Free A Highland Werewolf Wedding by Terry Spear Page B

splashing over stones bathed in green moss. She was taking deep breaths,
     her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.
    “It’s breathtaking,” she said, her voice filled with awe.
    Just as breathtaking as she was. “Aye. Just imagine when the castle was wholly intact.”
    “It would have been intimidating then.” She looked up at the castle that rose high
     above the cliff opposite the one they’d climbed down. The stairs carved into that
     cliff were just as steep and deadly.
    He smiled darkly, thinking of how dangerous laying siege to the castle had been. “Aye,
     and with men at the ramparts, armed and watching every move, if we had approached
     it back then.”
    They reached the bottom of the steps, traversed a long slippery walkway, and then
     headed back up another hundred and fifty or so stairs until they arrived at a stone
     tunnel, its mouth gaping open, that led into the inner bailey of the castle.
    “This is so cool,” she said, staring at the moss-covered rock walls, the rainwater
     running off the gray stones. “To think that the people who lived here in ancient times
     passed this way regularly.”
    “Yes, but if you were a foe, you’d be dead.” He pointed at the mossy stone walls that
     rose high above and the arrow slits from which archers could riddle an intruder with
     arrows before he could defend himself or escape.
    She shivered, and he rubbed her arm and smiled. “You’re a distant cousin of the Kilpatricks
     so no worries.”
    “Yes, but I’m with one of their staunchest enemies, a MacNeill wearing his clan plaid,
     although you left your sword behind. Besides, they’d probably figure I was besotted
     with the enemy and a traitor to the Kilpatricks’ cause.”
    Cearnach laughed. “So you do like the kilt.” He said it as a statement of fact. If
     she said she didn’t, he wouldn’t believe her.
    She gave him a smile that said she liked a little more than that. The way she still
     held his hand—not immediately releasing it when the way was no longer slippery—made
     him think she enjoyed his company too.
    They headed through the tunnel, their footfalls echoing off the rock walls and floor
     before they reached the opening into the inner bailey. Despite it being October, the
     courtyard was covered in soft, bright green grass that was short, as if someone came
     in and mowed it on a regular basis.
    “Where can we hide our clothes? If we shift in the restrooms or anywhere else, our
     clothes could be found,” she said, finally releasing his hand. “If anyone came along
     who was crazy enough to be out in this cold, rainy weather.”
    He pointed to an eighteenth-century cannon protecting the keep. “See the cannon that
     was used to defend the castle in later years? I’ll tuck our things in there. No one
     would ever think to look for them there.”
    “You’d have to undress the rest of the way and shift by the cannon.” Her eyes honed
     in on his chest, the chilly rain dribbling down it.
    He was used to the conditions. The strong, cold wind still whipped about but it wasn’t
     as frigid in the bailey, most likely because of the high, four-foot-thick walls that
     surrounded it. But even so, a naked body would find the air cold and the light rain
     chilly. Still, the cold didn’t bother him much.
    “I’ve swum in the icy loch, lass. Keeps a body strong. And virile .”
    Her eyes sparkled with humor, her mouth curving up just a hint.
    He continued, “A little autumn rain won’t hurt.”
    She laughed. “I’m from Florida, and when the winter hits, even if it’s not all that
     cold, I wear a coat and avoid the ocean.”
    He shook his head. Yet he was thinking how he’d like to keep her here in Scotland
     so she’d grow accustomed to their weather. Better than that, he knew just how to warm
     the lass, even if she didn’t become acclimated to their weather quickly. “You’d never
     last in our climate when winter arrives, but I could help a lot there.”
    “I’ll be long