A Highland Wolf Christmas

by Terry Spear

  Two seats were available by the drafty window. He glanced again at the one by Calla, expecting it to be filled. It wasn’t. Julia was watching him but quickly looked away, a wicked smile gracing her lips.

  He’d been trying to let Calla have some space, but he’d been thwarted this time. He shook his head and strode toward the vacant chair before he ended up having to sit in one of the chilly window seats.

  When he approached Calla, she looked grateful. He smiled. He supposed he’d saved her from Logan’s dog talk. Logan said to her, “Will you ride with me on the hayride tonight?”

  “Um, I have an engagement tonight. A Highland reunion I’m in charge of,” Calla hastily said, sounding relieved that she had work to do.

  “Ahh. Well, maybe another time.” Logan brushed his brown hair out of his eyes. “Why are you sitting over here?” he asked Guthrie, as if he’d just noticed that Guthrie had joined them.

  “Oran stole my seat.” Guthrie thanked the lady who brought them their lunches.

  “What did he do that for?” Logan asked and began eating his fish.

  “Maybe he needed to talk to Duncan about something. I don’t know.” Guthrie suspected it was a conspiracy, yet he wondered why Oran hadn’t been trying to make more headway in getting to know the lass. Maybe he was concerned about the same thing—that her relationship with Baird had ended too recently to consider dating her.

  Logan glanced around the room, then grinned. “You didn’t want the drafty chairs.” He pointed at the two nearest the window.

  “Good guess.” Nobody wanted to sit there in wintertime.

  Calla smiled and then began to eat her lunch.

  “So, what reunion are you going to?” Guthrie asked. Ian hadn’t spoken about it to him yet, and he still didn’t know where it was.

  She hesitated to say. He sat a little straighter, assuming that his clan didn’t get along with whoever these people were.

  “Which clan?” he asked.

  She frowned at Guthrie.

  He set his fork down. “You can’t go alone, Calla, if that’s what you’re thinking. Not after the confrontation you had with Baird and his people last night.”

  “You know, you sound just like Cearnach.”

  Guthrie smiled a little at that. Usually, he looked up to Cearnach and appreciated his advice. Though he and his brothers all thought Cearnach had gone a little mad when he went to Calla’s wedding, knowing full well that Baird wouldn’t like it one wee bit.

  Calla finally turned to her meal and said, “I’ve spoken to Ian about it. I don’t want him or anyone else to feel put out that they have to watch over me like I’m a child.”

  Logan sat taller. “I can go with you instead of going on the hayride.”

  Calla smiled at Logan and shook her head. “You have fun and let me know all about it tomorrow.”

  He looked disappointed and glanced in Guthrie’s direction as if asking him to talk Ian into letting him go. What was it with him? First, Logan had been sweet-talking Elaine before she was Cearnach’s mate, and now he thought he had a chance with Calla? Calla belonged with the grown men.

  Guthrie had every intention of speaking with Ian about Calla’s plans tonight, but not for Logan’s sake. “For your information,” Guthrie said, wishing to address her concern about his clan watching out for her, “we feel it an honor to look out for you. Not only that, but Ian got a call from your dad. You didn’t tell him you had an accident and further trouble with Baird, did you?”

  She frowned at him. “I didn’t want to worry my parents. They didn’t have to know about it. They’re on vacation and needed this break. It doesn’t do any good to concern them when nothing truly bad happened.” This time she flashed her very heated green eyes at Guthrie.

  He’d never seen her riled up in human form. He wanted to smile, but he curbed the urge. “Aye, they’re well aware of it now.”

  “I suppose Ian will keep them informed of everything I do now, even if I don’t wish it.”

  “If it has to do with your safety, aye. Staying with us means you’re part of the pack for now. We look out for our own. We also have to ensure we do what’s right by your family.”

  She turned to finish her meal. “Have fun on your hayride,” Calla said to Logan. She smiled sweetly at him, scowled at Guthrie, and headed out of the great hall.

  Logan frowned at Guthrie. “Did you have to make her mad?”

  “You know Ian couldn’t lie to her parents when she might have been hurt.”

  “Nay, but you didn’t need to bring it up.”

  Then two of the wolfhounds began playing tug-of-war with a bone, and Logan hurried to intervene, as was his job, and move them outdoors.

  Suddenly, Guthrie was sitting there eating alone. He wondered how that had happened.

  Chapter 4

  That afternoon, the snow and ice had melted enough to allow the MacNeill brothers and their kin to move Calla’s car into the inner bailey, to Calla’s vast relief. Thankfully, the car had no major damage, only a slight dent in the front bumper.

  Tonight, she had the reunion to oversee, but in the meantime, she would spend some time going over Christmas ideas with Julia. She still couldn’t believe Julia thought she and Guthrie had courtship plans. He was just as bossy as Cearnach was with her.

  As soon as she entered the garden room to meet with Julia, Calla knew there would be trouble.

  And that trouble was waiting for her just inside.

  Dressed in a white medieval shirt and a muted, ancient blue-and-green plaid kilt of the MacNeill clan, he stood next to one of the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. Guthrie.

  Calla had no idea why Guthrie was wearing a kilt. Not only that, but he was armed—his sword belted at his waist and a sgian dubh in his boot. The carved handle on the knife—that Cearnach had crafted himself—stuck out of the top of Guthrie’s boot.

  “Come, Calla. I’ve been gathering some ideas off the Internet.” Julia looked warm in her heavy blue wool sweater and a MacNeill plaid skirt, her red hair curling over her shoulders. “We were going to decorate the Christmas tree in the hall this evening, but since you have the reunion to attend, we want to wait until tomorrow so you can help us, if you’d like.”

  “I’d love to. Thanks for asking.” She really appreciated how Julia included her in pack activities. Calla was excited about the party—the first Christmas event she’d ever planned for anyone—and she wanted to make it just right. But she knew Guthrie would be a royal pain in the arse because he scrutinized all the clan’s expenditures and thought spending a lot of money on a Christmas party was unnecessary.

  Guthrie raised his brows at Calla as she hurried to shut the glass door and keep the chilling wind out. A light snow was falling in fat flakes outside. But a hot fire glowed in the fire pit as Julia smiled brightly at her and motioned to the dining table where she was studying pictures on her laptop.

  Calla assumed Guthrie was there to weigh in on projected costs, but she couldn’t help saying, “Are you planning to fight a medieval battle somewhere?”

  Calla thought she detected a hint of a smirk struggling to appear, while Guthrie’s eyes focused on hers.

  “Nay, just the one here,” he said. He didn’t smile, but his eyes held a spark of mirthful challenge. Calla rolled her eyes. He had to be wearing his kilt for some reason other than to annoy her. Unless he was intentionally trying to distract her.

  She hadn’t overheard anyone talking about the men practicing their swordsmanship today—as cold as it was and with the snow now falling. Though in truth, the men were not fair-weather fighters, and she’d known them to even practice in a light rain.

  Julia cast Calla another smile. Ever since the underwear incident, everyone looked at her and Guthrie differently. When really, Calla had taken Guthrie’s boxers because he was the only one she believed could handle her teasing—who wouldn’t get other notions. And he was the only one of the brothers who was unmated. And because she hadn’t wanted him to feel left out
when his brothers’ mates had targeted them.

  She knew how it felt to be excluded from parties and social gatherings. First, because she had been a wolf among humans and her father had acted like a rabid wolf when she tried to have human friends—especially a human boy whom her father had threatened to kill if she saw any more of him. Later, she’d worried that the human guy would want to kill her if he ever learned she was a lupus garou.

  She’d hooked up with three lone wolves at various times, and that was another mistake. They were fun, in a singular sort of way. They didn’t want to do things around humans or around other wolves. None had been interested in forming a wolf pack of their own, and none had wanted pups. She’d wanted more, like her parents had with her. She’d wanted to join in on parties, human or wolf.

  So she’d started her party planner business. She got to attend lots parties and was paid to do it. Most of all, those paying for her services needed and loved her for what she did. It was a win-win scenario.

  She sat down at the table next to Julia and readied her pen and pad of paper to take copious notes. She didn’t have to look to know Guthrie was still studying her. Her skin prickled with tension like a wolf’s would while waiting warily for the attack.

  She was used to people watching her as she worked and it had never bothered her. But Guthrie was a different story. He had the most devilish look—as if he was seeing her in a different way. Like he now knew her secret—that she had a crush on him. Which she didn’t.

  She wished he’d go away.

  “You could sit down and read a magazine or something,” she said, motioning to a few on gardening and castle decor sitting on the coffee table next to the couches.

  A little reading nook of Julia’s books was also situated nearby, but Calla was certain the armed Highlander wouldn’t be interested in reading about hot and romantically inclined lupus garous.

  “It’s my duty to offer advice on all matters concerning finances,” Guthrie said, not budging.

  She should have acted as if she didn’t recall he was there because she was so busy looking at the pictures Julia was showing her. But darn it. Her skin felt flushed because she knew he was watching her every move.

  “This will probably take a while. Or…better yet, you could leave. We can share the costs of the venture with you later. You can probably talk someone else into donning his sword and fighting with you, and you’d have a lot more fun than standing there.” Like a statue. A very sexy, wolfish Highland statue.

  She shouldn’t have said anything, because doing so would feed into the notion that he was bothering her. She’d thought the undercurrent of tension between them had to do with her spending people’s money on extravagant parties. Now she wasn’t so certain.

  His mouth curved up a hair, but he didn’t say anything. Fine. Calla stiffened a little, intent on ignoring him. If he thought he could keep her from squandering—his words, not hers—the MacNeills’ money on this celebration by making her uncomfortable, he was mistaken. Julia wanted to spare no expense on her first-ever Christmas party with her new pack, and Calla was going to help make it the best she could.

  She tucked a curl behind her ear and stared at the monitor, trying to concentrate on what Julia was saying. Guthrie moved behind them to observe the Internet pages they were looking at, but he was standing nearest to Calla.

  This was even worse! At least when he was standing farther away, she couldn’t breathe in his fascinating male wolf scent, a mix of piney woods and fresh air and the fragrance that was uniquely his. And she couldn’t help feeling the heat of his body that made hers heat as well.

  “Those look awfully—” Guthrie said.

  “Like a bargain.” Julie raised a brow at Guthrie.

  He frowned. “You wanted my opinion from a financial perspective.”

  Calla shifted her attention to Julia, whose face turned a wee bit red. Julia had asked Guthrie to be here?

  Calla marked it down on her pad of paper. “I agree with you, Julia.” Calla gave her another site to look at. “These are much more expensive. So the other site’s prices are a bargain.”

  Guthrie snorted. “A bargain would be not spending the money on decorations in the first place.”

  The ladies ignored him. “Next?” Calla asked, getting into the spirit of this.

  “We have to get mistletoe from England, and I was thinking that these looked good,” Julia said, showing Calla the pictures and prices.

  “We really don’t need that, do we?” Guthrie asked, sounding incredulous.

  “Aye,” both ladies said.

  They considered prices on several sites, while Guthrie folded his arms and shook his head.

  “We must have sweet-smelling cinnamon candles to scent the great hall,” Julia said, pulling up some pages.

  “Surely a couple will suffice. Any more and the scent will overwhelm our enhanced sense of smell,” Guthrie said.

  “Fifteen, I believe, will work,” Calla said.

  Guthrie groaned.

  Julia smiled.

  They had looked at another half-dozen or so Internet pages when Julia asked Calla, “You said you have that party to manage in an hour, right?”

  “Aye. I’ll be there for a couple of hours,” Calla said.

  “Good. We can keep poring over ideas for the celebration in between your other commitments,” Julia said, as if she had no worry that Calla could pull this off.

  “So, have you any idea who will be going with me this time?” she asked Julia.

  “Ethan and Jasper and…” Julia looked at Guthrie.

  Calla chewed on her bottom lip as she considered his sexy legs. “You can’t go dressed like that,” she said, determination in her tone.

  “Is there a dress code that says I can’t, lass?” Guthrie asked, an arrogant brow lifted.

  “Aye, there is, if you must know,” she said most vehemently. “It has to do with the MacNeills not getting along with the Rankins. Ian warned me. I told him he didn’t have to send any of you, but he insisted, even going so far as to say I wasn’t going unless an escort did. Well, fine. But keeping the peace with them will be difficult enough if they realize you’re there to safeguard me. Wearing your clan’s tartan on top of that?” She shook her head.

  “They’re wearing theirs, aye? So will I wear mine,” Guthrie said, no Mr. Congeniality. He was dead serious.

  “It’s their affair. Not yours.” Calla ground her teeth. “What about Ethan and Jasper?” She hoped they’d at least have better sense and wear something other than kilts.

  “Now that they’re back in a Highland clan, you better believe they’re proud to be part of the family and share it with the world.”

  Great. One MacNeill dressed in his kilt might have managed to go unnoticed. All three Highland gray wolves in kilts? Not a chance.

  She folded her arms. “Rankin said they’d provide proper security for me. You don’t even need to attend.” They hadn’t, of course. If they knew she might bring trouble to the event, she could see them canceling her attendance and handling the rest of the affair themselves. Baird McKinley and his kin weren’t on the guest list, so she would be fine.

  “Nay, lass,” Guthrie said.

  “You can just drop me off at the manor and come back to pick me up when I’m ready to leave. I’ll just call you. I’ll be inside orchestrating everything anyway. Baird wouldn’t dare crash the party.”

  “Nay,” Guthrie said, being his stubborn self. “Everyone will be celebrating. You need men you can count on who will be dedicated to watching over you.”

  She let out her breath in a huff. “Fine. You stay outside in the car, or whatever. You don’t go inside. And whatever you do, you don’t get into a fight with their men. Or else.” She gave him a dagger of a glower.

  He smiled. “When it comes to doing my job, you have nothing to worry about.”

  She bit back a snort. Doing his job was likely to cause trouble—considering the way he was dressed.

  “It’s
a very regal affair. The men will be wearing Prince Charlie jackets and the like—not…” She considered Guthrie’s open shirt, which showed off a hint of his fascinatingly naked chest, sculpted to the max.

  “Not…?”

  “So…” Her face felt flushed. She didn’t know why she was suddenly getting so tongue-tied around Guthrie. He’d never paid any attention to her before, that she’d remembered. “They won’t be dressed so—”

  “So…wolfishly rugged?” Guthrie ventured.

  Her gaze shot up from eyeing his chest to his smiling face, her whole body heating as if she’d gotten too close to the flames in the fire pit.

  Julia tried to conceal a chuckle. And was not entirely successful.

  “They are not wolves, you know. And you can’t wear your sword. It’s not a wolf affair,” Calla said, ignoring Julia and Guthrie’s amusement. “I’m serious!”

  Guthrie’s smile faded and his wolfish protective self was instantly in place. “The sword is not for a show of force against the Rankin family, but for Baird McKinley and his ilk if they should show.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Calla said. “They’re not going to follow me everywhere I go.”

  “Maybe or maybe not. If they quit stalking you, they could very well hope we’ll become complacent.” He patted his sheathed sword. “I will remain armed.” He gave her a slight tilt of his head.

  “Well, tomorrow I’ll be in charge of a toga party. Will you wear a toga for that?”

  “I know your schedule,” he said.

  Which surprised her. He was not her official bodyguard. As pack leader, Ian was the one she had to constantly update about her schedule. Endless changes were one of the biggest problems she faced in this business.

  “A Highland wolf doesn’t wear a toga,” he said.