by Terry Spear
“Oh, aye, I’m just cold, waiting for my clothes. Can’t dry my hair. And it’s freezing up here.”
“I’ll start a fire.”
“Nay, go ahead and get a shower and dress, and we’ll go downstairs and join the others.”
“All right.” He had to get out of these wet clothes. He planned to talk to her as soon as he washed up and dressed. In the middle of the shower, the water turned cold. And he jumped out of it. Bloody hell. He was already freezing.
He grabbed a towel, figuring that Duncan had used up the last of the hot water. Calla had placed some clothes for him to wear on the bed and had left.
He hoped the hot chili and the fire would warm him up, but he knew just what else would as soon as he and Calla went back to bed.
***
The chili was hot, and the fire nice and warm as Calla snuggled next to Guthrie on the love seat and the others sat on various couches and chairs around the fire. The guys were talking about how to get back to Argent Castle with only one vehicle, while Guthrie sat quietly with Calla, not saying a thing. Watching her, looking concerned. She was afraid she’d ruined Julia’s Christmas Eve party by having come here to get her things. Why hadn’t she waited until the weather was better? Why not after the party?
She stared into the fire. Why had she ever gone out with Baird? What a mess that had all turned out to be. She hated to see it end this way, but she knew after he struck her the second time and took her hostage that he was never going to stop coming after her. She would have feared for her safety and Guthrie’s, always looking over her shoulder.
She thought for sure Guthrie had killed Baird, but then to learn he was still alive? And still a potential menace? What of the others? Had Vardon and his brother and cousin perished? Would the others in the pack come after them? She couldn’t quit worrying about how this whole situation could escalate.
Cearnach got on the phone and called Ian to ask him how he wanted to handle the car situation to get them home.
Heather began grabbing empty bowls to wash.
“Might as well just leave them to soak,” Calla said, joining her. “We won’t be able to wash them really well until the electricity comes back on.”
“No hot water,” Heather said, her hand under the cold water running out of the spout.
“I used up what was left of it,” Guthrie said, joining them. “I’m on guard duty upstairs. Ready for bed, Calla?”
After all they’d been through, aye, Calla was ready.
“Not fair that you two are automatic electric blankets for each other,” Heather teased.
Guthrie smiled a little, then took Calla’s hand. She loved the strength and gentleness of his touch. “’Night,” she said to Heather, giving her a brief hug with her free arm. “See you in the morning.”
“Aye. Try to get your sleep, you two.”
Guthrie hurried Calla through the house to the stairs. “Seems we were doing the same thing only this morning, except coming down the stairs at Argent Castle,” Calla said.
“Aye, lass. Are you truly feeling all right? You seemed so quiet while we were eating.”
“You too,” she said.
“I was worried about you.” He took her into her bedroom and shut the door.
They quickly dispensed of their clothes and climbed into bed, then snuggled together. “I was just anxious about the Christmas party Julia and I had planned for the pack.”
“Ah, lass. We can have it any day and everyone will be happy to do so. It matters not which day it is. All that’s important is that no one was injured.” He kissed her temple right below where she was sporting a new bruise. “Except for that.”
“It just looks awful, but it doesn’t feel bad now.”
He rubbed her arm and said, “You weren’t too upset with me for wanting you to stay behind when I went after Baird, were you?”
She sighed. “You can’t know how angry I was that he’d first take me hostage and then leave me to suffer the crash he got me into. I didn’t want to see him killed, but I wanted to show you that I was there—for you. No one else.”
“Because of your injury, I was certain you’d be better off staying safely in the car. I never thought Vardon and that bunch would be so close by,” Guthrie said, kissing her cheek.
“I thought you had the better idea when I was having so much trouble getting to the road and my head was pounding so much.”
“While I went after Baird, all I was contemplating was that I could lose you and we hadn’t even had a chance to really be together.”
“I was thinking the same thing. That I had wasted a year with Baird, caused all this trouble for your clan, my parents, and myself, and here I could have been like this with you instead.” She inserted her leg between his and snuggled closer, her head against his chest. His hands swept down her back and cupped her buttocks.
“Hell, yeah, lass. I was pondering the same thing. I probably shaved a few years off my brothers’ lives as I took a few of those icy curves a little too fast.”
“Oh, God, nay. I couldn’t have lost you too.”
He kissed her slowly, not wildly, impatiently, but more to give her tender loving care after her ordeal. She loved him for it. She never thought of herself as a wilting flower, but after the horrible experience with the car accident, worry that she would never see Guthrie again, the fight, and the fear that Baird’s kin would cause them more trouble, she so appreciated Guthrie’s gentleness.
And yet as they kissed slowly, their tongues dancing, the friction between their bodies making her hot and hungry for his penetration, she began to slide fiercer and faster against his throbbing erection, stroking her fingers through his hair, wanting more, quicker, deeper, harder.
He was of a like mind. Thank the heavens. She loved how he would do anything to please her. He groaned with need and separated her legs so she was straddling him, her breasts brushing against his lightly haired chest, her nipples so sensitive. She was soon wet for him, her own woman’s core throbbing with the need to have him inside her, thrusting, claiming her as she claimed him.
He moved his arm between them and began to stroke her fast and hard. She was ready to scream out with pleasure, getting on her knees, barely able to breathe because she was so hot, her legs spread to him.
So much for slow as he plunged two fingers into her and she came down on them, all her composure splintering into a million fragments of bliss. Before she could collapse on top of him, he was holding her hips, centering her, and plunging his cock deep inside her.
Riding him was just as pleasurable as his hands cupped her breasts and he massaged them while her inner muscles tightened her hold on him. Like her, he couldn’t last, as if all the pent-up anxiety they’d felt earlier in the day was released. After several hard thrusts, he filled her womb with his heat.
Then she was able to collapse. But they didn’t separate and she loved the way they were joined, feeling his heat and love surround her as he pulled the covers over them. This wouldn’t be the last time they’d make love tonight, proving to the world and themselves that they were mated wolves and no one could tear them apart.
***
Guthrie’s arms were wrapped around Calla after another bout of lovemaking. She’d fallen asleep again, her head nestled against his chest, her leg in between his. She felt right there, like she had always belonged.
Then he heard a noise that brought him to instant alertness. He listened, trying to discern the sound he’d heard. He didn’t know who was serving on guard duty at this time of night, and though he hadn’t mentioned it, he really didn’t like being here at the manor house with Calla until the issue with Baird’s pack had been resolved. The Stewart’s manor house just wasn’t half as secure as the castle with its fortified walls.
Seven hours had passed since the incident on the cliffs. Time enough for Skinny to get some of the McKinley pack together and come to mete out justice if they could make it on the icy roads. Unless they arrived as wolves, their nonslip
paw pads having a better chance at maneuvering over the ice.
Guthrie slipped out from under Calla and pulled the covers back over her. He threw on a pair of boxers, intending to strip them off and shift if there was trouble. He padded down the hallway, listening for the sound he’d heard. He wasn’t sure what it was, having been half asleep at the time. He made his way quietly down the stairs, until one of the steps squeaked.
Downstairs, Duncan was sleeping on the sofa in the living room by the fire in his wolf coat. Cearnach heard the stairs creak underneath Guthrie’s footsteps and came out of the kitchen to investigate.
Cearnach didn’t speak to him, but motioned to the front of the house. He’d heard something too. Guthrie touched Duncan’s shoulder, and his eyes shot open as he shifted, threw on a pair of boxers, and grabbed a sword. It wasn’t his, so Guthrie assumed it was one of Calla’s dad’s.
Guthrie held his finger to his lips, and Duncan nodded and rose from the couch.
The stairs creaked and they all turned to look as Calla headed down in her wolf form.
Guthrie motioned for Calla to stay with Cearnach and Duncan. He had to wake everyone else so they’d be ready, false alarm or not.
As soon as he climbed the steps, Guthrie knew Calla was following him. He wondered if she thought to guard him.
He was about to open the guest room where Heather was sleeping, when Calla ran for the room at the end of the hall, her parents’ bedroom, and growled softly.
Bloody hell. Guthrie jerked open the door to Heather’s guest room, saw Ethan sleeping in the chair across the room, and whispered, “Ethan, trouble.”
Ethan shot out of his chair and began to toss off his clothes. Guthrie hurried down the hall, smelling where Jasper had gone, but the door was already open, and Jasper was in his wolf form.
Jasper and Ethan joined Calla at the door, though Ethan, being the fatherly sort, nudged at her to leave. Guthrie wished he could be in his wolf form also, if wolves were in the room, but someone had to open the damn door.
He twisted the knob quickly, knowing that doing so slowly wouldn’t make any difference. All of them could hear the doorknob turning. He threw the door aside, and the growling that came from within warned him that there were three wolves in the room.
And Guthrie wasn’t suited up for battle.
Calla was having fits. She recognized the men in the room at once. That damned Vardon had survived the crash and no doubt was the instigator in coming here to fight Guthrie and the others. The younger brother, Oliver, was also here. And so was Robert Kilpatrick. She half expected Baird to be running the show, but he wasn’t there.
Immediately, Vardon went after Ethan, and Calla stood her ground, despite Ethan trying to force her away. She wasn’t buying his protectiveness. Until Guthrie had time to shift, she was helping the other men.
Jasper was fighting Robert, and Oliver couldn’t get beyond them because they were battling it out in the doorway, the MacNeills on this side in the hallway and the McKinleys still in the bedroom.
Then Guthrie raced past her, barking at her to get back, which she did, only to give them room. She wasn’t hiding in a room somewhere. Guthrie took on Vardon, the biggest of the three McKinley wolves. Cearnach ran into the fray—taking on Robert. Jasper and Ethan fought Oliver. They were older wolves—more experienced in fighting. Still, Oliver had youth on his side and was able to get away from their snapping jaws more quickly.
Calla worried then about Duncan being alone downstairs, but she assumed he was guarding down there in case this was a ruse so others could come in a different way and flank them. Sure enough, she heard a window breaking on the back door. She didn’t know how many wolves would come in, so she scooted down the stairs to help Duncan.
“Lass, nay,” Duncan shouted, but this was her fight too.
If she hadn’t gotten involved with Baird in the first place, none of this would be happening now.
She raced across the stone tile floor in the kitchen and saw Baird in his wolf form. From the way Baird moved, he appeared to be in a lot of pain, but he didn’t hesitate to come after her.
She growled her fiercest growl and leaped at him. She figured Duncan would take over any minute, as soon as he could strip out of his clothes and shift into the wolf. But she had to take the initiative before Baird hurt her—again. Only fatally this time.
She lunged at Baird’s neck, and he yipped and fell away. He wanted to kill her. She could see it in his narrowed eyes, his lips drawn back in an angry snarl, and the low way he snarled at her right before he lunged at her.
But he couldn’t rise up on his hind legs to force her down. Most likely due to his injuries. The enamel of their wicked canines clashed and she tasted her blood, damn it, right before another wolf sailed past her.
Guthrie. Where the hell was Duncan?
Calla stepped back, ready to spring if Guthrie needed her, but as viciously as he tore into her tormentor, she knew Guthrie wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.
Over the sound of their growling and snarling, she listened for any sign of trouble anywhere else in the house. The fight upstairs sounded like it was over, and then Cearnach was beside her, checking her over.
Then Baird collapsed on her parents’ kitchen floor, and they all waited for him to shift back to his human form. Duncan had shifted and dressed and gone outside. She was about to go with him to protect him, but Cearnach barked at her to stay back. She barked right back at him. Damn it. She could help Duncan if he needed her.
She saw Heather coming down the stairs as a wolf, and Calla wondered where she’d been all this time.
Ethan hurried outside. Fine. Guthrie was still checking out Baird to make sure he really was dead this time, so she ran up the stairs to ensure that the other wolves were no longer any trouble.
She found Vardon, Robert, and Oliver’s bodies, now in human form. Then she heard a car door slam and padded over to peer out the window. Skinny. He talked to Duncan for a moment. Another man was sitting in the front seat of the vehicle, but he didn’t make any move to get out. Then Duncan raised his voice and motioned to the house. Skinny shook his head, got back into the car, then drove off.
She frowned. What? The McKinley pack couldn’t have left the bodies for the MacNeills to deal with. She hated that it had come to this, that Baird and his kin couldn’t have left well enough alone. She felt bad about it, but she knew they had made the choices that sealed their fates.
“What happened to you?” Calla asked Heather once they had shifted and were dressed.
“I would have helped, but there wasn’t any room to maneuver in the hallway where they were all fighting.”
Calla was glad Heather hadn’t been involved in the battle between wolves.
And in the middle of the pitch-black night, the MacNeill men were all out digging graves for the four dead men, their own pack having washed their hands of them.
***
Exhausted, they finally managed to return to Argent Castle the next day in a cavalcade of cars, just in case the MacNeill wolves had any more trouble. When they arrived home, everyone there kissed and hugged the returning pack members.
Julia took Calla aside. “We can delay the Christmas Eve party and make it a Hogmanay celebration if you’re too worn out.”
Calla was tired, but not that exhausted. “Nay, I’ve waited so long for this that I can’t wait any longer. Are we ready?” She wanted to celebrate the holidays, anything to get her mind off what had happened.
“Everyone was concerned about your return, but yes, we’re ready.”
Calla had noted that Oran and Ethan did not return with the rest of them. Before she could ask about them, Julia was hurrying to show her the various activities they had going on. Games were in progress for the little ones—puzzles and board games and treats—while the adults had returned to playing charades and other games once they learned everyone was safe.
Later, they feasted on bread and butter and smoked salmon and Scotch pie. The Te
xas triplet brothers and Shelley had slaved over making tamales, a Texas Christmas tradition.
When Calla heard Oran’s voice, she looked in the direction of the entrance to the great hall and could hardly believe her eyes. Her mother and father smiled at her as Ethan took their coats and handed them to another pack member. Calla rushed to greet them, tears in her eyes.
“You came home,” she said, hugging her mother and thrilled to see them.
“Aye, we couldn’t miss the first Christmas Eve party you’ve ever set up, and we’ve been invited for Christmas. How could we resist?” her mother said, hugging her back. “Your father and I are so proud of you.”
Then her parents joined them for the meal.
In Scotland, Christmas wasn’t celebrated as much as New Year’s, but with all the Americans now living with the pack, things were changing, and the pack was happy to enjoy all the fun.
In a Scottish tradition, kids gathered around the fire and tossed their lists to Santa into the flames. Smoke curled up from the burning paper and carried their messages to Lapland where Santa lived.
A Yule log cut in the summer from a rowan tree had been dried and saved and was now brought into the kitchen, where pack members toasted to it while circling it three times. Then it was taken to the main fireplace in the great hall to burn.
Fires in all the fireplaces would remain lit all night long, as it was the tradition to scare away evil spirits to keep them from coming into the house—or in this case, the castle—on Christmas Eve.
Later that night, while Julia showed Calla’s parents to their guest chamber—actually, Calla’s but she’d promptly moved into Guthrie’s—Calla and Guthrie went out to the garden room, where she was expecting the party to continue for another hour or so.
Instead, they found chestnuts roasting on the fire and mulled wine waiting for them, Christmas music softly playing in the background and cinnamon candles lit, the only other illumination besides the fire in the fire pit. It was a lovely, intimate time for them to share after the big party.
She noticed then that her Christmas stocking and his were hanging off the coat stand and she smiled. “Who planned this?”
