A Highland Wolf Christmas
Page 41

He only shook his head, his voice husky when he spoke. “When it’s time, lass.”
She frowned a little at him, then pulled on her pants. “When it’s time for…?”
“For us.”
A mating. She sighed. “You aren’t going to make me feel guilty about this, are you?”
He chuckled. “Does that work?”
***
For a whole week, a great flurry of activity descended on the castle and surrounding property as clan members readied Argent Castle and the grounds for the big weekend bazaar, activities, and tour of the keep.
Guthrie continued to court Calla as much as he could, getting together with her to discuss plans, sitting with her at meals, trying to keep their relationship as “sweet” as possible to allow her time to get more used to him. Although being anywhere near her made him think of being with her alone and for a more intimate purpose. But as soon as they were alone, she made excuses not to go as far—kissing, cuddling, and a lot of fondling, and then she’d put on the brakes again.
This had been the longest week of his life. Not because of all the work to get things ready for the celebration, but because of the way he and Calla were left wanting after their intimate exchanges.
Calla called on associates she’d dealt with in her business over the years and was making a lot of progress toward organizing tour groups on short notice. The biggest draw was that the castle had never been open to the public. The only time the clan had allowed humans into the place was during the filming of the American Highland historical movie. Guthrie hadn’t even considered that aspect, but Calla had and was very good at seeing ways to market her expertise.
One of the things she brought up during their meeting was the public interest in a behind-the-scenes look at where the movie had been filmed.
“We could have some of the pack members who played bit parts in the movie reenact a couple of scenes, including the one in the great hall,” Calla had said when presenting the idea to Ian and Julia.
“As long as they stay well away from the Christmas tree, or there’ll be hell to pay if anyone knocks it over,” Julia warned. That reminded Guthrie of rescuing Calla under it—and the kiss they had shared.
The night he was to escort Calla to the masquerade party, Guthrie dressed in a traditional leather kilt, remembering his promise not to wear his MacNeill plaid. Even though it irked him not to wear his family colors with pride, it was their first real social gathering to attend as a couple. He was really looking forward to it, wanting to show she was with him, as a male wolf would with a she-wolf he was courting, and wanting to get away from the castle for a bit.
The bad part was that Baird and his kin were still a threat. Instead of taking this as a perfectly lovely social event where he and Calla had nothing to do but enjoy themselves, he still had to watch their backs.
Cearnach slapped him on the back and grinned. “You look a wee bit anxious, Brother.”
Guthrie frowned at him, not knowing what he meant.
“She’ll be impressed with your attire for the event. And Duncan, Oran, and I will watch your backs so that you can enjoy yourselves.”
“Aye, thanks,” Guthrie said, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to completely enjoy himself while he was protecting Calla.
Even so, Guthrie couldn’t help really anticipating what she’d wear to this event, after the toga she had sported before. When she arrived in the great hall, she was stunning in her forest green, Elizabethan-inspired velvet gown, perfect for a Christmas masquerade. The cut on the bodice showed the swell of her breasts, the trim waist and full skirt adding to the sexiness of her figure. Most of her hair was secured in an elegant twist on top of her head. Some of her red-gold curls framed her face, making him want to pull out her hairpins and see her hair cascade to her shoulders in soft waves.
The other ladies were all admiring her gown, touching it like he wanted to touch her. She caught his eye, her gaze instantly sweeping over him. That made him stand a little taller, like a wolf who wanted to impress her with his build. What was there about her that made him want to both please and tease her in a fun-loving way?
Her mouth curved up some, and he thought she either approved of his attire or was amused by it. Maybe a little of both.
One of the ladies handed her a red velvet hooded cloak. Little Red Riding Hood. This big, bad wolf in a leather kilt wanted to eat her all up.
He joined her and she ran her hand over the soft leather kilt. Now that made him want to growl with interest. “A leather kilt. No one will recognize you,” she said.
“Do you like it?” he asked, wishing their audience would go away.
She touched his soft cream-colored sweater. “Hmm, aye. We will go together perfectly. No clashing of colors.” Then she handed him a black-feathered mask.
He frowned at it. No way would he wear anything of the sort.
“It’s a masquerade ball. You have to wear it,” she insisted.
“I’ve got it,” Oran said, hurrying into the great hall. “I wore this at a party once. Makes the men stay away from you and your woman, and it intrigues the lassies if they don’t have a man.” He handed Guthrie a black and silver helmet with an ominous-looking vented face guard.
It was a fantasy kind, unlike true Roman, Norman, or Saxon knights’ helmets. Like the large scaled metal on a knight’s arms, the helmet had large scales from the top of the head to the back. He liked it—but he wasn’t wearing it.
“Nay. I need to see you—every bit of you—at all times. Too easy for someone to blindside me,” Guthrie said to Calla.