A Highland Werewolf Wedding
Heart of the Wolf - 11
by
Terry Spear
Dedication
To my Rebel Romance Writer critique partners who are all about rebellion: Vonda, Judy, Tammy, Carol, Randy, Betty, and Pamela. We were in another group when a really sweet woman joined us. Her abusive husband began to stalk us. He wouldn’t let her contact our group and said horrible things. When we wanted him blocked, the only way to do it was ban the writer. The person moderating the group, who wasn’t part of it, said we couldn’t. We had no control over who could join or who could be dismissed. Only she did. So the group went completely silent.
We were afraid to correspond, knowing he was lurking, reading our emails, responding in a sick way, and reading our uploaded chapters. We took our chapters down. We could no longer critique. The group was dead unless we could change the moderator’s stance.
We couldn’t.
We rebelled and created our own safe haven. We’re still together after forming our Rebel Romance Writer group in 2004! Thanks to my rebel writer friends who have helped me to edit my books, come up with titles, deal with deaths in the family, and do so much more. I love you!
Prologue
1782, St. Augustine, Florida
The heat of the October day made Elaine Hawthorn wilt as tears blurred her eyes. She choked back a sob as men shoveled the dirt onto her mother’s and father’s coffins. Never again would she see her mother’s bright smile or her father’s raised brow when she did something he thought was not quite ladylike. Never again would she feel her mother’s and father’s warm embraces, or hear them telling her how much they loved her. A fateful carriage accident had brought them to this.
Barely an hour later, her uncles Tobias and Samson pulled her away from the reception to speak with her privately. From their weary expressions—and the way Kelly Rafferty, a pirating wolf himself, had leered at her at the funeral—she was in for more dire news.
“Lass, you must have a mate,” Uncle Tobias said, towering over her like an Irishman ready to do battle. He was a seasoned fighter, sailor, and pirate—or as he often reminded her, a privateer, like his twin brother. Tobias never took any guff from his men. He and his brother had been born while their parents were crossing the Irish Sea from Ireland to Scotland so she believed seawater ran in their veins. They were also shape-shifting gray wolves.
In her presence, her uncles always seemed uncomfortable, fidgeting and avoiding speaking with her as if she didn’t exist. Now, they were forced to do something with her. Neither had children of his own, or at least not any that either of them acknowledged.
“He has the right of it, Elaine.” Uncle Samson lifted his grizzled, tanned hands in an appeasing way. “At sixteen, you need a mate. Kelly Rafferty has the only viable wolf pack in the area and has asked for you to be his mate. We have concurred.”
The air rushed out of her lungs, and she felt light-headed. She grasped the side table to steady herself. Gathering her wits, she responded with outrage. “You did not even ask me! I will not marry that arrogant, conceited wolf! He has never been interested in me. Never! Not until he thought he might gain my parents’ properties!”
That made her wonder if he’d had anything to do with her parents’ carriage accident. Wasn’t it a little too convenient? Her family had been in competition in the pirating business with Kelly Rafferty all these years—and suddenly her parents die when Elaine is old enough that Kelly can mate with her and take over her parents’ estates?
“Your father should have ensured you were already mated by this time, Elaine,” Tobias said, half annoyed, half gruffly as if this business was now his to deal with, and he was going to do it however he saw fit.
Expediently. From what she’d heard, Rafferty was nearly two decades older than she was and ruthless besides.
“My father would never have forced me to mate someone I did not care for! What if Rafferty was responsible for my parents’ death?”
Uncle Tobias folded his arms, looking at her like she’d make up anything to get out of taking a mate. Now that Rafferty had offered for her, no other wolf in his right mind would ask for her hand. Not if he wanted to live long.
“Take me with you. Let me see the world first. Then when we return to St. Augustine, if I have not found my own wolf mate by then, we will see if Mr. Rafferty is still interested.”
Over her dead body.
After much arguing with her uncles, Elaine convinced them to allow her this one boon. With great reluctance, they arranged to have her estates managed until she returned.
Two days into the ocean voyage, Elaine heaved the contents of her belly into a bucket while attempting to rest in the captain’s quarters, sicker than she had ever been.
Everything went from bad to worse as soon as they arrived at the port city of St. Andrews, Scotland. The ship carried a new name and her uncles dressed as respectable merchants, but someone must have recognized them for who they truly were.
Word soon reached the authorities that the notorious, pirating Hawthorn brothers had returned. As armed men hurried toward them, her Uncle Tobias signaled to one of his sailors, who shoved her to the cobblestones as if she was in their way.
Men grabbed her uncles and several of their crew, led them away in chains, and tried them with barely any representation. To her horror, her uncles were hanged in the town square at the behest of Lord Harold Whittington who owned a fleet of merchant ships and claimed her uncles had plundered three of them.
Scared to death that someone would see her, believe she was part of her uncles’ crew, and hang her, too, she hastily wiped away the tears rolling freely down her cheeks and tried to slip away unnoticed in the chilly breeze. Her best hope was to return to Florida and her family’s estates.
As she started to steal away, she spied a broad- shouldered man observing her. He was wearing a predominantly blue and green kilt, the plaid gathered over his shoulder and pinned, a sporran at his belt, and a sword at his back— and he looked fierce. Her heart did a tumble.
She had dressed as plainly as she could in a dark-green muslin gown with a fitted jacket and a petticoat of the same color. With a cloak covering these and the hood up over her head, she had hoped to be shielded from the view of the men and women milling about. She thought she had been obscure in the crowd.
Elaine slipped away with the crowd as several men headed for the pubs to celebrate the hanging. She glanced over her shoulder. Curiosity etched on his warrior face, the man was still watching her. He appeared to be a Highland warrior of old, someone who had fought in ruthless clan battles and come out a survivor. Maybe a loyal friend of Lord Whittington who would want a noose around her neck, too.
He lifted his nose and appeared to take a deep breath, as if he was trying to scent the wind. As if he was trying to smell her. Which immediately made her think of a wolf. Her skin prickled with unease.
His eyes widened and he headed in her direction, a few other men following him. The force of powerful males made her heart trip over itself as she strove to get away but at the same time make it look as though she wasn’t trying to evade him.
Her heart pumped wildly as she tried to reach an alleyway, thinking she had gotten away. She was slipping down the narrow brick alleyway when a large hand grabbed her arm and effectively stopped her.
Barely able to catch her breath, she bit back a scream.