She threw on a tank top and shorts, a pair of slippers, and a robe, and headed down the hallway to the stairs. Even in the darkened hallway, she could see with her wolf’s vision and used the stair railing as she hurried down the curved stone steps.

When she arrived in the kitchen, she found the light switch and flipped it on. The entire keep was quiet, the kitchen spotless. She reached into one of the three stainless-steel fridges and pulled out a carton of milk, then poured herself a glass. After putting the milk away, she took a deep breath and stared out at the frosty garden through the windows behind the kitchen table. Small brass lanterns illuminated the shrubs a short distance from the castle, but the rest of the gardens were dark.

She was about to take a sip of milk when a deep male voice said, “Couldn’t sleep?”

Calla squeaked and dropped the glass of milk on the slate floor, splattering milk everywhere. Used to slipping around her house in the middle of the night, she hadn’t been prepared for anyone’s sudden appearance here.

She wheeled around to see Guthrie grinning at her. “Sorry, lass,” he said, not sounding sorry at all but rather highly amused. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I’ll clean it up.”

She glanced at his body. He wore only a pair of black boxers—his bare chest and legs taking more of her attention than necessary. “You’re not wearing any shoes. I’ll get it.”

“It was my fault,” Guthrie said.

“I know. It was. But you can’t get any closer or you’ll cut your feet.” She sighed, grabbed some paper towels and wetted them, then began to clean up the mess—milk and milk-covered glass everywhere. Glass hitting a stone floor didn’t have a chance.

“You aren’t still angry about what happened at the manor house, are you?” Guthrie asked. Seizing some paper towels and ignoring her look of disbelief, he began to help her clean up the mess.

“Guthrie, you’re going to get cut.” She looked up from his big feet and saw him staring at her robe gaping open. She was wearing a tank top and shorts, for heaven sakes. He was nearly naked! She sighed. “I…I think, besides worrying you were going to be charged with assault, I was concerned that the men might have cut you or Ethan.”

“You said yourself you didn’t think fighting with swords was their strong suit,” Guthrie said, drawing closer as he moved in her direction to capture more of the splintered glass.

“Aye, but they weren’t just practicing with you, either.”

“They didn’t stand a chance.” Guthrie smiled at her. “You needn’t have worried.”

She caught his gaze, his green eyes darkened. “Did Ian scold you too much after I left?” She’d been concerned about that too. Afterward, she thought she probably shouldn’t have made such a fuss about it.

“He’s the pack leader,” Guthrie said.

Which most likely meant Ian had chewed him out. “I’m sorry. But it will probably be best if you don’t have to safeguard me.”

“You think one of the toga wearers would try to fight me?”

She smiled at that. “The Greeks thought of swords as an auxiliary weapon. They were mostly spear bearers. So if you were armed with only your sword and any of them were carrying spears, you’d be in real trouble.”

Guthrie chuckled. “Not if they have been drinking, which I’m sure they will be, aye?” He threw out his glass- and milk-covered paper towels and washed his hands.

“What did you ever see in Baird anyway?” Guthrie asked, meaning to sound casual, but his words came out a lot gruffer than he intended.

She paused and frowned a little at him. “Haven’t you ever made a mistake in liking someone? Not really knowing the person as you thought you did? That they’re showing you only their good side?”

Instantly, he thought of Margaret Finnegan—the redheaded human who was all sweetness and delight until he told her in no uncertain terms that he couldn’t marry her. He’d been clear about it from the start, but she’d had some notion she’d wear him down. She’d called him a stubborn old goat. She had part of it right. The goat part? Not even close.

Still, he’d made a mistake in seeing her for too long, and he paid for it when she’d convinced her father that Guthrie had gotten her pregnant and had to marry her. The problem with that tale was that rarely did a lupus garou impregnate a human. So he was all for the paternity test, until she finally told the truth—another guy was the father and he wasn’t marrying her, either. At least Guthrie was out of the picture on that one.

Calla cleared her throat and cast him a devious smile. “From your nonresponse, I take it you have made a mistake in liking someone. Or more than one person—as the case may be.”

She waited for him to share. He wasn’t about to.

“That wasn’t anything recent,” he said, wanting to talk about Calla’s situation with Baird. Guthrie’s former misgivings concerning disastrous female relationships weren’t important, as far as he was concerned.

“You know my story,” Calla finally said, as if that meant she should be privy to his.

“Nay, I don’t, lass. All I know is that you agreed to marry the guy and you finally came to your senses.”

“So who was she?” Calla asked, one brow raised. “How long ago was this? It sounds recent to me.”

He let out his breath in exasperation. Maybe, he thought, if he explained about Margaret, Calla would open up with him about Baird. He finally said, “Two years ago. She was human and returned to Ireland. I haven’t heard from her since.”

“That’s why our families tell us to limit our contact with humans,” Calla said, as if to remind him why he had gotten into the mess he did. As if she needed to.

“They also tell us to watch out for wolves who are not to be trusted,” he said.

Her gaze was steady on Guthrie. “Last year, when I returned to the Highlands, to this area, I was again without friends. Sure, I saw Cearnach. But I wanted to date and eventually find someone who would be my lifelong mate.” She threw out her paper towel, got a new one, and wetted it. “You really don’t like Baird, do you?”

“He’s a self-centered bastard, Calla. Didn’t Cearnach warn you that Baird would never have allowed you to have any friends if you had married him?” Guthrie didn’t know why it perturbed him so much that she would stick up for Baird, not after what he had done to Cearnach and Elaine. “Did Baird know you were Cearnach’s friend when you met him?”