That made him recall his brother’s comment that women would be climbing the gates to get to him. “You are not worried about the attention I might draw?”
“Only if the women are so wrapped up in you that they forget to buy my books.”
“I’m not good with talking to outsiders, Julia. I may not make the best of impressions. I may scare them all off.”
She smiled. “Lay on the brogue, and they won’t know what you’re saying, but they’ll love every word of it.”
“Or I could speak Gaelic.”
“Ah, my wild Highlander, not even I will know what you’ll be saying then.”
He kissed her ear and whispered in it, “Then you will have to learn, my bonny lass.”
“If you teach me,” she said, kissing his mouth back, “I’m sure I’ll be a fast learner.”
After another hour of enjoying the falls, Ian led Julia to his horse and lifted her onto the saddle in front of him, while Duncan, Guthrie, and the two cousins escorting them looked on.
They’d only begun to canter back to the holding, when Guthrie said, “Will you need any other Highlanders to accompany you to America, lass?”
Duncan nodded. “I’m sure I could clear my schedule to see to your safety also.”
“Wearing kilts?” she asked brightly.
Ian shook his head.
The last day of shooting had come, the day to film the final feast where the hero of the movie would vanquish the villain forever. To Ian’s surprise, his mother had become more worried about Julia’s safety than he would have thought possible.
Wringing her hands, his mother caught him in his solar after trying unsuccessfully earlier—several times—to get him to change his mind about Julia being at the feast. “Ian, you really can’t allow this. You are armed with a sword. Julia has nothing to protect her.”
“She has me.”
His mother frowned. “You will be too far from the table where she’s to sit. I’ve seen the arrangements and talked to that damnable director, who merely smiles at me as if I’ve lost my senses, but he can’t possibly understand the animosity the Sutherlands and MacNeills share. You must reconsider.”
“I’ve already agreed to the scene, although I’ve made some modifications. Duncan and Cearnach will be sitting near her. They won’t let any harm come to her.”
“I’ve said all along this is folly. Do you know why I named you Ian?”
“Because you were so relieved to have the first of us birthed?”
She frowned at him. “Be serious, Ian. You were my firstborn, the one who would take over the clan and pack when your da was no longer able to lead. You are truly a gift from God, the one who has led this pack through prosperity and crises too numerous to mention. Everyone looks up to you, even during this madness that we’ve had to participate in to keep our castle solvent. You must make other allowances. Julia is too important to the pack to lose now.”
To the pack. His mother still couldn’t say that Julia was important to her. Despite Julia’s conceding that it didn’t matter, he knew deep down it did. “We’ll be fine, truly. Have no concern.” Ian was apprehensive enough for both of them as it was without worrying about his mother’s interference.
Shortly thereafter, he took his seat at the head table, nearer to the end, which, considering he was the real laird of the castle, should have irritated him, but didn’t. The hero of the film and his antagonist would play out their roles in the final scene while they sat at the center of the table. Ian’s focus was on Basil, seated at one of the lower tables across from where Julia was sitting with Heather. He was too close, and Ian didn’t like it. His men were sitting near the two women, but the way Basil kept leering at Julia was for real, not acting in the least.
If Julia hadn’t insisted that they play out the scene to earn some extra money and have Howard pay off her plane fare and lodging expense, Ian would never have gone along with it.
“You say you wish to know of my relationship with the lady,” the laird actor was saying to his nemesis. “You, Baron, would be well advised to deal with your own problems and leave us well enough alone in the Highlands.”
The baron growled, “I will know if the lady is to be your wife.”
“She is the cousin of my greatest ally. So, aye, she will be my wife.”
The baron jumped up swiftly, the laird actor’s guards rushed forth, and Basil was on cue to try and grab Julia in the ensuing skirmish between the laird actor and his enemy. At once, the hall was filled with chaos. Basil’s men leapt from their positions to fight Ian’s, and Basil fought Duncan before Ian could get to him. But the bastard jumped onto one of the benches, which hadn’t been part of the planned scene, leapt to the table where Julia had been sitting, and then lunged for her. Basil’s own man swung a sword at Duncan, keeping him occupied so he couldn’t follow Basil. Cearnach was likewise engaged with one of Sutherland’s men.
Julia dashed out of Basil’s immediate path, but Sutherland clansmen on either side of the fray hemmed her in, and she couldn’t get far enough away.
Ian’s plans to keep her safe were failing.
Basil seized her arm. She grabbed a mug off the table and tried to hit him up the side of his head, but he blocked her blow with his sword arm, knocking the mug from her grasp. Ian cursed in Gaelic, shoving actors and Basil’s men out of his way, while trying to get to Julia.
“Julia!” he shouted.
“Ian!” She sounded desperate and afraid, her eyes wild as she struggled against Basil’s iron grip.
Basil tugged her through the fighting men, attempting to get her out of the hall. In the script, he was to die, but Ian assumed Basil had never had any intention of dying. It appeared now that he’d only agreed to the bit of playacting to make a move on Julia while everything was so chaotic.
To add to the horror, Ian’s mother appeared, wearing a dark blue gown with the MacNeill plaid arisaid fastened over it as she waved a sgian dubh, forcing men to move out of her way. Hell. Now he also had to rescue his mum.
But the clansmen on both sides moved out of her path as they continued to fight. As one of Basil’s sub-leaders raised a sword to Ian, his mother reached Julia and shoved the black knife into her hand.
Basil was still trying to pull Julia against him as she struggled against his confinement. And then, she twisted her arm down and under and, with the maneuver, managed to free herself. When Basil looked at the sgian dubh she fended him off with, he merely sneered at her. “You would have to threaten me with something a little more imposing, lassie.”
He struck at her blade, and she dropped it from the impact with a gasp. He grabbed her arm when she was still too stunned to respond.
Knocking the man to the floor that he’d been fighting, Ian rushed to Julia’s defense. “Release her at once, Sutherland.” Ian planted himself between Basil and the entryway. “You won’t leave here with her.” He had to remind himself that he couldn’t kill the bastard. That this had to look real for the movie, although at this point, he didn’t care what was going on with regards to the shooting of the film.
Then the bastard struck at Ian’s sword, willing him to fight as he kept Julia crushed against his chest like a human shield. “You can’t fight me without risking her life, Laird.”
Ian focused on Basil’s sword, attempting to strike it hard enough that he could tear it away from Basil’s grip. But grabbing Basil’s arm, Julia twisted her body, using her hip to catch Basil off balance. While Basil lost his grip on her as he fought falling, Duncan rushed in and yanked Julia away, and Ian went in for what he wished could be the kill.
Angered beyond reason, Ian slashed and thrust his sword at Basil, who tripped over a bench and backed into a table, cursing Ian in Gaelic.
“You can’t have her,” Ian warned in his native language. “She’s already my mate.”
“When you’re dead,” Basil threatened, “she will be free to be mine.”
Ian continued to advance on Basil in such an aggressive manner that the bastard had no recourse but to continue to retreat and defend himself with his sword.
Then Heather climbed onto a table behind Basil, a clay pitcher used to serve mead during the feast clutched in her hands, and she slammed the pitcher on top of his head. Amber liquid poured down his face as the once fierce warrior crumpled to the floor.
The filming only lasted a couple of minutes more as the hero laird and his archenemy fought each other, and then the laird, with a final killing blow, took the life of his enemy.
“Cut! That’s a wrap!” the director called.
For the movie, it was over. But the trouble was far from over between Ian and Basil, as his men carried their dazed leader out of the hall, cursing under their breaths and swearing vengeance.
After celebrating a real feast with his clan and Julia’s friend, Maria, Ian had put Cearnach and Duncan in charge of watching the film crew while they cleaned up the last of their mess.
Now, Ian cuddled with Julia, naked, in his bed—theirs, rather. In the past, as laird, this had been his bed. The one in the adjoining bedchamber was his lady’s. But for Julia, this was theirs.
With pride in her voice, Julia said, “Your mother, she came to my rescue.”
His heart had nearly quit beating when he’d seen his mother come into the great hall carrying the sgian dubh, his father’s gift to her in earlier times to use for protection. He stroked Julia’s bare shoulder. “Aye, lass.”
“I think she might even kind of like me.”
He smiled and kissed Julia’s cheek. “She does.”
“Maybe someday she will think of me like the daughter she’s never had. I mean, if she doesn’t think of me writing werewolf romances. Or that I’m American.”
“She was furious with me for agreeing to the scene in the great hall in the first place, worried about your safety. I never thought she’d come to defend you and risk her own well-being, though.”
