Grant stalked out of the keep to join them, looking like a warrior on the battlefield. Her cousins looked like they wanted to take a few steps back, but they stood their ground, even though Grant appeared to be a threat.

Colleen tilted her head at her mate, giving him a look to play nice. The men were only her cousins. She suspected his alpha male posturing had to do with greeting new males to a pack and showing them that no one—not even her family—had any say in what she or he did.

She made introductions and Grant shook both their hands, then said, “Welcome to the pack.”

She was glad Grant had said so, except he wasn’t offering but telling them, and she loved him even more for it. Her beta cousins might have tucked tail and run if given the choice after seeing all the kilted men armed with swords and sgian dubhs tucked in their socks and just as fierce-looking as Grant was while they checked her cousins out.

Grant offered his arm to Colleen. “We have our wedding to attend and you’re just in time.”

“You’re marrying Grant MacQuarrie?” Edward asked, hurrying to catch up to them.

“You didn’t ask us what we thought,” William said. “I mean, ask for our permission.”

She almost laughed at the idea. She loved them. “Well…what do you think?”

Grant gave them each a look that said they’d better agree with this, or else.

“Oh, sure. We agree, if you’re happy,” William said, glancing at Grant’s sword.

“You can live here if you’d like,” Colleen said. She wasn’t sure if her cousins could manage on their own without her to watch their backs. Here, they’d have a whole pack watching out for them. And she’d really prefer it that way.

William and Edward shared looks, then smiled. “We thought we were just making a visit here. But…yeah, sure,” Edward said.

“Sword practice in the morning,” Grant warned. “The two of you will have a lot of catching up to do.”

They nodded, looking a little as though they weren’t sure what they were getting into.

“And you’ll wear kilts,” he added, his voice gruff, brooking no argument.

They glanced down at Grant’s kilt. He gave them an evil smile. All men of the clan wore kilts on special occasions, Grant more often than the rest—and for that Colleen was grateful. She wondered what her cousins would think of the practice when they weren’t supposed to wear anything under the kilts and it was a bit breezy around the place.

Grant squeezed Colleen against him. “You are the most beautiful bride.”

“You are the handsomest kilted Highland wolf a woman could want for a groom.”

He smiled down at her.

Guthrie opened the door to the keep for them and said, “You couldn’t delay the wedding for another month or so, could you?”

“Guthrie,” Colleen said, “When you and Calla are back at Argent Castle, you won’t even notice she’s there.”

Guthrie didn’t look like he believed her.

They entered the chapel and Shelley’s Uncle Ethan offered his arm to Colleen to walk her down the aisle while Grant made Edward and William join him to serve as a couple more groomsmen, even if they were dressed in only jeans, sneakers, and sweatshirts.

She swore Ian’s mother was ready to burst into tears, as if Colleen was her daughter, too. Colleen fought her own tears at knowing that her best friend’s clan was taking her in just as much as Grant MacQuarrie’s.

Frederick took all three wolfhounds in hand, though they wanted to follow her down the aisle, and made them stay with him at the back of the chapel. When the minister asked for objections, Hercules barked, letting her know he wanted to join her up front. Everyone laughed.

“Sorry, Hercules,” Grant said. “She’s all mine.”

Which meant absolutely no way was Grant sharing his bed with anyone but her.

Before long, the ceremony was over and Colleen tossed her bouquet to the eager women, not knowing her own strength. The roses flew up and way over their heads.

Uncle Ethan caught the roses as they headed straight for him, and he blushed crimson. She was trying to send it to either Heather or Calla. Guthrie looked much relieved.

Everyone roared to see the older man holding on to the bouquet, his face the same color as the red roses.

“You’re supposed to let a lass catch the flowers,” Ian’s mother said, scolding him and taking the flowers away from him.

More laughter ensued.

And to a shocked audience, Uncle Ethan said, “All right, ma’am. I accept.” He took Lady Mae’s arm and tucked it under his own.

“Accept what?” she asked crossly.

“A mating. Marriage. Whatever you’d like,” he said, looking down at her with an adoring expression.

Cheers went up and Colleen swore Ian’s mother looked like she would expire on the spot.

Ian and his brothers were clapping hard and whistling and cheering, showing their approval for their mother’s mating with Shelley’s uncle. Now, whether their mother would agree was another story. She probably wanted to sock him for saying so at Colleen’s wedding, but Colleen loved it.

Grant had the privilege of removing the garter from Colleen’s leg, running his hand over her bare thigh a little too intimately, and several of the men teased him about the show. Then he tossed the garter to a groom-to-be. It hit Guthrie in the chest, and he caught it, turned red-faced, and tried to hand it off to one of Colleen’s cousins, who both shook their heads vehemently and wouldn’t touch it.

Laughter resounded and then the music started and Grant and Colleen had their first dance, followed by everyone else, mated wolves and singles. Ian’s mother and Uncle Ethan even danced at his coaxing and he held her so tenderly that Colleen assumed they were in for a mating.

The reception was buffet style, and though they knew they should stay longer, Grant and Colleen had another mission in mind. They went up to their bedchamber, and he removed her gown, then ditched his kilt and shirt. Both of them shifted into wolves, then ran through the castle while everyone hailed them with toasts of champagne.

Three of the men had to grab the wolfhounds to ensure they didn’t chase after Grant and Colleen. Guthrie opened the front door for them. The mated couple ran out and through the inner bailey and then beyond. They ran and ran until they reached the glen where the sheep grazed on the green hills and the white, foaming burn rushed under the wooden footbridge.