Touching a king without being invited or permitted to do so. Tara punched him in the nose the very first day they met.

Refusing to bow when a king enters a room or comes within ten feet of passing. She’d only bowed once—right before she punched him in the nose.

Interrupting a king. Aye, she’d done that one so often he had already lost count of how many times she’d cut him off in the short time he’d known her.

Turning your back on a king and taking your leave without permission. Aye, she’d done those as well.

Magnus felt well within his rights to cut through his she-wolf’s endless nonsense with a royal ultimatum. In truth, she deserved nothing less after how she’d treated him, the father of her unborn pup, and the ruler of the lands she lived and worked in.

But of all the ways he’d expected Tara to react to his ultimatum, running away and locking herself in the lavy hadn’t figured.

“I’ll give you the access codes to my flat, Ri Faol, but you’re going to cock this up.”

That’s what his brother had said when Magnus called him on his satellite phone to demand the codes to his flat so he could retrieve their family heirloom. His brother had grown up in Faoltiarn, and despite having left for university nearly fifteen years ago, he still respected the auld ways, which meant he couldn’t turn down a request from his king.

However, after hearing what had passed between Magnus and Tara, Iain had taken on the tone of a weatherman delivering news of an incoming storm. “I’m chuffed not to have to take your crown, brother, but you’re going to cock this one up. I know it. That Tara…she won’t give you an easy time. I reckon that temper of yours combined with that temper of hers can only end in a full-on explosion.

Of course, Magnus had refused to heed his brother’s words. But as Tara continued to ignore his commands to come out of the loo, Iain’s words floated back to him like a flock of geese on Loch Faoltiarn.

“Magnus, you’re all ego, and Tara is a stubborn Canadian who chooses to live among the humans. She doesn’t give one good feck about your crown or your rugby career and that means you’ll have to become a different person if you don’t want her to run out on you like Ma did Da.”

Like Ma did Da…

There’s a good chance Magnus would have kept right on ignoring his younger, much nerdier brother’s warnings. Kicked in the door or something along those lines. But that was before he heard a sound on the other side of the locked bathroom door that stopped him cold. It was soft, muffled weeping.

Like Ma left Da…

How many times had Magnus heard that sound coming from the room his mother moved into that year before she left? Most often after she and Da had one of their legendary rows…

The sound shredded at his heart just like it had then. In fact, it might have been even worse because here he was, prepared to give his kingdom and fidelity to this she-wolf, but she only seemed to hate him more and more with each moment that passed between them…

Magnus let out a long, low sigh. And instead of beating down the door, he slid onto the floor into a seated position against it.

And then, instead of listing out all the ways Tara had done him—and his crown— wrong, he said, “My mother left us the month before I started with the Edinburgh Rovers. Renounced her title and divorced my da.”

The muted weeping abruptly stopped.

“I don’t…I don’t expect you to understand,” he said quietly. “Your parents are still together so you wouldn’t know what it feels like to watch the family you grew up with fall apart…”

He trailed off, hating how weak his words made him feel.

Tara sniffed and said, “You’re right. I can’t imagine my parents divorcing. Ever. In fact, I’d never met a divorced wolf before your dad. However, I do know a thing or two about families suddenly falling apart. That…that must have been hard for you.”

He heard pity in her voice. And it rankled, just like the piteous looks the servants and villagers gave him after his mother left. Divorce was almost unheard of among Scottish wolves and it was without record in his own village. Wolves mated for life. But as it turned out, his Italian mother decided that rule didn’t apply to her. Just like—

“You’re going to cock it up,” his brother warned again before Magnus could go in the direction his ego and pride were pushing him.

He finally reasoned that Tara’s pity was better than her tears. “Aye, it wasn’t a good time for any of us. My father nearly went mad and Iain went off to university in Edinburgh. He leased a flat in the city and only came back to Faoltiarn for full moon nights. So, we lost him, too. And as for my da, well, it was like watching the sinking of a great ship. He was a wreck. Refused to eat…couldn’t sleep…wouldn’t speak to anyone about anything except how my mother broke his heart. How he’d known from the start this would happen. How he never should have mated her in the first place because nothing was worth the pain of her leaving. I had all the swords and guns removed from our castle and stored at the blacksmith’s home for fear of what he might do to himself while I was out on the road. Da said he didn’t desire his crown any longer. Gave if over to me without so much as a ceremony. But I also had my rugby career to attend to…and that wasn’t a choice for me, even if I wanted it to be. My mother had spent a great deal of our funds modernizing the ground floor of our castle before she decided what she really wanted was a divorce from my da. That left my rugby income as the only way to replenish our kingdom funds aside from selling off our treasures.”

This time when Tara spoke, her voice sounded clearer and less waterlogged. “That sounds overwhelming. How old were you?”

“Ah, I reckon twenty or thereabouts.”

She made a thoughtful noise. “When I was twenty, I was still trying to figure out if I should major in Finance or Computer Software Engineering. I can’t imagine running an entire kingdom.”

“Dinnae feel sorry for me, Tara. It has been a privilege. The truth is my subjects…my people…were there when the rest of my family couldnae be. They’re loyal and hardworking and no matter how we look to outsiders, you’ll never meet better wolves than those in Faoltiarn. I’m grateful for my crown and I cherish my people. I see other guys my age in the rugby club…they blow a knee or take a bad concussion and life is over for them because rugby is all they have. But I have something more. A purpose. I’m not telling you this to gain your pity, but because I want you to ken why I’m like this. You deserve an explanation for my behavior.”

“Okay, I see,” she said in a small voice. “I understand—more than you probably expect. And…well, thank you for telling me.”

“You’re welcome.” Magnus paused…waiting to see if she might have anything to say on her behalf. The silenced stretched out for over a minute before he spoke up. “I am wondering if you might have an explanation to give me?”

Tara snorted. “Are you trying to ask, ‘who hurt you, Tara?’”

Despite her derisive tone, he answered truthfully, “Aye, I am indeed. You’re my mate, and I desire to understand you.”

She was quiet for a long while. So long, Magnus wondered if she would answer at all.

There was more rustling on the other side of the door. Then she said, “I’m not one of your groupies—or even one of your village she-wolves. I realize my life with the humans doesn’t seem like much to you, but I love my human job, my human co-workers, and my human friends. And it might sound crazy to you, but I’m especially fond of my wardrobe. Every dress…every pair of shoes I own is a reminder of how hard I fought to get where I am today. But then you come along and…you make me feel trapped. Like I have no choices and the part of my story that happened before you arrived doesn’t really matter at all…”

His first instinct was to get angry at her again. Because what did she know about fighting? With her loving parents and her permissive, do-what-you-like upbringing. But there went his brother’s warning again. So, Magnus took a deep breath and forced him to listen, just listen as she continued on….

“You probably think I had the perfect life back in Canada, and you’re right. Kind of. I was happy, and I really did have a great childhood…idyllic even. But our pack…it has a mandatory wolf-mating program. Do you know what that is?”

Magnus’s jaw ticked. He wasn’t sure how to answer. Tara appeared to sense his hesitation. “Did you guys have one of your own?”

“For a little while, aye,” he answered. “But my mother was against it, and then there was the exodus of young she-wolves from our village before my da could fully implement it, which only worsened our infertility issue. In the end, we never went through with it.”

She sighed. “Okay, well, where I come from it’s pretty common. My parents were wolf-mated. So was my older sister. My younger sister probably will be, too, any day now. It’s considered the easiest way to avoid a she-wolf going into her heat cycle with someone… inappropriate.”

His chest tightened at the thought of Tara, the only female his wolf had ever stood up for, being mated to anyone but him. “But you were the exception,” he pointed out to both her and his wolf. “You weren’t wolf-mated, or you wouldn’t be here.”

“No, I was wolf-mated—when I was eighteen…”

She trailed off, but hell if Magnus was going to let her stop there. His she-wolf had been given to another?! “And where is this mate now?” he demanded, already deciding there would be a battle to the death if any other male stepped forward with a prior claim on his banrigh.

“I’m not sure,” she answered, her voice small and soft. “Probably wolf-mated to someone else by now. They forced me into the mating cage with him, but the next morning when we woke up he was a bloody mess. Apparently, my wolf did everything but tear his throat out to keep him away. That’s why I left my pack. Because neither my wolf nor my human wanted that life for me—we were in full agreement about that. And she’s protected me ever since. She never let a man anywhere near me, until…”

“Until me,” Magnus finished for her with a new understanding of the position her wolf had put her human in, even if he couldn’t help but feel complimented by the choice.

“Until you,” she confirmed, her voice low and miserable in a way that grated at both his ego and his heart.

“Was being with me really so bad, Tara?” He despised how needy he sounded, even as he held his breath for her answer.

“No, it wasn’t. The heat sex…it was better than anything I’ve ever known. Beyond anything I ever imagined or expected,” she answered. However, before he could let her words go to his head, she added, “But we’re all wrong for each other, Magnus. And I don’t understand why my wolf did this. To me. To us.”

Magnus expelled a heavy breath, for once not taking offense. He’d encountered enough city she-wolves to know they were almost naïve when it came to the way of animals. “Your wolf is not a rational being, Tara. She’s the beast inside you. And if she’s anything like my wolf, she knew we were meant from the first moment we laid eyes on each other. Believe me, I wasnae happy about it either. I’ve been waiting my whole life for my wolf to stand up. Imagine having it finally do so for a female who then goes off and right hooks me.”

He heard her chuckle on the other side of the door. And he smiled. “I like the sound of your laugh,” he told her. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard it before.”

“Oh, I laughed real hard when Iain decked you,” she answered, her voice wry with amusement. “But you probably were too knocked out to register it.”

He turned his head to glare at the voice on the other side of the door. “I see you’re recovered from your bout of greetin’, then.”

“Greetin’…that’s Scottish for crying, right?” she asked.

“It is, aye. And I’m assuming my wise consultation has put you in a better state.”

“If you are trying to ask in the most toolish way possible if I’m feeling better, the answer is yes,” Tara answered. “But I’m still confused. I don’t understand how this happened. A wolf mating is one thing. But how the hell did I end up going into heat when I’m already pregnant? I mean that shouldn’t even be biologically possible, right?”

“Well…there is the legend of Ri Faol Rufglen. But that’s one of the auld stories, and I wouldn’t want to insult your modern sensibilities with it,” he answered carefully. Then he waited to see how she would respond.

“Tell me the story. I want to hear,” she said after a moment, sending a thrill through him.

“Alright, then,” he said, settling in for the tale. “A very long time ago, before the Kingdom of Alba, there lived the Pictish wolf prince who would eventually become our own Ri Faol Rufglen. The legend goes that while out on a full moon hunt, he came across a particularly quality she-wolf who was also out on a hunt. It was the kind of Baltic day that could freeze the chebs right off a witch, and apparently their wolves decided to keep each other warm in the animal way. This turned into a huge scandal when the lass’s mother found them the next morn. Because as it would happen, she was a Gàidheal princess and promised to a widowed Gàidheal alpha king who ruled over the lands to the north of them as soon as she went into heat.”

Back then, we were not so conservative as we are today. And the princess’s father was still keen for the alliance with the northern Gàidheal king. However, the pregnant princess carried the Pictish prince’s bairn. The northern Gàidheal king would have smelled it immediately if she were to try to pass the bairn off as his. Therefore, a deal was struck. The pregnant princess would come to Faoltiarn for three seasons. If she gave birth to a boy, she would leave it with the Pictish wolves to raise as the son of the then crown prince. If it was a girl, the Gàidheal princess would take it home to her parents to raise as another daughter while she went off to mate her intended. It was a good plan but, cue the cock up. The Gàidheal princess went into heat not even a few moments after clapping eyes on the Pict prince again. And according to the legend, he ended up claiming her in front of his entire court.”

“Whoa…” Tara exhaled on the other side of the door.

“Whoa, is right. She became his mate by the next moon and ended up having twins, a boy and a girl, eight moons later. They remain to this day the only twins to have ever graced our village. And as for Rufglen and his Gàidheal princess, since the princess’s father had no sons to carry his kingdom, he gave it to Rufglen as a wedding present and together they invaded and took claim of the widowed Gàidheal king’s lands to the north. And this is how my line came to rule both the Highlands and the East. The story of Ri Faol Rufglen’s mating went down in history. We even had a holiday to go with it for a while before the Kirk broke with Rome and the new Presbyterian alpha king decided to strike all our pagan holidays from the calendar. But if legend is to be believed, you and I will be welcoming twins in eight moons, Tara.”

“Twins,” she breathed out on the other side of the door. “I’m having twins. That’s why I smell stronger. Like, really, really pregnant now. So pregnant…”

He once again turned to face her voice. “Aye, twins,” he confirmed. “Even though this wasn’t the life you wanted, and you don’t want a family. Isn’t that what your mother said on the phone?”

He waited. Afraid of what she’d say next. That she’d slice him open with her answer.

“Well, when I left home, I told my parents I didn’t want to live the same life they did. But that didn’t mean I don’t want a family. It meant I didn’t want a family right then at the age of eighteen. I’m twenty-eight now. But I just never thought this was where I would end up. Wolf mated and heated by….well, you of all people. I trust my wolf, but…”

Okay, not as bad as he thought it would be. But not exactly the crazy bird at his last game who’d flashed her diddies at him and waved an “I WANT TO HAVE YOUR BABY, MAGNUS!” poster before security escorted her out. That incident had made the news.

But now here he was, unsure of what to say next or even how to talk to the she-wolf who would be bearing two of his babies eight moons from now. They were off to a bad start, to say the least. And he had a hard time imagining they’d become legend as Rufglen and his Gàidheal princess had.

“Plus, your pack…” she went on. “They nearly mobbed Milly when they found out she was carrying one baby. What will they do to me when they find out I’m carrying two?”

“Nothing,” he assured her, his voice becoming hard with determination. “Alban and my da will tell them the news beforehand so they’re not caught out as they were with Milly and Iain’s ‘pregnancy announcement.’ Also, you really are banrigh, which means the same laws now apply to you. I’ll banish anyone who dares to touch you without your permission.”

He let that threat linger for a few beats but then had to admit, “However, I won’t be able to stop them throwing a festival in your honor. And we’ll be lucky if we’re able to get them to keep it under a week. There’s still enough pagan left in us to feel that a several days-long celebration is the only thing to put to news of this magnitude. Twins are unheard of in our village. They are literally the stuff of legend since that’s the only accounting we’ve ever had of them.”

Tara laughed again.

But this time he didn’t know why. “What?”

“You’re like this cocky, arrogant guy but when it comes to your village you turn into a gruff but indulgent father. It’s, ah…”

“Incraedibly sexy?” he finished for her, his voice taking on a hopeful note.

“Incraedibly unexpected,” she edited for him with another laugh.

He could get used to hearing her laughter. But when it died down, he pushed his next question into her head, “Can I see you now, Tara?”

Silence. He could swear he felt her freeze on the other side of the door. She’d yet to speak into his head as he had hers, but their mate bond pulsed strong as a rope between them. Connecting them. Letting him know he’d been heard.

Christ, he thought, experiencing her hesitation as if it were his own. The final year of “divorce proceedings” must have killed Da. To feel his mate’s hatred as if it were his own—no wonder it took him so very long to recover.

That thought made him stand and place a hand on the door. “You dinnae have to let me near ye, Tara. I willnae touch ye if that’s your wish. But that earlier bout of weeping…my wolf and I cannae rest until we see you are alright.”

Another stretch of silence. Then, with the suddenness of a decision hastily made, she opened the door.

Magnus nearly broke his promise at the sight of her.

Tara’s eyes were red from crying, her bottom lip plumper than usual. He could tell she’d been biting it. She had also wrapped a towel around the nightgown he’d ruined. And…

“You have freckles.”

Much of her makeup had come off with her tears revealing adorable dark brown freckles sprinkled liberally over her cheeks and nose.

She touched her cheeks and then quickly looked away from him. “Yeah. Usually I keep them covered with makeup, but I guess I cried it all off…” She shrugged as if embarrassed.

And that made him want to gather her in his arms and apologize—right before commanding her to never cover her freckles again. He also realized he’d yet to kiss her, which made him want to take her face in his hands and show her. Show her how good it could be between them. If she’d just let him in…

But he’d promised. And breaking promises was the one thing Scottish kings were never supposed to do. Ever. So, he forced himself to stand there, drinking her in with his eyes as he said, “Thank you. I’m glad to see you’re well.”

“I am. Thanks for checking.” Tara glanced down at her towel. “Uh, I should probably take that shower now and I definitely need to change into some new clothes. So…I’ll need the room to myself for a little bit.”

It took Magnus a moment to register that she was asking him to leave. And a lot more politely than she’d asked him for anything before. Progress, he decided, even as his wolf whined at the thought of leaving the room so soon after his she-wolf’s bout of distress.

“Aye, sure, I’ll leave you to it. By the way, I’ve already asked for the week off so no need to rush yourself. I’ll just be watching a few highlight programs on the sofa in the receiving room. You take as much time as you like. When you’re ready, I’ll be here to talk. All right?”

“Okay,” she agreed.

But…he didn’t move.

And neither did she.

Eventually she said, “You said you’re taking the week off?”

“Aye,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “In truth, I didnae really come here to carry you back to the village.”

Why did everything feel like a confession with this woman? She was like a priest. A sexy, beautiful, liable to punch a wolf at any moment priest.

“My wolf needs to spend some time with you,” he admitted quietly. “Because of the pregnancy. You ken how wolves are biologically wired?”

Her lips tightened. “Yeah, I’ve heard. Wolves have a primal instinct to protect their mates and offspring until birth. That’s why your workaholic brother is traipsing all over the world with my best friend rather than letting her go alone.”

“Exactly,” Magnus answered. “And that’s why I made the big announcement before requesting a week off. It’s the friendlies season, but honestly coaches can be real wankers about granting time off even before championship play. That’s why I needed a news headline to go along with my request.”

As believable a story as any, but Tara arched an eyebrow, her intelligent brown eyes flashing at him as she said, “Ah, I see. So, that was your whole reason for making the announcement?” her voice was dry with frank suspicion. “And none of this was about keeping me here in Scotland and making it so I couldn’t leave the country without someone clocking it?”

He winced, wanting to lie. But he opted for honesty in the end. “That wasn’t the whole reason, nae. But I wasnae planning on absconding with ye either. I wanted…I’d like to give ye a proper bairnmoon. It is customary in my pack for two newly mated wolves to go off together and get to know one another better after the heating is done. I’ve got my travel kit down in the car. I guess I thought I might take you on a beach holiday in Spain and, I don’t know, woo you? Try to convince you I’m not completely mental and that no matter your first impression of me, I will be a good mate and a good father? But now that I say it aloud, I can see how you might think I’m a nutter for going about it the way I did…”

Her expression became unreadable and he trailed off.

Was this what it felt like for normal human men? The ones who actually cared whether the woman they just holed stuck around until the next morning? If so, poor bastards. Human dating must be hell if it carried even a smidgen of the trepidation bordering on outright terror Magnus was currently experiencing.

Tara’s eyes narrowed, and he braced himself for her to say something cutting with her razor-sharp tongue.

But instead…

She carefully placed her hands on his chest and stood on her tiptoes, covering the University of Edinburgh logo on Iain’s sweatshirt. Then with her eyes still narrowed suspiciously, she kissed him. Tentatively, with an innocence he wouldn’t have guessed she possessed behind her cutting tongue and piercing brown eyes.

Tara’s kiss was so careful that if she’d been human, he would have demanded to see her ID card to make sure she was old enough to be doing such things with a 33-year-old man.

But of course, he knew she was old enough for him. Moreover…he liked her careful kiss. And he licked his lips when she pulled away, savoring her fleeting taste.

He wondered why she’d done it.

“So that’s what it feels like to choose,” she said, interrupting his pondering.

Magnus shook his head, confused by her words.

Tara looked up at him, her eyes two wide circles in a sea of freckles. “That’s what it feels like to choose someone.” She blinked as if seeing him for the first time. “That’s what it feels like to choose you.”

Magnus could only stand there, stunned. Unable to believe her change of heart. Though, by this point his cock had given rise during her fleeting kiss. It pulsed at her words, demanding he start believing his mate right now and moreover, put her beneath him.

Tara misunderstood his stunned silence. “I’m an awkward kisser,” she said wincing apologetically. “I know, it’s weird.”

Her words brought him out of his stunned state. He took the step forward he’d been wanting to take ever since she opened the door.

“Dinnae worry about this…” he searched for any endearment other than mo banrigh. One that wouldn’t cause any problems. He finally opted for “… mo leannan.” It was Gaelic for darling or sweetheart.

Then Magnus took her head in his hands and said, “I am most definitely willing to teach you.”