Seducing the Moon

by Sherrill Quinn

  Realizing Sully was right behind her, she stopped so abruptly he ran into her. She turned and planted her palm in the middle of his chest. “You’re not coming with me.”

  “Pel, I’m supposed to make sure you stay safe. Declan wants—”

  “At the moment,” she said, glaring at him, “using the excuse of what Declan wants is not—I repeat not—a good thing. You are not coming with me.” Without waiting for his response, she walked out of the house. Slamming the door behind her, just mad enough to hope the mole almost got his fingers caught, Pelicia stalked off toward the wharf.

  In the thirty minutes it took her to get from the Nola out to Phelan’s Keep, her anger had not cooled at all. It hadn’t cooled on the climb up the steps from the dock to the top of the bluff where the big house sat like a king holding court.

  As a matter of fact, by the time she lifted the brass door knocker and let it fall against the heavy oaken front door, she was clenching her jaw so tightly her teeth hurt.

  If it had been anyone other than her dad who opened the door, she would have pushed her way into the house and hunted down O’Connell like the hound dog he was. As it was, she forced a smile to her face and returned her father’s delighted hug.

  “Pelly!” William Cobb drew her inside and closed the door. “Why didn’t you phone and tell me you were coming? I’d have prepared something for you to eat.”

  Her pasted-on smile turned genuine. He was really such a darling. She could kick herself for letting her aversion to seeing Declan get in the way of visiting with her dad. “I’m fine, Dad. I ate in London.”

  A frown crossed his face. “You were in London this morning?”

  She nodded. “I went yesterday and spent the night with Liz. You remember her?”

  “Yes.” Concern darkened his eyes. “Are you all right, darling? I could fix you a nice cuppa, if you’d like.”

  “No, no tea, thanks.” She glanced around the foyer. “Where is everyone?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Ryder and Taite have gone for a stroll around the island, and I have the feeling you didn’t come here to see your old pater.” He waved away her protests. “It’s all right. With the way Mr. O’Connell has increased his forays to St. Mary’s, I reckoned you’d be here sooner or later.” He tipped his head toward the stairs. “He’s in his room—second story, first room on the left.”

  “Why isn’t he on the first story?”

  “He, ah, wished to give the newlyweds as much privacy as possible.”

  Pelicia gave a nod of understanding and planted a quick kiss on her father’s cheek before walking toward the lift.

  “Do leave some skin on the boy, won’t you?” Cobb called after her, a teasing lilt in his voice.

  “You want me to be nice to him? I thought you didn’t like him.”

  “He’s…grown on me,” came his dry response.

  “Well, no promises,” she responded, smiling at his laugh. Once the door slid closed, her smile faded. She pressed the button for the top floor. The lift started up, going much too slowly for her liking. She found herself tapping one foot impatiently.

  God help him, Declan had better not try to weasel his way out of this one.

  The lift came to a stop, and the door slid open. She strode down the hall and, not bothering to knock, twisted the knob to Declan’s room.

  When the door to his room pushed open, Declan looked up from the crossword puzzle he was working. Pelicia stood in the doorway, hands on hips, eyes flashing fire. God, she looked beautiful, wearing a sundress that flattered her lightly tanned skin. The skirt flirted with her trim thighs, the top with its square neckline showed off the plump slopes of her breasts.

  He’d been expecting her—Sully had called to warn him as soon as she’d left the Nola. Declan slid a small piece of paper between the pages to mark his place and put the puzzle book facedown on the bed beside him, then swung his legs to the floor.

  “Just stop right there.” She held out one hand, index finger up. Red slashed across her cheekbones—he couldn’t tell if it was anger or if she was just the teeniest bit turned on because all he had on was his boxer briefs. When her gaze didn’t flicker from his face, he figured it was anger, not arousal, putting the color in her face.

  “I want to know who the hell you think you are,” she went on. “Planting a spy!”

  He got to his feet. “Whoa, wait right there, darlin’. I didn’t plant a spy. I asked a friend to help me keep an eye on you, to keep you safe.”

  “And you didn’t feel it was necessary to ask me first? Or at the very least let me know what you were doing?” She crossed her arms and glared at him.

  “No, I didn’t.” Her anger flared, and Declan was surprised her head didn’t start twisting around on her neck like in that horror movie scene. “You didn’t need to know.”

  “I’m not one of your bloody soldier boys!” Pelicia took the few steps it required to reach him and poked him in the chest. “This is my life we’re talking about here—I need to know everything you do that might affect me. So cut the ‘need to know’ crap right now.”

  He clenched his jaws. He’d done nothing wrong, and he wasn’t going to let her pile a load of guilt on him again. “I will continue to do what I believe is best to ensure your safety. With or without your knowledge and cooperation, if need be.” When her mouth opened, he went on, his voice hard, “I’m not finished.” He grasped her shoulders, tightening his grip when she tried to pull away. He gave her a little shake. “Now you listen to me, Pel. You’ve been in harm’s way twice in the last few days. Regardless of who the bastard was shootin’ at, those bullets could have hit you. So I’m not playin’ around.” This time when she tried to shrug away from him, he let her.

  “Neither am I,” she snarled. “You keep telling me you’ve changed, that you want to make things right between us. Keeping secrets and going behind my back is not the way to do that.”

  Declan tried to ignore the little fact that she was right about that. “Would you have agreed to let Sully stay had you known he was my friend? If you knew he was a cop?”

  “Of course not.”

  He shrugged. “I rest my case.”

  Pelicia’s slender hands clenched into fists at her sides. “You are the most…stubborn, hardheaded—”

  “That’s the same thing.”

  “—chauvinistic, arrogant bastard I’ve ever known,” she went on as if he hadn’t interrupted her.

  “You forgot charmin’ and irresistible.” He didn’t know why he was pushing her buttons, except that she was breathtaking when she was angry. That this mattered so much to her gave him hope that she still loved him.

  At last her gaze roved over him, starting at the top and working its way down then back up again to pause at his groin. The heat of her interest generated a response. His cock swelled, pressing against the soft cotton of his boxer briefs.

  “I can’t argue with that,” Pelicia said softly.

  Declan thought, for a moment, that she was over her anger, though he could still smell the cayenne pepper scent of it. But when she lifted her gaze, the anger remained, though tempered somewhat by the stirrings of desire. And a heart-wrenching sadness that deflated his burgeoning arousal as well as a cold shower could have. Better than, even.

  “But your arrogance overshadows everything else,” she said, putting a pin to his small bubble of hope. “You just stay away from me, O’Connell.”

  His gut seized. “For how long?”

  “Until I’m not mad at you anymore.” She turned and left the room.

  He listened to her footsteps grow faint as she went to the elevator. She wanted him to wait until she wasn’t mad anymore? The last time he’d done that, it had been two years.

  Hell. Who was he kidding? She was still mad about what happened two years ago. This could be a long wait.

  And waiting wasn’t something he did well.

  Well, if she wanted him to wait, he might as well do it from outside the Nola. Whether she l
iked it or not, Sully would be on the inside, and she’d have a werewolf on the outside.

  Chapter 9

  She returned to the Nola less than two hours after she’d left. The watcher eyed her through his spotter scope, appreciating how pretty she was—this was the first time he’d seen her in a dress. Her legs were long and lean, feet arched in strappy mid-heeled sandals. She wore her blond hair in its usual ponytail, which left her shoulders bare except for the thin straps of the dress’s bodice.

  She was beautiful—she should wear dresses more often.

  He pushed back guilt at the idea that she didn’t have much longer to wear anything and steeled himself for the task at hand. He would follow the plan to make that Irish bastard suffer as much as possible—and that meant Pelicia Cobb had to die.

  That hadn’t been in his original plan, though, of course, he’d known about her. He and O’Connell shared a past, and O’Connell’s talk of Pelicia was what had brought him to the Isles of Scilly to begin with. He’d decided that if he stayed around Pelicia long enough, eventually O’Connell would come sniffing around.

  He’d been right. And now it was time to heat things up. By tomorrow afternoon, there would be no question in O’Connell’s mind that his lady love was in danger. It would be too late for him to do a damn thing except mourn.

  And prepare to join her.

  Chapter 10

  Pelicia came to wakefulness with a start. She glanced at her bedside table and read the muted readout on her clock radio. Two A.M. Sleep had come hard tonight. After she’d returned from Phelan’s Keep this morning she’d busied herself around the Nola, spent time with Brenna, trying to keep her mind off of Declan and using whatever excuse she could to avoid Sully. She was still upset with him for being part of the subterfuge and, truth be told, a bit embarrassed that he was caught up in the middle of whatever was going on between her and Declan.

  Her tummy rumbled. She’d elected not to have dinner with her guests—instead she’d had tea and biscuits in her room. Now she was paying for skipping dinner with a very unhappy stomach, which growled even louder.

  With a soft curse, she threw back the covers and got out of bed. Might as well go down to the kitchen and get something to eat. At two A.M. it was unlikely anyone else would be about.

  But, just in case, she shrugged on her light cotton robe to cover up her short nightshirt. She slid her feet into her open-toed slippers and quietly opened her bedroom door.

  She walked as softly as possible down the hallway, then down the stairs. The small lamp she always left on in the drawing room lent a soft glow to the ground floor but not much light filtered past the foyer. Intent on getting down the dim staircase without falling, she didn’t realize someone was coming up the stairs until she was almost on top of him.

  Pelicia gasped and jerked her head up. Her eyes widened. The person standing two steps down, whoever it was, was dressed in dark clothing and wore a ski mask that covered all of his face except for his eyes and mouth.

  His eyes widened briefly, too, then he lunged for her. She yelled and scrambled backward, losing her balance. She landed on her rear on the edge of a step and cracked her elbow on the step above it. Her eyes swam with tears of pain. She pushed his reaching hands away and was able to get one foot between them.

  She shoved her slippered foot into his gut for all she was worth. A startled grunt escaped him as he went down the stairs, arms flailing for balance. Pelicia shot to her feet and turned to go back to her room, intending to lock herself in.

  A hand wrapped around her ankle, yanking her off balance. She cried out. Putting out her hands, she broke her fall but could do nothing about the man pulling her the rest of the way down the stairs.

  He straddled her. As his hands wrapped around her throat she heard Sully’s shout from above, then the front door slammed open. Thinking it was someone coming to help her assailant, her stomach dropped with dread.

  Her attacker turned his head at the same time that Declan ran in. He pulled the intruder off her and threw him across the foyer into the drawing room. Pelicia heard the smashing of glass and wood and tried not to care that it sounded like the man had just landed on—and demolished—her grandmother’s favorite coffee table.

  What was that compared to Declan saving her life? She coughed and waved him off. “I’m all right.” She sat up and rubbed her throat.

  He glanced up the stairs. “Stay with Pel.” He headed toward the drawing room.

  Hearing footsteps on the steps behind her, she twisted to see Sully coming barefoot down the stairs, clad in only a pair of light blue cotton boxers and a gun in one hand. Bending, he put his free hand under her elbow and helped her up. “You okay?”

  “Fine.”

  The fight spilled out into the foyer. Sully urged her up the stairs.

  “But Declan—”

  “Can take care of himself,” Sully muttered. “And he’ll skewer me alive if I let you get hurt. Now go!”

  Pelicia let him push her the rest of the way up the stairs but balked when she reached the top. She wrapped her hands around the newel post and refused to budge. “Go back down there and help him,” she implored.

  Sully shook his head. “I don’t want to distract him. He’ll be fine.”

  The intruder punched Declan in the jaw, sending him sprawling onto the foyer floor.

  “Yes, I can see he’s doing just fine,” she whispered and prodded Sully. “Go help him.”

  Sully sighed and took one step then froze. Pelicia couldn’t take her eyes off Declan, either. He was…changing. She heard the tearing of his clothes and drew in a deep breath. He rolled to one side, groaning, and the intruder took advantage of his incapacity by fleeing.

  Sully muttered a curse and started down the stairs.

  “Sully, stop!” Pelicia went down several steps and grabbed his shoulder.

  “Make up your mind, would you?” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Do you want me to help Dec or not?”

  “I thought you were going after the other guy.”

  He frowned. “In my underwear? And barefooted?”

  “Declan would.”

  “Yes, well, Declan can be a bit of a hothead, in case you didn’t know it. I know my limitations, and running after someone in my boxers and bare feet is one of them.”

  Another groan from Declan brought both their attention back to him. The breath snagged in her throat, and she tightened her grip on Sully’s shoulder. While they had been arguing, something miraculous and, from her point of view, totally unexpected had happened.

  In the pile of Declan’s shredded clothing stood a huge dark brown wolf.

  Damn the man. When had he become infected and, more important, when had he planned to tell her? She narrowed her eyes. Knowing him, he’d thought long and hard about trying to hide it. Probably thought he could get away with having three-day-long business trips once a month that took him away from her.

  “What the hell?” Sully brought his gun arm up and pointed the weapon at the wolf, which slowly turned its head to stare up at them. “Where the fuck did Dec go?”

  Pelicia stretched and put her hand on his rigid forearm, gently urging him to lower his gun. “Don’t shoot it, Sully. That’s Declan.”

  “What’s Declan?”

  “The wolf.”

  When he turned his head to look at her, she raised her shoulders in an I’m-not-kidding shrug. “Apparently he’s a werewolf, though he didn’t choose to tell me about it.”

  The wolf whined and, with a clatter of its nails, raced through the still-open front door, no doubt on the trail of the intruder who’d attacked her.

  Pelicia stood in silence on the steps, still holding onto Sully’s shoulder.

  “Declan’s a werewolf.” His voice was flat, disbelieving.

  “It looks that way. Bastard.” No one made her want to cuss faster than Declan O’Connell.

  Sully started down the stairs. She let go of his shoulder and followed him. While he went straight to clo
se the front door, she turned right and bent to pick up the pile of Declan’s ruined clothes. After straightening, she pushed the light switch on the wall, turning on the small, art deco style chandelier in the foyer.

  “Declan’s a werewolf,” Sully said again. His eyes were wide. One corner of his mouth turned down. “Declan’s a werewolf.” He stared at Pelicia. “My best friend from university is a sodding werewolf.”

  “Yes.” She empathized with his disbelief, though she didn’t share it. She’d known from the time she was a little girl that werewolves were real.

  So, no skepticism for her. Anger and hurt, that was something else. Because once again Declan O’Connell had chosen to withhold the truth from her.

  “I must say, you seem to be taking this rather well. Better than me, in fact.” His entire expression reflected his confusion, his brain’s struggle to accept what his eyes had seen.

  Pelicia sighed. “This isn’t new to me, Sully. I know someone else who’s a werewolf.” She glanced up the stairs. “I’m surprised Neal and Andrew haven’t come out to see what’s going on.”

  “Neither one of them are here.” Sully came toward her, seemingly unself-conscious with wearing only his underwear. She couldn’t help but look and appreciate him for the fine hunk of man flesh he was, though she deliberately kept her gaze off his groin area.

  She had enough trouble as it was with just the one man—werewolf!—she had. She wasn’t about to add to it.

  “How do you know they’re not here?”

  He shrugged and stopped a few feet away. “I checked their rooms before I went to bed, and they haven’t been in since.”

  “How do you know?” What was he doing, sitting up awake at night?

  “I’m a light sleeper.” Sully shook his head. “I can’t believe…Declan’s a bloody werewolf!” He scrubbed the back of his neck with one big hand. “It’s probably a good thing neither of your other guests was here. This would be difficult to explain.” He started to say more but stiffened and squinted down the hallway toward the dark kitchen.