Werewolf in Denver (Wild About You #4)(31)
Author: Vicki Lewis Thompson

Duncan stood, too.

“If you don’t tell her how you feel before you leave the country, then I’ll never forgive you. And unlike Kate, I mean that sincerely.” She gave him a penetrating look before turning toward the door. “See you at the ball. I hope you’re wearing your kilt.”

“Aye. I will be wearing it.”

“Good.” She opened the door and glanced over at him. “That will help your cause. Not many females can resist a handsome Were in a kilt.” Then she left, closing the door behind her.

Duncan stood quite still after she left, but his brain was spinning. She’d known Kate for a hell of a lot longer than he had, so he couldn’t simply dismiss what she’d said. But if Kate loved him, wouldn’t he know it? What if Elizabeth was wrong, and he laid his heart at Kate’s feet, and she stomped all over it?

But what if Elizabeth was right, and he left for Scotland tomorrow without telling Kate that he loved her? That seemed like the greater risk. The first would be humiliating and he’d go home with his heart torn to bits, but at least he would have tried. With the second, he could live the rest of his life regretting what he hadn’t done.

That left the issue of when and how to talk to her. They’d have no privacy at the ball, and besides, she might snub him at first. After all, he’d warned her off when she’d tried to comfort him on the field of battle. He’d done it for her own good, but she might not have realized that.

And perhaps he wasn’t the best judge of what was right for her. He should simply tell her how he felt, and let her decide if she would allow that to affect her life, including her fight for the cause she believed in. The idea that they’d balance each other out appealed to him. Maybe, just maybe, it would appeal to her.

Walking to his closet, he took out his kilt and laid it on the bed. If Elizabeth was also right about the lure of a kilt, he’d use that lure. He needed all the help he could get. He only had to decide whether to wear it with or without.

Kate circled the ballroom making sure that the buffet tables were properly placed near the setup for the bar. The musicians tuned up on the dais, and round tables had been brought in, covered with white linen, and arranged in a semicircle to create a dance floor.

Kate had chosen the centerpieces herself. Each table held a small globe in a brass stand set into a wreath of pine sprigs and small pinecones. White votives tucked into the wreath would add atmosphere once the lights were dimmed and the candles were lit.

She’d had such high hopes for this final party. She’d imagined it as a joyous finale to a successful conference. But if she was honest with herself, she’d also painted a rosy picture of delegates adopting her agenda as they realized that Weres should band together instead of mingling freely with humans.

Duncan’s views hadn’t figured into her vision of the conference at all. In hindsight, that had been naive of her, but maybe she’d hung out with Howlers for so long that she thought the delegates would immediately see the sense in the Howler creed. They wouldn’t want to risk eventual annihilation by supporting the Woofers’ reckless plan.

Instead, the Woofers remained strong and might have gathered more recruits after Duncan’s heroic battle in the snow. Meanwhile, she’d heard rumors that Jake Hunter had started a new group and was coaxing Howlers to abandon HOWL and join him in campaigning against Were-human mating. When she’d texted Howard, he’d confirmed that Jake had resigned from the council.

They’d need a replacement, and she wanted it to be another Howler. She’d suggested Heidi, but the rest of the council would have to vote on any nominee. At least Howard had assured her he wouldn’t put either Aidan’s or Roarke’s name in the hat. He understood that would smack of nepotism, and Kate shuddered to think how the council would govern with a member who was already mated with a human.

Gazing at all the globes resting in their brass holders, she remembered the thrill of walking into this room on Saturday morning and hearing all the different accents. She’d reveled in the excitement generated by delegates who’d traveled halfway around the world to attend this historic event.

It was still historic, she reminded herself. Without this conference Weres would be forced to make difficult choices without hearing all sides. If nothing else, all sides had been heard this weekend. She still believed in her vision of the future, but hers wasn’t the only one out there.

Penny’s voice was out there, too, and she couldn’t ignore what her sister had said during the debate. Neil had asked Penny to speak so she’d sabotage Kate, but in the end, Kate was glad she’d made that speech. Ever since hearing it, Kate had been reevaluating her thoughts about love and destiny.

History was riddled with stories of lovers who claimed they were meant for each other, even when everything seemed against their love. Maybe love wasn’t always neat and tidy. Maybe love sometimes created challenges to test those who were drawn to each other.

Of course these thoughts brought her to Duncan MacDowell. He might be Were, but he was almost as wrong for her as Tom was for Penny. They disagreed on the most basic issues. They lived an ocean apart. And perhaps most important of all, Duncan had stated, loudly and publicly several times this summer, that he intended to mate with a human someday.

So, given all that, why did she yearn for him in a way that she’d never yearned for any other Were? Why did making love to Duncan feel as if she’d found the other half of her soul? And why had she died a million deaths watching him out on the field of combat this afternoon? Why had his refusal to let her comfort him cut so deep?

Now that she’d had time to think about that, she realized that he could have warned her off because he’d been thinking of her reputation. Although the Howlers had supported him in this uneven fight, they might not be crazy about their leader openly embracing the King of the Woofers.

She’d been concerned about that very thing herself two days ago when she hadn’t wanted her followers to know what went on in the cabin. But she no longer cared what they knew. Associating with Duncan was not going to taint her in some way. If the Howlers thought so, then that was a rigid stance she couldn’t tolerate anymore and she’d step down from her leadership position.

Penny would say her thinking had changed because she’d found her one true love. Kate could almost see her lapsing into big-sister mode as she smiled indulgently at Kate and welcomed her into a secret club that she’d finally become eligible to join.

Had she, though? She still resisted the concept because it implied that she was Duncan’s one true love, his destiny, his fate. But he didn’t want to mate with a Were, which left her out entirely. In his own way, he was as dedicated to mating for political reasons as she was.

And yet he’d said he believed in love and destiny. She remembered that quite clearly. They’d been discussing it right before they shifted to go out and play in the snow and do…other things in the snow. Things that made her hot every time she remembered them.

But good sex didn’t necessarily mean he was her one true love or she was his, did it? All this love and destiny nonsense made her head ache.

“Penny,” she muttered, “it’s quite possible that you’re full of crap.”

With one last glance at the ballroom, she went upstairs to put on her sparkly clothes.

Chapter 20

Sniffer Update: @newshound—As attention focuses on the glittering gala ending WereCon2012, rumors fly that Neil Stillman lurks in the shadows. #nervous

Before heading to the ballroom, Duncan answered all the messages on his phone except for one. Neil had shifted to human form, at least long enough to locate his phone and send a cheesy threat—Watch your back, Woofer. It could be an empty threat, too. Neil wouldn’t have the nerve to show up when a party was in full swing.

Neil had counted on his brawn to give him the victory. Because that hadn’t worked out, he’d look for some other way to catch Duncan at a disadvantage. Confronting him in a crowd made no sense.

Duncan left his room and was immediately hailed by other Weres coming out of their first-floor rooms. He’d thought he might be the only one wearing the costume of his native country, but he grinned happily at the sight of the Mexican delegate in a black sombrero and a Zorro-like outfit while his mate wore a tiered skirt, a peasant blouse, and a flower in her hair. The Austrian delegate coming from the other direction was dressed in lederhosen and a hat with a feather in the brim.

All three asked how he was feeling. Although he still had a shooting pain whenever he put pressure on his injured leg, he assured them he was in fine shape. He’d get enough unwanted attention as it was.

They joined the other Weres streaming into the lobby and down the wide hallway to the open doors of the ballroom. Duncan recognized the sound of live music and wondered if the evening would include dancing. He could manage something slow without too much pain, and if he could lure Kate onto the dance floor, he could use the time to ask for a moment to talk privately.

The ballroom had been transformed. The former businesslike decor of folding chairs and lecterns had been replaced with soft lights, flickering candles, fine linens, and joyful music. He glimpsed colorful costumes from every land, from Russian pantaloons to Japanese kimonos.

Best of all, the delegates had left their logo T-shirts and slogan buttons in their rooms. Duncan noticed the small globes in the center of each table and wondered if they had been Kate’s idea. The spirit in this room tonight illustrated what they’d tried to convey in the mission statement.

He knew from a quick phone discussion with Howard that the mission statement had passed, but he also knew a vocal minority was unhappy about that. Yet as concerned Weres came over to inquire about his health, not a single one mentioned the controversy. It seemed that the delegates had checked their politics at the door so they could enjoy the evening.

Still, he braced himself as Angela Sapworthy approached. Her long black dress was sprinkled with what seemed like a million rhinestones. Her spiked hair was also covered with rhinestones. She would have blinded him in full light, but candles helped mute the effect. Still, she made his eyes hurt.

“Duncan MacDowell! May I have a word?”

“Which word did you have in mind? I know several.”

She tittered. “You’re so droll. How about the word underwear? Do you know that word?”

“I’m familiar with it.”

“Is it a word that goes with kilt? Or not?” She batted her glitter-covered eyelashes.

He should have a good answer for this question after all these years, but he didn’t, so he decided to stall. “Depends on the occasion.”

“What about this occasion?”

“MacDowell!” The Russian delegate who’d promised to buy him all the vodka he could drink approached with a glass in each hand. He acted as if he had no idea he’d interrupted Angela’s attempt at an interview. “I decided Scotch would be your preference.” He handed him one glass and kept the other.

“Aye, ’tis.” Duncan took the glass. “Thank you. You know, I still can’t pronounce your name.”

“Doesn’t matter. Call me Nick.”

“Then thank you kindly, Nick.”

“You’re most welcome. To WereCon2012!” Nick tapped his glass against Duncan’s.

“Hear, hear!” Duncan took a sip.

“To the Worldwide Organization of Werewolves!” Another tap.

“Aye! To WOW!”

“To…” Nick looked over at Angela. “I’m sorry. You don’t have a drink. You can’t toast with us if you don’t have a drink.” He put his arm around her. “Let’s go get you one.”

Duncan grinned as he watched them leave. That little save had been worth twenty drinks. He’d find Nick later and tell him so. And he’d eventually figure out how to pronounce his whole name.

He’d seen no sign of Kate. He’d been searching the room ever since he’d walked in, but no luck so far. He continued to watch for her as he talked to delegates about everything except their political views. He heard funny stories of shifting mishaps, and Were jokes cropped up everywhere. He even heard one that started out, “Three werewolves walked into a bar.” He wanted to tell Kate about that. Where the devil was she?

He desperately wanted to see her, but even beyond that, he needed to tell her something that was becoming more obvious the longer he stayed in this room. No matter what the future held, Weres would always require a gathering place that belonged to them alone. Their experience as Weres set them apart from humans, and they understood one another. Nonshifters, or the “shifting disabled,” as one Woofer had suggested calling them, just wouldn’t get it.

He wasn’t giving up his dream of a day when Weres and humans interacted with full knowledge that they weren’t the same species. That secret was causing too many rifts among families where interspecies mating had already taken place. But this special gift of Were solidarity had to be protected. He wanted to tell her that.

So far, however, she hadn’t made an appearance. Surely she wouldn’t hide in her room. She had more intestinal fortitude than that. He hadn’t seen Elizabeth, either, and when he did, he planned to ask her where Kate was. He was growing impatient.

The band ended their latest song. And that was another thing. He’d heard several that would have been perfect for dancing. Other couples had taken the floor, and he’d been asked to dance more than once and declined. He was waiting for Kate.

The band broke into a jazzy little riff, and suddenly, there she was, climbing the steps of the dais behind her grandmother. A spotlight followed them to the microphone, in case anyone might miss their entrance. Considering the glittering picture they made, that wasn’t likely. Pride swelled in his chest as he watched Elizabeth and Kate take center stage.