Highland Wolf Read online

  “This is my last clean dress and the only formal wear I have.” Using her palm, she smoothed back her hair, which was pulled up into an elegant twist. “I wasn’t prepared to dine with royalty.”

  He longed to release her glorious dark locks from its confines, to watch it tumble down her shoulders and back, but then again, an unreasonable flicker of jealousy made him want to keep the sight of her hair unbound to himself. “It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful. You’ve nothing to be worried about.”

  A small line of worry formed between her brows. “Have you met him before?”

  “The Prince?” He shook his head. “I know all about the history of the London clan and the royal family, of course, but I don’t dine with them on a regular basis. His late father, the Prince Consort, was good friends with the Alpha, so I imagine Oliver knows him better.”

  With a glance at the clock, she sighed. “I guess we should get going, we don’t want to be late.”

  “Hold on, let me finish getting ready.” While he had dressed in his shirt, jacket, kilt, and sporran, he still needed to put on his hose and shoes. Sitting at the edge of the bed, he pulled on his wool socks and garter flashes, carefully tucking in matching ribbons to hide them. Though it was an old tradition, putting away the decorative bit of the flashes signaled he was already taken. No one else here would know it, but it gave him a certain sense of satisfaction to do it anyway. After tucking in his sgian dubh—a small, decorative knife that was a family heirloom—he offered his arm to Julianna. “Shall we?”

  They headed downstairs, where everyone was already assembled in the foyer, including—much to his consternation—Charity. His wolf growled, still furious at him for making their mate angry and jealous. Damn, he had hoped she wouldn’t be here tonight, but as the Alpha’s personal secretary, she probably stayed with him at Huntington Park when he resided here in the fall. And since Henry’s wife had passed away some time ago, he probably took her as his date to many events.

  When she tried to catch his eye, he quickly turned away. He was doing his damned best to show Julianna that the other woman meant absolutely nothing to him, and ignoring her to the point of pretending she wasn’t even there seemed to placate his mate. However, if he knew Charity, she wasn’t going to just stand by and allow the snub. He would have to be prepared, and if he had to, intervene before anything happened.

  Ignoring Charity’s dagger eyes, he headed for the empty space in the line between Reed and Oliver, but as he tried to tug Julianna along, a pinched-face woman with a clipboard came up to them.

  “Ms. Anderson?”

  A delicate dark brow rose. “Yes?”

  “I’m Abigail Wentworth, His Grace’s social secretary and protocol officer. Please come with me.” She didn’t give either of them a chance to protest as she dragged Julianna down the end of the line, right next to Charity.

  Fuck me. If only he’d told the Alpha earlier who Julianna was so that she could be at his side where she belonged, not all the way at the end. But it was too late because the front door opened, and His Royal Highness, Prince Alexander George Arthur, Prince of Wales stepped inside.

  Everyone stood at attention as Prince Alex made his way to them. Duncan had only seen him on TV and in newspapers, so it was surprising to see that he was much taller in person. From what Duncan had read, Prince Alex of Wales was in his mid-forties, married to his lovely princess who had already given him a gaggle of children. She was missing tonight, but he suspected it was because of their secret. After all, in the entire royal family, only the Queen and Prince Alex knew of the Lycans’ existence.

  The prince lingered as he chatted with Henry and Oliver, then he was introduced to Duncan, then to Reed and Elise. Next, stopped in front of Charity, who made a deep, formal curtsey. While it wasn’t a requirement when meeting a royal, especially when in an informal gathering like this, he guessed Charity did it to either humiliate Julianna by making her look bad for not doing it or look foolish if she attempted it without any practice. Curtseying was an art, as he’d learned in all his time in England. I’m going to wring her neck. His wolf agreed.

  He held his breath as Prince Alex stopped in front of Julianna, but to his surprise, she executed the perfect curtsey—a low, quick dip, keeping her eyes lowered until she got up. She looked magnificent, like she’d been practicing all her life. His heart burst with pride, and he wondered why he’d doubted her. She said something that he didn’t quite catch, and much to his surprise, the Prince chatted quite animatedly with her for a few more minutes, before Henry came up to them and led the prince to the dining room.

  Julianna looked at him, then winked. Beside her, Charity looked like she wanted to burst, and Duncan was glad that Abigail Wentworth whisked her aside before she could say or do anything to his mate.

  “That was wonderful, darlin’,” he said as came up to her to escort her inside the formal dining room. “I didn’t realize Americans were taught how to curtsey.”

  Her mouth quirked. “Oh, you’d be surprised to know the things we’re taught.”

  “What did you say to him?” he asked, not out of jealousy, but curiosity at her extended conversation with the prince. Aside from the Alpha, Prince Alex didn’t say anything more than a few words to anyone else.

  “I read online that he spent a year abroad in Italy when he was in college,” she said. “So I told him that I was very happy to meet him, and I’ve been enjoying my time in his beautiful country. In Italian. My mother’s family is Italian, and she insisted we speak it fluently.”

  “You did? What did he say?”

  “He said thank you and that he was glad I liked England. And apologized that his Italian was rusty, because he hadn’t had much practice. Then he asked me how I spoke the language and I told him about my mother and our restaurant.” She picked off a piece of lint from his jacket. “So, needless to say, His Royal Highness has a standing invitation to Muccino’s next time he’s in New York.”

  “Clever girl.” He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her to him, about to kiss her when someone clearing their throat interrupted him.

  “Ahem.” Abigail Wentworth’s icy glare made them jump away from each other.

  “Sorry,” Duncan murmured as they walked past her and into the dining room.

  The table had been elegantly set up with white flowers, linens, and the finest silver, as well as the Huntington china. Place cards had been set up to guide everyone to where they were supposed to sit, as was custom, but Duncan wished he could rip up the heavy card stock when he saw that Julianna was once again positioned far from him, at the end of the table on Oliver’s left and across from Charity. It was a damn misogynistic tradition, treating untitled, unmarried women as the lowest ranking people in a group with royalty and peers, and right now, he hated it more than ever.

  “So,” Prince Alex began, “I’ve never met Lycans from any other country before.”

  “You haven’t?” Reed asked.

  “No, I’m afraid I didn’t have the chance. The Royal Family has been an official Lycan Alliance family for over two hundred years, but we usually just know about the Alpha, his heir, plus the members who serve as our bodyguards.”

  “That’s very interesting,” Reed said. “I’ve heard the story of course, but I still find it … impossible.”

  Prince Alex frowned. “Excuse me if I’m being rude, Mr. Wakefield, but the Alpha has told me that all his guests were from America, but you sound so English. Did you marry into the San Francisco Clan?”

  As Reed began to tell his story, Duncan listened, really listened this time. After what happened today at the statuary, he couldn’t help but feel a nagging suspicion about the other man’s story. There was just something about it … he didn’t know what, but there was something not right. Because he’d been distracted all afternoon, he didn’t have time to ask Oliver about the statuary, but he made a mental note to ask him once they had a moment alone.

  The dinner unfolded with all the pomp and cere
mony befitting their royal guests, with white-gloved waiters serving course after course. He couldn’t help but glance down the table at Julianna, who seemed to be holding her own, talking with Oliver and Elise, and ignoring Charity who sat across from her. Charity, on the other hand, kept glaring at Julianna. His entire body tensed and he had to rein his wolf in to stop it from growling at her.

  “It is too bad that we’ve lost one of the good ones,” Charity began as she put her napkin down on her lap after wiping her mouth with it. “Mr. Wakefield probably comes from good English Lycan stock, and it’s such a travesty that his parents decided to migrate to North America.” There was emphasis on the last word.

  “England’s loss is Canada’s gain,” Henry said graciously, raising a glass to Reed.

  “I don’t know how you coped with moving to America,” Charity sniffed. “I mean, I know Canadians are a polite people, really, very English at heart. But across the border,” she gave a delicate shrug. “Americans are extremely … boisterous, aren’t they?”

  Reed’s lips thinned, while Elise looked shocked. Julianna, on the other hand, had a neutral expression, as if she didn’t hear what Charity had said.

  “Some might say that’s an insult,” Oliver said in a warning tone.

  Charity laughed and waved her hand dismissively. “Insult? No, it was a little joke. Surely they can take a joke. Americans love to laugh. They laugh everywhere, all the time, even in the most inappropriate of times. I guess you can say”—her eyes darted at Julianna—“they’re like the Italians of the Americas.”

  A dead silence hung over the table, and the air was thick with tension. Duncan would have given anything to be able to reach over and wring Charity’s skinny neck.

  “I think you’ve gone overboard, Charity,” Oliver said.

  She looked around, her lashes fluttering innocently. “Overboard? Why, Ms. Anderson hasn’t said a word! Surely, if she thought she was being insulted, she would reply to defend the honor of her country.”

  And that’s when Duncan realized Charity’s tactic. If Julianna retaliated by insulting England, she would risk offending Prince Alex. But staying silent meant she would have to take Charity’s abuse. Well, he wasn’t going to sit down and let her do that to his mate. “Charity, you—”

  “Oh, Charlene.” Julianna looked up from her plate, her mismatched gaze flickering to Duncan briefly before turning to the other woman.

  The other woman’s nostrils flared. “It’s Charity.”

  “Of course.” Julianna’s tone was similar to that of an adult talking to a small child. “Anyway, I’m not staying quiet because I agree with you.”

  “You’re not?”

  “Oh no.” She put her fork and knife down gently, hardly making a sound. “You see, I do love a battle of wits. But you appear unarmed.”

  Oliver burst out laughing, while Prince Alex very, un-royally, spit out the water he had just sipped. Henry, on the other hand, looked like he wanted to have a heart attack.

  Charity’s eyes narrowed into slits. “How dare—”

  “Come now, Charlene,” Julianna said dryly. “It was a little joke.”

  “I think it’s time for drinks in the library,” the Alpha declared. “Your Highness?”

  When Duncan glanced over at Prince Alex as he stood up, he couldn’t help but notice that the royal was having a hard time keeping a straight face, if the ticking muscle on the corner of his mouth was any indication.

  As was dictated by protocol, the prince stepped out first, followed by the Alpha and Oliver. Duncan immediately walked over to Julianna to offer his hand to escort her. Protocol be damned. He wasn’t going to leave Charity alone with Julianna, not when she was ready to swipe her claws at his mate.

  He nipped at her ear as they walked out of the dining room. “You know, you’re fucking hot when you put people in their place so efficiently. Hell, you’re hot when you breathe.”

  She didn’t say anything, but just gave him a mysterious smile, reminding him so much of that painting back home. It was fate, he decided, that brought that portrait to him and then later, its doppelgänger into his arms.

  Drinks in the library were much more casual which he was glad for, except for the fact that it allowed Charity to take the empty armchair next to him and Julianna. Though he felt her tense, she said nothing and kept her face neutral, nodding and following the conversation with Prince Alex.

  Half an hour later, the prince declared it was time to go. “Thank you so much for a lovely evening.” As he stood up, everyone else did as well. “I’m sorry to cut it short, but I must head to one more event before I retire for the evening.”

  “You honor us with your presence,” Henry said with a bow.

  “No, it really was a nice way to break up the usual boring royal routine. And”—he smiled at their guests and winked at Julianna—“it was such a fascinating evening with fascinating people.”

  The prince bid his final goodbyes, and the Alpha walked out of the room with him.

  “Wow,” Elise declared when they all sat back down. “That was something.”

  “Dining with a royal.” Reed shook his head. “Not even when I was—I mean, I never thought I would ever experience something like that.”

  “Well, not all royals are stuffy and boring,” Charity declared. “Oh, Duncan, don’t you have a friend who’s a prince of some little country out East?”

  “Karim, right?” Oliver offered. “The Prince of Zhobghadi.”

  “Yes.” Duncan nodded at Oliver. “We went to Eton together, a year behind you.”

  “Awfully large fellow,” Oliver said. “But very quiet and polite.”

  “He’s always in the papers. Oh, his mother was English, right?” Charity bobbed her head at Duncan. She leaned forward, her voice lowering. “You know what they said about her.”

  Deep anger sliced through him at the mention of the gossip and his body tensed as he trained his eyes on her, wishing to God his gaze could cut her in two.

  Charity, however, seemed glad she finally got his attention and continued. “They say she was—”

  “Does your ass ever get jealous of the shit that comes out of your mouth, Charlene?” Julianna gripped his hand tight.

  Charity’s face flashed anger for a brief second, but she quickly recovered. “Oh Duncan, do you remember that dinner we had at that lovely French place on Bond Street? We shared the best chocolate soufflé.”

  “And they had that terribly snooty waiter,” Oliver added as he looked meaningfully at Julianna. Duncan sent a silent thanks to his friend.

  Charity didn’t seem thwarted. “I do miss exploring those little cafes and bars with you whenever you would stay in London for your short breaks. Of course, these days, I don’t have much time, but I’d love to go back to the Indian place where we—”

  “Oh my God, woman, have you no pride?” Julianna loudly slapped a hand on her forehead. “I feel so mortified for you right now.”

  Charity let out an indignant and undignified yelp. “Mortified for me? You’ve got to be joking. You think you can keep him? I’d like to see you try.”

  “And I’d like a unicorn.” Julianna’s tone was pure amusement. “But we can’t always have what we want, can we, Charlene?”

  “For the last time, it’s Cha—” She stopped, her eyes flashing with anger. Then, the corner of one lip curled up into a cruel smile. “I had him first.”

  “Congrats,” Julianna replied without missing a beat. “Did you want a cookie?” Charity’s face turned a violent shade of purple, but before she could say anything, Julianna put a hand up. “And FYI, Charity: lying to get a man to fuck you doesn’t count.”

  “You cunt whore!” Charity shot to her feet. “I’m going to—”

  “You’ll not be doing anything,” Duncan snarled as he stood up, towering over Charity. “I’ll not stand by while you insult my True Mate.”

  All the color drained from Charity’s face. “Your … True Mate?”

  “Yes
. Julianna is my True Mate, and any insult to her is an insult to me.” He took a menacing step forward. No, he wasn’t going to hurt her—he didn’t do that to women, no matter how mad he was—but he was hoping to get the point across that Julianna was his, and no one was going to get away with disrespecting her. “We’ll move to a hotel tonight. I’ll not stay under the same roof with someone as vile as you.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.” All eyes turned to the door, where Henry was standing, his hands fisted at his side and jaw tense. “But please, Duncan, stay. Ms. Pitt-Lane, please pack your things and leave. I’ll have your car brought around.”

  “B-b-but, Alpha—”

  “Now.” Pure power emanated from the Alpha, making it difficult to breathe. “And we’ll discuss the future of your employment on Monday.”

  Charity’s face fell and her eyes dropped to the floor. “Y-yes, Alpha.” She turned toward the door and marched out.

  The Alpha walked toward Duncan and Julianna. “Duncan, Julianna, please accept my sincerest apologies.”

  “You don’t have to apologize for her, Alpha,” Julianna said graciously. “That was not your fault.”

  “She said those things because she’s a vile person,” Duncan added.

  “Still, her presence here is my fault.” A slow smile spread across the older man’s face. “True Mate, huh? Your father must be ecstatic.”

  Duncan chuckled. “Very much so.” Beside him, Julianna had that mysterious smile again.

  “Well, I think we’ve had enough excitement for the evening,” Reed declared. “We should head up to bed soon, if that’s all right.”

  Everyone agreed and finished off their drinks before heading upstairs. Before they separated, Reed pulled Julianna aside and said, “She would have been proud of you.”

  “Who?” Duncan asked.

  “A mutual friend,” Julianna quickly answered, then tugged at his arm. “Come on, I need to get out of this dress.” She shifted uncomfortably, tugging the slit close.

  “I need you out of that dress too,” he said, wiggling an eyebrow at her. Not wanting to delay any further, he dragged her toward the direction of their room. As soon as the door closed behind them, Duncan let out a sigh of relief. “I hope you’ve forgiven me.”