“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.