by Terry Spear
“Yet he thought you might be.”
Duncan didn’t say anything. His brother truly couldn’t believe that. Duncan had every intention of checking out Silverman’s house, which he would do after Shelley went to bed tonight. Getting their money back was just too important a mission. “And you? Was it your girlfriend who called?”
“Oh, yes. She gave me some… news about the problem with the grant.”
She seemed reluctant to tell him what was going on with the missing funds.
“Aye?”
“Someone stole them.”
He snorted. “Seems to be a widespread rash of thievery going on.”
“Salisbury Silverman.”
Duncan frowned at her.
“That’s what my girlfriend told me the paper said.”
“Bastard.”
“Yeah. So I’m willing to help you get your money back—and mine, too.”
Duncan shook his head. “No deal. I’ll get your money back. But I don’t want you getting involved in this.”
She looked out to sea.
“Shelley?”
“All right. Just remember I offered if you need any help.”
He wouldn’t need help. Not from a lovely she-wolf who could get hurt in the process.
Shelley switched topics. “I told Wendy I already had a roommate.”
Either her friend would think the situation would work out well, or she’d warn Shelley away from him. “Ah. What advice did she give you?”
A bigger wave nearly toppled Shelley, and Duncan pulled her into his arms, anchoring her silky body against his. God, he was already fully aroused, and having the nearly naked woman in his arms made it worse. On the other hand, he was grateful for the wave that had brought the mermaid to him so fortuitously.
Shelley cleared her throat. “I didn’t give her a whole lot of time to offer advice. But she heard your Scottish accent and deep, sexy voice so I’m sure she’ll be all questions tomorrow.”
“Sexy, eh?”
She blushed a little.
He suspected Shelley hadn’t told her friend he was a wolf. She would have been concerned, most likely. “She was all right with my staying with you?”
“She was intrigued. But she did warn me not to take you home with me.”
He arched a brow at that.
“I take home strays, according to Wendy. It’s not so. I’ve only taken in one standard poodle that is a companion now to my own and, well, a cat, but I found it a good home. Wendy insists it’s only the beginning. I’ve never taken a stray man home with me ever—except for a good cause.”
He lifted a brow at the reference to taking home stray males, and he damn well wanted to know about the men she had taken in for a good cause. In his opinion, a woman should never take in stray males for any reason. Except in his case.
But the comment about her choice of dogs really surprised him. “Poodles.” Just like he couldn’t envision her studying plants, he couldn’t see her with poodles for pets.
She laughed. “All right. Just because we’re wolves doesn’t mean we don’t get along with pets. I suppose you’ve never had one.”
“Irish wolfhounds,” he said, proud of having raised generations of them.
“Irish wolfhounds?” Her body slid provocatively against his, silky and warm and so enticing that he was having a hard time concentrating on the conversation.
“Aye,” he finally managed to get out, his body tightening with need, his voice much rougher than he intended.
“Well, they were used to kill wolves in the old days,” she said, “weren’t they?”
Her green eyes looked up at him, her lips so damned kissable that he wanted to taste them and forget about the dogs. “They helped us unseat English knights in the old days,” he finally managed to say, every inch of her touching him, sliding and caressing with the gentle push of the waves.
Her nipples were rigid as they rubbed against him, so he knew he was having some effect on her. She had to feel how fully aroused he was. Either that, or she was trying to ignore it, and that’s why she kept talking about dogs.
“English knights,” she said. “Well, poodles have had a place in Germany, France, and England for centuries as retrievers. They love the water and—”
“I love the water,” Duncan said, his voice drenched with lustful intent. He’d never loved the water like this, he thought as he leaned down to kiss Shelley full on the mouth.
Chapter 5
How could Duncan stand against the force of the current and continue to hold her up as her whole body dissolved while his hot, sexy mouth pressed against her lips?
Shelley had experienced lots of kisses over the years, but nothing this passionate, nothing this unrestrained, hot, and feral. Maybe it all had to do with being in the warm waters, nearly naked in her string bikini, and pressed against a Highlander who was the Rock of Gibraltar, his shorts clinging to his body and every hard inch—his muscles and his arousal—rubbing her as the currents continued to push her against him.
His mouth stole her attention again as he stood with his eyes closed, dark lashes fanning his cheeks, his lips brushing and nuzzling, and his tongue teasing her lips. Her mouth was parted for him, begging him to enter.
He didn’t, though, as if that was the ultimate conquest and he was working up to it. Maybe he was afraid to take things too far, afraid they’d end up in bed together. On the other hand, she wondered if that was his ploy. His way to get out of sleeping in one of the twin beds. Seduce the she-wolf and work his way into her bed. She began to frown, and he must have felt her pulling away.
But she didn’t want him to stop. She licked his lips and tasted whiskey—like barley and wheat roasted over an oak fire. He paused and opened his eyes, as if curious to see her response. His brown eyes were smoky with lust.
He looked at her as if he’d fallen in love. She knew it was only lust. That was enough, so it seemed. He took her, conquering her mouth and tightening his arms around her as if to say she was his, that the sea couldn’t claim her. His tongue entered her mouth and stroked hers as one of his hands moved down to cup her ass. Oh yeah, he wanted her, and damned if she didn’t want him right back.
His other hand remained locked around her waist, holding her tight against him so he wouldn’t lose her to a wave, but his free hand was doing a number on her needs—caressing her buttock, dipping between her legs, touching her, and making her hot with desire.
Unfortunately, condoms wouldn’t work between wolves. Mating meant a permanent relationship, and with their long lives, that could be for a very long time. Abstinence was the only thing allowed between them, or fooling around a little. But if having sex with him had been viable, she would have hauled him right back to the villa and permanently forgotten he was supposed to sleep upstairs.
“Shelley,” he moaned into her mouth, his Scottish accent playing with her name in the most sensuous way. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
She didn’t need him telling her that. She knew she shouldn’t be ready to pull off his shorts, strip out of her bikini, climb into his arms, and impale herself on his rigid erection. She was already wet and slippery in preparation for his penetration. He’d stirred up a sweet ache between her legs so deep that she craved satisfaction.
Yet a purely wickedly wolf side of her decided to come out at that moment, taking over her words as she said in a much too heated way, “If you removed your shorts and I pulled off my bikini bottoms and I climbed aboard—that’s what we shouldn’t be doing.”
He groaned at her words and held her tighter, his stiff arousal rubbing against her. She felt as though she would burst into flames and sizzle in the water, going up in a puff of hot steam, if they continued the way they were going.
Yet, kissing seemed perfectly acceptable. The idea of riding him in the waves was too delicious not to consider. Not for real, but just to fantasize, she reminded herself.
His mouth curved up as his eyes opened, sparkling with the devil. “Hell, la
ss, if you weren’t a wolf, I’d strip you down and insist you have your way with me.” He continued to look into her eyes, wanting more, she knew, as his gaze shifted to her lips. But then as if werewolf reason took hold, he said, “It’s time to go back in. I’ve got to do some work tonight.”
“Concerning Silverman,” she guessed, knowing that his suggestion to cease and desist this madness was all for the best. Although she hated that it would have to end.
“Aye. That’s what I came here for. Bringing our money home. I can’t let my clan down. I’ll get your college funds back, too.”
She sighed, loving that he cared enough about his clan to let go of whatever raging desire he had for her. She gave him a kiss on the cheek, letting him know it was okay with her to end things now. She still craved some kind of release, but it wasn’t safe with him. “Let’s go then.”
He pulled her toward the shore, his hand still around her waist, keeping the currents and waves from taking her away from him, showing he still wanted her and was unwilling to let her go just yet. She imagined that he’d walk with her all the way to the villa like that if she allowed him to. But he was right. Nothing good could come of it. He was on a mission that had nothing to do with finding a mate. He needed to get the clan’s money back any way that he could.
Not only that, but he lived in a world completely different from her own. In a castle. With a brother who was laird. Duncan took part in movies, wielding a huge sword. He was Scottish. And had gigantic Irish wolfhounds that would eat her poodles—even though they were the large variety—for breakfast.
They were worlds apart.
So why was she thinking again about taking another trip, this time to see the gardens in England and Scotland? And particularly at Argent Castle, if his clan’s home even had gardens.
Apart from him being her roommate and sharing the cost of the villa, she knew that she had to limit her time with him. He wasn’t here to entertain her or serve as her companion, and she had her own business to attend to.
So why didn’t she pull away from him when they reached the water’s edge? Why didn’t he release her when he no longer had to protect her from being washed away or attacked by sharks or schools of colorful fish?
She sighed. “Do you have gardens at Argent Castle?”
He looked down at her, his brows both arched. “Aye.” But the question in his gaze said he wondered just what was going through her brain.
She wondered that, too. She looked back at the sand as they made their way to her beach towel, his arm still slung possessively around her waist.
“Why?” he asked, not wanting to be denied her reasoning when she didn’t say anything further.
She offered him a small smile, feeling embarrassed that she’d been thinking along those lines, and gave a little shrug. “Someday, I want to see castle gardens all over Scotland and England. I’ve read that Fyvie has a nice garden. And Crathes Castle, too. I would like to see them for myself.”
“Ah.”
Yeah, he presumed she wanted to see his castle and stay there free of charge, when most outsiders wouldn’t be permitted entrance. It had nothing to do with gardens. She straightened a little. “If I ever went to Scotland, would you let me see your gardens?”
He snorted.
“Not worth seeing?”
He chuckled, drew her to a stop in front of her beach towel, released her, and lifted her towel off the sand. After giving it several vigorous shakes, he handed it to her. “It’s a garden. What do I know about rows and rows of plants? Ask me about a sword, and I’ll tell you all there is to know.”
“Oh.” Not having realized how disinterested he was in plants, she felt somewhat disappointed as she wiped the water off her shoulders. Not that she truly expected any man that she became intrigued with to be a big plant lover. But it would be nice.
“No one ever stays at Argent who isn’t family. It’s not open to the public,” he said, a glint of amusement in his eyes and the faintest curve to his lips.
“I gathered that would be the case since your clan is also a wolf pack.” She was disappointed he’d say that, implying that she was one of the public and wouldn’t be welcome.
Then again, his saying so might have more to do with not wanting his people to believe that there was more to their relationship if she all of a sudden dropped by to look at his garden. Yeah, his clan would come to all kinds of different conclusions. Like that she’d found this hot Highland hunk on the island and was chasing him around the world to spend more time with him. Or that she thought she’d found a gold mine and a titled family to exploit. Right. As if either would interest her. Unless, of course, his clan had an amazing garden. And then?
She’d be in Highland heaven.
She dried off her belly as he watched her every move. She’d always worn the string bikini at night around her girlfriends, figuring no one else would see them in the dark unless the observer was a wolf. Now, out of the water, she suddenly felt self-conscious about the wet fabric of her bikini showing every detail while she was being observed acutely by a man who could see in the dark as if it were daylight.
She had to offer him the towel, which made her feel even more naked once she held it out to him. He took it, smiled, and then walked behind her to dry her back and all the way down her bare buttocks and calves. The way he gently stroked her was really thoughtful and totally unexpected, but it stirred her craving for him all over again. Just when she thought she’d cooled down a bit from their water moves, too. When he finished, he ran the damp towel over his chest, his eyes again zeroing in on her halter top and bikini bottoms.
He had such an incredibly sculpted chest and perfectly muscled arms—not bulky, but with just the right amount of muscle that made her feel he’d offer real trouble to any man who could be a threat. He had to have chiseled all those great muscles by swinging a sword against an enemy or at least family who served as the enemy in sport. Dark, wet hair trailed down his abdomen to the waistband of shorts slung low on his hips. The trail of hair drew her eye down further to his arousal, to where his ebony shorts were plastered against the sheer size and hardness of it. Man, he was some wolf.
“It’s a wonder you don’t lose what little you’re wearing,” he said, noticing the part of his anatomy she’d chanced to get a glimpse of while she thought he was too busy looking her over.
Her face flushing with heat, she glanced back at the water. She didn’t normally get caught looking at a man’s package when it was in such great form or quite so evident. “The waves weren’t violent enough. I’ve only lost my bikini top once—during rough waters in the Gulf of Mexico off Galveston Island, Texas.”
His gaze focused again on her top, and she envisioned him attempting to imagine her without it. Either that, or he was enjoying the view of her taut nipples, which were pressing against the wet fabric and perfectly outlined.
She started to walk back to the villa, and he didn’t follow. Too busy watching her backside?
Then he ran to catch up. “If you did come to Scotland and wanted to see our gardens, you could stay at the castle.” A smile lingered in his deep, baritone voice.
“But?” she asked, elongating the word, figuring from the teasing light in his eyes that there would be strings attached.
“It would cost you.”
She laughed. “Let me guess. Five thousand dollars.”
“In pounds, not dollars.”
“That would cost me even more.” She couldn’t help sounding indignant. Highway robbery! Especially since the place was probably fairly big, and she wouldn’t take up any space at all. And here she’d taken him in, the stray that he was.
“Aye. No twin beds, either.” He put his arm over her shoulder and walked the rest of the way to the patio with her rubbing against his hip. “Unless you wanted to share a room.”
“How much would that cost?”
“Probably too much,” he conceded.
“That’s what I figured.”
He laughed a
nd walked her inside the villa.
“It’s too late now, but in the morning, can you take me to a grocery store so we can pick up something to eat?” she asked.
“Aye, lass. Are you hungry? We could try and find someplace that might still be open tonight.”
“No, I don’t normally eat this late. I wouldn’t be able to sleep. I’m fine, thanks. I’ll see you in the morning. Good night.” She quickly pulled out of his grasp and headed for her bedroom—alone—before she changed her mind and let him sleep with her. She was pretty damned sure that sleeping wouldn’t be all they’d be doing if they were together. She’d always thought herself levelheaded, someone who wouldn’t do anything that crazy, but around Duncan, she wasn’t so sure.
“Good night, lassie.” A hint of longing was in his voice—for her or her bed? Or a little of both?
***
Duncan cursed himself for craving the female wolf so damned much as he drove across the island to Sal’s estate. Thinking about her would come to no good, but he couldn’t quit envisioning all her curves and the softness of her breasts as they’d pressed against him—all but her nipples, which had become hard little pearls—how her belly had pressed against his erection, the feel of her buttocks tightening as he caressed the smooth flesh, and the way her lips teased and tantalized him, her tongue doing a number on his. That’s what he couldn’t quit thinking of as he drove around the island, searching for Silverman’s house.
He even thought about her visiting and sharing his bed with him back home! That made his loins tighten once again. His mother would say that if he took a female wolf to bed, he was mated, whether he did the deed or not. She was of the old world, where couples did not share a bed without agreeing to a mating. She often quoted his cousin’s earlier demise due to his lack-witted dallying with a married lass whose husband had taken it upon himself to kill the interloper. Now, Flynn haunted the castle. Not that Duncan was going to dishonor the family in any way or get himself into a bind like that.
Once again, he reminded himself why he was here. No matter what Guthrie had said, Duncan felt this was their best chance at retrieving the money. Guthrie was still trying to come up with ways to make the castle solvent without the funds. The movie deal had paid off their debts for the short term, but they had to get their investments back from Silverman to make it in the long run.