Jake said he may or may not attend the gala scheduled tonight. But this reporter will be there, hoping to see Duncan MacDowell in a kilt! As for Neil Stillman, is he gone for good? Or not? Follow me on Sniffer @newshound for all the news on glitter, glamour, and celebrity sightings!
Duncan staggered through the lit tunnels and back to his room before the crowd recovered its wits enough to come after him. He was grateful for that, because if they’d wanted to do something symbolic like carry him off the field on their shoulders, he might have passed out. Bloody hell, how he ached. He hoped the pain in his left hind leg was a sprain and not a break.
Kate had told him not to fight Neil, and no doubt he should have listened to her. Now that WOW existed, werewolves had a governing body that could deal with the behavior of renegades like Neil. Choosing to call him out had been a demonstration of the ego Kate had railed about when they’d first met.
Apparently she was right about the size of it, and now he was paying for his overblown sense of honor. Worse yet, she’d almost committed political suicide out there when she’d started toward him. He couldn’t allow her to damage her standing with Howlers because he’d been an idiot.
His phone, which he’d left on his nightstand, had been ringing ever since he’d pushed through the revolving door that led back into his room. He ignored it and stretched out on the floor beside his bed. Shifting back to human form would not be pleasant, but he knew that doing so would help speed the healing.
Gritting his teeth, he shut out the sound of the phone and concentrated on his shift. His leg throbbed, and as the shift moved relentlessly through his body, he felt as if he were being stabbed with hundreds of sharp knives.
After an eternity in which he almost wished Neil had finished him off, he lay nak*d and trembling on a carpet that was fine, but not the same grade as he’d enjoyed in Kate’s suite. His leg still hurt, but not as much as before he’d shifted. Carefully moving it back and forth, he decided it wasn’t broken.
His phone had stopped ringing, but a second later it started again. Gripping the side of the mattress to steady himself, he rose to his knees, wincing as his battered body protested. He glanced over at the phone.
The light blinked rapidly, indicating messages left. The phone stopped ringing again and beeped as another message was placed on it. Reaching over, he pressed a button to turn the damned thing off. The human in him protested that he needed to respond to those messages, but the wolf in him was stronger, and the wolf wanted to retreat and lick his wounds.
Neil would be doing that, too. Being bested in a fight was one thing. Having an entire group of Weres turn against him was worse. A Were needed community, a pack, an identity. Rarely one thrived as a true lone wolf.
In other words, Duncan’s impulsive challenge had probably created more of a problem than it had solved for the Stillman pack. No wonder Kate had said she’d never forgive him for this. He might have transformed an annoying Were into a dangerous one.
Of course, he also could have killed Neil. But he wasn’t a killer. He couldn’t say the same for Neil, though. That Were would have crippled him or worse if he’d been able to, and his fury would only grow as time went by. Duncan vowed to stay alert during the twelve hours or so he would remain in Colorado.
Rising carefully to his feet, he tested his leg again. Thank God for the healing power of Weres. If he stayed off it as much as possible for a day or so, he should be fine. No more challenging Weres.
He’d brought a pair of sweatpants along and he took those out of his suitcase and put them on, along with his University of Edinburgh sweatshirt. Better. He was beginning to feel more human again. He smiled at his own little joke.
Checking the time, he thought about the event tonight, the gala ball that was supposed to be the conference’s grand finale. He’d rather miss it, but that would be bloody rude, especially after all the support he’d received from the delegates during that fight. He wouldn’t relish the attention he’d inevitably get, though. He didn’t want to be hailed as a hero when in fact he’d caused the Stillman pack more difficulties in the long run.
Angela Sapworthy would be lying in wait for him, too. She’d be bound to ask that typical question about whether he wore anything under his kilt. As he contemplated that unpleasant thought, a rap sounded at his door.
He hoped he hadn’t somehow conjured her up by thinking about her. Fortunately he had a peephole in his door and could check to see who was out there. Maybe it was Kate.
His heart beat a rapid tattoo at the thought it might be her. If so, he’d fling wide the door, pull her close, and beg her to forgive him for making everything worse with his out-of-control ego. If he could hold her, maybe she would find it in her heart to go easy on him.
He didn’t expect he’d ever be allowed to make love to her again. That would be asking too much. But he would very much like to hold her in his arms one more time before he got on that plane.
To his great disappointment, Kate was not outside his door, but to his great relief, neither was Angela Sapworthy. Instead, he saw Elizabeth, her image distorted by the rounded lens of the peephole. Even distorted, she managed to look regal.
She’d lifted her hand to rap again when he opened the door, startling her. “Oh! You are here.” She gave him a swift, thorough glance. “And on your feet. That’s an encouraging sign. May I come in?”
“Of course.” He stepped back and she walked into the small room, which contained only a bed, one easy chair, two nightstands, and a dresser on which stood his smallish flat-screen. He gestured toward the easy chair. “Please have a seat.”
“Thank you.” She looked a little less pulled together than usual. Her blond hair was windblown, her lipstick was gone, and her pale green, wide-legged pants were stained and damp all around the hems. She settled into the chair and surveyed the room. “We should have found you a better one than this.”
“It’s perfectly fine.” He sat on the edge of the bed and faced her. Mentioning that he hadn’t actually spent a night in this room would be indelicate, so he didn’t point that out.
“Howard’s left several messages on your phone. Others have, too.”
“I turned it off. I needed—”
“To hide in a cave for a little while. My mate used to need that, too, after a trying experience of some sort or another, often because of me.” She gazed into the distance with a faint smile. “I remembered that and almost didn’t come. But I had to.”
“Why is that?”
“I wanted to apologize,” she said, “and to make certain that you’re not badly injured.”
“I’m not, as you can see. A little soreness in one leg. I’ll be fine.”
“I’m glad.”
“But I’m the one who should be apologizing to you and Kate, and everyone in the Stillman pack. I shouldn’t have challenged him. It was an arrogant and rash decision, and I regret it.”
“You were defending your honor! And Kate’s!”
“That sounds wonderfully noble, doesn’t it? But after what happened out there, you will have a nasty problem on your hands.”
“We’ll deal with my great-nephew.” A hard glint flashed in her eyes. “That’s assuming he dares to come back.”
“I’m afraid he will come back. He’s not going to give up what he had here so easily. He’s liable to be a thorn in your side for a long time, and I regret that more than I can say. I hope someday you’ll be able to forgive me.”
Her beautifully arched eyebrows lifted. “You’re asking for my forgiveness? After my interference almost got you killed?”
“Your interference didn’t really change anything. I was prepared to let him go and walk away. The outcome would have been the same, with or without your well-meaning gesture. I was never going to kill him.”
“But you had him by the throat.” Her manicured hand went to her own neck. “I thought…”
“I only wanted him to yield. I thought he had. That would have been enough to satisfy me. He put up a terrible blog that dishonored the Were that I…that dishonored Kate. That deserves some type of punishment, but certainly not the death penalty. At least not in this century it doesn’t.” And he’d almost let something slip, something he’d barely acknowledged to himself. He hoped she wouldn’t notice.
Of course she did. “Dishonored the Were that you…what, Duncan? What did you start to say?”
He looked away from those blue eyes that were eerily like Kate’s. Elizabeth saw too much, guessed too much. And why wouldn’t she? She’d been there for his primitive demonstration of how a male Were, especially a Scots Were, defends the honor of his chosen female.
Except that Kate was not his chosen female. Or more precisely, he was not her chosen male. In addition to disagreeing with all he stood for, she’d quite rightly forbidden him to fight Neil. He’d done it anyway, and she’d said she’d never forgive him for that.
True, she’d started toward him after the fight as if to make certain he was all right, but he was sure that had been pure reflex on her part, the action of a naturally compassionate Were. If she’d had time to consider, she wouldn’t have done it.
“I know you care for her,” Elizabeth said gently.
“Of course I do.” He met her understanding gaze. “She’s wonderful, but I don’t have to tell you, do I? You’ve known her all her life, and I’ve known her for a weekend.” He paused and shook his head. “It feels like so much longer.”
Elizabeth smiled. “It usually does when you fall in love.”
That sentence floated in the air between them as he tried to decide how he should respond. He should deny that he was in love with Kate, but Elizabeth wouldn’t believe him if he did. So in the end, after a long pause, he let out a breath. “Yes, I suppose so.”
She looked triumphant. “What are you going to do about it?”
“Not much to do, is there? We don’t see eye to eye on much of anything. And then I go and complicate her life by fighting her cousin. I’m sure she can hardly wait to get rid of me. Oh, and that’s another thing. I’ll hire a cab to go back to the airport in the morning, in case you had any idea of asking her to be the chauffeur again.”
Elizabeth sighed and leaned back in the chair. “Are you seriously planning to leave the country without telling her how you feel?”
He looked her straight in the eye. “Yes, Elizabeth, that’s exactly my plan. And I would greatly appreciate it if you would keep this entire conversation to yourself.”
She didn’t like that answer. Her mouth flattened into a thin line.
“Do we have an understanding on that?”
“Oh, I suppose.” She gave him a frustrated glare. “But it was all going so well at first. Obviously I couldn’t control the weather, so that snowstorm was a bonus I hadn’t counted on. But then you were forced to work together on the mission statement. I had such hopes.”
“Hopes?” He stared at her. He’d never guessed she’d had matchmaking in mind. “What sort of hopes?”
“The minute that online rivalry developed between you two, I saw the way she perked up. She hasn’t been that involved with a male Were in her entire adult life.”
“Is that so?” He enjoyed hearing that, but he was still digesting the information that Elizabeth had intended to promote a romance between Kate and him.
Elizabeth leaned forward, into her subject now. “You see, I adore her, but she can be a bit…rigid.”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”
She laughed. “That’s exactly what I mean. You don’t let her take herself too seriously. And you don’t agree with her at every turn. You force her to consider the other side of the question once in a while. She needs that desperately, especially if she’s going to lead this pack one day.”
“Elizabeth, thank you for saying those things, but have you thought about how a relationship with me would affect her standing with the Howlers? They’d accuse her of fraternizing with the enemy.”
“They might have before the fight, but you won a lot of hearts out there. You might be surprised how her followers are reacting. Besides, she can always say she’s acting as a check and balance on your actions, just as I believe you’d be on hers. It would keep each of you from going to extremes.”
“You really think I could have that kind of effect on her?”
She nodded. “I do.”
“You must think I have great powers of persuasion.”
“In a way. Your persuasive powers are what I might call supercharged.”
That made him grin. “Supercharged powers of persuasion. Can I quote you on that?”
“Of course not. I only say it because she’s in love with you, too.”
His chest tightened. “I think you’re wrong.”
“No, I’m not. I’ve seen the way she is with some of the Weres she’s dated. Watching them together has been as exciting as watching paint dry. But with you two—sparks are flying everywhere!”
“Because half the time she hates my guts!”
“No, she doesn’t. Can’t you tell that she loves matching wits with you?”
He wanted to believe what Elizabeth was saying, but she hadn’t considered all the facts. “Maybe she used to, but less than an hour ago she said if I fought Neil, she’d never forgive me. And I fought him. So there you have it.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake! She would have said anything to stop you from getting hurt, because she loves you. You can’t take that comment seriously.”
“I don’t know. She sounded bloody serious to me.”
Elizabeth blew out an impatient breath and stood. “All right, let me put it this way.”