Calla had thought the whole thing was so funny that she hadn’t realized Guthrie was still waiting for her to scold him for this party debacle. When Rosalind had thrown herself at him, Guthrie’s expression had been priceless, especially when he saw Calla coming up the stairs.

The part about Rosalind’s boyfriend even considering going wolf on them was not funny, however. It had taken a hell of a lot of fast talking to convince him to stand down and behave. If the man had shifted in front of the human guests who came to see the commotion, the wolves would have had to turn them all. What a catastrophe that would have been. Thankfully, the man had just snarled at his girlfriend and then returned to the party.

Calla assumed that was the end of that relationship. Speaking of which, Calla had overheard Rosalind telling Guthrie that she didn’t know anyone at the party. She hadn’t known then that Rosalind had a boyfriend, but she had wondered what Rosalind was up to. Calla hadn’t wanted to make the decision for Guthrie, but she was pleasantly surprised with the one he made. What was most endearing about Guthrie was how much he worried that Calla thought he had wanted a romp with the woman. Rosalind had known very well what she wanted, and that was Guthrie, the only man at the party not wearing a toga.

Calla chuckled again, and he glanced her way, his brow furrowed. She grinned at him, and he shook his head.

Chapter 9

When they arrived home, Ethan gave Guthrie a slight nod, as if saying he would tell Ian what had happened with regard to Baird so that Guthrie could speak with the lass alone. Guthrie was certain that Ethan would also tell Ian about the half-naked woman. He and Oran were grinning so broadly that Guthrie was convinced they’d both ask Ian to ensure that Guthrie was always in charge of the guard detail for Calla. And that Ian always picked them to go with Guthrie when he had to watch over her.

“Calla, can I speak with you for a minute?” Guthrie asked, opening the door to the keep for her.

“About?”

“Let’s go someplace more…private. The study? Or the garden room?”

Her body tense, she looked a little wary. “The garden room will be fine.”

They walked through the keep to the kitchen, but before they reached the door, they discovered Cearnach and Duncan eating pork sandwiches at the table and drinking mulled wine. Both stopped talking to acknowledge Guthrie and Calla with smiles.

“How’d the party go?” Duncan asked, smirking.

Duncan couldn’t have heard what had happened at this party yet, so Guthrie assumed he was still amused about the reunion fiasco—as if anytime that Guthrie went to one of her scheduled events, he’d cause trouble. Even if that had been the case so far.

Her brows raised, Calla said, “I’m sure Guthrie is dying to tell you about it. You’ll most likely find it as entertaining as the other.” She moved outside into the cold.

Guthrie’s brothers grinned broadly at him. “Not another sword fight, eh, Brother?” Cearnach asked, sounding like he was dying to know what had happened this time.

Guthrie shook his head, then followed Calla out the door. When he closed the door behind them, she said, “You know they’ll learn about it shortly. They’re probably already calling Ethan or Oran to discover what exactly did happen.”

Guthrie looked down at Calla’s impish expression as he walked her down the path to the outdoor garden room. She was enjoying this a little too much.

When he looked down at the toga caressing her ankles, he realized he should have asked if she wanted to change into something more comfortable first, or at least something he wouldn’t be staring at so hard once she removed her coat. He had to admit she looked damned hot as a Grecian woman.

He opened the door to the garden room, glad to see it was deserted. He turned on the light, then closed the door after them. After taking her coat and wool scarf and hanging them on the coatrack, he started a fire in the fire pit to warm the place.

“I need to speak with you about Baird,” Guthrie said.

“Why do you want to talk about him again?” she asked, suddenly sounding wary.

“I saw Baird in his wolf coat watching the cottage tonight while you were inside orchestrating the toga party.”

Calla’s eyes widened a bit. Then she shook her head and walked over to a rack of wine and motioned to the bottles. “Want something to drink?”

“Sure. Anything that you would like is fine with me.”

She handed him a bottle of merlot.

He removed the cork and poured each of them a glass.

“Aye, so I wondered again if there is some other reason why he keeps stalking you.”

“I…I don’t know. Was anyone else with him?”

“Nay. His pack may be disillusioned with him over chasing after you and not resolving the issue. If you have any other notions why he won’t leave you alone, let us know.”

“I will.” Calla took a seat on one of the soft moss-colored sofas that wound around the fire pit.

The Celtic gold embroidered pillows had been replaced with Christmas ones—the Santas on them wearing the blue and green kilt of the MacNeill clan. The scent of Christmas spice filled the air, making Guthrie think the ladies had been there earlier, burning their cinnamon-scented candles. He was trying to figure out whether to sit closer to Calla and be able to better breathe in her sweet scent, which would be a mistake, or to sit farther away and have a better view of her toga, which could be just as much of a mistake.

He sighed and took a seat across from her. “What do you have planned for tomorrow?”

She took another sip of her wine and set her glass down on the coffee table. “I’m going with Julia, Heather, and a few other ladies to pick up Christmas gifts.”

She slipped off one sandal and then the other. He glanced at her toga, thinking about her removing it next, although he shouldn’t have allowed his thoughts to stray in that direction. She pulled her bare feet up on the couch and tucked them beneath her. Then she lifted the plaid throw over her lap. He wished he was curled up beside her.

“Who’s watching over you?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Ian always sets the guard schedule.”

Guthrie hadn’t heard anything about it so he assumed Ian had assigned someone else to watch them. Still, if Guthrie had the free time… “When are you going?”

She hesitated to say, as if weighing the reasons he’d ask.