The Wolf Wore Plaid Read online

  Also by Terry Spear

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  Seduced by the Wolf

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  Books. Change. Lives.

  Copyright © 2021 by Terry Spear

  Cover and internal design © 2021 by SourcebooksCover design by Dawn Adams/Sourcebooks

  Cover art by Craig White/Lott Reps

  Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. Sourcebooks is not associated with any product or vendor in this book.

  Published by Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks

  P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410

  (630) 961-3900

  sourcebooks.com

  Contents

  Front Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from Heart of the Highland Wolf

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Back Cover

  To Winnie Pang, who has been following my books from the beginning and who jumped right in to suggest writing about Enrick MacQuarrie next. He is all yours, lassie! Though you might find a few lassies wanting you to share him!

  Chapter 1

  “We’ve got trouble,” Lana Cameron, the baker, said to Heather MacNeill, motioning with her head to the big glass windows of Ye Olde Highland Pie Shoppe in the village near the MacNeills’ Argent Castle.

  Heather glanced out the window and saw Lana was right. Heather had been hoping the rumors about having more problems with the Kilpatrick brothers wouldn’t come true. But redheaded Robert and his equally redheaded brother Patrick were climbing out of their truck, looking around to see who was eating at the café tables outside and then speaking to each other before they entered the shop. They both looked like wary gray wolves.

  They should be. After Patrick had killed the wolf Heather was going to mate, she’d wanted to end Patrick herself. The only thing stopping her was that the fight had been her mate-to-be’s fault.

  Lana joined Heather behind the counter. “Did I tell you Enrick MacQuarrie came in when you were gone yesterday afternoon?” Lana raised a brow and gave her a smile.

  Heather frowned. “On purpose?”

  “Of course he came in on purpose.”

  Heather let out her breath in annoyance and folded her arms. “He came into the shop when he knew I wasn’t going to be here?” As owner, manager, and general hand-on-deck, Heather was nearly always there, though she was training Lana to take over whenever she had to be away.

  Lana let out a long-suffering sigh, placing her hands on her chest and looking heavenward. “Aye, if ’twere up to me, I would chase the hunky Highlander all through the heather until I had him pinned down to a mating. But alas, he doesna see me as a prospective mate.”

  Heather continued to frown. “Me then? Why come when I wasn’t here? On purpose.”

  “He is a hardy warrior but with feelings running deep for ye.” Lana was keeping in character with her role here at the shop. “’Tis you he wished to see, but he fears you’re still in mourning over Timothy and doesn’t want to approach you too soon for a courtship.”

  Heather didn’t lose the frown. Lana couldn’t be serious. Was she up to a bit of matchmaking where none would be possible? “He has never had time for me…ever. He’s a workaholic. He doesn’t believe in having fun. He’s a…stick-in-the-mud.” With her. Not with others. She folded her arms and let her breath out in a huff. “Okay, so then what did he do?”

  “He asked me how you were feeling.”

  “And you said?”

  “Good.” Lana laughed.

  Heather curbed the urge to sock her.

  Lana sighed again. “That you were ready to date if he would get on with it and start making an overture. Don’t expect too much at first. I’m not sure he took me at my word.” Lana smiled, then frowned. “Just think, if he were your mate…” She motioned to the windows where the Kilpatricks looked unsure about coming inside or not. “He would toss them out on the
ir ear if they came inside. Or at least Enrick would make them shake a bit in their boots. They wouldn’t be as cocky as they are otherwise.”

  Protective, oh aye. Enrick and his two brothers were protective of her when Heather chanced to go to the MacQuarrie castle. But the brothers thought she was too wild, too impetuous. And that irritated her. She’d overheard them talking to her brothers about it on different occasions, how difficult it was to keep her in check. She sure didn’t need a mate who felt that way about her.

  What was wrong with wanting to do things on the spur of the moment? To take a chance at doing something fun and whimsical? That was who she was, and she wasn’t changing to fit some male wolf’s concept of the perfect she-wolf.

  Take her business here. It had been a risk to start something like this, and a few had said she couldn’t do it. Well, she proved she could. She’d worked hard to make her dream come true. And it was her dream, no one else’s.

  “Oh, I’ve got to tend to the bread.” Lana hurried off to check on it while Heather glanced back at the glass door.

  She was seriously surprised Enrick had come to talk to her friend and feel her out about Heather’s thoughts on dating again. As much as she’d had a crush on the wolf forever, he wasn’t the one for her. She’d figured that out a long time ago.

  Then she thought again about the current situation. Enrick wasn’t here to serve and protect, so she was on her own for now.

  As far as she knew, the Kilpatricks and their McKinley cousins had been furious they hadn’t gotten the film contract to have a new fantasy film shot at the McKinleys’ castle in the Highlands. They would be even madder once they learned the MacQuarries had gotten the contract to have it filmed in part at their castle and on their grounds instead. Since some of the MacNeill wolves would be participating with the MacQuarries as extras in the film, and the MacNeills were McKinley rivals, there was bound to be trouble at some time or another between them. Had the Kilpatricks already learned where the shoot was going to be held, and that was why they were here? She knew they weren’t here to tell her they were sorry for Patrick killing Timothy. Patrick had felt perfectly justified, and truthfully, he had been.

  The MacQuarrie pack leaders were keeping quiet about the film location for now, although they’d told Heather’s pack leaders because they needed some of their men and women to sign up as extras. Heather knew because she was going to be in charge of the MacNeill female extras during the filming. She hoped the McKinley wolf pack would leave the pie shop out of their quarrels, though the Kilpatricks—members of that lupus garou pack—had been passive-aggressive of late with both the MacQuarries and the MacNeills at pubs or wherever they chanced to meet. That attitude was sure to escalate once word reached the world on where the film would actually be shot.

  Heather had her cell phone out, just in case she needed to text her pack leaders for some Highland wolf muscle.

  The aroma of fresh bread baking, of hearty beef stew bubbling in a cooker, and of sweet pastries filled the air as Lana brought out another loaf of Scottish soda bread from the oven. In full view of the customers, she made buttermilk bread and soda bread in a brick oven, just like in the old days. Originating in Scotland, the bannock bread made of oatmeal dough was cooked in a skillet, so it was made in the shop’s kitchen. The ladies working in the shop were all wearing long dresses with narrow sleeves, long tartan overskirts, boots, and wimples. Lana’s kilt was the Cameron tartan of red, green, and blue, while Heather’s was the blue and green tartan of the MacNeill clan.

  Heather’s pack leaders—gray wolf cousin Ian MacNeill and his red wolf mate, Julia—had assisted Heather in establishing the shop a year ago to help some of their wolves remain gainfully employed and Heather achieve her dream. Julia had loved the idea of Heather sharing several of the clan’s old-time recipes with the world because Julia was American with Scottish roots and had fallen in love with all things Scottish when she joined them a couple of years back. Since the wolves lived such long lives, aging a year for every human thirty, many of them had been around for a very long time. Heather had wanted to own a shop like this since she was always cooking for Ian and his brothers, and she’d wanted to share the old-world charm of the recipes she’d personally prepared. She just hadn’t had the means to do it on her own without the pack leaders’ assistance.

  Heather manned the cash register as a man and his wife paid for two venison and cranberry pies.

  The woman said, “We’ve been wanting to come here since the shop opened. It’s so fun, and best of all, the food is great. I love your costumes too.”

  Heather smiled. “Thanks, I’m so glad you enjoyed the visit.” No one could accuse them of wearing costumes that weren’t true to the late medieval period. Though about that time, some of the women were casting their wimples aside.

  Agreeing with his wife, the man nodded to Heather and carried out the pies as the couple left.

  The medieval Highland theme of the shop and the food brought in customers locally and from around the world for a unique dining experience. Who wouldn’t want to try something different?

  Everything was going fine, busy as usual, when the two men of the enemy wolf clan finally walked into the shop, making Heather feel as if they were turning her sunny day into something dark and dangerous. The brothers glanced around at the customers eating and visiting. Were they checking to see if any of her clansmen were there, ready to stop them from whatever they were up to?

  She sure wished a whole bunch of men from her clan were sitting there eating right now. She suspected the brothers might have gone on their way then.

  The lupus garous attempted to look easygoing, when she knew they were anything but. Their clan had been fighting with her people through the ages. They’d been pirates in the old days and were still trying to cheat or steal from others. Robert epitomized cunning and deviousness. He was a cutthroat who wouldn’t hesitate to kill someone who got in his way. His brother went along with everything he did.

  Heather wanted to tell them they weren’t welcome here, but she didn’t want to cause a scene in front of her customers. As long as the Kilpatricks were behaving themselves and had only come to shop, she would just have to deal with them and leave her feelings out of it.

  Lupus garous had to take care of their own kind if they were involved in criminal acts. They didn’t want a wolf incarcerated long term, even if the rogue wolf could control his shifting during the full-moon phase. So if the Kilpatricks caused any trouble, Heather couldn’t call anyone other than her own wolf-pack leaders to handle it.

  A chill ran up her spine as she eyed the brothers with a wolf’s wariness. Sometimes, men worked in the shop, but not right this minute. Ironically, many of the clansmen who cooked and served there had sworn they would never want to work under medieval conditions again, but they got a kick out of the nostalgia at the shop. They did have modern ovens and stoves and fridges in the back to keep up with the growing business’s orders and, of course, fresh running water instead of having to carry the water from a well like they did in the old days.

  Three women were in the back cooking, and Lana was still baking bread, while two servers were filling trays with the meals. Another woman was handling takeout orders.

  Robert Kilpatrick, the older of the two brothers, gave Heather a small smile. It wasn’t warm or friendly or reassuring in the least. More calculating. She didn’t trust him or his brother.

  Even though Heather knew Patrick wasn’t at fault in her fiancé’s death, she still didn’t like him. She was certain the men’s appearance in her shop meant trouble. Anytime she or other pack members had dealings with them, there were problems.

  Another couple of customers entered the shop: two men, all smiles, wearing New York City T-shirts from the Big Apple, jeans, and sneakers. Americans? Maybe.

  The Kilpatrick brothers glanced at them, but the Americans ignored them and continued to the counter. �
�We’ll take two of the steak pies,” one of the men said.

  One looked suspiciously like the star of the movie they would be filming at the MacQuarries’ castle, Guy McNab. Heather smiled brightly at him. “Aye, sure.” She rang up their orders and noticed Lana glance at the two men and her jaw drop.

  Don’t burn the bread or drop it, Heather wanted to tell her.

  She wanted to ask if they were here because of the film, but she couldn’t in front of the Kilpatricks. She was dying to know if the one man was Guy, or maybe it was his stunt double.

  The Kilpatrick brothers were reading the sign listing all the meat pies. Realizing she was watching them, Robert smiled at her a little again. It still wasn’t a friendly smile. Patrick didn’t bother. They sauntered over to the glass case filled with sweet desserts on display: clooties (fruit-studded dumplings boiled in a cloth), black buns (Scotland’s currant-and-raisin-filled version of a fruitcake), shortbread cookies, empire biscuits (shortbread filled with jam and topped with a bit of icing and a cherry) and millionaire’s shortbread (Heather’s favorite, a shortbread base topped with layers of caramel and chocolate).

  A Canadian customer was taking pictures of the medieval decor: brass lanterns and swords and shields, and a bow and quiver of arrows, and was sharing them with friends and family, which always helped Heather’s business. Paintings of Highlanders in ancient kilts—in full color and with a textured look to give them an aged appearance—hung on the stone walls. Wolves and Irish wolfhounds joined them in some of the portraits. Of course, the pairing was kind of an oxymoron since wolfhounds took down wolves in the old days, but the lupus garous had raised wolfhounds as pets and hunting dogs from early on. Of course their dogs hadn’t hunted the wolf kind.

  Heather glanced outside and noticed another family taking seats at one of the tables before they came in to order. Eating outside was perfect for nice weather like today—sunny, warm, breezy.

  No one in the pack had envisioned the shop would be such a success when it first began, though Julia, a well-known romance author, had written about it in some of her stories, encouraging visitors who read her books to check out the pie shop while on vacation to the area. Even the locals loved it.