Luna didn’t mind the teasing, but she wasn’t ready to explain that she was a virgin who’d never dared have a relationship with a Were or a human. Admitting that would raise a bunch of questions she didn’t want to answer. Still, the teasing meant they liked her, and that was a nice feeling.
This was the first time she’d stayed in one place long enough to bond with females, Were or human. Maybe someday she’d confide her circumstances to her new friends if they all managed to stay here under Colin’s ownership.
She’d lived on the island less than a year, replacing a Were who’d made the mistake of patronizing Geraldine as if age left her mentally incapable. Luna was grateful for that departed Were’s tactless behavior, because it had allowed Luna to live in a place that had felt like home from the moment she’d arrived.
Janet took off her apron and glanced around, as if searching for a place to put it. Now every word on her shirt stood out as if written in flashing neon.
“I think wearing the apron is better,” Luna said. “That way he knows immediately that you’re the cook. He’ll be tired from all that traveling, and he’s dealing with grief just like the rest of us. He might have trouble remembering who we are and what each of us does.”
Sybil grinned. “Personally, I think he’ll remember that T-shirt, no problem.”
“My T-shirt?” Janet glanced down at her chest and groaned. “I completely forgot I was wearing this one.” She quickly donned the apron again. “I’m not used to having a male around.”
“Hector’s a male,” Dulcie pointed out.
“I mean a male, as in broad shoulders, narrow hips, nice tush. In other words, the anti-Hector.”
“I hadn’t even thought about whether he’d be good-looking or not,” Sybil said. “Does anybody know?”
“Geraldine showed me a picture that was made when he was seventeen,” Luna said. “He was tall and skinny, with big hands and feet.” And a beautiful smile, but she decided not to mention that. They’d accuse her of being interested, which she wasn’t.
Dulcie threw back her shoulders and tugged down the hem of her rhinestone-studded shirt. “You know what they say about big hands and big feet. And he’ll probably sound like Sean Connery. I’d love me some Scottish brogue.”
“Geraldine said he was privately tutored to minimize his accent,” Luna said.
“Even better.” Dulcie smiled. “A cultured Scottish brogue.”
Janet elbowed her. “Cool it, Dulcie. He’s thirty-two, so he’s young enough to be your kid.”
“Just barely! I may be a wolf, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be a cougar, too.”
“Plus he’s probably pledged to some high-placed Were back in Scotland,” Sybil added. “Someone to fill the slot as the next lairdess.”
“Lairdess?” Janet frowned. “I don’t know beans about Scottish titles, but that can’t be right.”
Sybil started to giggle. “Yeah, that has to be wrong. Can you imagine being called Your Lairdess?”
“Especially if she has some junk in the trunk.” Dulcie got the giggles, too.
Janet began prancing around with her fanny sticking out. “Make way for Her Royal Lairdess! Her Royal Lairdess is coming through!” She was in mid-prance, with everyone laughing, including Luna, when the front door opened.
She swung around to face the door. So much for the dignified greeting she’d planned. Then she looked into the bluest eyes she’d ever seen, and forgot every blessed preparation she’d made for this moment.
Colin MacDowell was, hands down, the most beautiful creature in the universe.
Chapter Two
Apparently Luna had expected someone who looked like the seventeen-year-old in the picture she’d seen. But that gangly teenager had been replaced by an adult Were who took her breath away.
His features had matured into crisp, classic lines—strong nose, deep-set eyes, chiseled jaw. If pressed to name the color of his collar-length hair, she’d call it brown. But that wouldn’t give an accurate picture of the strands of gold, bronze, and caramel lovingly highlighted by the sunlight pouring through the front door.
He wore slacks, a dress shirt unbuttoned at the neck, and a sport coat. On anyone else, the clothes would be ordinary, but Colin, backlit as he was, looked like a god, or perhaps an angel. And not one of those gauzy, delicate angels, either. Colin radiated power.
She drew in a breath and the sweet scent of him filled her with a kind of hunger she’d never felt before. His scent was familiar, as if she’d known him from somewhere, and yet that was impossible.
Tucking his sunglasses into the breast pocket of his jacket, he released the handle of his rolling bag and stepped toward her. His smile was a ghost of the one she’d seen in his teenaged picture. Carefree innocence had been replaced with a polite gesture tinged by weariness. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and give whatever comfort she could.
“Hello.” He held out a large hand to her. “I’m Colin MacDowell, Geraldine’s nephew.” A slight accent that sounded almost British flavored his speech.
“I know.” Her words were more an expression of awe than a comment. That rich baritone of his would charm a female regardless of the accent. She took his very warm hand and held on as she gazed at him with rapture.
His eyebrows lifted in a subtle but unspoken question.
That silent signal brought her back to reality and her plan. She let go of his hand and cleared her throat. “We are so pleased to welcome y’all to Whittier House.”
‘Y’all?” He looked puzzled. “You’re not from the Trevelyan pack, are you?”
“No, I’m not connected to the Trevelyans, your…” Grace? Highness? Lairdness? She should have researched his title and figured out what to call him. She’d been so busy scrubbing and polishing that she hadn’t thought of it. “Your, um, sirness.” She winced. That wasn’t right, either. Behind her she heard a snort from someone, probably Janet.
Colin ducked his head, obviously hiding a smile. Great. Now he was laughing at her.
When he looked up again, his face was composed but some of the weariness had left his expression. “Colin’s fine. Where are you from?”
“New Orleans, Louisiana, sir.”
“Colin,” he prompted again.
“Colin.” Saying his name felt like a privilege. She’d have to get over this hero-worship, though, if she expected to convince him that he could leave Whittier House in her capable hands.
“I didn’t know any Weres lived that far south.”
She gave him the story she’d used with everyone. “My parents were loners, and after they died, I came up here to be with other Weres.” It was a partial truth, so she could say it without feeling too guilty.
“And your name is…?”
“Oh!” Her face grew hot. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t introduced herself. “I’m Luna Reynaud. I was your aunt’s personal assistant for about ten months, and I managed the household for her.”
“I’ll bet she also taught you to mix a very dry martini, shaken, not stirred.”
“As a matter of fact, she did.” She paused, thinking that might be a subtle hint that he could use a drink. “I can fix one in about two minutes if you’d like a—”
“I don’t need it yet. But her instructions for scattering her, uh,…ashes…” He looked down and swallowed. “Hers and Henry’s, that is. She wants me to toast the…the occasion with her favorite beverage.”
His barely disguised grief tugged at her heart. “On Happy Hour Beach.”
He raised his head and sorrow clouded his blue eyes. “Yes.”
“Bless your heart.” Luna’s throat tightened. She might have guessed that Geraldine would want her ashes scattered there along with her husband’s. The two urns sat waiting on the mantel of Geraldine’s sitting room fireplace, but as Luna wasn’t next of kin, the lawyer hadn’t revealed Geraldine’s instructions for those ashes.
Behind her someone sniffed. Luna suspected it was Sybil, the most tender-hearted of
the staff. Another couple of seconds spent on this topic, and everyone would be crying, which wouldn’t help Colin get through this.
Luna injected brisk efficiency into her voice. “I’ll help with that, then.”
“The martini or the scattering?”
“Whatever y’all want.”
“Then I’d like help with both.”
“Absolutely.” The urge to wrap her arms around him swamped her again and she tamped it down. “Now let me introduce the rest of the staff.” She turned to discover that Janet, Dulcie, and Sybil had lined up as they’d originally practiced. Each of them seemed to be working hard to hold it together, which she appreciated.
A warm rush of loyalty made her more determined than ever to save everyone’s job. She gestured to each one in turn. “Janet is our cook, and she’s amazing. She can make most anything in the world.”
He stepped forward and shook Janet’s hand. “Can you make haggis, then?”
To the cook’s credit, she didn’t blink. “Maybe not on short notice, but given a little time to research, I can—”
“Not necessary. I think haggis is dreadful stuff. If you can make salmon the way I remember, then I’ll be overjoyed. I think there was a plank involved.”
“I know exactly what you mean, and I can do that.”
“Thank you. I’ll look forward to it.”
The soft burr in his voice nearly put Luna into a trance again. She forced herself to concentrate as she introduced Dulcie and Sybil. “These two are the housemaids, and you’ll never find more dedicated and professional workers. If you need anything, buzz them on the intercom.”
“I’ll come running,” Dulcie said as she shook his hand.
“And I’ll come walking,” Sybil said. “I don’t do that running thing, but I know all the hallway shortcuts, so I’m almost as speedy as Dulcie.”
Colin smiled at her. “Don’t rush on my account. All I need right now is a hot shower.”
Luna thought of him standing in that hot shower and was gripped by a yearning she’d worked to subdue ever since puberty. Normally whenever she felt desire for a male, she’d been able to block it. Giving in to her sexuality, when she had no idea how lovemaking affected Weres, would have been reckless.
But Colin’s potent appeal broke through every defense she’d constructed. Her body grew moist, and she ached in places she’d managed to ignore for years. She hadn’t counted on this complication, but she couldn’t allow it to distract her from her goal.
Hector’s voice boomed out from the doorway. “Are you going to keep the poor boy standing in the hall forever, or can I take him up to his room?”
Luna glanced back at the grizzled old Were holding Colin’s leather carryon bag. Impatience flattened his mouth into a thin line and his shock of white hair stood on end where he’d run his fingers through it. Logically he’d feel Geraldine’s loss more than anyone here because of his long association with her, so Luna cut him some slack. Perhaps grief made him more cantankerous than usual.
She hadn’t discussed her plan with him because she was afraid he’d be against it. He’d often told her he liked the peace and quiet of this isolated island. If her plan succeeded, it would bring a constant flood of guests.
“I thought Colin would want to meet everyone,” she said. “But perhaps that wasn’t—”
“I did want that.” Colin leveled his blue gaze on her again. “Thank you all for coming out to greet me. I wouldn’t have wanted to walk into an empty hallway.”
A hallway without Geraldine in it, Luna realized. “That wouldn’t have been right,” she said. Although she’d had more than a week to adjust to Geraldine being gone, Colin had never stayed in this house without his aunt being here, too. “But we’re done with the introductions, so Hector can take y’all upstairs.”
“If it’s the same room, I know the way.”
“It’s the same room,” Hector said. “I made sure of that. But I’ll go with you and see that everything’s the way you like it.”
Dulcie and Sybil both stiffened as if ready to take offense at the suggestion they hadn’t prepared Colin’s room well enough.
Luna sent them a warning glance, and they kept quiet. In Luna’s opinion, Hector had a right to be a little protective of Colin. They would have shared memories of Geraldine that the rest of them did not. “Thanks, Hector. Colin, let me know when to mix up that martini.”
He looked out the front door, which was still open. “It’s nearly happy hour, although I suppose if the sun doesn’t set until after nine these days, happy hour could be anytime from now until then.”
“Janet could fix us some food to take along if you’re getting hungry.” That would be a good idea, regardless. She didn’t want a tipsy Were on her hands.
“Food would be nice,” he said. “Just sandwiches, something simple.”
“I’ll pack a light dinner,” Janet said. “How soon do you want it to be ready?”
Colin glanced at his watch. “An hour?”
“That’s fine.” Janet nodded. “I’ll bring a basket to Geraldine’s sitting room. The wet bar’s there.”
“I remember.” A smile flitted across his face. Then he glanced at Luna. “Does that work for you?”
“Of course. I’ll be in Geraldine’s sitting room in an hour with a martini shaker and a basket of food.”
“Make sure to bring two glasses. I hate to drink alone.”
“All right.”
Colin turned to Hector. “Ready?”
“Been ready.” Hector started toward the curving marble staircase, and Colin followed.
Luna stayed in the hallway with Dulcie, Sybil, and Janet as Colin carried his suitcase up the stairs. He looked about as wonderful from the back as he did from the front.
After they disappeared down the corridor, Dulcie was the first to break the silence. “Oh, baby.” She packed a wealth of appreciation into those two words.
Luna couldn’t agree more, but she wasn’t about to say so. “Thanks for not responding to Hector’s remark about the condition of the room. Colin may be the closest thing to family he has left.”
“That’s true,” Janet said. “Whittier House has been Hector’s whole life.”
“He’s still a pain in the rear, but I’ll lay off for now.” Dulcie put her hand on her heart and sighed dramatically. “Because any friend of Colin’s is a friend of mine.”
“You might as well give up that project, Dulcie,” Sybil said. “He only has eyes for our Southern belle, here.”
Heat swept through Luna. “That’s not true!”
“Yeah, it is.” Janet gave her a knowing look.
“Don’t count me out, yet,” Dulcie said.
Janet slung an arm around Dulcie’s shoulders. “Sorry old girl. Luna has the inside track on this one. And it’s about time our little magnolia blossom had some romance in her life.”
Luna’s pulse skyrocketed at Janet’s implication, but she shook her head and adopted a businesslike tone. “Not happening. Too much at stake.”
“But sweetie,” Janet said. “That’s exactly why you should seduce that beautiful Were. The male of the species tends to mellow out after good sex. A roll in the hay might tip the scales in your favor.”
Both the subject and her lack of experience caused her face to flame. “I don’t think so. I’m not…great at that kind of thing.”
Dulcie grinned at her. “I wouldn’t worry about it, toots. Something tells me he is.”
Colin had dreaded walking into Whittier House now that Geraldine was gone, but it hadn’t been too bad thanks to Luna Reynaud. Yes, her wavy dark hair, fair skin, and wide green eyes would capture any male’s attention, but it wasn’t her beauty that had lifted his heavy heart. It was her endearing lack of sophistication.
He could see immediately why Geraldine had hired her. Earnest sincerity was a quality his aunt had prized, and Luna had that, plus a subtle vulnerability that inspired his protective instincts. He had no doubt Luna had taken exce
llent care of Geraldine, but Geraldine had probably mothered Luna more than a little bit.
It was obviously a happy household, even in grief. He’d felt better the minute he’d heard laughter coming from behind the closed door. He’d known from Hector’s scowl that the groundskeeper disapproved of laughter at a time like this.
But Colin had been pathetically grateful for that first glimpse of Luna’s smiling face when he’d opened the door. She’d banished the shadows he’d expected to find and had replaced them with sunshine.
Next time he saw her, he’d ask what they’d been laughing about. He liked knowing that Geraldine had continued to surround herself with cheerful people. The one exception was Hector, who had always been on the grumpy side, even fifteen years ago.
“So everyone’s new except you, then,” he said as they headed toward the room at the end of the corridor, the same one Colin had been given as a teenager.
“Luna’s new. The others have all been here about ten years, I guess.”
“And how long has Luna been around?” A pretty name for a pretty Were.
“Not quite a year.”
“She seems like a good sort.”
Hector didn’t respond.
Colin glanced at him. “You don’t like her?”
“It’s not a matter of like or don’t like. She’s hiding something. I’d take bets on it.”
“Such as?”
“Not sure.”
“Apparently my aunt trusted her.”
“Yeah.”
Colin had a sudden thought. Hector’s nose could be out of joint if he’d expected to be part of scattering the ashes. “Listen, if you’d like to go with me down to Happy Hour Beach instead of Luna, I’ll ask her to—”
“Hell, no. I’m glad to have you two take care of it. Not my thing. Anyway, we’re here.” He gestured for Colin to go ahead of him into the bedroom at the end of the hall. “Let’s get you settled.”
Tabling the subject of Luna for now, Colin walked into the room Geraldine had chosen for him on his first visit. In the far right corner, a spiral metal staircase led to a trap door that opened onto the crenellated tower above. No teenager could resist a feature like that, and somehow she’d known, despite having no children herself.
Werewolf in Seattle Page 2
