She glanced at him again. Something about her lowered lashes, the way her gaze fetched his, made him consciously aware of her interest in him, as though she was reconsidering her initial thoughts about him. His smile broadened. But she pulled her gaze away from him almost dismissively. He’d never been interested in a woman who fawned over him. Something about a lass who challenged him appealed so much more.
In this case, he wasn’t about to fall into that quagmire. Not as much as he hated the idea of having the film production anywhere on his grounds. In his view, anyone participating in the venture was the enemy. But Ian and his pack desperately needed the money—they were in a financial mess.
The dark-haired woman glanced over her shoulder at Ian, raised her brows, and then spoke softly to the redhead. “He’s the one who followed us, Julia.”
Julia’s voice also was hushed. “But was he trying to help us, or was he after us?”
Sarah cleared her throat to get Ian’s attention and folded her arms. “So, are you going to take them to Baird Cottage, or should MacNamara do it? He’s already offered.”
MacNamara had finished his beer and was watching Ian to see what he had to say about it. MacNamara’s face was lined with the ages; he fished when he wasn’t here drinking. But had he already had more than his fair share of beer? Ian didn’t want him to drive the women in this weather if he had. Yet, taking the women in his own car was a last resort. He didn’t want the Sunset Productions staff thinking he was easygoing where any of them were concerned.
Ian motioned for MacNamara to join him. The older man rose to his six-four height, smiled at the American women, and lumbered over to Ian’s table. His gait was steady.
Ian nodded in Julia’s and Maria’s direction. “See them safe.”
MacNamara bowed his head slightly and then walked back to the women’s table. “Do you want me to take you to Baird Cottage?”
“Yes,” Maria said, nearly jumping from her chair, clearly more than ready.
Julia rose much more slowly, and by the way she grabbed Maria’s arm and then limped toward the door, Ian realized she’d hurt her ankle. His gaze slid down her body, curvy in all the right places, the silk top tucked into the clinging slacks showing off a nice arse, and nude stockings, all flecked with mud, but no shoes. He glanced back at the entryway and then noticed the two pairs of mud-coated shoes.
Maria refused to look at Ian, but Julia gave him one last good glower as she passed him. He tilted his head to her in greeting. She narrowed her eyes and then looked away. Had she had word about his dealings with the film staff? They were not in his good graces. Not with all the concessions they had wanted from him and not with him having to say no repeatedly when his saying so once was more than enough for anyone he dealt with on a regular basis.
He considered Julia’s height and the other woman’s, too. They were too petite to be gray lupus garous. Were they even wolves? Or had Duncan smelled someone else?
If Julia was a lupus garou, he wondered if she was a red, as small as she was. She limped toward the entrance, which bothered him more than he’d like to admit. If he hadn’t been trying to maintain his aloofness with the film crew, he would have swept her up in his arms and taken her to his car. And given her a tour of his castle and a warm welcome to Scotland, if she’d been so inclined. That was saying she wasn’t a wolf. Interest in a lupus garou took on a whole different load of problems.
As soon as MacNamara and the American women were outside, the talk amongst the men in the pub began in earnest as they cast amused glances at Ian.
Sarah shook her head. “Didn’t figure you to let her get away.” She sounded disappointed and headed back to the bar.
“Thought you were going to take the bonnie lassies out your way,” Scott said, bringing over a basket of potato crisps.
“They’re part of the film production crew.”
Scott’s eyes widened. He glanced at the door. “If I’d known that, I would have encouraged the Yanks to do business here. Think maybe the redhead is a famous actress? She looked to be Scottish and could play the part in that new film. Could be good for business.”
Ian glanced toward the entryway. Even worse. An actress. Ian shook his head, more at himself than at Scott’s question. He didn’t have a clue who was famous in the movie business. He finished off Duncan’s drink, paid Scott, and then rose from the chair. As soon as Duncan brought the car around, Ian planned to follow MacNamara and the women to make sure that they didn’t have any more accidents on the way to the cottage.
In departure, Ian waved at the men, who all raised their mugs in salute and then began singing again.
Sarah accompanied Ian to the front doors. “I’d watch old MacNamara also. You never know when he might go fishing for something other than salmon or trout.”
Ian knew she was teasing. MacNamara’s wife had left him five years ago, and he was content not to have a nagging woman around. No, the man was a happy bachelor.
MacNamara wasn’t the one who concerned him. The faint odor of gunpowder that Ian had smelled where the women’s car had catapulted off the road still clung to his thoughts, and that’s what worried him.
He headed out the door as Duncan drove up and cut the engine. Julia and her friend were limping in the direction of MacNamara’s van. Before Duncan could get out of the car, Ian stalked after them. Forget that they were part of the film crew. He had to know—were they lupus garous, and what had occurred on the road?
“What happened to having a glass of whisky? And what about the women?” Duncan asked, getting halfway out of the car.
“MacNamara was taking them to Baird Cottage. The women are part of that film production crew.”
“Och.” That one wee word said it all. Duncan had to know that ended any interest in the women, lupus garous or not. Then his brows furrowed deeply. “So where are you going in such a hurry, and what the hell happened to my glass of whisky?”
Ian didn’t reply but instead pursued the women, feeling as though he was in hunting mode again.
Only this time, he’d have a word with his prey.
Chapter 3
“Are the two women wolves then?” Duncan asked Ian, his voice hushed as he hurried to join his brother while they headed for the women, Julia pronouncedly limping and clinging to Maria as they followed MacNamara to his van.
“I don’t know.” But Ian intended to find out.
“What exactly are we doing now?”
“We’re taking them to their cottage.”
The road that led to Argent Castle was a short distance after the turnoff for Baird Cottage, so they wouldn’t be going out of their way, but the manner in which Duncan asked the question indicated he believed Ian had some other notion in mind.
An elusive smile curved Duncan’s lips. “MacNamara’s giving them a lift wouldn’t do.”
Ian didn’t need his brother’s humorous take on the matter. He had to know if the women were lupus garous and if one of them or someone else had been running through his pack’s area as a wolf. If the wolf had been one of his own people, he’d take him to task. If it had been someone else, he had to know who.
But he couldn’t deny that the redhead’s actions and looks also had grabbed his attention, and he wasn’t ready to let her go. He couldn’t quit thinking about how her wet curls had looked as if she’d just taken a shower fully dressed; the way her green eyes had both glowered at him and eaten him up; how she had stiffened her spine, showing off her tantalizingly perky breasts even more; and how her lips framed a mouth meant to soften under a man’s kisses. Attempting to shake loose of the image of her lush pink lips pursed at him when she had caught his gaze, he ground his teeth.
Being a human, MacNamara didn’t hear Ian and his brother’s silent approach, but the redhead must have sensed or heard them. She glanced over her shoulder, eyes widening when she saw Ian and Duncan closing in on them.
“I’ll take the lasses to their cottage,” Ian said to MacNamara. Once the words left his mouth, he thought he had sounded a little too insistent.
MacNamara turned and gave him a knowing smile, his face crinkling in amusement. “I’d best return to the pub to finish my business. ’Night, my laird, lassies, Duncan.”
He didn’t wait for the ladies’ objections—if they had intended to voice any. Giving Ian a polite nod, he hurried back to the pub.
The other men would have a good-hearted chuckle when they learned Ian MacNeill had stolen MacNamara’s catch for the day.
“Ladies,” Ian said, bowing his head a little and motioned to his car. “I’ll take you to Baird Cottage since it’s on my way to Argent Castle. I’m Laird MacNeill, and this is my youngest brother, Duncan.”
Both women stood still, not saying a word. Without waiting for either to respond, Ian stalked toward them and, without invitation, swung the redhead up into his arms. She gave a small cry of surprise. The other woman’s mouth parted in astonishment.
“Scottish hospitality,” Ian ground out, annoyed with himself for not leaving the women in MacNamara’s able care but unwilling to tolerate any protest. In that instant, he smelled Julia’s scent—an elusive floral fragrance that couldn’t veil what she truly was. The fragrance of exotic flowers enhanced the tantalizing feminine smell of her—appealingly all wolf.
She was soft and curvaceous and all delectable woman, and she felt damn good against his body.
He tightened his grip on her almost imperceptibly, like a male would a female, already wanting to keep her—in a strictly wolfish way—and not with any thought of whether she’d be the right kind of woman for him or not. He didn’t even know if the redhead was mated. Hell. He glanced at the other and took a deep breath, smelling the air. Maria was a wolf, too.
Both women must have realized he was a wolf in the same instant, the way they took deep breaths and their eyes widened. He smiled. His expression had to appear as predatory as he felt.