A Howl for a Highlander (15 page)

Intent on dragging Shelley into his arms and kissing her thoroughly, he reached out to grab her. Anticipating his action, she dove under the water again. The chase was on. Fortunately, with his night vision—and the moon so full and the water so crystal clear—he could see her swimming beneath the waves and follow her.

He was a powerful swimmer, having braved the cold Irish and North Seas and the lochs near Argent Castle. But he’d never chased a mermaid in warm waters nearly as dark as midnight, with colorful schools of fish darting about as if Shelley and he were predators in the mix. The currents pulled them down the beach. He allowed the sea to carry him toward her as he stroked the silky water to catch up to her.

He was gaining on her, and by the way she was beginning to panic with her strokes, he suspected she knew he was nearly upon her. He contemplated strategies—grabbing her foot or merely brushing a finger down the sole of her foot, tickling it to see her reaction. Or swimming beside her for a while before he took her in his arms and ravished her. Sooner or later. That was the only question. Would it be sooner or later?

He’d never pursued a female wolf before; human women, yes. Many over the years. But he’d never been so intrigued by a female wolf that he wanted to pursue her. Either the wolves he’d met had been mated or he just had not been interested. This one created problems he wasn’t sure he was willing to confront. She was American, living in America. His mate would have to live with him. In Scotland. What would a woman like Shelley think of moving to the ancestral home where her people had lived before being abruptly sent away, forced to pull up roots and move to other countries?

If it went that far, how could he force her to leave her home, give up her job, and live with him?

No, it would never work. But he didn’t back off. Damn it. He wanted her. Even if just for a feral wolf’s release—as long as she was willing. He’d never played with a female that stirred his loins like she did, either as a wolf or a man. He wanted her so badly that he could barely keep himself in check to let this go at a more leisurely pace with no strings attached.

He wasn’t certain where she wanted to go with this, either. He suspected—maybe because she hadn’t bothered with a bathing suit this time—she wanted to ravish him back. But maybe that was damned wishful thinking on his part.

He swam closer and ran his hand over her silky calf, up the back of her thigh, and over her bare buttock. She turned to look at him, her mouth smiling in the most seductively devilish way. He truly meant to give her a choice—come to him, kiss him, hold him close—but as soon as she smiled like a wolf who wanted him, that was all that mattered.

He pulled her into his arms and licked the salty water off her lips as he planted his feet on the sand, the warm water lapping at his waist. She gently raked her fingernails up his back like a feline with her claws extended, careful not to scratch, her chin tilted up, her wet lashes tracing her cheeks as she parted her lips and offered herself to him. Her green eyes were closed, her breath coming quickly, most likely in part because of their run and then their swimming, and partly because of the passion flaring between them.

He slid his hands down her backside until he cupped her buttocks and pulled her close, pressing her against his arousal, hard and wanting, showing her just what she did to him. Damned if he didn’t want to be inside her tight sheath, thrusting, pleasuring her, and satisfying his own raging desire.

Even though she was breathing hard against his mouth, he gave her the barest of kisses because he knew having a little of her wouldn’t be enough, and he’d want it all. But he was trying damned hard to stick with something simple, uncomplicated, and nothing permanent. Just a little innocent pleasuring between two wolves.

Innocent, his ass. There was nothing innocent about the way the she-wolf felt as the currents pushed her soft curves against him, her body sliding provocatively against his with the constant gentle swell of waves assaulting them.

He slid his lips across her parted ones, the invitation raw and inviting. Yet she waited for him to take charge of her mouth, to take control of the seduction. Or else she was just better than him at not jumping into something that was bound to cause them problems if at least one of them didn’t put a halt to it.

Again, he licked her lips and then slid his tongue into her mouth, tasting the flavors of rum and Baileys Irish Cream, and she moaned, tilting her head back even more. If he hadn’t been holding her, he was certain she would have sunk below the surface of the water.

But her sweet, lusty moan undid him and catapulted him into thrusting his tongue deeper into her mouth while she dug her nails into his back.

Her luscious mouth wasn’t enough. He soon had her legs wrapped around his waist so he could lean her back and feast on her succulent breasts. He kissed and suckled a nipple while his hand massaged the other with reverence. Her hands grasped his shoulders, and she leaned back, her eyes closed, her lips parted as she mewled in ecstasy.

The heels of her feet pressed between the backs of his legs as the swells of the sea drew her up and down against his raging erection. It would have been so easy to take her, to satisfy his growing need to find release deep inside her, yet he attempted to keep thoughts about his own needs at bay and pleasure her as much as she was pleasuring him.

He slipped his fingers behind her to find the chasm between her legs and the slickness indicating she was ready for him if he so desired and she agreed. She leaned forward now, her hands clutching his shoulders as he stroked her, but it was hard this way and he whispered, “Turn around for me, lass.”

She obliged, unwrapping her legs from around his waist and setting her feet on the sandy bottom of the sea floor. “What did you want to do?” she asked, sounding intrigued.

He turned her around, encouraged her to wrap her legs around him with her buttocks against his arousal, her knees parted wide. Like this, she was much more vulnerable to his touch, like a wolf who would expose her belly to a male wolf she trusted completely. She didn’t have any way to balance herself, but he was in control. His arm was anchored beneath her breasts to keep her in place, allowing him to caress her while he kissed and nuzzled her ear, her neck, her throat, and his free hand began its judicious assault on her clit. Her legs around him, knees spread wide, she arched her back against him as he stroked and plucked and tweaked her sensitive nub, enjoying her moans while the winds and waves drowned out her sounds of joy.

“Shelley,” he groaned, nearly coming with the way her body rode the waves against him, grinding her buttocks against his stiff erection, the way she arched and twisted and writhed against his touch until she cried out his name with such passion that he realized he’d never heard a woman say his name with so much joy.

He hadn’t thought it possible, but her body pressing hard against his pushed his own climax to the top until he was spilling his seed between them, mixing with the Caribbean waters. For a mind-boggling instant, he had the unfathomable thought that he’d wasted his seed. How he could have started his own wolf offspring with Shelley.

He wasn’t sure where these crazy notions were coming from. He was a Highland warrior, and wolf pups and babies were not part of the persona of a battle-hardened fighter.

Shelley tried to stand and laughed when her legs nearly buckled. He caught her around the waist again. “I’m not usually this… indisposed after…” She let her words trail off.

He smiled darkly at her. “You’ve never been with a Highland wolf.”

She laughed. “I’ve never been with a wolf. It’s just too dangerous a thing to do. I can see that for myself now.”

Out of nowhere, a rogue wave rose behind them, huge, powerful, and ready to suck them under. Before either of them could react, it crashed over them both. He lost his grip on her, tumbling after her in the frothing water.

He grabbed her foot and pulled her to him. Neither of them was in any danger, but he didn’t want to let her go, even for the briefest of moments. She was laughing, coughing, and trying to catch her breath as she wiped the salt water from her eyes. He scooped her into his arms and carried her to the shore.

“I hope no one catches us out here like this,” she said, clearing her husky throat.

Not a soul was in sight, everyone having retired to bed hours earlier. Besides, it was too dark to see anything. “No one but us wolves.” He kissed her cheek.

She snuggled close and purred.

Her snuggling and purring undid him. “About the sleeping arrangements…” he said.

“I was afraid you’d want to make other arrangements.”

“Aye. I want us to share the queen-sized bed.”

“But will it be safe?” she asked.

“After the day and night we’ve had? All we’ll do is sleep.”

“Hmm.” She sounded as if she would drift off in his arms before he reached the villa. “Somehow I don’t think being with you anywhere would be truly safe.”

He chuckled. “Aye. So you see, lass, if you were upstairs in the twin bed, you’d feel the same way.”

“Do all Scots think like you?”

Men of any persuasion, he thought grimly, if they had a female wolf like Shelley in their sights.

“Do you have a swimsuit?” she asked suddenly.

“Just shorts.”

“We’ll have to go shopping and buy you a pair of swim trunks if I’m going to make you walk the pirate’s plank tomorrow afternoon.”

“Who says you’re going to make
me
walk the plank?” he asked, amused at the turn of the conversation.

She laughed. “Surely you don’t think you’re going to make
me
do it!”

Aye, that’s just what he thought.

As soon as he let her down on the patio, he opened the back door for her. She walked inside and froze. She sniffed the air, her heart beating erratically as Duncan caught the same scent.

“Stay here,” he commanded, then shifted into his wolf form and raced through the living room and master bedroom, then up the stairs to the guest bedroom, furious enough to rip the crook to shreds.

Silverman
had
been inside the villa while they were away. Had he been watching them while they swam? Or had he just waited until they ran off down the beach in their wolf forms, then checked out the villa and left?

Infuriated, Duncan tried to fight the darkness that swamped him. As a warrior, he couldn’t tolerate an affront this blatant. But he didn’t want Shelley seeing this side of him.

He wondered why he’d come to that conclusion when before he had been content to be who he was. Even proud to be thought of as a warrior willing to grind any enemy into the ground. A warrior who wasn’t prone to having a pretty face turn his head.

The little red she-wolf had turned him inside out. Not in a bad way, either. She’d lightened his mood considerably since he’d spied her in the airport. For the first time ever, he’d felt carefree, like Cearnach always acted. Cheerful and pleased. Duncan knew his brother better. Knew that he was all warrior and business and darkness when the situation warranted it. Duncan wasn’t normally the jubilant type, though.

Still hot with anger, Duncan raced back down the stairs, wanting to take the bastard on. He ran past Shelley, who looked anxious, but he wasn’t sure if that was because of his behavior or Silverman’s. Duncan shifted at the back door and then shut, locked, and bolted it. Turning, he hoped he’d hidden his feral feelings, but the expression of concern on Shelley’s face told him he wasn’t doing a good job of it.

“He was here,” she said softly.

“Aye,” Duncan growled, his voice low and angry. So much for attempting to act as though this didn’t bother him as much as it did. “He was trying to learn about the sleeping arrangements. He would have discovered from our scents that we slept in separate beds last night.”

He had mixed feelings about that. On the one hand, he wanted the bastard to know he’d claimed Shelley. That she was part of his territory. His. Not that she truly was.

On the other hand, he wanted Silverman to know she wasn’t the kind of wolf who took up with anyone and probably would be willing to do the same with Silverman. Duncan had no intention of allowing the bastard to think he had any chance with her. He slipped his hand around hers and gave her a reassuring squeeze.

“You don’t have to worry about him.” He was certain Shelley didn’t believe him entirely.

Not liking that the bastard had slipped into her villa and inspected the place, Shelley swallowed hard, squeezed Duncan’s hand back to show she appreciated his concern and protectiveness, and then pulled away and headed for the stairs. She would have stayed with Duncan for the night, but Sal’s little visit decided it.

She paused at the foot of the stairs and turned, worried about what Sal might have discovered about Duncan. “Did you have anything in your bag that would give away your mission here?”

“Nay. I only had a shaving kit and some clothes. My passport and driver’s license won’t help him make any connection to the fraud he’s committed.” He glanced down at her body, shimmering with water and naked, while his glistened with droplets, aroused and ready for action.

Despite being angered by Sal’s actions, Duncan couldn’t hide his attraction for her. Her nipples were standing at attention, letting him know she was just as interested in him.