flesh, her touch sizzling, and making his breath raspy with need.

He moved over her, his hand on her breast, kneading the soft feminine globe. The rigid tip stretched out to him, so he kissed it and licked it, and then the other, too.

She murmured something under her breath. He thought she said, “Hurry,” but he couldn’t be sure. Or maybe it was the little voice in his head pushing him to take her fast and furious.

His fingers stroked her soft belly, moving south, while he trailed kisses down her rib cage, and then he found the center of her sweetness in the bed of red curls. He touched the swollen nub, and she moaned and writhed under his strokes.

A soft gasp and ripples of climax met his questing fingers, and then he was inside her, buried to the hilt, thrusting and meeting her as she arched against him. Her eyes were clouded with desire, her lips full and swollen, her skin flushed with the friction as their bodies glided against each other. Her nipples were dark and rigid. And the sweet, sexy scent of her clung to her like a fragrant invisible veil.

“I love you, Ian,” she mouthed against his lips, her expression one of love and lust.

“Bonny lass…” was all Ian managed to get out as the tension of sweet anticipation built higher and higher until he was reaching for the peak and couldn’t hold back any longer. Letting go, he released his seed deep inside her willing body, pumping until he was spent.

She murmured, “I love you,” again.

“Aye,” he said, lying on his back and pulling her against him, as she pillowed her head against his chest, feeling satiated and satisfied and on top of the world.

Only he knew the situation with Basil was bound to come back to haunt him.

“Ian,” Cearnach said low, trying to wake him, and in the recesses of his mind, Ian realized it wasn’t a dream as his arms tightened around a naked Julia in his bed.

He opened his eyes and saw his brother frowning down at him, his looked worried. Ian slid out from under Julia’s naked body, still covered in the blanket.

“What is wrong?” he asked, getting to his feet and quickly grabbing a pair of boxers from his chest and then pulling them on.

“Heather’s been taken.”

Ian stared at him slack-jawed for a moment and then seized his trousers hanging off the back of a chair and swore under his breath. “Are you sure?”

“Aye.” Cearnach handed him a piece of paper.

Ian quickly scanned the typed note.

I want Julia. We’ll make a trade. Your woman for your kin. For now, Heather’s safe.

“How the hell did they get her?” Ian asked.

“That John Smith turned out to be a minor actor in the film. Basil paid the guy to send her a note. She believed she was seeing him, and when she left the holding, Basil and his men grabbed her.”

“John Smith?”

“Not his real name, but aye, the one she tried to see earlier and you put a stop to it. According to the note, he was not leaving Scotland until tomorrow and wanted to see her tonight if she could sneak away.”

“Get our men—”

Cearnach’s look fierce, he nodded. “They’re ready. We smelled their scents in the woods. They’re wolves tonight.”

“Then we’ll greet them in kind.”

The first thing Julia was aware of was that something cold pressed tightly against her arm. Her eyes shot open. The bedchamber was cloaked in darkness, but despite her night vision, she saw nothing. Her heartbeat picked up, and she quickly sat up in bed. Ian was gone, but something, someone was in the room with her.

A man, a specter of a man, loomed over her beside the bed.

“Flynn?” she whispered.

His wild red hair and closely trimmed beard made him appear like a warrior of old. He was tall like Ian and his brothers, and wore a kilt and a sword as if he were ready to do battle, but he held his finger to his lips, warning her to be silent.

That’s when she heard movement in the lady’s chamber adjoining Ian’s. A rush of cold penetrated her bones as alarm spread through her.

Flynn tugged at her arm to get her to come with him, motioning to the door, but she wasn’t dressed.

Everything happened so quickly after that. Two men, one of them Basil Sutherland, burst into the room from the lady’s chamber adjoining Ian’s. She opened her mouth to scream, but the black-hearted Basil silenced her with a blow to the head.

Stars sprinkled across her eyes briefly before darkness blotted out her night vision.

As wolves, Ian and his men searched for Heather after they’d discovered her missing. He felt as though he and his men had been chasing shadows all night long. As soon as he’d spied a wolf of the Sutherland ilk, Ian raced after him, but each gray beast melted into the fog like a demon phantom.

Duncan joined him, and with a shake of his head, told him he hadn’t had any more luck chasing the bastards down than Ian had.

Then a yip of fear came from near the falls. Heather. Ian and Duncan raced toward the stream, as Ian’s heart lodged in his throat. If any of Sutherland’s kin had harmed his cousin, the whole lot of them would die.

Soon he was joined by five more of his men all running as wolves at top speed to reach Heather in time.

A Sutherland wolf dodged deeper into the woods off to Ian’s right, but nothing would distract Ian from reaching Heather. Two of his men took off after the wolf, though.

The falls grew closer, and a chilly rain was spilling from the clouds when he spied her, trussed up like a lamb for the slaughter, only in wolf form, legs tied and her snout muzzled so she couldn’t howl.

She was here alone.

First, relief flooded his veins to see her unharmed, although her eyes were wild with fear. Duncan quickly shifted and removed her restraints.

Something was wrong. The way Sutherland’s wolves had drawn them out but hadn’t engaged them in combat. The way they had taken Heather as a hostage and left her behind.

Ian looked back in the direction of the castle. Julia was who Basil had his sights set on. Not Heather. Bloody hell. It was a diversion. A means to get him away from the lass. Ensuring Heather was all right, Ian motioned with his head to the castle and gave a low growl.

“Julia,” Duncan said with full clarity.

Aye, Julia. Ian had made the gravest mistake. In rescuing his kin, he’d left his bonny mate unprotected.

“They can’t successfully storm the castle, Ian,” Duncan called after him, as Ian bolted for home.

They might not be able to storm the castle, but he had no doubt that Basil had other plans in mind.

Chapter 24

Hushed, angry voices echoed off walls in the distance as Julia tried to make sense of where she was and what had happened. Her head throbbed with a vengeance, and focusing took an inordinate amount of effort. She was rewarded with more mind-splintering pain and blurred vision. But in that fuzzy awareness, she thought she saw Flynn crouching beside her, his icy grip on her bare arm.

She realized then she was naked, wrapped in a sheet, lying on the rocky floor of the secret tunnels below the castle. She took a deep breath of the chilly, damp air and shivered.

“Shift, my lady,” Flynn whispered. His ghostly voice shimmered in her brain, the words unable to penetrate her fog-filled mind.

“Shift into the wolf, lass. Hurry.”

“Wolf,” she said, and closed her eyes.

A rough, icy yank on her arm pulled her out of the cocoon of darkness where she wished to remain until the pain in her head went away.

“You can fight them—as a wolf,” he urged, his voice dark and insistent.

“Wolf.” She closed her eyes, trying to recall what had happened. Where was Ian? Why was she in the tunnels?

“Julia,” Flynn said, shaking her roughly.

Her eyes fluttered open.

“My lady, you are in grave danger. Until Ian returns, only I can protect you.” He looked saddened at the thought.

“Protect me,” she whispered. He couldn’t protect her. Not as a—ghost. “Ian,” she said, her voice hushed.

“Searching for Heather. They took her.”

She groaned, raising a hand to her head. “Heather.” But she couldn’t summon the need to shift. She tried again and again. Each time, the pain ripped through her brain, short-circuiting what little thought she could dredge up, and the blackness crept over her.

Angry voices reached her again.

“How the hell do I know how the trapdoor got locked?” a man’s voice said.

Her breathing suspended. She vaguely recognized his voice. Where had she heard that voice before? The dark, threatening tone. Basil Sutherland. And he was down here. With her. She was naked and unable to fight back. Unless she could shift.