A Highland Wolf Christmas

  “Besides,” Guthrie said, ignoring her comment, “I have work to catch up on, and I believe Ian has selected other men to watch out for you tomorrow.”

  She felt her face flush again. She shouldn’t have assumed Guthrie would accompany her, though ever since she’d finished handling the wedding arrangements at the MacQuarries’ castle, Guthrie had been on the list of ten men to watch over her when she was beyond the castle walls. She thought it had been Guthrie’s choice, but now she realized Ian had made the selections. She should have known. So why was she feeling a wee bit…disappointed?

  She sighed, realizing once again that Guthrie had distracted her when she was supposed to be working with Julia on the Christmas celebration.

  “I imagine it’s about time for you to leave,” Julia said, patting Calla’s hand as if sympathizing with her.

  Calla smiled at her. “Aye, we will get together on this again as soon as we can. I have all kinds of lovely ideas for games and the like.” She glanced at Guthrie. “None require swordplay.”

  Guthrie shook his head. “Where’s the fun in that?”

  ***

  Guthrie assumed the Rankin reunion would be no big deal as long as none of the McKinleys showed up. “Lass, you have nothing to worry about,” Guthrie assured her as he drove Calla to the Rankin manor house.

  Ethan and Jasper were sitting in the backseat, both in full MacNeill dress. Calla was wearing a red sweaterdress that made her look soft and huggable, and showed off all her curves. Guthrie shouldn’t have cared what she wore, but Ethan had winked at him when he caught Guthrie staring a little too hard, and he’d finally snapped his gaping mouth shut. Even now, her green eyes glinted with menace. Why hadn’t he ever noticed how sexy she looked?

  He’d always had an interest in her. But after she’d saved Cearnach’s life in the river when they were lads, she and her family had moved away. As a grown woman, she’d moved back and gotten involved with Baird. Though she’d also renewed her friendship with Cearnach, and everyone was certain Cearnach meant to mate her. Guthrie and his brothers had allowed them to work on their friendship, even though Cearnach had teased her often enough when she was a young lass.

  Then Cearnach had taken Elaine as his mate, and Calla had canceled her wedding with Baird McKinley and moved in temporarily with the MacNeills.

  Now Guthrie was running into her all the time—meeting on the narrow, winding stairs leading to the bedchambers, bumping into her in the kitchen or dining room, or passing in the gardens. And her cheeks continually flamed every time he ran across her and caught her eye. He didn’t recall ever seeing her blush so much. Certainly never around Cearnach. He’d been like a brother to her, Guthrie realized.

  “You know this is my livelihood. If things don’t go well, who do you think will get the blame? Not you and your kin, but me, because I brought you with me,” she said like a pissed-off she-wolf, pulling him out of his thoughts.

  He smiled. “We’ll be fine,” he said again, sure of it. What could go wrong? The Rankins and their friends would be busy celebrating, and no one would even notice the Highland wolves serving guard duty on the grounds. “We’re only there to protect you if Baird or his men try anything. We have no quarrel with the Rankins.”

  Which wasn’t quite true. The eldest son, Kevin Rankin, had harassed one of their cousins, Heather, at a Celtic festival, and Guthrie and Kevin would have come to blows if Ian hadn’t stepped in to stop the fight. Guthrie reminded himself that Kevin was on a cruise and not attending this affair, so Calla should be fine.

  He glanced at her sweaterdress, visible with her coat slung over the seat.

  He smiled at some of his early memories of her—some of her funny antics as a young lass, like getting a dunking when she caught a trout that was nearly half her size, or playing at sword fighting with one of their wooden practice swords and getting Cearnach in the crotch. That had Cearnach gasping for breath, his brothers laughing, and Calla looking like she would die of mortification. “You have nothing to be worried about,” Guthrie said again.

  “I still think you should have worn normal clothes. You know, since you’re trying not to attract attention.”

  “We could have worn trousers, aye. But this is a clan affair, and our kin always show up at clan gatherings wearing our clan sett with pride. If Ian had pulled the duty himself, he would have done the same thing.”

  She snorted, and he smiled. “Don’t worry. Ethan, Jasper, and I will behave ourselves with the utmost decorum.”

  Chapter 5

  At least, Guthrie hoped everything would be all right at the Rankin reunion as he drove up to the front door of the five-story, Georgian-style, white-stone manor house. Like some country manor houses built in the late medieval period for gentry families, this one was more for show than defense.

  Vehicles were unloading partygoers at the manor house, and then valets were driving them to a gravel car park off to the side of the house.

  Trees surrounded the home in a countrified setting, the ones nearest the house sparkling with blue lights. Had that been Calla’s idea? At least she hadn’t suggested they add Christmas lights to Argent Castle, the plantings, or outer buildings…yet. He could just imagine the extra cost in electricity.

  A redheaded man wearing a Prince Charlie jacket and a green-and-blue plaid kilt hurried down the steps, opened the door to the car, and took Calla’s hand and kissed it as he helped her out.

  Bloody hell. What was Kevin Rankin doing here?

  Instantly, Guthrie’s wolf half went on offense. He quickly left the car, and Jasper got out and took over the driver’s seat, dismissing the man who was going to park the car.

  Calla was supposed to be working here, not garnering kisses from the son of the man who owned the manor house. Kevin was a rich playboy who thought he was a real ladies’ man. From what Calla had told Cearnach, Kevin Rankin treated all women as though they had the hots for him, Calla included. She’d planned this event months ago, so Guthrie hadn’t known the man had bothered her initially. If Guthrie had known that, he would have had words with Kevin.

  Ethan got out of the vehicle and joined Guthrie, while Jasper drove off to park the car. The business of protecting Calla from Baird and his clansmen swiftly shifted to protecting her from Kevin Rankin. Now Guthrie had no intention of standing outside when she might very well need his help inside the house.

  Three hulking Rankin bruisers, cousins of Kevin, stared hard at Guthrie and his stepfather, arms folded. They stood on the stairs leading to the entrance of the manor, all wearing the same clan attire. But not wearing swords like Guthrie and his kin. Just the typical sgian dubh tucked into their socks.

  “We are here to—” Before Guthrie could say “protect the lady,” Calla cut him off with a glower.

  “They planned to stay out here. They’re my ride. The manor house is too far out in the country for them to go anywhere and return to pick me up on time.” She patted Guthrie on the chest as if to appease him, but it made him feel like he was her dog. Like she was patting him on the head before she left him so he could happily wander around in the yard.

  “I could take you home after this, if you even wanted to go home afterward,” Kevin said to Calla, casting an evil smirk at Guthrie.

  Guthrie responded with a low growl.

  With his human hearing, Kevin didn’t catch it, but Ethan and Calla did. Ethan smiled at Guthrie, but Calla shot Guthrie another warning look before she quickly took Kevin’s arm.

  “Thanks, but I promised to visit with Guthrie’s sister-in-law after this affair, concerning Christmas party arrangements I’m working on for their family. Busy season, you know. So Guthrie and his family will drive me home.”

  Before Guthrie could object to her going inside without him, she hurried into the manor to do her work. Not that the three men standing in his path would have let him or Ethan get by them. Guthrie scowled at her disappearing backside.

  One of the Rankin “bouncers” said, “We don’t know why
you think she needs looking after, but we’ll make sure she has a good time.”

  Guthrie didn’t like the way the man said it.

  Ethan touched Guthrie’s arm as if to say that the man wasn’t worth fighting. Jasper joined them, and with another scowl in the Rankin men’s direction, Guthrie conceded and led his guard detail into the trees surrounding the property. From there, they’d have a perfect view of the driveway and front entryway to watch for any signs of Baird McKinley.

  Lights were on in every room in the five-story manor house, and more outside lights cast a soft yellow glow along the driveway and over a carriage house several hundred feet away. Christmas decorations were limited to the blue lights twinkling on a half-dozen fir trees out front.

  The light snow continued to drift from the clouds above, collecting on top of the piled-up snow from the recent blizzard.

  Ethan and Jasper were standing farther away, watching the comings and goings. The two men were triplets, like many siblings born to lupus garou families. They were dark haired with graying temples, and both were in good shape after having worked with cattle in Texas for years before joining the MacNeill pack. They’d exchanged managing longhorn steer for Highland cattle and worked hard to prove their worth to the pack.

  Surprising everyone, Lady Mae most, Ethan had proposed marriage to her. And blushing, she’d accepted. Now Jasper was courting Guthrie’s Aunt Agnes. Though Jasper and Agnes were less vocal in their relationship and a lot more into denial that they were courting each other. Guthrie had seen the way Jasper raced to help Aunt Agnes, whether she needed assistance or not, and how she blushed and looked to see if anyone had noticed. Which in a wolf pack usually meant someone had. When he got caught at it, Jasper swore that he was just being Texas neighborly. Nobody believed it for a moment—not when the neighborly part seemed to always be directed at Agnes.

  The only thing that the men had had to get used to when they moved to Argent Castle was swordsmanship practice. Not something they’d done much for centuries while living in Texas. Shooting was more their style. But the brothers had been eager to fit in with the family, and Guthrie was glad to have them here with him tonight.

  The talking and laughing grew louder as the drinking got under way inside the manor house, the music becoming just as loud. Guthrie folded his arms, preferring the solitude of the quiet outside—a wolf’s choice of setting. The chilled breeze whipped his kilt about, and his senses were on high alert as he smelled the air currents and checked with his wolf’s vision for any movement in the dark.

  All that moved were fir branches waving in the breeze. The grass was still covered with several inches of snow, and the sky at gloaming was a cloudy gray. It was cold, the temperature just at freezing, but he didn’t expect any major changes in the weather.

  Ethan glanced back at the manor house. “A couple of men are looking out the window at us.”

  “Aye. Just ignore them and watch for any signs of Baird and his men. We don’t want to quarrel with the Rankins,” Guthrie said. As much as he despised having Calla in the house with Kevin, Guthrie had to trust that she could deal with Kevin on her own for now. Especially since she had made it clear that she didn’t want Guthrie’s assistance.

  “That’s why we wore the MacNeill tartan, aye?” Ethan said, sounding amused.

  Guthrie shook his head. “If we go to a formal gathering where others are wearing their kin’s sett, we do also.”

  “Aye,” Jasper said with a twinkle in his eye. “When we’re invited to the shindig.”

  Guthrie wasn’t about to admit Jasper was right.

  “We might not want a fight, but the vultures are gathering and I warrant they’ll be out here picking a battle with us before we know it,” Ethan warned, again glancing at the manor house.

  Snow continued to fall in soft, fat flakes as Guthrie watched for any movement in the trees surrounding the ten-acre parklike setting. He and his companions would see movement in the semi-dark if anyone suddenly appeared. But it was quiet. He wondered if Baird had finally given up chasing after Calla constantly.

  “Do you think Baird knows the lass’s schedule?” Ethan asked, as if reading Guthrie’s mind.

  “Aye, I’ve told Ian that she shouldn’t mention that she’s in charge of these affairs, which are being announced all over the place. She insists it’s the only way she can adequately advertise her business.” Guthrie stretched a little to warm up his muscles.

  Ethan shook his head.

  Behind them, Guthrie heard movement on the steps of the manor house. Three sets of footsteps. He glanced over his shoulder. Two were the bouncers from earlier, but the other was Kevin’s younger brother, Ralph Rankin, about twenty-eight or so and a real hothead. Instead of a redhead like his brother, he was a blond. One of the men was nearly black-haired, and the other fairer. All three men were armed with swords now. Being armed and drinking alcohol was not a good combination.

  Guthrie turned his back on the men.

  “Why would you be here wearing the MacNeill tartan?” Ralph called out, slurring his words slightly.

  He was drunk or getting there, Guthrie suspected. He didn’t turn around to acknowledge them further. Ethan and Jasper took Guthrie’s lead and also ignored the men.

  “Drunker than a skunk,” Ethan said under his breath.

  “Hey! I’m talking to you. What business do you have being here? Afraid your girlfriend’s going to have a go with one of us?”

  “Whoreson,” Ethan said this time.

  “He’s not worth it,” Guthrie warned. He didn’t plan to cause any trouble for Calla, despite his wanting to take the men to task. He had every intention of keeping his mouth shut and doing his duty. Which was watching out for Baird and his kin. Not dealing with these rowdy, drunken sots.

  “Hey! You think you’re too good for us?” Ralph continued.

  Guthrie smiled. He knew he was.

  “Turn around when I’m talking to you.”

  Guthrie closed his eyes briefly. He’d tried. But he suspected Ralph wasn’t going to shut up and go away.

  He turned around. “Were you addressing me?”

  Guthrie had thought Kevin would make his appearance. Then again, he probably would rather have his brother and cousins deal with the MacNeills and not get his hands dirty. Had they been discussing Guthrie and his family being here and stewing about it all this time?

  “No need for you and the rest of your friends to be here,” Ralph said, motioning for them to leave like they were annoying bugs. “The lass will be warming my brother’s bed tonight.”

  Guthrie narrowed his eyes. He really had to curb his tongue. Just seeing the way these men were acting, he hated to think that someone inside—like Kevin Rankin—might be harassing Calla.

  “Why don’t you leave? We’ll treat the lass right. We’ll take care of her,” the black-haired man said. One of Ralph’s cousins, but Guthrie didn’t know his name.

  “We’ll wait here for her, if it’s all the same to you,” Guthrie said. He thought he sounded rather diplomatic, when he would have preferred taking a bite out of the man.

  Ralph scowled back at him, probably used to ordering people about and getting his way. “Didn’t you hear what I said? Leave. We’ll take care of the wee lass. No need for you to stay.”

  “Aye, I heard. And we stand firm.” Guthrie stood straighter, taller, the hair on his arms standing on end, like a wolf’s fur would when the wolf was confronted with trouble.

  Ralph stalked toward them, his two companions following him. Guthrie instinctively sized them up as they advanced. The black-haired man was less muscled than Ralph, but the other was much bulkier. And all were human.

  “Maybe I need to make myself clearer,” Ralph said with a drunken swagger.

  Guthrie really didn’t want to get into a fight with this man and ruin Calla’s party. But he never walked away from a battle. Ever. Though he reminded himself the man was inebriated.

  Ralph and the others closed the distance. Wh
en he was well into Guthrie’s personal space, Ralph raised his hand as if to shove Guthrie back. Guthrie quickly knocked Ralph’s arm away—hard. He imagined the man would be sporting a sore or bruised arm by tomorrow.

  Ralph fumbled to draw a sword.

  “Don’t be a fool, Rankin,” Guthrie said. Unless the man was a practiced swordsman, he’d never be a match for a wolf who’d fought in numerous battles early on and had regularly practiced swordsmanship with his kin throughout the years. Both Rankin and his older brother had fought in a mock battle at the last Celtic fest they had attended, so Guthrie knew Ralph could swing a sword, but he hadn’t paid close attention to how well.

  The man gave him a sloppy, evil grin. “Rusty, eh? Just wear a sword for show, but don’t know how to use it? Well, we’ll see who the better man is.”

  Ethan said, “He seems to be itching for a fight. We ought to hog-tie him and take him out back to let him cool his heels a wee bit.”

  Jasper agreed with a nod of his head.

  Though Ethan, Jasper, and their triplet brother, Teague, had been born in Scotland, they’d lived for centuries in Texas, and Guthrie didn’t think he’d ever get used to their sayings.

  Ralph cursed and finally freed his sword. Guthrie hated to unsheathe his, but he couldn’t leave Calla behind and he had to protect himself in case the drunken lout managed to slice at him. He smoothly pulled his sword free of its scabbard.

  The man swung at him. With a strong swing, Guthrie’s blade connected with Ralph’s, hooking it and sending it flying across the cobblestone driveway.

  For a moment, no one moved. The aggressors’ mouths hung open, stunned. Guthrie and his friends waited, anticipating further violence.

  The man turned to his friends. “Make them leave. You’re still armed.”

  The two men drew their swords. Eyeing Guthrie, they didn’t approach.

  “You don’t want to do this,” he warned.

  That seemed to incite the men. One came at him while the other targeted Ethan, who had yet to draw his own sword. Like Guthrie, he’d been avoiding a fight.