by Terry Spear
Before she could get out of the way, something hit her hard from the side and slammed her against the floor. Just before the tree landed on top of them. He was on top of her, smelling like the great outdoors, fir tree, and musky, sexy male wolf. Guthrie.
“Sorry,” he mumbled against her ear, branches framing his head and touching the floor on either side of hers. “I meant to rescue you.”
She smiled. “From…the tree?”
He smiled back. “That was the idea.”
“Logan!” Ian hollered.
“Aye, my laird, sorry. The dogs got away from me.”
“So that’s what this is all about?” Calla asked Guthrie while they were having their private time under the tree. “Your Irish wolfhounds running amok?”
“Aye. Two of the ladies fell against the tree trying to get out of the path of the dogs. As soon as I saw that, I raced around to this side to ensure no one was back here.”
“And…tackled me.”
Everyone was moving boxes out of the way, dragging them or sliding them across the floor. Someone got the dogs under control and hurried them out of the great hall, their claws clicking on the floor in their hasty exodus. Ian called on his cell phone for reinforcements from the pack to help lift the tree.
Guthrie lifted his head, smiling at her with a mischievous glint in his green eyes. Despite all the commotion, and to Calla’s surprise, Guthrie kissed her. His lips were warm and masculine and tasted like wassail. Cinnamon, apple cider, and oranges. She licked his mouth to enjoy more of the taste and he licked hers back, smiling. Then he deepened the kiss.
Oh my God! She hadn’t felt this naughty in forever! The men were going to move the tree soon, and here she and Guthrie would be. Kissing. In front of several members of his pack.
She pushed her arms through the branches, trying to wrap them around his neck. She tangled her tongue with his, his cock hardening against her belly, and she felt deliciously wicked hidden beneath the half-decorated tree.
His hands cupped her face, and he kissed her again. She groaned a little, knowing this had to end soon although she didn’t want it to. She shouldn’t be doing this. Not with him or any other guy right now. But damn if Guthrie didn’t really appeal and it was hard not to give in to the rashness of it. Her eyes were closed with his body pressed against hers, and the tree on top of that. She was burning up—from his kiss.
“Oooooh, I’m telling. They’re kissing,” one of the girls said, crouching down and peering through the branches.
Calla smiled up at Guthrie. They’d been caught.
“Who?” one of the other girls asked, crouching down beside her to see.
And then all four girls were crowding around to get a peek.
Calla chuckled.
Guthrie said to the girls, “We’re under the mistletoe.”
The girls looked at the branches. “Where is it?” one asked.
Then the tree started to move as the men began to lift it off Calla and Guthrie.
“Girls,” Julia said, “move away, so we can lift the tree without hitting you.”
“Aww,” one of the girls said, and Guthrie winked at her.
As soon as the tree was lifted enough, Guthrie hurried to get off Calla, then helped her to stand.
“What’s mistletoe?” one of the girls asked.
Julia patted her head. “We’re ordering some from England to hang over the door, and then you can kiss your mum and dad under it.”
Everyone was smiling and looking at Calla and Guthrie. She was certain her face was as rosy as the red poinsettias lining the mantel of the fireplace in the great hall, but she wouldn’t have given that kiss up for anything.
Chapter 8
Guthrie didn’t know what had come over him. They couldn’t have moved until the tree was lifted. So what was he to do? She smelled so sweet—a mixture of she-wolf, the citrusy scent of the Christmas fir tree, and the delightful taste of wassail on her lips and tongue… He just had to have a taste or two. He loved how she had kissed him right back. She’d been his captive audience, and she had seemed to enjoy it as much as he had. He just wished that Ian hadn’t gotten the men together so quickly to lift the tree.
After the tree fiasco, which was not his fault this time, he couldn’t quit thinking about Calla. He realized he wasn’t the only one when Ian called him back to his office.
“She asked to see you before you go,” Ian said as soon as Guthrie walked into the room.
“About what?” Guthrie asked, frowning and wondering if she had changed her mind about having him go with her.
“The party, maybe. I don’t know. I swear, Brother, you look as though you’re ready to panic. If you’re worried about a woman in a toga getting interested in you, don’t wear your kilt. That’s all I have. And…have some fun while you’re at it. All right?”
Guthrie shook his head. “This is not what I consider having fun.” Not when he had to keep Calla out of potential danger.
He left the office and strode to the guest room to see Calla. Her door was open, and she was on the phone, but as soon as she saw him, she motioned for him to come in and smiled a little.
At first he was relieved that she didn’t appear upset with him over the kiss, but then he gaped at the toga Calla wore. The silky white fabric was draped over one shoulder, leaving the other bare, with the rest of the fabric falling in sensuous folds that caressed her body all the way to her jewel-sandaled feet.
Forget worrying about Baird harassing her. Between any single men at the party hitting on her and the chill in the air, the lass was in trouble no matter how he looked at it. Or at her.
“Aye, aye, I know the flowers were supposed to be pink, but the bride changed her mind and now she wants purple. So—charge her for it.”
She was staring at the floor as she spoke to the florist on the phone, so his gaze stole over her body again. He swore he could even see the shape of her nipples pressed against the fabric when he hadn’t noticed them before.
What was she thinking, baring all that delectable body to—he didn’t even know what they were—humans or wolves. He assumed humans, but they could be as much trouble as wolves once they began drinking. As evidenced by the Rankin reunion.
***
Calla had really hoped Guthrie wouldn’t get bodyguard duty while she was in charge of a wild twenty-something, Greek-themed toga party.
She often dressed the part for whatever theme the party was. Her clients liked it because she fit in better. She really hadn’t wanted Guthrie to see her in a toga, especially the way he was eyeing it. She was certain he appreciated it. But as soon as he learned she was wearing it among a bunch of wolves—mostly male variety, she was certain he wouldn’t be happy.
She tugged on a coat and said, “I’m all set.”
“They’re human, right?” Guthrie asked. “The rest of the guests?”
She gave him a small smile. He growled low.
Not good. But, Calla thought, he had to remember that he wasn’t there to protect her from everyone. Just Baird and his kin.
Calla thought that Duncan, the youngest of the brothers, had always been the one who wanted to fight first and ask questions later. Cearnach was more one to talk things out, and so, she’d thought, was Guthrie. She’d never seen him like this before, so she wasn’t sure what to expect.
When they arrived at a home in a woodland setting, the place was lit up with colorful Christmas lights outside. Styrofoam candy canes were on the front door and reindeer statues in the yard. Someone had had the “cute” notion of stacking one reindeer on the back end of another to make it look like the male was humping the female.
Ethan and Oran snickered. Guthrie bit back a growl. He was afraid this was going to be one hell of a wild party, and he didn’t want Calla anywhere near it.
Calla was out of the vehicle before anyone could get her car door, and Guthrie assumed she didn’t want him to see what was going on inside. But that wasn’t happening this time.
To Ethan and Oran, he said, “You stay outside to keep an eye out for any signs of McKinleys. I’m watching out for Calla inside.”
His blue eyes bright and red hair mussed by the chilly breeze, Oran smirked. “I’d switch jobs with you in a heartbeat. If she’d stolen my underwear, I’d certainly be sticking close to her.”
“Aye, and then you would forget the mission.” Guthrie went inside where the music was blaring and a bunch of young professionals were drinking up a storm, dressed in everything from store-bought costumes to plain sheets wrapped around their bodies—their otherwise naked bodies.
He saw more than one male strutting his stuff underneath a sheet and shook his head. There must have been about thirty partygoers, only about a third female. At least half of the males were wolves. None of the females were. Except for Calla.
She seemed to be doing all right without his protection as she directed someone to start playing a game. He admired the way she’d set up the buffet table and decorations, with a festive fire in the fireplace. He had to hand it to her. He was impressed by the way she was managing things.
Then a woman slipped her arm around Guthrie’s and said, “Don’t know you. And you’re supposed to be wearing a toga. Party rules.”
“I’m not here as an attendee,” Guthrie said, though he suspected the redheaded woman already knew that. “I’m only here to watch out for Calla.”
“Is she your girlfriend?”
“Nay.”
The woman offered him a beer. He didn’t accept it. “I’m Rosalind Brubaker. My brother is throwing the party, so I don’t know anyone. Can you help me with one little thing? I’ve asked everyone, but no one will help me. I have a big chest I need to move, and then you can go back to watching out for Calla.” Rosalind squeezed his arm, bringing Guthrie’s gaze back to her from Calla. “You have just the right muscles for the job.”
“I’ve really got to—”
“Calla!” Rosalind called out and Calla joined them. “Do you mind if your friend helps me move something? My brother and his friends won’t help.”
Calla eyed her and then shrugged. “It’s really up to Guthrie.”
“Good. He says he wouldn’t mind.” Rosalind grabbed his hand and hauled him to the stairs.
Guthrie glanced at Calla. She was frowning, but not half as hard as he was. He knew Ethan and Oran would watch out for Calla if anyone came to the house that they didn’t trust, but he didn’t trust the men in the house who were getting plastered. He didn’t trust this Rosalind either—there was something questionable about her impish expression—but he didn’t want to cause a scene. He didn’t mind moving a piece of furniture as long as it took only a minute of his time. As soon as he walked into the bedroom, he looked to see what Rosalind needed to have moved. She closed the door with a clunk.
Instantly, his wolfish senses were on high alert. “You wanted me to move something, lass?” he said, annoyed.
“Aye. Me.” She pulled her toga down and bared her breasts. They were remarkable, but he wasn’t interested.
“All right, enough of this,” he said, and with two giant strides, he joined her and lifted her to move her out of the doorway. He jerked the door open, but she grabbed him around the waist.
“Wait!”
“Nay, lass. This isn’t going to happen.”
A man was just walking up the stairs as Guthrie was leaving Rosalind’s bedroom. Guthrie suspected she had not pulled up her toga to respectably cover her breasts when the man caught sight of her. Her brother? Or someone else?
Didn’t matter. The man was red-faced and pissed.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing with my girlfriend?” He took a swing at Guthrie.
Guthrie immediately smelled that the man was a wolf and had been drinking beer. Guthrie ducked from his fist, but then the man lifted his nose, smelled that Guthrie was a wolf, and began to yank off his toga. Bloody hell.
Rosalind squealed, and predictably Calla raced up the stairs to intervene.
“Leave, now,” she told Guthrie, grabbing Rosalind’s now-naked boyfriend by the arm and shoving him away.
“That’s what I was trying to do, lass,” Guthrie said. Even though he didn’t like leaving Calla on her own, if he didn’t have to see another human/wolf party again, he would be satisfied. He just hoped Calla didn’t believe he’d wanted this.
When he joined Oran and Ethan outside, Oran said, “You look a bit flustered, Cousin. Any trouble with the Grecian lass?”
Oran was having too much fun with this. “How did you know about her?” Guthrie asked. “You were supposed to be outside.”
“There are these things called windows,” Oran said. “We saw her pull you upstairs. No windows up there, though.” He smirked.
Guthrie shook his head. “The chest that the busty Rosalind wanted me to move was more of the flesh rather than the furniture variety. I should have known. Luckily, her boyfriend wasn’t armed with anything more than his bare fists, and he was too drunk to aim them at me accurately, or I would have given him a broken nose. Not to mention that the arse was about to shift into his wolf half.”
“Bloody hell.” Ethan shook his head. “What did Calla have to say?”
Guthrie let out his breath in exasperation. She was sure to be pissed off at him all over again.
“Can’t get you out of this one, son,” Ethan said affectionately. “Since I didn’t see any of what happened this time.”
A flash of gray in the woods caught Guthrie’s eye. He frowned as he stared at the trees, watching for any sign of glowing green eyes or further movement. “Did either of you see a wolf?”
Ethan and Oran observed the woods. They both shook their heads.
“I’ll check it out. Ethan, you guard the door. Oran, you come with me.” Guthrie and his cousin took off at a run, and when they reached the cover of the woods, they stripped out of their clothes, then shifted. Nosing around the area where Guthrie thought he had seen the gray wolf, he smelled Baird’s scent. Damn him.
The wolf had run off, though, and Guthrie didn’t find any other scents besides Baird’s. None of Baird’s kin’s. Which he thought was strange.
Guthrie and Oran returned to their clothes and changed. They jogged back to the porch where Ethan was anxiously watching for them.
“Baird was there. No signs of anyone else. Either his pack mates aren’t interested in getting involved in this any further, or he’s going it alone so we don’t catch him at it. Sneakier that way.”
Ethan said, “Sounds like it. You’d think he’d leave well enough alone.”
“Aye, particularly while we are watching out for her. You’d think he’d wait until she was no longer staying with us.” Although that didn’t set well with Guthrie.
They couldn’t keep her at Argent Castle permanently. Not that they wouldn’t want to—she was good-natured, helpful, and everybody liked her. But she had made it known that she was returning home after the clan’s celebration on Christmas Eve.
He hadn’t really thought about it much until now. Sure, he knew she wanted to celebrate Christmas with her parents, but after she’d helped decorate, and he and she had kissed under the tree, he’d had visions of her sitting there on Christmas morning unwrapping presents with the family. With…him.
The notion that she wouldn’t be there bothered him more than he wanted to admit.
He watched the woods with Ethan and Oran for another couple of hours until the laughter began to die down inside the cottage. The party must have been winding down. Wrapped in her coat and a long woolen scarf, Calla finally exited the cottage. With her red hair hanging loose and caught in the cold breeze, she looked frazzled more than anything else, but Guthrie was damned relieved to see her. Though he was certain she was going to be angry with him.
He hurried to get the car door for her.
A half hour later on the way home, she still hadn’t said anything. No one had, and it was killing him not to get this over with. After another silent quarter
of an hour passed, Guthrie finally said, “Well?”
She started chuckling.
He stared at her for a moment, then looked back at the road. He would never understand women. “Why did you not tell the lass you needed me for something else?” Guthrie asked, semi-annoyed.
“I didn’t know what she had in mind,” Calla said.
Guthrie snorted.
“I didn’t,” she insisted. “I don’t know the family. And you didn’t have to go with her.”
“If a lassie asks me to help move a piece of furniture, what am I to say? Nay, I might hurt my back?”
She began to laugh.
“I thought you’d be angry over the whole mess.” Even though it appeared she wasn’t—only highly amused, at his expense. He was glad for that. He’d much rather she be entertained than angry.
“You didn’t stay with her when she bared her breasts,” Calla said.
“How come I missed that?” Ethan grumbled jokingly.
“You think my mother would have wanted you in the middle of that?” Guthrie asked, being serious.
Oran laughed. “Nay, she would have been furious even if Ethan hadn’t been involved in any of it. Me, now, that’s a different story. I’m unattached,” he said, smiling at Calla.
Calla had thought the whole thing was so funny that she hadn’t realized Guthrie was still waiting for her to scold him for this party debacle. When Rosalind had thrown herself at him, Guthrie’s expression had been priceless, especially when he saw Calla coming up the stairs.
The part about Rosalind’s boyfriend even considering going wolf on them was not funny, however. It had taken a hell of a lot of fast talking to convince him to stand down and behave. If the man had shifted in front of the human guests who came to see the commotion, the wolves would have had to turn them all. What a catastrophe that would have been. Thankfully, the man had just snarled at his girlfriend and then returned to the party.
Calla assumed that was the end of that relationship. Speaking of which, Calla had overheard Rosalind telling Guthrie that she didn’t know anyone at the party. She hadn’t known then that Rosalind had a boyfriend, but she had wondered what Rosalind was up to. Calla hadn’t wanted to make the decision for Guthrie, but she was pleasantly surprised with the one he made. What was most endearing about Guthrie was how much he worried that Calla thought he had wanted a romp with the woman. Rosalind had known very well what she wanted, and that was Guthrie, the only man at the party not wearing a toga.
