by Terry Spear
Dropping the bag in the snow, she called on the urge to shift. The chill of the snow against her feet and legs was bad enough, but the wind whipping the snow mixed with ice against her back and arms stung like icy needles. Internally, her body warmed as her muscles and bones reshaped into the wolf. As soon as her wolf’s double coat covered her skin, she sighed with relief. For a second, she shivered until her natural fur coat helped to warm her against the biting cold that had already chilled her to the bone.
Grabbing the bag with her teeth, she rethought taking it with her. It was heavier than she’d thought it would be. Carrying it over her shoulder was not the same as dragging it, clenched in her wolf teeth, through chest-deep snow.
She’d gone maybe a mile when she saw movement between a couple of fir trees and stopped dead in her tracks. She thought she saw the gray tail of a wolf. Was it one of the MacNeill clansmen in his wolf coat, coming to greet her? That seemed odd. Unless Cearnach or Julia had gotten her messages and had sent someone to find her. A MacNeill would have made his presence known, though, not lurked in the woods.
Something moved behind her, not just the branches blowing in the wind. She dropped her bag, the instinct to protect herself coming to bear, and swung around. Baird McKinley stood in the woods in his dark gray wolf form, along with his two brothers and cousin, also in their wolf forms. They had to have been waiting here for her. The deer must have caught wind of the wolves and panicked, fleeing the area and probably causing her accident—which infuriated her even more.
Baird watched her reaction before he made a move. He gave her an expression of appeal, like he still wanted to make up with her, his eyebrows arched, his eyes wide, not narrowed and threatening. Maybe he thought he’d have a better chance at convincing her in his wolf form.
Then again, she could imagine the four of them talking about her on the way here, suggesting ways to get her to capitulate, agreeing that he couldn’t let her slip into Argent Castle without one last-ditch effort to appeal to her.
Heart pounding, she knew how nasty Baird could be with others in his pack when he didn’t get his way. And with her, he wasn’t getting his way. Just the fact that he’d been waiting for her to arrive—especially when he had a show of force instead of just trying to see her alone? Not good.
She turned, grabbed her bag, and took off running through the virgin snow. She couldn’t make good headway while dragging her field pack. But if she dropped it so she could move faster, they could get all her stuff, including the keys to her car if they wanted to steal it. Damn, damn, damn.
That brought the memories flooding back of Baird’s kin stealing Cearnach MacNeill’s and his mate’s cars and other belongings, and stranding them in wolf form—at Baird’s direction. That was why she had dumped Baird’s butt at the altar in the first place.
Baird bolted in front of her and snarled and snapped, forcing her to lunge around to his right flank. She would have bitten him if her teeth hadn’t been clenched around the strap to her bag. His kin quickly surrounded her and she stopped dead. She watched Baird, her heart beating furiously against her ribs. Her gaze met his.
His brown eyes were hopeful that she’d give in. That she’d want to come back to him. So she was certain he wouldn’t attack. The other wolves continued to flank her, not allowing her to move in any direction. Their panting breaths appeared as frosty mist, carried away in the blowing wind. They waited for her to give in or bolt.
She wasn’t going with Baird, and she wasn’t standing here all day in the freezing cold, even though her wolf coat kept her warm. She had a meal and friends waiting for her at Argent Castle. Hating to, she let go of her pack.
All eyes were on her, all ears perked up, as the wolves watched to see what her next move would be. Wolves were good at reading the slightest body movements. So they would know exactly what she was going to do next as soon as she lifted her chin. She didn’t have much of a choice.
***
Guthrie MacNeill was helping his brothers and several other male kin carry the Christmas tree into the great hall when he thought again about Calla. “Have you tried calling her, Cearnach?” Guthrie asked.
Cearnach glanced back at him as they struggled to get the tree into the hall. “We’ve been kind of busy.”
“Snowstorm’s worsening,” Guthrie reminded him.
“I assumed she’d stay put,” Cearnach said, “until the roads are clear.”
Guthrie didn’t say anything, still worried about her, as he would be about anyone coming to the castle in bad weather conditions. Given all the trouble he and his clan had had with the McKinleys both before and after Calla left Baird at the altar, he was certain she’d have more trouble with Baird before long.
Guthrie took a deep breath. He shouldn’t be worrying needlessly. Cearnach had her number, and Guthrie would call to ensure she was still at home. Well, once he wasn’t helping to carry this monstrous tree inside.
As they got the tree situated, Julia hurried to inspect its location. She smiled and said, “Perfect!”
Guthrie was glad for that. Wolves could get hernias!
“Julia,” Heather, Guthrie’s cousin, said, nearly out of breath. “You got a message.” She handed her the phone.
Julia checked her text messages. “Oh my God. Calla’s stranded and on her way here in her wolf coat about five miles out. From the time of the text, she is probably about here, but somebody should go and make sure she’s all right.”
Guthrie was already stripping, not waiting for their pack leader, Ian, to decide who would go. His brother smiled a little at him, and then told their brothers Cearnach and Duncan to come with Guthrie and him, along with a few other men.
Just as Julia opened the door for them so that the men in their wolf forms could race across the inner bailey and out the open gates, they heard the howl of a she-wolf in distress. Guthrie and the others ran full out. His heart thundered as his blood heated with a fresh surge of adrenaline.
Chapter 2
Calla got out one good howl before Vardon, one of Baird’s older brothers, lunged at her. Her heart skipped a bit as she tried to jump out of his path. The snow and his sudden movement precluded that. He slammed into her and forced her onto her side.
Growling fiercely, she snapped at him with wickedly sharp canines meant to tear. Her heart was beating triple time. She wasn’t putting up with this.
He jumped back, avoiding her biting teeth and snarling at her. She rolled off her side to lie on her belly.
Baird was studying her, not making a move and not growling at Vardon, which would have told her he didn’t approve of what his brother had done. As usual, Baird was using his kin to fight his battles.
She lifted her head to howl again. She suspected one of the wolves would try to stop her. Nobody tackled her this time. Instead, Baird came up close to greet her nose to nose. She snarled, angry that he would keep her from going where she wished. He persisted. She snapped. He growled back, his true personality coming through in an instant.
She didn’t care if she ticked him off. He was irritating the hell out of her with his constant pestering.
Howls from the distance called to her. Relief flooded through her.
Ian and some of his kin were on their way. Thank God. She didn’t really want to bite Baird or his kin. But she would, if they kept this up.
Baird glanced at her bag.
Barks and woofs from the direction of the castle grew closer, letting her know just how far away they were now. Telling her to hold on until they could reach her. They couldn’t know why she was distressed, or why she didn’t respond. Then Baird barked at her, still trying to make up to her. The MacNeills would know now. Baird was here, blocking her from reaching them.
She stood, wary of him and the others.
Baird turned and made a low, rumbling moan at the MacNeill wolves before they were even in sight. Calla grabbed her bag, but Vardon seized it and began a tug-of-war with her, pulling her away from Argent Castle. Damn him!
She growled low and he did the same. She wasn’t letting go! But Vardon was heavier than she was, and stronger. He was dragging her, despite how fiercely she tugged and viciously she snarled, trying to make some headway. Her feet dug into the snow-covered ground as she attempted to keep him from budging her. Nothing was working. She kept sliding through the snow as he yanked the bag with him—and her along with it.
Hating to give up her bag, she let go and Vardon fell on his butt, dropping the field pack.
Baird, who was still watching in the direction of the castle, yipped a retreat. But not before Vardon seized her bag again.
Calla snarled and chased after him, meaning to bite him in the butt or the tail, whichever she could sink her teeth into. She suspected he didn’t want the bag as much as he was trying to draw her away from the MacNeill wolves. Ian’s brother Cearnach howled. She was too busy trying to reach Vardon to respond, his longer legs propelling him forward and keeping him just out of reach of her teeth.
The deep, powdery snow and the wind whipping the flakes into her eyes didn’t help matters. She was squinting, nearly blinded by the snow.
Vardon stumbled in a drift and she ran into him, not meaning to. He snarled at her, and she growled right back at him. One of the other wolves, Baird’s cousin Robert Kilpatrick, grabbed her bag and took off running. Damn!
She sprinted after him, feeling like this was a wolf relay game, and then Baird barked, and she heard the wolves behind her growling. Closer.
Thank God.
Robert dropped her bag and ran full out to avoid a clash with Ian and his men. Ten MacNeill clan wolves greeted her quickly, checking her over, and then raced off after Baird and his men. All except for one wolf. She was grateful that he’d stayed with her.
The third oldest of the quadruplets, Guthrie MacNeill, a gray wolf with a beautiful white mask, greeted her. He licked her face and made sure she was unharmed. He barked at her, seized her bag, and motioned with his head for her to follow.
Gladly.
Before the castle towers came into view, she heard the sound of wolves running to catch up to them. She and Guthrie turned, making sure the approaching wolves were Ian and his family, and not Baird and his pack.
Relieved to see Ian and the rest of his clansmen, she ran with them as a pack, her breath frosty in the blizzard wind, the heat of their bodies stretching out to her. She wasn’t used to being with a pack like this, and she loved feeling the protectiveness and the strength in numbers. As soon as they were inside the walls, the gate guards lowered the portcullis, and then closed the gates.
Ian’s wife, Julia, hurried out to greet her in the inner bailey. Calla hadn’t wanted her to come out into the cold, dressed the way she was in just a sweater, slacks, and boots, with snowflakes collecting on her red hair. Julia’s worried green eyes took in Calla and the rest of the wolves. Several more of their clansmen hurried out to greet them, moving aside to let them into the keep. Julia took Calla’s bag from Guthrie.
“Come, Calla,” Julia said to her. “I have prepared the blue bedchamber for you.”
Before long, Calla was dressed and warming herself in front of a great fire in the cozy den.
Guthrie and his brothers stood nearby, now dressed and with their arms folded across their broad chests, waiting to hear what had happened.
“All my bags are in the car,” Calla said, as if Ian and his kin wouldn’t already know that.
“We’re headed out to find your car, and if we can’t move it, we’ll haul all your things here, lass,” Ian assured her. “We won’t leave them in the car overnight.”
“Aye. I wasn’t sure when the snow would melt enough to budge it,” Calla said.
“In a couple of days, most likely. We’ll get your things for you in the meantime so you don’t have to worry,” Ian said.
“After the McKinleys stole my and Elaine’s cars, we don’t trust them not to steal yours,” Cearnach said, repeating Calla’s own concerns. He was Ian’s second-in-command of the pack and had been a friend of hers when they were young.
Calla sipped her hot tea, the sweet and spicy cinnamon flavor sliding down her throat and warming her, while Ian made arrangements for more of the men to go back to her car.
“Thanks for coming to my rescue.” Calla still couldn’t believe Baird would do something as stupid as this. She was trying to move on and wished he would too. It was one thing to come to her house and try to convince her to renew their friendship, but quite another to confront her in the MacNeill wolves’ territory.
“Aye, lass, which is all the more reason we need to have a bodyguard detail watch over you,” Ian said.
She’d objected earlier, not thinking bodyguards were necessary and assuming Baird would realize sooner or later that things were over between them. He was proving to be much too stubborn for that. Still, she had hoped they could remain—well, maybe not friends, but not enemies, either.
Most of all, she loved how she felt so secure among the MacNeill wolves, though hating Baird for making her feel unsafe without them.
“Thanks for carrying my bag, Guthrie. Sorry it weighed so much.” Calla realized as soon as she spoke the words that she might have offended his masculinity.
Especially when his brothers chuckled. Men.
“It was no trouble.” The sparkle in Guthrie’s green eyes dispelled the idea that anything would be too heavy for him.
When the men left to get her personal items out of the car, Julia sat down on one of the chairs by the fireplace. “I’m so sorry that Cearnach and I didn’t get your messages right away. I was in your room getting it ready and had left my phone charging in the kitchen. And then I came down to supervise where the men would set up the Christmas tree. Cearnach was helping bring it into the castle. With the bad weather, we thought you would have changed your mind and waited.”
“Nay, I’d promised. I really did think I would arrive long before it got that bad, though.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re here now. You will help us to decorate the tree, won’t you?”
“I’d love to.” Calla loved how Julia had taken her in like she was part of their family. Calla had already helped decorate her own family’s tree, as well as hers, even though she hadn’t planned to be home to enjoy it. Still, before she left, she had wanted to feel the Christmas spirit.
“We’ll have dinner tonight and decorate it tomorrow. I have to show it to you first.”
Julia led Calla into the great hall where she stared at the tree in awe. Not a cut tree, but a beautiful Nordmann fir—a deep, rich green, bristling with full, rounded needles, and redolent with the luscious scent of citrus. Divine. Best of all, it was living.
“You’re going to plant it after Christmas?” Calla asked, excited. She would love to return and see the pack members plant it. Help, even, if she could.
“Yes. Isn’t it beautiful? You know that Duncan’s mate, Shelley, is a botanist. She had the brilliant idea of buying a tree that we could plant after the holidays. Just think, over the years, we could have a whole new forest.”
Calla took in a breath of the Christmas scent. “It’s the most beautiful Christmas tree I’ve ever seen.” She reached out and touched the soft needles. She’d never known anyone personally who had a living Christmas tree in their home for the holidays.
Julia smiled, but then her expression turned serious. “Calla, I have to ask you. Is there anything more to Baird’s wanting you to return to him so badly? Something more than what we assume it’s all about?”
“Other than him being a jerk and an alpha who doesn’t like to lose? Nay.”
Julia glanced at the doorway, but she and Calla were the only two people in the great hall at the moment. A lot of chatter and laughter were coming from the kitchen, however, while the dinner was being prepared.
“One other thing, are you…going to be able to manage Guthrie?” Julia asked.
Calla wasn’t sure what Julia was asking. About the Christmas party expenditures? That wa
s Julia’s job. But yeah, Calla assumed he’d be all negative about the cost of the party.
“Concerning what?” Calla asked.
“A courtship.” Julia smiled broadly.
Chapter 3
Guthrie wasn’t sure how to take Calla Stewart, party planner entrepreneur. He still couldn’t get over how she’d stolen his shorts and hung them on the pirate’s flagpole the ladies had put up during the hen party a couple of weeks ago. Many in the pack had teased him mercilessly about how Calla had the hots for him. And they wanted to know what he was going to do about it.
What he’d like to do was one thing. Her real intentions were another.
He and nearly everyone else in the pack had thought Calla and Cearnach would be mated wolves someday, especially when she’d moved back into the area a year ago. But both his brother and Calla had insisted they were just friends. Cearnach mating Elaine had finally assured the pack of that.
Guthrie had just come off a roller-coaster ride with a she-wolf he’d seriously intended to mate—if not for her previous boyfriend and her subsequent change in attitude. At first, Tenell had adored Guthrie. What alpha male wolf could resist a woman who worshipped him?
But a month into their relationship, Tenell began to compare Guthrie to her former beau, and not in a good way. That got old quickly. Then Guthrie learned her old boyfriend had cheated on her—which was the reason for their breakup. When she saw her ex-boyfriend while out shopping alone one day, she went back to him and told Guthrie it was over between them.
Maybe Calla would be over Baird for good in another six months to a year. No chance of rebound by then, hopefully. Then Guthrie would consider dating the lass. If she was ready. If she was still available. And if they were both interested.
