“Do you have money? Investments?”
“Sure, I’ve got investments. Just because I spend large amounts of other people’s money doesn’t mean I spend my money like that. I’ve saved up a lot of change. But like I said, it’s not anything Baird and I ever talked about.”
“Having kids?”
She raised a brow. “I assumed he wanted kids. But nay, we never actually talked about it. Still, it’s a natural inclination wolves have.”
“Did you plan to live with him or…”
“We were getting married,” she reminded Guthrie.
“Aye, lass. But were you planning on moving in with him?”
“We hadn’t really agreed on anything.”
Guthrie raised his brows this time.
“We were going on a two-week honeymoon, and then he had to go out of town on business. So I assumed we would stay at either my place or his until we got a place of our own.”
Setting his empty wineglass on the table, Guthrie let out his breath.
“What?” she asked, sounding exasperated with him.
“How could you agree to marry him without nailing down all the details?”
She shrugged. “I assumed we’d figure it out.”
She finished her wine and set her glass on the table. “What about you?”
“What about me? Do I want kids? Aye.”
She smiled.
Seeing her amused expression, he asked, “What’s that look for?”
“You’re good with kids. I can see you helping out at a children’s birthday party.”
“Not dressed as a clown, nay. Otherwise, aye, I could help. As to the finances, if you need help with investment tips, I’m all yours.” He meant for more than just investments. “So, did we cover all the topics?”
“Last night,” she began hesitantly, “you seemed upset, but today…”
“Today, I feel like you do. It’s time to move on. As long as you’re agreeable, lass.”
“But last night…” she said again.
“Julia made me appreciate some things about my past relationship with Tenell. And after I gave it considerable thought, I realized she was right. Once I came to the conclusion that it was truly time for me to move on, I knew I was ready. When I decide something as important as this, I don’t waste time.”
Just then she looked so sweet and kissable that he took her soft sweater-covered shoulders in his hands and began to kiss her cheeks, her eyes, her lips. Even though she had more clothes on than she did last night—jeans, a sweater, and boots, nothing like the slinky toga—she was just as seductively appealing.
He swore he wouldn’t go as far with her tonight. Not when they were in the initial courtship phase, but wolves didn’t usually take months to come to a decision. Aye, they mated for life, but if they really felt the heat between them, the compatibility of likes and dislikes about life in general, the sense of caring, protectiveness, and desire, they didn’t wait a year to mate. That made him think she’d had doubts about Baird all along, even if she’d denied them to herself.
There wasn’t any way that Guthrie could court the lass for a year without taking her for a mate well before that.
This…was exactly what Calla had been looking for in a wolf all her life. The heat, the fervor, the common interests, the need, and the mutual respect they had for each other, a wolf that was as close to being right for her—she thought—as he could be.
“Kids,” she said against his mouth.
He smiled against her lips.
She looked up at him.
“Aye,” he said and plunged his fingers through her hair as he tongued her mouth with hot, passionate enthusiasm—as if he intended to work on having kids with her right that very minute. Which had her smiling, though she had no intention of going that far this soon.
But when he lifted her sweater, pulled down her bra, and began suckling a breast, she was rethinking the waiting scenario.
He moved her onto her back on the sofa, his body between her legs, his mouth still enjoying her breast, his tongue doing wicked things to her nipple. She swept her hands up and under his shirt and sweater, feeling his back muscles exquisitely bunched for her tangible exploration. She loved the way his jeans-covered cock rubbed against her crotch, turning her on, making her wet and ready for him. The delightful smell of his raw, male wolf sex stirred her female scents to mingle with his. When he claimed her mouth in a searing kiss, his green eyes darkened, his posture, expression, and the delightful smell of him telling her that he wanted so much more.
She was burning up for him, wanting him to ease the throbbing between her legs. He moved then and began to unbutton her pants and slide the zipper down. She so wanted to go all the way, but she said, “Just dating, not mating,” reminding him in case the way she was reacting to him, to this, was telling him another story.
“You’re killing me,” he said and pulled off her jeans in a hurry.
She caught the pained smile he gave her. She thought she could make him come at the same time as last time and rubbed his cock through his pants, but then he slid his hand down her panties. When he began stroking her and kissing her, she only managed to slide her hands down the back of his pants and cup his firm buttocks.
His fingers stroked her fervently, dipping into her wet sheath and then circling her nub again. She was powerless to resist him, to resist this deep-seated draw between them. She’d never felt this strong of a pull before. Putting on the brakes was killing her as much as it was him.
He was rubbing himself against her thigh, claiming her with his scent, even if he couldn’t plunge his cock into her and permanently mate with her yet. He kept up the strokes, the pressure, the heat, the urgency, until she was shouting his name in a passionate, totally unguarded way. Which she had never done in her whole life.
She thought to help him come, like they’d done last night, but instead, he stiffly reached for her pants and handed them to her as he leaned down for another, much sweeter kiss.
“What about—” she said, about to ask about his needs.
He only shook his head, his voice husky when he spoke. “When it’s time, lass.”
She frowned a little at him, then pulled on her pants. “When it’s time for…?”
“For us.”
A mating. She sighed. “You aren’t going to make me feel guilty about this, are you?”
He chuckled. “Does that work?”
***
For a whole week, a great flurry of activity descended on the castle and surrounding property as clan members readied Argent Castle and the grounds for the big weekend bazaar, activities, and tour of the keep.
Guthrie continued to court Calla as much as he could, getting together with her to discuss plans, sitting with her at meals, trying to keep their relationship as “sweet” as possible to allow her time to get more used to him. Although being anywhere near her made him think of being with her alone and for a more intimate purpose. But as soon as they were alone, she made excuses not to go as far—kissing, cuddling, and a lot of fondling, and then she’d put on the brakes again.
This had been the longest week of his life. Not because of all the work to get things ready for the celebration, but because of the way he and Calla were left wanting after their intimate exchanges.
Calla called on associates she’d dealt with in her business over the years and was making a lot of progress toward organizing tour groups on short notice. The biggest draw was that the castle had never been open to the public. The only time the clan had allowed humans into the place was during the filming of the American Highland historical movie. Guthrie hadn’t even considered that aspect, but Calla had and was very good at seeing ways to market her expertise.
One of the things she brought up during their meeting was the public interest in a behind-the-scenes look at where the movie had been filmed.
“We could have some of the pack members who played bit parts in the movie reenact a couple of scenes, including the one in the
great hall,” Calla had said when presenting the idea to Ian and Julia.
“As long as they stay well away from the Christmas tree, or there’ll be hell to pay if anyone knocks it over,” Julia warned. That reminded Guthrie of rescuing Calla under it—and the kiss they had shared.
The night he was to escort Calla to the masquerade party, Guthrie dressed in a traditional leather kilt, remembering his promise not to wear his MacNeill plaid. Even though it irked him not to wear his family colors with pride, it was their first real social gathering to attend as a couple. He was really looking forward to it, wanting to show she was with him, as a male wolf would with a she-wolf he was courting, and wanting to get away from the castle for a bit.
The bad part was that Baird and his kin were still a threat. Instead of taking this as a perfectly lovely social event where he and Calla had nothing to do but enjoy themselves, he still had to watch their backs.
Cearnach slapped him on the back and grinned. “You look a wee bit anxious, Brother.”
Guthrie frowned at him, not knowing what he meant.
“She’ll be impressed with your attire for the event. And Duncan, Oran, and I will watch your backs so that you can enjoy yourselves.”
“Aye, thanks,” Guthrie said, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to completely enjoy himself while he was protecting Calla.
Even so, Guthrie couldn’t help really anticipating what she’d wear to this event, after the toga she had sported before. When she arrived in the great hall, she was stunning in her forest green, Elizabethan-inspired velvet gown, perfect for a Christmas masquerade. The cut on the bodice showed the swell of her breasts, the trim waist and full skirt adding to the sexiness of her figure. Most of her hair was secured in an elegant twist on top of her head. Some of her red-gold curls framed her face, making him want to pull out her hairpins and see her hair cascade to her shoulders in soft waves.
The other ladies were all admiring her gown, touching it like he wanted to touch her. She caught his eye, her gaze instantly sweeping over him. That made him stand a little taller, like a wolf who wanted to impress her with his build. What was there about her that made him want to both please and tease her in a fun-loving way?
Her mouth curved up some, and he thought she either approved of his attire or was amused by it. Maybe a little of both.
One of the ladies handed her a red velvet hooded cloak. Little Red Riding Hood. This big, bad wolf in a leather kilt wanted to eat her all up.
He joined her and she ran her hand over the soft leather kilt. Now that made him want to growl with interest. “A leather kilt. No one will recognize you,” she said.
“Do you like it?” he asked, wishing their audience would go away.
She touched his soft cream-colored sweater. “Hmm, aye. We will go together perfectly. No clashing of colors.” Then she handed him a black-feathered mask.
He frowned at it. No way would he wear anything of the sort.
“It’s a masquerade ball. You have to wear it,” she insisted.
“I’ve got it,” Oran said, hurrying into the great hall. “I wore this at a party once. Makes the men stay away from you and your woman, and it intrigues the lassies if they don’t have a man.” He handed Guthrie a black and silver helmet with an ominous-looking vented face guard.
It was a fantasy kind, unlike true Roman, Norman, or Saxon knights’ helmets. Like the large scaled metal on a knight’s arms, the helmet had large scales from the top of the head to the back. He liked it—but he wasn’t wearing it.
“Nay. I need to see you—every bit of you—at all times. Too easy for someone to blindside me,” Guthrie said to Calla.
She shook her head.
“Besides, it looks more like something an armored knight would wear, not a leather-kilted Highlander,” Guthrie said.
“As long as you dance with me all night,” she reminded him.
“It will be my pleasure, lass.” He smiled. He danced as well as any other man who did so in good form, even though dancing all night was not really his thing. Still, he wouldn’t have allowed anyone else to take her. Especially when she’d thrown down the gauntlet to see if he’d bite.
Oran, Duncan, and Cearnach went as her guard detail because if Baird had the nerve to show up, with or without backup, they wanted to ensure he didn’t get anywhere near her. As part of the masquerade, all the men were armed with their sgian dubhs and swords. Oran dressed as a pirate, but he had a black leather mask to cover his eyes. If he weren’t on guard duty, Oran would steal some wench away from an unworthy bloke, Guthrie had no doubt. Duncan and Cearnach wore their MacNeill kilts—the ancient muted variety—so most wouldn’t know they were the MacNeill brothers. There was no talking them into wearing anything else, but he had noticed that Calla didn’t try very hard with them. Like Guthrie, they would not wear masks.
“They’ll insist you wear some kind of masks when we arrive. They will have loaners if you don’t have something else you’d rather wear,” Calla warned them.
“Nay, Guthrie is right. We need to keep our sight, smell, and hearing unhampered,” Cearnach said. He patted his sword. “We’ll go without.”
“The real challenge won’t be us getting into the ball without masks,” Guthrie said, “but getting you into the car with all those skirts.”
His brothers and cousin were laughing hard as Guthrie tried to tuck her all in. He loved the feel of her, all soft and curvy, and her dress was just as soft. He couldn’t wait to hold her close and dance with her.
“I can do it. I can do it,” she said, but he was having way too much fun.
Chapter 13
When Calla and Guthrie and their guard party arrived at the country manor house, which was a couple of hours away, vehicles were already sitting in a gravel car park. The MacNeills had intended to get there early so their guard detail could watch for the new arrivals. Men and women were gathering at the door or leaning off balconies to get a look at the newcomers and their costumes. Many of the women wore lavish gowns, but a few were in other kinds of costumes. Most of the men wore masks and tuxes, so the MacNeill brothers stood out in their kilts, and some of the female guests looked quite intrigued.
Calla groaned. “Here you thought you had to protect me,” she said to the brothers.
Oran said, “Here I thought being a roguish pirate would sweep the ladies off their feet. I should have known better and worn my kilt.”
Even though Oran smiled interestedly at the costumed women, Calla knew he would do his duty and watch out for her. She wished he could just relish the party. Though she had to admit, he looked like he was already having a great time. Cearnach and Duncan were much more circumspect, checking over the crowd, mostly looking at the males and smelling the air like Guthrie was, trying to pick up the scents of the wolves over the humans.
“You know that if there’s even a whiff that Baird and his kin are here…”
“Then we’ll go home at once,” Calla said. “You already warned me. But we just got here. Let’s enjoy ourselves for the time being. All right?”
She would kill Baird and his kin herself if they ruined this evening for her. And she wasn’t normally a violent person. Though she did have her moments.
Everything looked so spectacular—the lighting outside and the white lights on several of the trees. The Hightowers even had mistletoe hanging over the front doorstep. One lady was eagerly waiting to “greet” someone who stepped under it with her. She was dressed in a vampire costume, the black collar stiffened, the skirt high on the thigh, with a fringe of red lacy underskirt peeking around the edge. Her black hair was piled up on her head with a red rose poking out of the curls. A black velvet choker sported red jewels dangling from the necklace as if they were drops of blood.
“I’ll take care of her,” Oran offered, as if he had to protect them from the fangs of a vampire.
Oran took hold of the woman’s shoulders and kissed her, deftly moving her aside as he did it so Guthrie was able to escort Calla inside.
Calla laughed at Oran.
The foyer was decorated in antiques and Santas in leather, iron, cloth, wood, porcelain, and just about every other material. A butler hurried to take Calla’s red cloak as a woman about Calla’s age, who was dressed in a sexy werewolf costume—gray fur ears, furry wristbands, and short miniskirt with a gray bushy tail—greeted them. She was a wolf! When she smelled that Calla was one too, she smiled brightly at her.
“Come right this way,” she said. “I’m Ivy, daughter of Northrop and Adeline Hightower.” Before Calla could introduce herself and her escort, Ivy said, “And you must be Calla, the party planner extraordinaire.” Calla hadn’t met Ivy before, but she’d planned a party for the Hightowers a year ago, which was why Calla had been invited to this affair. They’d told her they would have had her plan this one too, but it had been in the making for two years with a different party planner that they hadn’t been happy with.
“I’ve heard through the grapevine”—Ivy glanced at Guthrie—“that one hot guy escorted you to the toga party. And got an eyeful of Rosalind doing her usual thing.”
“You know Rosalind?” Calla might have been surprised, but she often got referrals from one party and ended up meeting many of the same people at new parties.
“Sure. These parties are often for all of the same people. I couldn’t go to the toga party because I was trying to get ready for this one. I wished I’d seen it, though. The Rankins’ parties are always mixed…”—Ivy lowered her voice—“mixed wolf-human affairs. Not that Rosalind and her brother realize it. Rosalind told me she met some guy Calla was dating. And you must be him.”
“Aye, one and the same.” Guthrie bowed his head a little in acknowledgment to Ivy.
“You know, everyone’s supposed to be wearing masks,” Ivy said, but since she wasn’t wearing one either, Guthrie figured she’d let it slide. Ivy turned back to Calla. “You were coming with a fiancé, last I’d heard.”
Immediately, Guthrie stiffened beside Calla.
Calla wanted to squeeze his arm to tell him she was all right with talking about it. “Aye, change of plans.”