“What have you done, Alban?” I demanded as I pulled another jumper on over my white t-shirt. This one was blue-gray, and it marked my fifth wardrobe change since I decided to get dressed for my big scene. “You’ve gone too far, cousin—not to mention disobeyed my orders. I specifically told you not to bother the lass any further.”
I waited for a response while checking my reflection in my bedroom’s antique standing cheval mirror. But none came.
“Da …” I prompted, looking over to where my father sat on the deep red velvet couch closest to the room’s stone fireplace.
He appeared much more interested in the fire’s roaring flames than in responding to my prompt.
“Da …” I said again, my voice growling with impatience.
“If you’re asking for my opinion about the jumper, I say that is the one,” Lachlan answered in Gaelic.
Then he switched to English to add, “The color brings out your eyes, and it matches your kilt without being overly matchy-matchy if you ken what I mean.”
I shook my head. My father had been spending too much time at Iain’s house again. Taking advantage of my brother’s electricity and flat screen to watch reality programs with people who said things like, “matchy-matchy.”
I turned from the gold-plated oval mirror to give him a censorious look. “It’s your line, Da.”
“Ach, king of mine …” Lachlan let out a heavy sigh. “I’ve never been one for the play-acting.”
“Neither have I—that’s why I need the practice.”
Lachlan shook his gray head. “I don’t know about this plan of yours. Seems dodgy at best. Likely to end in complete disaster.”
“It’s also the only thing standing between us and Iain becoming king—at least for as long as it takes him to design an algorithm to run the place so he doesnae have to,” I answered. “Just give us the line, will ye, Da?”
Lachlan heaved another sigh, then said in a complete monotone, “But your majesty, she punched you, our beloved king. And as your faithful beta, I could not let that lie. She must be punished—Ach! This would be far more believable if it weren’t Alban doing the talking. Do you reckon he’ll even be able to pull off these lines?”
I scowled at my father and replied with the scripted lines, “She had her reasons, Alban, and that’s not for you to decide. Now as your king, I command you to withdraw these charges and release her.”
I waited a few ticks, but no answer came.
“Da …” I prompted again.
Lachlan rustled the script. “Next line’s not Alban’s. Says it’s meant for some bloke named Jaime.”
“Aye, he’s the current pack alpha of the Edinburgh wolves—the one in charge of dispensing justice if any of them step out of line.”
Lachlan wrinkled his brow in confusion. “But I thought you said she was living fully among the humans and didn’t hold any affiliations with the Edinburgh pack.”
“Doesnae matter. As long as she resides in Edinburgh, she’s subject to the laws of the city and my lands.”
“And you got the pack alpha to agree to this?” Lachlan asked with a disbelieving frown.
“Aye, he’s a massive rugby fan. Now could you give me the next line, Da? I need to be on the road in less than fifteen minutes.”
Lachlan made a disgruntled sound but eventually continued, “But Alban brought her into my pack jail cell for good reason. Are you saying we’re meant to let her go after she committed a crime against our beloved king?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” I answered, my voice becoming hard with intimidation.
“Well, I suppose we could let her go with probation. Say one month of good behavior to be cleared of the charges,” my father answered as Jaime. “Of course, she’d have to live in your kingdom village during that time—really, Son, do you not think this is a wee bit too specific? She’d have to be all sorts of daft to fall for this.”
I didn’t answer. Not because I disagreed with my father, but because I’d well and truly run out of options.
I was fair to certain Tara hid from me when I’d stopped by her work last week. And I had no clue how else to get near her. According to Alban, she’d been driving straight to work from Iain’s heavily secured apartment every day since the full moon, and then back, without so much as a stop at the grocery store or pub. And I doubted she’d return a text message, even if I had bothered to send one.
I had woken naked and alone in her forest dell. But it only took a single sniff of the scent she’d left behind for my cock to come to a full stand. Being an unheated she-wolf, she hadn’t felt the same tug of erotic attraction I did. She couldn’t have, or why else would she have left that morning without so much as a by-your-leave?
Yet, her unique Canadian smell of snow and wool lingered in my nose long after it should have faded.
I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Even though my time would be better spent looking for another she-wolf to mate.
“Nae, I have to do this,” I insisted to my father as I began pulling on my socks and Ghillie boots. “It’s the same as jumping for the goal line when you only have a few seconds left of play. A desperate “hail Mary” as my American football counterparts would call it. That thing you did when you were left with no other options.”
“Are you sure there’s not other wa—”
I headed for the door before he could finish his question. “I’m going now, Da. Dinnae wait up!”
However, after that declaration, I stopped mid-stride.
Not because of my father’s patent disapproval, but because of who I scented on the other side of my door.
It was Alban, my beta enforcer. The one who was supposed to have put my future mate in a special Edinburgh jailhouse for wolves an hour ago.