A Howl for a Highlander (9 page)

She had to offer him the towel, which made her feel even more naked once she held it out to him. He took it, smiled, and then walked behind her to dry her back and all the way down her bare buttocks and calves. The way he gently stroked her was really thoughtful and totally unexpected, but it stirred her craving for him all over again. Just when she thought she’d cooled down a bit from their water moves, too. When he finished, he ran the damp towel over his chest, his eyes again zeroing in on her halter top and bikini bottoms.

He had such an incredibly sculpted chest and perfectly muscled arms—not bulky, but with just the right amount of muscle that made her feel he’d offer real trouble to any man who could be a threat. He had to have chiseled all those great muscles by swinging a sword against an enemy or at least family who served as the enemy in sport. Dark, wet hair trailed down his abdomen to the waistband of shorts slung low on his hips. The trail of hair drew her eye down further to his arousal, to where his ebony shorts were plastered against the sheer size and hardness of it. Man, he was some wolf.

“It’s a wonder you don’t lose what little you’re wearing,” he said, noticing the part of his anatomy she’d chanced to get a glimpse of while she thought he was too busy looking her over.

Her face flushing with heat, she glanced back at the water. She didn’t normally get caught looking at a man’s package when it was in such great form or quite so evident. “The waves weren’t violent enough. I’ve only lost my bikini top once—during rough waters in the Gulf of Mexico off Galveston Island, Texas.”

His gaze focused again on her top, and she envisioned him attempting to imagine her without it. Either that, or he was enjoying the view of her taut nipples, which were pressing against the wet fabric and perfectly outlined.

She started to walk back to the villa, and he didn’t follow. Too busy watching her backside?

Then he ran to catch up. “If you did come to Scotland and wanted to see our gardens, you could stay at the castle.” A smile lingered in his deep, baritone voice.

“
But
?” she asked, elongating the word, figuring from the teasing light in his eyes that there would be strings attached.

“It would cost you.”

She laughed. “Let me guess. Five thousand dollars.”

“In pounds, not dollars.”

“That would cost me even more.” She couldn’t help sounding indignant. Highway robbery! Especially since the place was probably fairly big, and she wouldn’t take up any space at all. And here she’d taken him in, the stray that
he
was.

“Aye. No twin beds, either.” He put his arm over her shoulder and walked the rest of the way to the patio with her rubbing against his hip. “Unless you wanted to share a room.”

“How much would
that
cost?”

“Probably too much,” he conceded.

“That’s what I figured.”

He laughed and walked her inside the villa.

“It’s too late now, but in the morning, can you take me to a grocery store so we can pick up something to eat?” she asked.

“Aye, lass. Are you hungry? We could try and find someplace that might still be open tonight.”

“No, I don’t normally eat this late. I wouldn’t be able to sleep. I’m fine, thanks. I’ll see you in the morning. Good night.” She quickly pulled out of his grasp and headed for her bedroom—alone—before she changed her mind and let him sleep with her. She was pretty damned sure that sleeping wouldn’t be all they’d be doing if they were together. She’d always thought herself levelheaded, someone who wouldn’t do anything that crazy, but around Duncan, she wasn’t so sure.

“Good night, lassie.” A hint of longing was in his voice—for her or her bed? Or a little of both?

***

Duncan cursed himself for craving the female wolf so damned much as he drove across the island to Sal’s estate. Thinking about her would come to no good, but he couldn’t quit envisioning all her curves and the softness of her breasts as they’d pressed against him—all but her nipples, which had become hard little pearls—how her belly had pressed against his erection, the feel of her buttocks tightening as he caressed the smooth flesh, and the way her lips teased and tantalized him, her tongue doing a number on his. That’s what he couldn’t quit thinking of as he drove around the island, searching for Silverman’s house.

He even thought about her visiting and sharing his bed with him back home! That made his loins tighten once again. His mother would say that if he took a female wolf to bed, he was mated, whether he did the deed or not. She was of the old world, where couples did not share a bed without agreeing to a mating. She often quoted his cousin’s earlier demise due to his lack-witted dallying with a married lass whose husband had taken it upon himself to kill the interloper. Now, Flynn haunted the castle. Not that Duncan was going to dishonor the family in any way or get himself into a bind like that.

Once again, he reminded himself why he was here. No matter what Guthrie had said, Duncan felt this was their best chance at retrieving the money. Guthrie was still trying to come up with ways to make the castle solvent without the funds. The movie deal had paid off their debts for the short term, but they had to get their investments back from Silverman to make it in the long run.

Ian, the laird of Argent and the eldest of the quads, was busy running the clan and pack and distracted by one sexy red wolf, his new mate who was a werewolf romance writer. The second oldest brother, Cearnach, managed a lot of the details of operating the estate as Ian’s second in command. So Duncan was free to do as he pleased.

Simply as a matter of pride, though, he wasn’t going to let the bastard get away with the theft.

He finally spied Silverman’s white stucco house, a blue iguana running across the red tile roof. A gated entry kept Duncan from getting close to the beachside home, but he figured he could run along the beach and get closer that way. The place most likely had tons of security so Duncan’s best bet probably was to wait until the bastard left his estate on some errand or another and then confront him face-to-face.

He parked nearby, got out of the rental car, and began to jog down the beach toward Silverman’s house, wearing his black pants and T-shirt and boots. Only another wolf would see him in the dark. Although it was never a good idea to make assumptions about an enemy, Guthrie hadn’t found that Silverman had any ties to a wolf pack. He seemed to be a loner who only hooked up with humans. Not having a werewolf pack protecting Sal Silverman’s back gave Duncan the advantage, if Guthrie had been correct.

As Duncan neared the house, a couple of dogs barked. Silverman had guard dogs? Lights were on all over the place and security lights all over the grounds also. A couple of men headed for the back patio in the direction of the beach, looking to see what had disturbed the dogs.

Duncan growled and turned around and ran back the other way. No sense in being ID’d by a couple of goons. The guard dogs would be even more of a problem, though, if Duncan wanted to enter the house when Silverman was gone.

The good thing was that Silverman did seem to be in residence. Did he ever leave his estate, though? He might just seclude himself there until he left for some other hideaway.

Duncan had to get to him before that could happen.

Before long, he was driving back to the villa, feeling unsettled about not getting any further with Silverman, when he thought he spied headlights following him. He pulled off the road and killed his car lights, but the headlights behind him turned off down another road, and Duncan continued on his way. Had someone suspected he was trouble?

Whatever happened, he didn’t want Shelley involved in this. Tomorrow, he’d change out his rental vehicle in the event that Silverman’s people were watching for him, especially if the woman he’d met in the bar had alerted her boyfriend that some Scot seemed interested in Silverman and that she’d made the mistake of talking about him.

When Duncan arrived back at the villa, the lights in the master bedroom were off. A light in the living room had been left on, as if Shelley had meant to welcome him home. He appreciated the gesture, although werewolves didn’t need light to see at night. What he’d truly wished she’d done was left her bedroom door open and a trail of discarded clothes from the living room to the bedroom, inviting him to follow her there, close the door, and join her in bed. Not that it would be a good thing for either of them, but he couldn’t help wanting it.

He trudged up the stairs to his guest bedroom and the two twin beds, glad at least he had a bed to sleep in. And he stared at the woman sleeping in one of them, her auburn hair splayed across a white pillowcase and the floral bedcover tucked around her throat so that he couldn’t tell if she was dressed or not.

He smiled at her. Now he wanted to push the twin beds together and stay just where he was. With her. Forget the queen-sized bed downstairs that would accommodate his size better.
She
would accommodate his size even better.

“You may have my bed,” she whispered, half asleep, not even opening her eyes as if that might wake her up too much, but evidently he’d awakened her, or she had not quite drifted off. Probably felt the change in the temperature of the room as he stood next to the bed. Most likely smelled him with the breeze and night salt air on his skin. “’Night,” she added softly, confirming that the one-sided conversation was over.

He stood staring at her, not wanting to leave. Wanting to see what she looked like, how she felt underneath the covers. “Are you certain?” he asked. “These beds look pretty good about now.”

She still didn’t open her eyes, but she smiled her brilliant smile. “Good night, Duncan. I’m not moving downstairs now that I’ve got the bed nice and warm, and I’m not wearing anything. So run along like a good wolf, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

“You’re not wearing even a string bikini?” he asked, not taking a step from the room. Now he was really trying to envision all that tanned skin perfectly naked.

This time, she opened her eyes, a smile lingering as if to say that surely he knew she wouldn’t be wearing anything. “Most of us sleep in nothing.”

“Aye, but I don’t care what most do about sleeping.”

He swore she was fighting back a laugh.

“Good night, Duncan,” she said dismissively, her voice sounding amused.

He shook his head, grumbled something about how hard she was on him in a mostly teasing way, and headed back down the stairs.

Shelley chuckled as he stomped down the stairs. She loved his sense of humor and how honorable he was, and she felt like a good Samaritan for ensuring that he would have a restful night in a bed built more for his size.

***

Very early in the morning, she smelled ham and eggs and cheese cooking, and even a pot of coffee brewing.

“Hmm,” she said, stretching her arms above her head. Then she sat up abruptly in bed. He went grocery shopping without her? Not that she was upset about the circumstances—and she truly was glad he was making breakfast because after playing in the surf and having had no dinner, she was starving—but she still wanted to go to the grocery store.

She grabbed her shortie floral satin robe off a chair, the only robe she’d brought, figuring it would just be her here and no problem. She slipped it on and belted it, then hurried down the stairs. If she weren’t so hungry, she would have gotten dressed first. But she didn’t want the food to get cold so she wasn’t wasting any time in joining him.

Dressed only in a pair of black briefs, Duncan wore a shadow of a beard but still looked as sexy as the devil as he folded an omelet with melted cheese and ham and chives in a skillet in the kitchen. “Look good?”

She looked from him to the eggs. She kept thinking about how
he
looked—damned good, hot, wolflike, wearing only the pair of black briefs—with his perfectly muscled arms and chest, and bare legs. “Yeah, real good,” she murmured.

He smiled at her. “I meant, did the eggs appeal. Or would you like me to fix you something else?”

“No, what you’re fixing is fine.” She thought again about his clothes. He had the ones he’d worn the night before when he went in search of Silverman. So was he just showing off some more? She could handle it.

She studied the way he was working on the omelet, really impressed. No man she’d ever known cooked. “You can cook.”

“If you have a chance to speak with Ian, don’t
ever
let him know the truth.” Duncan’s gaze met hers, and she got the impression he was serious. “My brothers and I stick to the principle that unless it’s frozen pizza, we can’t make it. As long as he believes that, we’re happy.”

“Or he makes you cook for the clan?” she guessed.

“For him and his new mate when Cook or our cousin Heather is unavailable, aye.”

She laughed. “Your secret is safe with me.”

He looked down at her and smiled appreciatively. “First one’s for you. I’ll make another right away.”

“Thank you.” She took the plate to the kitchen table. “You went to the grocery store without me this morning.”

“I had to. You were sleeping so soundly that I figured you’d have quite an appetite when you woke, so I picked up a few items. If you want anything else, we can go out again.”