With all those possibilities spurring him on, Conall had forced his horse to dangerous speeds to catch up. He’d just passed the men and was closing in on his wife’s mount when he’d seen the wolf appear on the path before her. His heart had stopped again when the stallion reared once more. But rather than being tossed, or tumbling from the saddle, she’d dropped off the beast as if it was her usual method of dismounting. She’d then rushed to embrace the wolf as if he were a long-lost friend. And that’s what the horse and wolf were acting like too. Both were licking at her like they were mother cats cleaning a kitten who’d returned after being missing. Conall had reined in at once, and had heard the other men catch up as he dismounted, but had then simply stood staring at his wife and the beasts until Roderick had joined him and spoke.
“I guess I win the bet,” Roderick commented now, and when the words brought Conall’s blank gaze back to him, he shrugged. “Hamish thought the next animal would be a dormouse or pine marten, Payton thought a wildcat, but I bet on a wolf.” He grinned, something else he rarely did, and pointed out, “It’s a wolf.”
“Aye,” Conall growled, his gaze sliding over the rest of the warriors that had followed Roderick to hunt down the howling wolf. All of them had dismounted and now stood with their swords in hand but hanging at their sides, their wide eyes watching his wife and her beasts with uncertainty. He suspected they thought everything was fine and the wolf must not be suffering the madness, but weren’t one hundred percent certain since they’d never seen a wolf act like this one. Or a horse, for that matter, he supposed, turning back to the trio on the path as Claray released a small giggle, and put a hand back to push her mount’s nose away.
“Give over, Stubborn Bastard,” Claray said on a laugh. “Me husband rushed me off so quick I’ve no’ apples to give ye.”
“Well, at least I’m no’ the only one she calls a stubborn bastard,” Conall growled, irritated all over again. He thought he’d been most kind as a husband and surely didn’t deserve the title.
“It’s his name.”
Conall glanced to the soldier who had spoken and recognized him at once as his uncle’s first, Gilly. The man was as old as his uncle, his hair more gray than anything else, but he was still one of the finest warriors Conall had ever met, which was why he was still his uncle’s first, he supposed.
“’Tis true,” Gilly said, putting his sword away. “Her da was talkin’ about the beast while we waited in the bailey fer the two o’ ye to join us this morn. Yer uncle said as how it looked a fine beast, and MacFarlane said ’twas a stubborn bastard, and in fact its name is Stubborn Bastard because they got so used to calling it that when it would no’ let anyone ride it. Claimed he was thinkin’ the beast a waste o’ horseflesh and was considerin’ killin’ him when his daughter, yer lady wife, took an interest in him. He said she tamed it with a few soft words and an apple or two, and the next thing he knew it was following her around the bailey like a dog and letting her ride on him.”
Gilly’s gaze moved back to the horse as he added, “He said the beast still would no’ let anyone else ride him though, and tries to bite anyone who gets too close. So, he gave the horse to her. Said she tried to change his name, but stubborn bastard that he was, the beast would no’ answer to aught but that, so Stubborn Bastard he is.”
“Did he mention the wolf?” Roderick asked as a half squeal and half laugh drew their attention to Claray, who had lost her balance and fallen to the side and was now having her face bathed by the wolf, who was whimpering happily as if it were a game as she tried to block his tongue with her hands. Conall supposed her hysterical laughter was helping to make the wolf think that.
“Aye,” Gilly said, amusement in his voice. “MacFarlane mentioned she had a pet wolf too who acted much the same way as the horse. He said the pair o’ them had been pinin’ after her since she left fer Kerr. He said the horse’d be happy to see her, but mentioned his worry on how to get the wolf to Deagh Fhortan without her help. Then ye came out and Machar and I rode out to be sure the men were ready to leave, so I do no’ ken what else was said.”
“Looks like the wolf took care o’ the problem o’ how to get him to Deagh Fhortan,” Roderick commented when the man fell silent.
Conall grunted at that, and then asked Gilly, “Did her father mention the wolf’s name?”
“Aye.” A wide grin claimed the old man’s lips. “She calls him Lovey.”
“God’s teeth,” Conall muttered.
“He does no’ look like a Lovey,” Roderick said, and there was no mistaking his amusement now.
Conall scowled at the words as his gaze took in the animal. Without Claray blocking the view, he could see that the beast was a good six feet long, perhaps four or five inches short of three feet high at the shoulders, and looked like he weighed a good ten stone. He’d never seen a wolf so big. But it had some damned fine coloring. Its fur was a combination of gray and white with black on the tip of the tail and around the face and ears.
“I guess ’tis fitting,” Roderick said suddenly.
“The name?” Conall asked with amazement, thinking there was no damned way he was calling the great beast Lovey.
“Nay. That she has a wolf,” Roderick explained, and when he didn’t comprehend right away added, “She married you, the Wolf, and she has one fer a pet. ’Tis fitting.”
Conall just shook his head and started toward his wife.
Chapter 15
It was when Lovey stiffened over her, his happy whimpers becoming a growl, that Claray recalled where they were and why. Burying her hands in the fluffy fur on either side of the wolf’s face, she turned her head sharply to see that while the men who had been sent out to hunt him were standing back and simply watching, Conall was approaching.
Whispering, “’Tis all right,” to Lovey, Claray urged the wolf off of her, pushed Stubborn Bastard’s head out of the way and scrambled to her feet between the two animals. The pair immediately closed in on either side of her, Lovey so close his head was against her left hip, while Stubborn Bastard had his head over her right shoulder.
“Hello, husband.” Claray managed a nervous smile, and then ran her hand over the wolf’s soft head. “This is Lovey. He’s me friend. He’s no’ got the madness. He just must ha’e got out o’ Edmund’s room in the stables and came to look fer me.” She frowned slightly down at the beast with concern and muttered, “Edmund’ll be frettin’ o’er where he got to.”
“I’ll send a couple o’ men back to let him ken yer wolf is with ye,” Conall said solemnly.
Claray beamed at him briefly, and then glanced to Stubborn Bastard when he nudged her shoulder. Recalling Conall’s expression when she’d shouted at the horse as she’d rushed off to keep the men from killing Lovey, she reached up to rub her hand down the stallion’s nose as she told Conall, “Me horse is named—”
“Stubborn Bastard,” he finished for her. “Gilly just told me. It was a relief to ken it was no’ me ye were calling that.”