For a game I never even heard of before moving to Scotland, rugby sure had a lot of dedicated fans. A whole stadium worth, in fact. In the front row where I sat, it felt like a “who can be the loudest” contest between the blasting Ed Sheeran song and the crowd yelling at the two groups of burly men down on the field who kept getting into vicious fights over the oblong ball.
I had absolutely no idea what was going on. But I could feel the palpable energy coming off the crowd around me and my new human friend, Kaia.
Kaia was another WAG—which was the commonly used term for the wives and girlfriends of players. She was the wife of Nikau, a hooker....meaning he wore a jersey with the number nine on it—apparently the position had nothing to do with prostitution.
Anyway, Kaia had a warm New Zealand accent, lustrous dark curly hair, and smoky brown skin. Ana had handed me off to her minutes before the match began with strict instructions to follow the much more seasoned WAG’s lead. Easier said than done….
Kaia watched the game intently, frequently coming to her feet to shout during the first half. But I was never quite sure if her shouts were good news or bad until the score posted on the leaderboard.
Rugby wasn’t easy to understand, especially compared to basketball, hockey, or—my all-time favorite—baseball, the three biggest sports in Canada.
Twenty minutes into the first half, I cursed at how much time I had spent shopping with Ana. I desperately wanted to pull out my phone and do some research into the rules of rugby in order to find out why the bulky players kept lifting each other into the air, getting tangled into what looked like massive huddles, and why a few of the men wore black spandex-looking helmets while others, like Kaia’s husband and Magnus, did not.
But Kaia had already swatted my hand once when I attempted to pull my phone from the new Fendi handbag Ana pushed onto my arm when we reached the stadium.
“It makes you look a right bitch, don’t it?” Kaia explained without taking her eyes off the gameplay. “Pull out your mobile during the match and you’ll end up in The Scotsman’s gossip section with loads of comments about how you’re a gold digger who don’t care nothing about the game. And if they lose, there’s bound to be lots of opinions about how it’s all your fault for distracting him and making him go on holiday with you at the start of the season …”
“But …I didn’t ask him to—” I began.
“Don’t matter. This is your big debut, so they’re looking for reasons to go extra hard on you,” she said before jumping to her feet to yell again.
Wow.
But I didn’t argued.
Instead, I clung to the strap of my gorgeous Fendi handbag, dutifully pretending I had a clue what was going on, and mentally filed away my questions until halftime when Kaia kindly explained everything that had happened so far in the game. No, the black caps a few of the players wore had nothing to do with the 100th cap Magnus hoped to achieve this year. In fact, this match was simply a “friendly” against Munster and didn’t count for anything.
The gameplay hadn’t seemed remotely friendly to me, but according to Kaia, the Rovers were going easy on their Irish opponents since they wanted to save themselves for the big games which counted toward cups, caps, and trophies.
“What? Did you think you should be cheering for the other team because they’re from your mum’s country?” Kaia asked off my confused look.
“My mom’s country?” I repeated, even more puzzled.
“Magnus told Nikau you spoke German and that’s where your mum is from. But this Munster is in Ireland—not Germany. Plus, Germany’s national team is pretty shite anyways …”
Kaia then launched into a lengthy, hard-to-follow speculation about the very remote chances of Germany qualifying to compete in the next world cup.
I briefly considered correcting my new friend about my mother’s country of origin, but I hadn’t even discussed that aspect of my background with Magnus. Or Milly, for that matter. And it didn’t seem right to mention my complicated past to a human woman I’d only just met.
“Yeah … nah, I can tell I’m losing you,” Kaia said with a laugh. “Wanna talk about where you got that choice jumper?”
I laughed and eagerly accepted the change of subject.
When I was done describing the whirlwind shopping trip with Ana, Kaia shook her head.
“Maybe I should let her have a go at me,” she said, looking down at her simple black sweater and leggings. “But I’m not sure how much she could do for me. I’ve always been a tomboy—even played women’s rugby myself in New Zealand. Used to be the sporty, crate-of-lager type—barely knew the difference between prosecco and champagne before I became an official WAG and moved here so Nikau could play for the Rovers. But I bet you’ve always been one of those glamour girls, right? All put together straight out of the womb?”
I winced. Kaia was so, so wrong. But I did concede that, “They call me ‘Glamour’ at work actually …”
“Choice! Can I start calling you that, too?”
“Sure,” I agreed with an affable shrug. “But I’m really not that girly. I’ve got a temper and I’ve been known to get into bar fights.”
“My kind of woman!” Kaia cheered. “No wonder Magnus picked you over all the others.”
“Mmm,” I answered with a non-committal sound.
It wasn’t like I could tell this human woman, No, actually, Magnus needed a baby incubator in order to keep his title as alpha king of the Scottish wolves. I’d said hell no, of course. But then our wolves mated during the last full moon shift—and that’s the real reason why he chose me. If you can really even call it a choice…
“So, tell me. Is it true Magnus isn’t retiring at the end of this season now?” Kaia asked.
I blinked, wondering at the sudden change of topic.
“Emma—she’s the Brit girlfriend of one of the Rovers—said her boyfriend overheard Magnus talking with Dave—his wife’s a realtor—about finding a flat in the city because you preferred it here,” Kaia explained. “And Magnus wouldn’t buy a flat here if he was still planning to retire after the season is done, right? How’d you manage that, anyways? The team has been trying to get him to move closer for years now. But he always claimed he couldn’t live anywhere else but out in the wops with that kilted-up clan of his. You know, me and a few of the other wives were talking about it the other day. We suspect Magnus doesn’t even own a pair of trousers. Maybe not even a pair of jeans. Though that’s likely to change now that you’ve come along and he’s not sinking every penny he makes into that village of his …”
I stilled. I was deeply unsettled at the thought of Magnus using money previously intended for his kingdom treasury to buy me this outfit.
Luckily, game play started up again before Kaia could ask more uncomfortable questions … or tell me about how many other sacrifices Magnus was making to ensure I stayed by his side.
Unfortunately for the Rovers, the Munster team came out of halftime much more revved up. And due to a few costly mistakes and penalties, they maintained a three-point lead over the Rovers for most of the second half.
But then with only a few minutes left in the game, Magnus caught a kicked ball from the other team. And with more agility than I would have expected from a man of his age and heft, he tore off toward the opposite goal line.
This time I didn’t need to follow Kaia’s lead. I jumped to my feet and shouted for Magnus to “Go! Go! GOOOOOOO!” right along with my new human friend. Then I screamed and hollered when he slid across the goal line.
They won the game! They won the game! But I stopped jumping up and down when I noticed instead of jogging over to the media stand like a few of the other players or back towards the clubhouse, Magnus cut across the field to where Kaia and me were seated in the stands.
“What’s he doing?” I asked Kaia as Magnus neared.
“Looks to me like he’s coming over to chat you up,” the New Zealander answered with a knowing grin.
The fans surrounding us started yelling about how Magnus Scotswolf was coming this way!
“You didnae text me back …” a voice said in my head. It was Magnus, pushing words into my mind before he’d even reached the stands.
I thought about answering him out loud. But I doubted he could hear me with all the background noise, even with his superior wolf senses.
“Sorry,” I said, tentatively pushing words into his head for the very first time. “I was busy. Some guy sent me on an over-the-top shopping trip.”
“You liked it then?”
“Yes, of course, I liked it! Who wouldn’t? Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. So …?” he came to a stop in front of where me and Kaia were seated.
“So...” I repeated. Not understanding what he wanted from me.
“Did you miss me, too?”
It was an unexpectedly painful question. And I found myself thinking, I miss you already.
But here, with thousands of people looking on, was definitely not the time or place to have a conversation about why I needed to leave him after the best week of my life and go home to my pack. Instead, I answered as best I could.
With a kiss …
Bending down, I pressed my mouth to his, tongue swirling just like he’d taught me.
“I didn’t ask the king’s permission before touching him,” I pushed into his head. “Sorry about that, Your Majesty.”
“You’re forgiven, mo leannan,” he replied, deepening our kiss. “Completely forgiven.”
* * *
“Well, that kiss’ll end up in tomorrow’s papers,” Kaia chortled as they waited with the other WAGs in the Rovers’ clubhouse. The clubhouse was a state-of-the-art facility located next to the stadium. On the outside, it looked nearly as modern and sleek as Iain’s apartment building, but with only two floors instead of seven. According to Kaia, the facility had showers and a gym on the ground floor with offices taking up most of the second. But at the moment, the two women stood in a large room with rows of flat screens lining each wall, chairs, tables, and even a full-service bar.
Kaia steered me right to the large group of WAGs who’d situated themselves next to the bar. After Kaia made introductions, an elegant blonde handed her and me a glass of white wine and assured me we’d be switching to champagne as soon as “the fellows” came out.
The WAGs, I noted after handing the wine off to my non-pregnant new human friend, seemed to be of two distinct camps: over-the-top designer casual like me—thanks to Ana—or leggings, a sweater, and a good peacoat, like Kaia, who was happily double fisting both her and my wine.
But I soon discovered that fashion aside, the other WAGs all agreed on one thing—I’d pulled off a bloody miracle in getting Magnus Scotswolf to settle down.
“Never seen him make concessions for any woman, that’s for sure,” commented a petite blonde named Emma.
“If you don’t watch out, he’ll make you tour with him on the road, because he won’t be able to live without you—at least until the baby arrives!” A brunette WAG in gray leggings said.
“I mean, he’s even coming to this post-game do which he’s never done...” one of the Scottish WAGs pointed out. “Always says groupies are too much work and he’d rather go to a local pub to get sorted. So spill…what did you do? Enchant him?”
“Um…” I said, not quite knowing how to answer.
“And also, please tell us where you got that fabulous jumper!” Emma said. “Is it true Magnus convinced Chloe Rose to let you borrow her stylist? That Ana won’t even return my calls!”
“Yes, um … I guess so,” I answered, trying hard to keep up. “It was really nice of her to take me shopping. Maybe she owed Magnus a favor?”
“Or maybe she doesn’t really believe he’s settling down at all, and she’s looking to get under him next. You better watch her. Keep your enemies close and all that,” another WAG said.
Before I could further analyze that somewhat disturbing comment, Kaia jumped in and said, “I’m trying to convince her to put in a good word for me with Ana.”
Kaia took me by the arm like we were long-time besties. “Maybe we could all take a hen’s trip to Bond Street before your wedding since you can’t really have a normal party being pregnant and all.”
My eyes widened at the thought of a hen party combined with another luxury shopping trip. It definitely sounded like a dream come true—pregnant or not.
But then all thoughts of shopping ceased when a commotion broke out at the front entrance to the bar-slash-waiting room.
Kaia and me had sailed right through just thirty minutes ago, but now a striking older woman with long silky black hair nearly down to her butt was having an intense discussion with a ginger-bearded security guard.
From the way the woman was wildly gesticulating, it was obvious she wanted into the clubhouse. But the guard, who looked like he should be in an advertisement for heavy-duty Scottish paper towels, folded his arms across his beefy chest and shook his head.
“Groupie nutter, probably,” Kaia said.
“Little older than the ones who usually try to slip in here, though,” Emma noted.
“She looks good for her age,” quipped the elegant blonde who’d handed me the glass of wine. “Maybe we should tell the guard to let her in, so we can get the name of her surgeon.”
Most of the WAGs fell out laughing at that. But not me. Unlike the other women, I could actually hear what was being said.
“I demand you let me in! My future daughter-in-law is inside, and she’ll want to see me. Her name is Tara Hamilton!”
What the …? I squinted hard trying to figure out why this woman looked so familiar. Then it hit me. Iain. She looked exactly like Magnus’s brother. Which meant …
“Wait, where are you going?” Kaia asked when I suddenly started toward the room’s double-door entrance. “Do you know that woman?”
As I approached, the brawny security guard was saying, “Yeah, tell me something you couldn’t have read about in the news this weekend, lady. Plus, everyone knows Magnus and his ma don’t talk. So, even if you are who you say you are, I greatly doubt he’ll want to speak with you.”
“This isn’t a problem since I am not here to speak with my son,” the beautiful woman replied. “I’m here for Tara. At her request, I might add—”
She broke off when she saw me approaching.
Seemingly tired of keeping up the pretense that the guard could hold her back, the older she-wolf easily pushed the bouncer aside and pulled me into her embrace as if we were long-lost friends. “Oh, there you are, cara! I am Magnus’s mama. It is so very lovely to finally make your acquaintance. But are you alright? I came as fast as I could.”
“I’m fine,” I replied, my voice weak with confusion. Magnus’s mother wasn’t anything like I’d expected.
She was a tall, willowy brunette with fiery brown eyes and one hell of a bear hug. She towered over me but wasn’t the least bit intimidating. She wasn’t an ice queen at all. In fact, she struck me as warm and inviting.
“Um … hello,” I continued. “It is so nice to meet you, too. But … what do you mean you are here at my request?”
“Si, come with me,” she said. “Quickly! Quickly!”
Before I knew what was happening, the older woman pulled me out of the waiting room, past the stunned guard, and out the front of the clubhouse’s large entrance.
A blood-red Ferrari was parked sideways just outside. I could only assume it belonged to Magnus’s mother. But … “How did you get your car all the way up to the clubhouse?”
“I might have told the guards I was a very special friend of the head coach. And they might have believed me,” the older woman answered with a saucy wink. “But come, come! We do not have much time …”
“Much time? For what?” I asked, so confused I could barely keep up mentally or physically.
“Oh, sorry. Lachlan always said I talk too fast for others to catch up. Iain sent me...” The fashionable beauty threw that explanatory bit over her shoulder like an afterthought, before bringing us to a stop beside the zippy red car. “He asked me to fly over and convince you not to leave Magnus.”
My eyes widened in shock. “He did … what?!”
“Oh, but do not worry cara. I am here to do the opposite of that. I have his private plane and so I will fly you home. This is why I have come…” Magnus’s mother spread her arms like a goddess coming down from the mount, “...to help you leave my son!”
“Wait…what?”
This time, the voice didn’t belong to me …
We both looked up to find Magnus, now dressed in a well-cut three-piece suit, standing in front of the clubhouse’s glass doors. It was too far away for a human to hear what Valentina had said. But as I had been reminded far too many times already….
Magnus was a wolf.