by Terry Spear
Ivy gave her a big grin as she led them into the great hall where refreshments and hors d’oeuvres were being served. Several guests were loitering beside a very tall, skinny tree decorated in Santas and bows, listening as a band played Celtic Christmas music.
“So what happened? You called off the wedding?” Ivy asked.
“Aye. It wouldn’t have worked out,” Calla said, though she didn’t want to talk about it here and now. She was here strictly to revel in the party atmosphere.
“Not with you being an alpha, it wouldn’t have.”
Calla suddenly felt strong vibes that Ivy wasn’t just idly chitchatting.
“You…know him well?” Calla asked, concerned that Baird might actually come to the party. Especially if he’d been friends with Ivy and her family. He’d never mentioned anything about knowing Ivy when Calla had talked to him about attending the masquerade with her. She wasn’t worried for herself if Baird showed up, but she was afraid he would pick a fight with Guthrie. Or his kin would with Guthrie’s kin.
“I dated him right before you must have started seeing him. I met with him on a seal boat trip out of Dunvegan Castle.”
“Baird acting like a tourist? Not in this lifetime,” Guthrie said. “If he’d been out hunting the seals, then I could envision it.”
Calla suddenly felt queasy. “I met him there too,” she said. Guthrie looked at her suspiciously and she explained, “I was just starting up my business here. I had some free time on my hands and thought it would be fun. I didn’t think anything of him being there. Just two single wolves running into each other. We saw nesting herons, Arctic terns, and sea eagles.”
“So you had a camera with you?” Guthrie asked.
“Well, aye. Don’t all tourists?”
He snorted. “Did Baird?”
“Nay,” she admitted. “I supposed not all tourists have them.” Or Baird had not been a tourist. Which meant Baird had suckered her right in. That reminded her of how lonely she’d been, wishing she could find a wolf to do that kind of thing with.
Ivy laughed. “You would make a good detective with Scotland Yard, Guthrie.”
“Was he with his kin or alone? I swear he rarely goes anywhere alone,” Guthrie said.
“Alone,” Calla said on a sigh. “He acted like he was totally smitten with me. You can’t know how flattering that was for a change. In retrospect, I realize he never went there afterward. With me or with others—not that I know of, anyway.”
“He has a friend who works there,” Ivy said. She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Since Baird met you the same way, his friend probably let him know that there was another single she-wolf on the tour. I think the guy who schedules the tours is a distant relation. I suspect he asked you the usual questions—is this for a group purchase, single visitor, ever been there before? What is your age—to see if you are eligible for a discount. What is your job, for the same reason.”
Calla shook her head in disbelief.
“A girlfriend of mine, who is single, booked a tour with them for a group,” Ivy continued. “Once she said that she was making arrangements for a group, the booking agent didn’t need to know more. He didn’t ask her age or occupation. Just the credit card number that the charge would go on.
“To sweeten the deal on the seal boat tour, the booking agent gave me a discount for having my own business. At the boat dock, Baird was acting interested in the birds when I smelled that he was a wolf. He was obviously alone, no other wolves on the tour, and he seemed really interested in the tour. Not in me. I liked that he didn’t know I was a wolf yet. Ha! As if.”
“What do you mean?” Calla asked.
“Did you have to book your tour a week in advance?” Ivy said.
“Yes…?” Calla answered with increasing unease.
“I think it’s because then Baird would do some investigation of his own. Or have one of his minions do it. And I fit his type exactly: I am single, have well-to-do parents who aren’t with a pack, and I was lonely—a rebound from another relationship,” Ivy said.
That sent warning bells ringing.
“Oh, and I’m a successful dress designer, which makes me think that he likes women who are financially secure on their own.”
“You’re kidding,” Calla said, knowing she wasn’t. How far had he gone to learn about her? If she had used a dating service, he would have known something about her right off, but she would have known some things about him too. It wouldn’t be as one-sided, as underhanded as this.
“So we’re on the boat, and he’s still upwind of me and acting like I don’t exist, and that makes me want to meet him. Wolf curiosity, you know. Plus, I was alone and I thought it would be fun, knowing he’d tell me if he was mated right off,” Ivy said. “Well, he was so sweet and thrilled to meet a fellow wolf. We hit it off and—”
“Don’t tell me,” Calla said, glad she’d dumped his butt. “He took you to the Seaside Café afterward.”
“Yep, close by and owned by a cousin. One big, happy family. We were easy pickings. God. He comes along and sweeps me off my feet. Told me I was just the one for him. But I wasn’t. And I told him so. What about you?”
“The same. Only I wore rose-colored glasses for longer,” Calla said, annoyed with herself all over again. How could she have been so naive?
“Longer than a year?” Ivy asked. “He was pushing for a mating forever. I actually stuck it out for a year, just about. I was busy with my business. We had fun when we got together, but he didn’t want me to associate with my old friends.” Ivy shrugged. “I have several girlfriends and business associates, and I wasn’t about to give them up just because he didn’t like them. What about you?”
“Same with me. It was about a year. I was always scheduling parties, heavily involved in my work. I was so busy that there were weeks when we couldn’t find the time to get together. And he was constantly pushing for us to marry so he could at least be with me at night—he said.”
Calla heaved a sigh, noticing that even though Guthrie was listening to everything they said, he was also keeping a watchful eye out for trouble.
“He’s not coming to the party, is he?” Calla asked.
“He wouldn’t be welcome. But he might try to patch things up with you.”
“Didn’t he try with you?”
“Oh, at first, aye. Once he set his sights on you, I didn’t have any more trouble with him.”
“You mean he was stalking you afterward too?”
“I wouldn’t call it stalking exactly. We would run into each other at some of the same pubs and other places. Hard not to.”
“Until he met me, aye?”
Ivy bit her bottom lip as she seemed to ponder the notion. “Hmm, you’re right. I didn’t see him at any of the usual places after he began seeing you. He must have been taking you to different places. He probably didn’t want you to meet the old girlfriend.” Ivy smiled. “I think he’s more hung up on you than he ever was with me. Maybe it’s because I called it quits before we agreed to actually marry. Even so, that had to have hurt his big ego, not to mention dealing with his pack over it.
“With you, he was so close to making the commitment—at the altar even, and you walked out on him. Now that has to be the ultimate slight. Probably also because Cearnach helped sway you to not marry Baird, and now you’re staying with Cearnach’s family.” She gave Guthrie a smile that said she knew there was more to it than Calla just staying with the MacNeills.
The musicians began to play a waltz.
“I’ve got to greet my guests. Why don’t you get some refreshments, mingle, and dance?” Ivy glanced at the other men with them.
“Bodyguard detail. Baird has been stalking me,” Calla explained. She introduced Guthrie’s cousin and brothers.
“And thank you, Ivy, for telling me all this,” Calla said, grateful to know the truth, even if it hurt.
Ivy sighed. “Maybe Baird will find another woman to harass.” She smiled at Oran, who was grinning
at her.
“I’m single, and I love your wolfishness,” Oran told her right away.
Calla wasn’t sure if he was talking about Ivy’s wolfishness as in real wolf or the costume.
“I’ve never gone on a seal trip, but I wouldn’t see the birds and seals anyway if I took you out on the boat,” Oran added. “And I had no idea you even existed before today.”
Calla laughed.
Ivy chuckled. “Then you can come with me.”
“Bodyguard detail,” Guthrie reminded his cousin with a stern look.
“He can stand near the front door, but not under the mistletoe,” Ivy said, with a small smile curving her lips. “I saw that kiss you gave Geraldine.”
Oran’s cheeks turned a little red, though he laughed it off and offered his arm as if he were a gallant, swashbuckling pirate, which, for fun, he was. The two of them left the great hall, Ivy’s faux-fur wolf’s tail wagging behind her.
“Sounds like Baird’s been doing this kind of thing with women for a while,” Guthrie said, slipping his arm around Calla’s waist and pulling her to the center of the great hall where others were already dancing. “I’ve wanted to do this forever.”
He didn’t even wait to pull her close. As soon as she was in his arms, she was firmly against his chest, and she briefly thought of her velvet gown turning into crushed velvet. Though the way he’d packed her skirts into the car had probably wrinkled the fabric a bit already. She couldn’t help noticing how eagerly he had helped her. She had to admit, Guthrie had been hilarious—trying to stuff the billowing gown and underskirts into the small car, his hands “inadvertently” pressing against her thighs.
In his arms, she loved the feel of Guthrie’s hard body against hers, the way he smelled wolfishly excited to be this close to her, the way he seemed to want to be with her and only her. Which reminded her of dating Baird. She didn’t think Guthrie was anything like him personally, but the intrigue was the same.
But she didn’t want her next relationship to be like her last one. She needed emotional support for the last disastrous relationship, not a commitment to someone new. She thought Guthrie knew that too. He’d been pulling away from her in an attempt to keep things on a more even keel, not having unconsummated sex on the sofa around the fire pit again.
So, this didn’t mean a whole lot of anything. Just an alpha male wanting to get close and personal. Nothing that screamed—I want you for an eternity—as in a wolf mating.
If her experience with Baird had taught her one thing, it was that a male wolf would do anything to mate, and she wanted to make sure she was settling down with the right one this time. She-wolves who were born to lupus garous were fewer in number, so she had to remind herself that she was a precious commodity. She laughed at herself over that.
She’d never been popular among humans when she was younger. It had something to do with growling at them when they angered her, or wanting to bite one guy who had started seeing someone behind her back. That was one good thing about being a wolf—she had smelled the other woman on him. Biting him had not been an option. No way had she wanted to turn the jerk and have him as her responsibility.
She hadn’t been around her wolf kind all that much. The few she had known were either mated, just friends, or hadn’t appealed in the least.
So she was going to just enjoy this with Guthrie—the way he held her close, moving to the music nice and easy, their bodies melded together—as a fun way to get back into the swing of dating.
He kissed the top of her head, and she felt the pang of wanting something further and tried to ignore it. Just this, nothing more. Not kissing again, tasting his sugary tongue and hot, sexy mouth like when they’d kissed beneath the toppled Christmas tree. Not breathing in that musky scent that said he wanted to go beyond where they should go. That feeling was only natural—given the way they were holding each other close and rubbing their bodies together. She attempted to ignore the feel of his growing arousal pressed against her.
She shouldn’t have looked up at him to see if he wanted more.
He wore the most devilish smirk as he looked down at her—as if saying he knew she wanted to go further. That she couldn’t hold out forever.
She smiled a little at him, giving him the go-ahead. Just plain sexy fun, she thought. And he leaned down to kiss her. His lips didn’t start with anything soft—just like he hadn’t started the dance by keeping a distance between them and then slowly moving in closer to her. He seemed hungry for the kiss, like he was starved for affection. She shouldn’t have, but she soaked in the heat and hotness of his kiss, growling a little with satisfaction.
When he heard her growl softly, he didn’t smile, but plunged his tongue into her mouth, as if her need screamed to be met and he had to satisfy his own rampant urges.
His tongue stroking hers garnered nearly all of her attention, except for the way he rubbed against her, his soft leather kilt unable to hide the swell of his erection as he slid it against her velvet-covered belly. Her nipples were already hard with the way she was pressed against his firm chest. Her insides seemed to liquefy—melting to his practiced touch.
After seeing all the women in costumes that barely covered their knickers, she had wondered if she should have worn less, rather than more. But Guthrie seemed to love having all her velvety softness in his grasp, and she loved feeling hot and sexy in his arms. She didn’t need to dress scantily to entice the wolf.
His clean, male, musky wolf scent intoxicated her. His large hands stroked her velvet-covered buttocks as if he couldn’t get enough of touching her…or the gown. So wrapped up in him, she no longer heard the music playing—or if the waltz had ended and changed to something else. Or saw if anyone else was in the great hall. Or smelled anyone nearby. Guthrie filled all her senses.
His tongue licked the seam of her mouth again, seeking entrance. And she let him in again, knowing they should stop this public display of affection in case anyone was watching, but she didn’t want to. His tongue stroked the inside of her mouth and her tongue—powerful, overwhelming, eager. She was so wet. So ready for him, if they had intended to take it that far.
At that point, she wanted to go home with him. What had happened to keeping this light and amicable and not so hot and heavy?
She pulled away from him to catch her breath, her heartbeat drumming hard, her breathing labored. Okay, so Baird had never made her nearly come with his kisses, but she thought it prudent to put some space between herself and Guthrie, to get to know some other wolves…first. Before she got too involved and said I will again. It wasn’t that Guthrie wasn’t right for her—as far as she knew—but that she’d made such a mistake with Baird, thinking the same thing.
Besides, she knew she was vulnerable, a natural aspect of loving someone and having to end the relationship. With Baird continuing to harass her, she couldn’t completely let go of that situation, either.
“Are you all right?” Guthrie asked, and she realized, damn it, that her eyes were filled with tears.
See? Calla chastised herself. This was the problem. She had loved Baird, even now that she knew he probably hadn’t loved her. But she couldn’t help feeling the aftereffects of the disastrous end to an almost marriage and mating.
“Aye, aye.”
“Did you want to get something to drink?”
“You’re not trying to get out of dancing, are you?” she asked with a smile.
“Not on your life.”
She sighed and snuggled close as he continued to dance with her. The problem with seeing other male wolves was if the wolf became thoroughly interested in the she-wolf, he wouldn’t want her to see anyone else. Even if she wasn’t certain the match was a good one.
Then she would be right back to being with another wolf like Baird.
“I’m a little bit…” She began to say “needy,” but she didn’t want to ruin the moment. “Well…” What then? “I hate to say…” That she was confused? That she needed more time? What if she did
n’t? What if Guthrie was just the kind of wolf she needed in her life?
Oh, hell, her parents would have fits. Not that they didn’t like the MacNeill family, but she could see them both shaking their heads at her, telling her it was too soon. To wait. To date a bunch of male wolves until she found the right one. If Guthrie turned out to be the right one, he’d wait for her to make up her mind, wouldn’t he? But every time she was with him, she didn’t want to wait. Oh, damn it all.
He cast her an elusive smile as if he could tell he was turning her thoughts inside out. That she was already hung up on him, a great deal.
“We’ll just dance,” she said, determined that was all there would be between them. For now.
“All right by me,” he whispered against her cheek.
Wondering if she might dance with someone else, she looked around at the other dancers. She had no plans to date any more humans. She wanted a mate. Sighing, she couldn’t tell which of the males were wolves unless she went up and smelled them or asked. Some of them looked halfway interesting, like the vampire across the room who bowed his head slightly to her, or the guy in the three-cornered hat with the plumed feather poking out of it, looking like he was one of the Three Musketeers. He winked at her.
She suddenly felt self-conscious. Did they think she was easy because of the way she’d been dancing with Guthrie? Kissing him? Looking as though they needed to get a room?
“You wanted a dance partner who was willing to dance with you all night long,” Guthrie whispered into her ear as if he was speaking seductively to her, almost like he was telling the other men she’d chanced to look at that she was taken. “One dance partner,” he said.
She smiled up at him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Don’t you think I should dance with others a little? What if there is a she-wolf here that could prove intriguing to you?”
She was serious. Even though she didn’t want to give this up, she didn’t want to spoil Guthrie’s chance to have fun if he saw a woman he’d like to dance with. Even someone like Ivy with her short skirt and swinging wolf’s tail. What if Calla was only filling some craving for him too?
