Wölfennite she-wolves didn’t have much money to their name in the first place. Every penny I’d managed to secure, working odd jobs at the bookstore next door, had gone to furthering my educationto achieve my dream of attending university in the human world.
I’d loved the idea of going someplace to lay low until the start of the winter semester — just in case Leader Daniel got any ideas about wolf-mating me before I could escape St. Ailbe. Also, there was the wedding of the middle sister I hadn’t seen in years before she popped up out of the blue at our village offering a Bridal Exchange. But no way would I have been able to afford a ticket to Scotland if I hadn’t signed up for a program I had absolutely no interest in actually completing.
The awkwardness of the shorter one’s question lingered in the air, but I wasn’t about to launch into my real reasons for being here — ones that had nothing to do with finding a mate.
“So, you both want to court me?” I waggled a finger between the two Scots, turning the question back around on them. “Together?”
“No! No!”
If I’d been interested in seeing a Highlander turn beet red, I got my wish in stereo.
“Of course not the both of us,” the shampoo ad blustered.
“We’re not weird sexual deviants like them Irish Wolves,” the shaggy blond insisted.
“The Irish Wolves?” I repeated, my pesky curiosity feature rearing its head. “Who are they, and why are they considered…?”
“The point iswe’re both after a chance to mate with you, lass,” the shampoo ad interrupted before I could finish asking about the courting practices of these Irish Wolves. “You don’t have to say who you want right now. But maybe you can give us an answer at the reception.”
“You want an answer from me at the reception,” I repeated. “After having just met you two minutes ago.”
The shaggy blond’s face fell. “We’vemet!Twicealready. I’m Gavin. This is my best mate, Malcolm. Remember? This is the third time we’ve introduced ourselves to you.”
I could only wince back at the one called Gavin with no memory of ever having met him. I’d been so preoccupied with getting OIT to let me take more advanced classes that sneaking into the only places with WiFi in the kingdom village — Iain’s house and the library at the castle — had taken priority over memorizing the names of any of the Scottish Wolves who kept shoving themselves in my face.
“Anyway, the point is you’re the bonniest she-wolf in the lot Canada sent over, and we’re the most handsome in the kingdom village.” Malcolm pointed one thumb at himself and the other at his friend. “So, it’s your choice. Pick me — or Gavin, I reckon, if you can stand him being a rocket on the subject of horses.”
Malcolm spun a finger around his head, letting me know that "rocket" was most likely Scottish slang for a crazy person.
“If I weren’t a proud member of the king’s guard, I’d be even prouder to work at the stables in service of the most majestic creatures in the known universe!” Gavin declared, seeming not the least bit insulted by his best mate’s derisive comments.
“So when you pickme, Gavin will keep on looking for a lass who doesnae mind him going on and on with that horse nonsense,” Malcolm continued. “Though maybe you’ll be wanting to point him in the direction of one of your mates. That way, we can all go on courting dates together.”
“Not that odd-smelling giant who was walking beside you the lasttime we met, though.” Gavin visibly recoiled. “We’re courting — not running a charity business.”
"Hold up." I raised a hand and jutted my chin. “I’ll admit I’m not the best at understanding your Scottish brogue. But are you seriously trying to insultSadie? Sadie, the most beautiful and interesting she-wolf I know?”
“Beautiful she-wolf. Yeah, right!” Gavin and Malcolm let out loud, scoffing snorts.
Malcolm realized his error when I continued to glare at them. His eyes widened. “Oh, you’re not having a go, then?”
I tensed my jaw and tilted my head. “No, I’m not having a go.”
He winced. “Well, I suppose Gavin could take her out for a wee time if that’d make you happy.”
“Why'd I do that?” Gavin asked Malcolm with a look so confused it would be comical if he were talking about someone other than my wonderful best friend.
“For me!” Malcolm threw him an irritated glance before extending both of his hands toward me. “If it will makeyouhappy, Naomi, then have no worry. I’ll force him to — hey, where are you going?”
I didn’t bother to answer since, as I told Sadie about an hour later, “I’ve reached my upper limit of putting up with courting offers from guys who only want to mate me because my facial features are symmetrically aligned.”
The wedding between my heavily pregnant sister and the King of Scotland was done, and we were walking to the castle underneath a sky full of stars and a waning gibbous moon as I explained to my best friend why I’d volunteered to babysit the Scottish Prince's daughter instead of attending the reception in the castle’s throne/ballroom.
“It's not just your looks. You're also really smart,” Sadie insisted as we entered through the castle entrance's flung-open doors.
“Yes, I am super smart,” I agreed, wiping dirt off both shoulders, even though I knew it was a prideful gesture that Sadie couldn’t possibly understand. Unlike me, she'd actually stuck to the strict no-tech rules of the St. Ailbe Ordnung all these years.
Not that her compliance had gotten her anywhere. My soft-hearted friend wanted nothing more than to marry. She'd risked everything and pretty much destroyed her relationship with her over-controlling mother to fly to Faoltiarn for the Bridal Exchange program. But here she was, facing down the same prejudices from the males in the Scottish kingdom village as she had from the ones back in our hometown of St. Ailbe.
