Evernight Publishing ®
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2015 Doris O’Connor
ISBN: 978-1-77233-494-4
Cover Artist: Jay Aheer
Editor: Karyn White
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
To my Gran, who always made Christmas special.
A MUTT IN DISGUISE
Doris O’Connor
Copyright © 2015
Chapter One
Holidays are coming, holidays are coming...
Anja turned the annoying jingle off with a flick of her finger and blew a strand of hair off her face. She'd tied it up and out of the way, but as usual it had a mind of its own and had escaped her attempt at an elegant chignon. Holidays indeed! It was Christmas, for flip's sake—time for carols and the season of goodwill—not political correctness gone mad. What did her dad always say? Without Christ in Christmas it would be just M&S. The store made great knickers and excellent food, but had little to do with the season of goodwill.
She licked the icing off her fingers and perused the small army of homemade cupcakes with a satisfied smile. Decked out in festive colors of red and green, they would bring much-needed cheer to the homeless shelter, and, she hoped, an influx of cash, too. The cake sale was always popular. Declan wouldn't be pleased at the detour, but they had to more or less drive past it on the way to his parents', so he couldn't object too much.
It was Christmas in a week's time, and Anja was determined to make a difference this year. She had even prepared a Christmas cake for Declan's parents, knowing full well that Lord and Lady Hemington would turn their aristocratic noses up at it, but Anja was done trying to please them. In fact, unless Declan stopped acting like a complete ass, he could kiss her pert behind on the way out.
Right on cue the doorbell rang, and Anja suppressed a sigh at the impatient staccato of it. She took off the apron, smoothed down her simple black shift dress, stepped into her equally understated three-inch black court shoes, and buzzed the door open. No sooner had she completed boxing up the cakes than Declan stepped through the front door of her flat.
"There you are, but what on earth are you doing?" His cultured tones held a hint of impatience, and when his steely-gray gaze connected with hers, his brows drew together and his eyes darkened in temper. Before he could say anything else, she shoved the largest of the boxes containing the Christmas cake into his hands.
"I'd have thought that was obvious, Declan." She ignored his pout and put the remaining boxes into two large cloth bags. "I know what you said, but I like baking, and I like giving personal gifts."
Declan grunted, and continued to eye the box she'd given him, as though it were likely to detonate any minute. "My parents do not expect personal gifts. The hamper we bought them from Harrods will suffice. And who on earth are those for?" He gestured to the two bags in her hand. "And you've got icing all over your nose. I suggest you wash it off."
Anja glanced at her reflection in the hallway mirror, and, sure enough, a smudge of bright green icing was smeared across her nose and halfway up her cheek. She took the starched, monogrammed handkerchief Declan passed her and wiped the offending mixture away with a barely suppressed sigh. Had they really come to this? A year into their relationship and with Declan pushing her into setting a date for their marriage soon, all the passion seemed to have evaporated like mist in the sun. Instead of kissing her and licking the icing off her nose, as she would have liked him to have done, every line of his body screamed his annoyance at her unreasonable behavior.
"There, better, my lord?" She couldn't help but goad him a little, but he'd already turned his back on her and was striding out the door. She stuck her tongue out at his retreating back, and followed him down the steep stairs and out into the frigid air.
He tossed the cake box carelessly into the back of his Jaguar and by the time she'd carefully stashed her bags on the back seats, his fingers were drumming against the steering wheel. "Are you going to tell me what all those are for, or do I have to guess?"
"You know who they're for. I told you last night."
He revved the engine and put his foot down the minute she fastened the seatbelt.
"You cannot be serious. We're hardly dressed for a visit to that part of town, and we'll be late."
He glanced at her, and she was once again struck how insanely good-looking he was. When she had run into him at one of the charity functions her late grandmother had her attend in an effort to get her mixing with "the right people," she had been bored out of her mind. Declan had swept her off her feet with his debonair charm and craggy good looks, his fair complexion such an intriguing contrast to the dark tuxedo that had accentuated his gym-honed physique. He made her laugh, and her maternal grandmother had given them her unreserved seal of approval. She'd been delighted at Anja's having snared a lord of the realm. Personally, Anja couldn't have cared less about his status. She was with him because she liked him, not out of some misguided sense of duty. Her mother and father had married for love. While Grandma had never forgiven her daughter for marrying a mere bus driver, Anja's parents' marriage had survived the test of time. Anja wanted that long-lasting passion and deep love her parents shared, and she wasn't prepared to settle for anything less. She'd thought she'd found that with Declan. He had proven a rock when Gran had passed on, but since the reading of her grandmother's will, things had changed between them.
Much to everyone's surprise, Gran had left a small fortune in trust for Anja. She would come into possession of that fortune on her twenty-fifth birthday, which was this New Year's Eve. It seemed no sooner had Declan found out about the trust fund, he was making plans to spend it. He had proposed the very next day, and Anja had shocked everyone by refusing him. As far as she was concerned it was far too soon to be thinking about marriage, and lately, she'd had more than second thoughts about her future with Declan. They wanted completely opposite things.
She had no intention of accepting that trust money for herself, and Declan and she had the first of many bitter rows about her intention to find a worthwhile cause to settle it on. Anja had done her research, and the plight of the homeless had always been dear to her heart. She now had the means to do more than just volunteer, and that's exactly what she was going to do, Declan be damned.
"We have to drive past the shelter anyway, and I promised Mary that I would drop these around so she'd have them ready for the cake sale tomorrow. It's their open day, and they're in dire need of benefactors to keep the shelter open. It's the least I can do, and it will only take a minute."
She glanced at him again, hoping against hope that he would see it her way, but he shook his head and clucked his tongue. "I told you, I don't want you anywhere near those winos. You could catch all sorts for fuck's sake, and for what?"
"They're not all winos, as you'd know if you spent more than five minutes in their company. They're just people down on their luck, and they need somewhere to stay, and—"
"Yes, yes, I know. Spare me the Mother Teresa act, Anja." He interrupted her with a dismissive shake of his hand. "As if it isn't enough, you have this crazy plan to give them your money. Money that would be better spent—" He mumbled something under his breath, and glared at her.
"Better spent doing what, Declan? Propping up your
family's coffers? Is that what you were going to say?" Her voice rose in annoyance, and she balled her hands into fists.
"Yes, quite frankly, it would be. And why is it so wrong of me to expect my future wife to want to help out my family?" He stopped at a red traffic light, put a hand on her thigh, and squeezed. He leaned across, and his hot breath whispered across her neck as he dropped a kiss on the rapidly beating pulse point there. His expensive cologne tickled her senses, and Anja shut her eyes in a vain effort to rekindle some form of attraction. Instead, bile rose in her throat, and she inched away from him.
He cupped her face and forced her to look at him, his eyes glittering in barely suppressed fury. She put her hand over his mouth when he would have kissed her.
"I haven't yet agreed to marry you, Declan."
His eyes narrowed at her curt statement.
"Oh, but you will, my sweet. It's what your Gran would have wanted."
Her heart bumped against her chest bone with a painful thud, and she shook her head. The light changed, and he put the car into gear with a muttered curse. "Fine, have it your way. We'll go and drop off the fucking cakes, if it means that much to you."
They drove the rest of the way in tense silence, and Anja breathed a sigh of relief when they pulled up outside the shelter. To her surprise, Declan got out of the car and helped her with the boxes. His nose wrinkled in distaste, but he followed her inside the rundown building.
They attracted some curious glances from the regulars, and a beaming smile from Mary, who rushed towards them from the kitchen.
"Oh Anja, I thought you couldn't make it tonight. Is this your young man?" The silver-haired, rotund little lady offered her hand to Declan with another beaming smile. "I've heard so much about you. It's such a pleasure to finally meet you."
Declan ignored Mary's outstretched hand and took a step back. He thrust the confectionary-laden bag at her instead, and wrinkled his nose again. Mary's smile slipped a little. She took the bag from him and threw a concerned glance towards Anja. Anja had to force herself to keep her smile in place. Did he have to be so rude? Before she could say anything, a familiar cold, wet nose bumped into her knee cap, seconds before a menacing growl erupted behind her.
Declan grew pale under his tan, and his eyes widened. As shocked as Anja was at that growl, she couldn't help but smile as all the superiority left Declan's tall frame. Hands held up in surrender, he took several steps back.
"What the fuck is that?"
"Oh, that's just Mutt. He hangs around the shelter from time to time. He's harmless, really." Mary's warm voice was meant to soothe, but her expression had the opposite effect as she, too, looked at the wolf-like dog as though she'd never seen him before.
Sure enough, the Tamaskan dog didn't look harmless at the moment. His hackles raised, he crouched low, baring his teeth, and Anja could feel the vibrations of his growls through the soles of her feet. Her heart missed a few beats as his intelligent amber eyes connected with hers, and he cocked his head to one side. She put her hand out to calm the animal down, ignoring Declan's sharp intake of breath. Mutt stopped growling long enough to lick her hand, and bumped his big head against her leg playfully, before he sat down next to her and fixed his expressive eyes on Declan.
"See, he is harmless. Not sure what got into him, really."
She had grown fond of the big wolf-like animal over the last few weeks. He'd shown up one night out of the blue, his beautiful gray-black coat matted and dirty, his leg sporting a limp, and when Mary would have shooed him away, Anja had convinced her to let him stay in the warmth. Since then Mutt, as Anja had affectionately called him, showed up sporadically, usually dragging another down-and-out with him to the shelter. He was a law onto himself, but until now he'd never shown the slightest hint of aggression.
"That thing is no doubt riddled with fleas, and he's not wearing a collar. And from the way he's growling at me, he is far from harmless. Things like him need to be put down, before he attacks a child or something."
"Don't be absurd. He would never attack anyone." Anja defended Mutt immediately, even as his renewed menacing growls called her a liar. What had gotten into him?
"He wouldn’t, would he? Then why is that thing growling and baring his teeth at me?" He took a step toward Anja, and Mutt crouched again, to all intents and purposes ready to attack Declan, who had the good sense to step back again.
"Okay, that's it. I've had enough of this. We need to go if we're to stand any chance of making it to my parent's soiree on time, or even fashionably late." He sniffed audibly and rolled his eyes. "And you can't go like that. You're covered in that mutt's filthy hair, and you know my mother is allergic to animal hair. Anyone would think you did this on purpose."
Mary gasped at the sheer venom behind those accusing words, but Declan wasn't finished yet.
"Mother warned me of getting involved with the likes of you. Like mother like daughter, she said, but like a fool, I didn't listen to her. But this ... this stunt of yours ... it ends now."
The accusation stung, but before Anja could say or do anything, Mutt flew through the air toward Declan. He managed to twist out of the way, and Mutt's teeth snapped thin air instead. Declan's booted foot, however, made contact with the dog's ribs and he crumpled to the floor with a yelp. The agonized, almost human sound galvanized Anja into action, and she got between human and dog, but not before Declan got another kick into Mutt's soft underbelly.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Declan? It's not enough to insult my mum. You'd kick a dog while he's down. Jesus, what is wrong with you?"
She took a step back, mindful of Mutt's renewed growling as he struggled to get up on his paws, and Mary's now stony-faced expression. Several of the regulars had formed a semi-circle around them, and the air was blue with colorful language.
"Now, looky here, that ain't no way t' b'have 'round a lassie like Anja here." Scott, a burly, middle-aged ex-bouncer slammed his fist into his hand repeatedly, and Declan narrowed his eyes. He stepped backward and away from the little group. "Yer own t' lady an 'pology."
Declan sneered in answer, and whatever shred of respect Anja had left for him fled at his next words.
"I would if there was a lady present. All I see is a younger version of the whore who married beneath her."
Mutt's growls joined the general uproar erupting around her, and Anja had to shout to make herself heard.
"How dare you! That's my mother you're talking about, and there is more dignity in her little finger than there is in all of your family put together. Get the fuck away from me and stay away."
"Gladly!" Declan turned on his shiny heel and marched to the entrance. He turned around at the last minute, and the look of disgust he threw at Anja made her wonder what she ever saw in him. "See how you get home now. I'm sure one of these vagabonds can give you a lift."
He slammed the door shut, and seconds later the high pitched wail of his powerful car signaled his departure. Too late, Anja realized that her handbag was still sat in the passenger well of his Jag.
Shit!
She was dimly aware of Mary trying to calm down the agitated men, and she sank down next to Mutt, surprised to find him licking the tears off her face. Why the hell was she crying?
Chapter Two
Anja's soft, small hands curled into his fur, her hot tears scalded his skin, and Ethan growled his annoyance. He'd have liked nothing better than to tear that sorry excuse of a human male limb from limb. As satisfying as that would have been, he'd come to his senses mid-leap and angled himself away from the motherfucking bastard, earning himself a humdinger of a kick to his ribs. Temporarily winded, he was spared from further injury by Anja's intervention, and it meant Declan would live—for now. However, if Anja didn't stop crying soon, Ethan would not be able to hold his wolf side back for long.
The cover of the Tamaskan dog served him well, but he was and always would be a wolf, and as such, every one of his senses had kicked in to protect the fragile woman w
hose scent had held him in thrall from the first minute she'd stumbled upon him outside the shelter. Hurt after a run-in with a gang of youths whose burglary attempt he'd interrupted, he'd sought shelter in the bin area. Anja had found him when she'd taken the trash out, and her immediate concern for his well-being had broken through all of his defensive walls in an instant.
Mary's shelter was one of the few that allowed the homeless and their dogs in, but even Mary had balked at the suggestion that Mutt ought to be allowed in without an owner. He should have been offended at being called Mutt, but from Anja's lips the usually derogative term sounded like a caress and he'd followed her meekly into the warmth of the shelter. He'd lost himself in the expressive jade pools of her feline eyes as she'd run her hands over his sides. She'd tucked the long tresses of her hair behind her ears in an impatient gesture he would always associate with her.
He curled himself around her now, his injured ribs already healing, and inhaled deeply. He would quite happily have stayed like this, but he needed to make sure she was okay. She clearly cared more for that bastard than she'd let on. He nudged his nose into her neck and exhaled. A shudder went through her slender frame, and, encouraged by her response, he did it again until she giggled.
"Stop it, Mutt, that tickles."
He nudged her again and showed his teeth in a wolf-like impression of a grin, and her smile deepened.
"You know, sometimes you seem almost human to me, as though you understand exactly what I'm saying to you."
He yipped once and nodded, making her laugh again. She brushed the remaining traces of her earlier tears off her cheeks, and her expression sobered as she ran her hands along his flanks.
"He didn't hurt you too much, did he? 'Cause I swear if he did, I'll knee him in the balls next time I see him. I knew he was a dick, but fuck it, he took that to new heights."
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