Highland Wolf (Highland Brides #10)(51)
“What the devil are ye doin’, wife?” Conall asked on a sudden laugh.
“Calling Lovey,” she explained, but couldn’t help the blush that crept over her face as she noted the startled expressions of the people around them and the soldiers following. This reaction was the reason she hadn’t howled back when Lovey had been chasing them and howling for her. Claray supposed the fact that she’d just woken up was the only reason she had done it now. Her thoughts weren’t clear enough for her to have considered how the others would react. They probably thought her mad now, she supposed unhappily.
Claray was distracted from that concern when Lovey responded with a long, loud howl of his own.
“Over there,” Conall said, pointing through the trees on their left.
Claray twisted in his lap to look, and caught a glimpse of the top of Lovey’s head and ears as he bounded through the tall grass toward them.
“He’s got a rabbit,” Conall said a moment later when the wolf had nearly reached them.
“Aye,” Claray murmured, and then leaned down to brush her fingers over the top of the wolf’s head as he fell into step beside them, carrying his catch. The wolf suffered it for a moment, and then raced ahead, charging down the path and out of sight with his dinner.
“Where’s he goin’ now?” Payton asked with curiosity.
“To eat,” Claray sighed as she leaned back against Conall. “He’ll be waitin’ ahead.”
Everyone was silent for a minute, and then Payton asked, “Do ye often howl at wolves?”
“Only Lovey,” Claray answered. “He’s the only wolf I ken.”
“Ye ken Conall, and he’s the Wolf.”
“Aye,” Conall agreed aloud, and then leaned down to whisper by her ear, “And ye howled fer me on our weddin’ night. Hopefully, this night I can make ye howl again. Finally.”
Claray stiffened in surprise and then felt heat suffuse her face as his hand crept up her waist where it was resting, and his thumb brushed over the bottom of one breast.
She hadn’t howled on her wedding night. Not like she had when calling Lovey. But Claray had moaned, groaned, cried out and made sounds deep in her throat that she couldn’t even think to describe or deliberately repeat and she knew those were the “howls” he was referring to. And he was suggesting he’d like to bring them on again. This night. Finally.
The thought made her quiver and her breathing pick up. It had been four nights and five days since their wedding night, and all that time had been spent in the company of the people now around and behind them. There had been no tent for them to sleep in, and no way to even slip away from the group for privacy since Kenna and Lady MacKay had joined her every time she’d headed out to relieve herself. Even the one time they’d camped by a river on the way here and Conall had asked if she’d like to bathe in it, they hadn’t got to go together as she suspected he’d intended. Claray had been so embarrassed at the idea of stripping naked before him she’d blushed bright red and stared at him wide-eyed, incapable of speaking. The next moment, Kenna had announced she thought that a grand idea, and that the three women should go together. She’d then chivvied Claray and her mother out of camp.
All of this meant that Conall hadn’t done more than kiss her since they’d left her room at MacFarlane. But it was sounding like he wanted to do that and more now that they’d reached Deagh Fhortan. The very idea sent excitement writhing through her and kept her mind fully occupied as they completed the journey down into the valley and to the castle entrance.
Chapter 16
“I’m thinkin’ the stables and curtain wall are no’ goin’ to be yer first task here after all.”
That comment from Payton brought an unexpected huff of laughter from Conall as they stood in front of their horses and surveyed what remained of the castle drawbridge. Which wasn’t much. It looked like a giant had taken a bite out of it, leaving a strip perhaps a foot wide on the one side that curved toward the center at the top and bottom. They would not be crossing it, he thought as his uncle squatted to examine it more closely.
“Wood rot,” the older man diagnosed, brushing his hands off as he straightened and stepped back beside him. Shaking his head, he muttered, “I should ha’e checked the castle yearly. Had I realized the drawbridge was out, we could ha’e brought—”
“Lovey!”
Claray’s alarmed cry distracted them, and Conall started to turn, but stopped when a gray and white flash streaked past him and his uncle and raced across the now much reduced, and rotten, one-foot-wide drawbridge.
“Bad wolf. Ye could ha’e been hurt,” Claray said with exasperation, stomping up to the foot of the drawbridge and glaring at the furry beast on the other side. The wolf merely looked back with confusion, and then dropped to the ground on the other side of the ruined bridge to eat his rabbit. It was something he’d been trying to do since reappearing with it when Claray had howled for him. He’d run ahead of the horses, managed a bite before they’d caught up and then picked it up and run ahead again repeatedly until they’d reached the drawbridge. Conall didn’t think he’d got more than three or four bites of his meal up to now. But it looked like he would be able to finish this time. They were not going to be catching up to him anytime soon, he thought unhappily and then barked, “Wife!” with alarm when Claray suddenly hurried across the narrow strip of drawbridge right after the wolf.