Highland Wolf (Highland Brides #10)(48)

“Hello, husband.” Claray managed a nervous smile, and then ran her hand over the wolf’s soft head. “This is Lovey. He’s me friend. He’s no’ got the madness. He just must ha’e got out o’ Edmund’s room in the stables and came to look fer me.” She frowned slightly down at the beast with concern and muttered, “Edmund’ll be frettin’ o’er where he got to.”

“I’ll send a couple o’ men back to let him ken yer wolf is with ye,” Conall said solemnly.

Claray beamed at him briefly, and then glanced to Stubborn Bastard when he nudged her shoulder. Recalling Conall’s expression when she’d shouted at the horse as she’d rushed off to keep the men from killing Lovey, she reached up to rub her hand down the stallion’s nose as she told Conall, “Me horse is named—”

“Stubborn Bastard,” he finished for her. “Gilly just told me. It was a relief to ken it was no’ me ye were calling that.”

“Oh, nay. I’d never call ye that,” she assured him quickly, and then grimaced and admitted honestly, “Well, mayhap I would if ye were being one and I was really annoyed. Though I’d be more like to just think it rather than actually say it.”

For some reason that admission had his lips twitching, and Conall closed the distance between them.

Lovey immediately straightened next to her, his ears pulling back as he squinted at him, and then going straight up when Conall continued forward. When he then bared his teeth and growled low in his throat, Claray tightened her fingers in the fur at the back of his neck in warning, then turned to bare her teeth and growl at the wolf in return.

Lovey didn’t look happy, but he did relax a little. Though she noticed he stood a little taller, puffed out his chest and went back to squinting suspiciously at Conall too.

“Wife?”

Claray turned to him in question. “Aye, husband?”

“Ye just growled at the wolf,” he pointed out.

“Aye,” she agreed, and smiled at him. “’Tis what he understands.”

“I see,” he said, but didn’t look like he did and then asked, “Where’s Squeak?”

Eyes widening as she recalled the baby stoat, Claray glanced down at her top, concerned that he might have been hurt when she was tussling with Lovey. A gasp slid from her lips when she tugged the material of the gray gown she’d donned that morning away from her chest and found the spot where he usually settled empty.

“Oh, no! I—Oh,” Claray said as she glanced around wildly and spotted the baby stoat sitting on Stubborn Bastard’s saddle. Moving along the horse, she reached up and scooped the small stoat off the saddle, muttering, “He must have climbed out while I was dismountin’.”

She turned toward Conall with the stoat, to show him he was all right, but froze when Lovey was suddenly there nudging her hand as he sniffed the wee creature. Squeak had started to chitter and squeak at her the moment she’d picked him up, but froze now to eye the wolf with a decidedly wary air. Knowing her emotions would affect the wolf and his reactions, she forced herself to take a deep calming breath, and simply let him sniff. She relaxed fully though when the wolf’s tongue whipped out to lash the wee creature, who immediately commenced to tremble in her hands.

“’Tis all right, Squeak,” she murmured with a grin as she tucked him quickly back into the top of her gown. “That was just a welcoming lick.”

“That or he was testing to see if he’d taste good,” Conall suggested.

Claray shook her head at his teasing, and then gasped when he caught her at the waist and lifted her off the ground to kiss her. She thought she heard Lovey growl again, but ignored it and melted against Conall until he broke the kiss and eased her away, then lifted her onto Stubborn Bastard’s back. A small sigh slid from her lips then, and she absently patted a squirming Squeak through her gown to calm him as she watched Conall gather Stubborn Bastard’s reins for her.

“Will yer wolf make it to Deagh Fhortan on his own, or should I send him back to be brought out on a wagon in a cage with the other beasts and goods?” he asked as he held the reins up to her.

The dreamy expression that had been softening her face since he’d kissed her was immediately plowed under by a scowl. “Lovey’s never been in a cage. I’d no’ do that to him. He’s a wild creature.”

The look Conall gave her then was dubious. “Wild, eh?”

“Aye,” she assured him. “A wolf is no’ like a dog, husband. Ye can no’ tame them. No’ really.”

He grunted at that, and asked, “But has he the stamina to make it to MacDonald on his own?”

“Oh, aye. Do no’ worry. He’ll most like run beside Stubborn Bastard most o’ the way there. They’re friends.”

“Friends,” he echoed with disbelief, and shook his head before walking back to where his horse waited by the other men.

Claray watched him go and then glanced down at Lovey. The wolf was watching Conall with an expression she couldn’t decipher. Sighing, she clucked her tongue to get the wolf’s attention, and when he looked her way, she warned, “Ye’d best get used to him, Lovey. He’s me husband now.” When the wolf just stared at her, she tilted her head and murmured, “We should find you a mate.”