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As she danced to the moon goddess, Suzanne’s heart sang. The sounds of the night enshrouded her—crickets chirping, the night breeze blowing gently, and somewhere nearby, a wolf howling.
2
The wolf, his body battered and weak, roared within the stone dungeon. He looked toward the barred window above him and scented two females on the ground, moving in time with the midsummer wind. Their musky aroma drifted upward.
His cock hardened. He yelped and howled, flinging himself against the rocky wall once more. The bloody scabs on his pelt opened and oozed, leaving sticky red streaks on the gray stone. He had but one primal thought in his animal mind—to escape this prison and mate, to spill his seed into a warm female body.
He forced his wails across the winds, down into the courtyard below.
3
Suzanne awoke after ten p.m. She hadn’t meant to sleep so long. She would never conquer her jet lag if she didn’t force herself to wake after eight hours. Isabella hadn’t awakened her, nor had Dougal. And now, darkness clouded the night.
She lit several lamps and went to her bathroom to take a shower. Finally clean and fresh after three days, she dressed in a pair of jeans and a turquoise tank top. She grabbed a candle and headed downstairs to find something to eat. She pawed through the large pantry, but found only crackers, carrots, and onions.
Hadn’t Dougal thought to lay in supplies before she and Isabella arrived? Then again, what could she expect from a medieval castle that lacked refrigeration?
She walked briskly back to her room and found her map of Padraig and the surrounding area, along with her set of keys to the rented car. She needed some real food. Surely there would be a fast food place somewhere in town. She’d seen them all over London and Edinburgh. Even a scone from a coffee shop sounded good.
She blew out the candle, left it on a table beside the main door, and stepped into the warm summer night. How very strange to emerge into total darkness. Such was the case with no outdoor lighting. Only the waning moon cast a gossamer curtain against the castle grounds. Tomorrow, she’d talk to Dougal about lighting some flaming torches or something, at least until everyone was in bed. She felt her way to the small vehicle and let herself in. She turned the ignition and flicked on the headlights.
Sight! A marvelous invention.
She clicked on the reading lamp and studied the map. The castle didn’t seem too far away from the little village after all. Maybe ten miles or so. A couple of turns and she’d be there.
She expected a quaint little Highland town.
What she got surprised her. As she approached the small village of Padraig, surreal neon lights nearly blinded her. Was this freaking Vegas in Scotland? Okay, it wasn’t exactly the strip—Padraig was a tiny village, after all—but she didn’t expect the carousing nightlife she found. Thrilled at the prospect of finding something better than a fast food burger to eat, she parked at a cute little café and walked inside.
“Hello there,” a plump waitress called. “Welcome to Café Oxter. Just sit anywhere you want. I’ll be right with you.”
Suzanne smiled and settled into a corner booth, out of the way.
“I’m Gwennie,” the waitress said and handed her a menu. “You new around here?”
“Yeah. I just got in yesterday.”
“American, are you?”
“My accent give me away?” Suzanne smiled.
“That and the way you’re dressed. Hey—” She lowered her voice. “Are you out here alone?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh.”
“Is there a problem?”
“No. No.” Gwennie’s voice sounded edgy. It cracked a little, and her gaze darted toward the door. “Not yet, anyway.”
“Look, I’m famished, so—”
“Of course, dearie. What’ll it be?”
“I would absolutely love a cup of cock-a-leekie, and a cheeseburger, medium rare, with fries.”
Gwennie laughed. “You’re American, all right. No one but a yank would order cock-a-leekie with a burger.”
“Hey, it sounds good. I haven’t had a decent meal in over twenty-four hours.”
“I understand. What to drink?”
“What the hell,” Suzanne said. “Bring me a pint of Guinness.”
“You’re in Scotland, not Ireland, dearie.”
“Does that mean you don’t have Guinness?”
Gwennie let out a gutsy laugh. “Aye, we have Guinness. I’ll fetch it for you.”
The café was oddly busy for eleven on a Wednesday evening. When Gwennie arrived with her Guinness, Suzanne asked, “Is it always this hopping during the week?”
“Hopping?”
“You know, busy?”
“We have quite a night life here in Padraig. What brings you here, anyway?”
“My cousin inherited the little stone castle to the north.”
“Merlina O’Day’s place?”
Suzanne nodded. “Isabella hardly knew her. We just got in late last night. I woke up and there was nothing to eat in the kitchen, so I got in the car, and here I am.”
“Dearie, there’s something you should know about Padraig—”
Gwennie stopped in mid-sentence as several men entered the café. A large blond man caught Suzanne’s eye.
