He paced across the front porch, went around the back, and looked at the white sandy beach. It was void of people, with no one swimming in the dark water, either. Unless she went for a walk along the beach and was way out of sight.
He peered at all the windows, seeing no movement or lights in any of the rooms. To his way of thinking, she was alone, defenseless, and vulnerable, and he had to ensure she was either not at home or was all right. If nothing else, he had to explain why he was so late in arriving.
He knocked again. “Shelley, if you’re in there, let me know. Otherwise I’m going to assume the worst.”
When she didn’t come to the door and let him in or acknowledge she was there, he pulled out his handy lock picks—standard lupus garou issue, unlocked the door, and peered into the dark villa.
He took a couple of steps into the room, looking for signs of a struggle, but saw nothing out of place and shut the door. “Shelley? It’s me, Duncan. We had a date to have a drink, but I had trouble—”
He stopped speaking abruptly as he caught a flash of fur. Then turning, he saw a wolf racing toward his left flank, eyes glowing green in the reflection of the front porch light, which was shining in through the living room window where the curtain was slightly parted. Her teeth weren’t bared as she leapt at him. Which meant she wasn’t truly angry with him or wanting to fight. It was more a territorial show, he thought. This was her place and he had intruded, despite warning her that he would to ensure she was all right.
He understood and welcomed her display of defending her territorial rights.
She was smaller than a male wolf, but the impact of her body and his unpreparedness to handle her jump knocked him back.
He smiled darkly as he regained his equilibrium and readied himself for another attack as she circled around and faced him again. Having wrestled with his brothers and cousins over the years, sometimes as wolves, sometimes as humans, and sometimes like this—human to wolf—he was game. He had to admit he’d never tackled a female wolf in such a manner.
The newness was not only refreshing but momentarily took his mind off his other troubles.
“I’m late, and I apologize, but—”
Her tail waved like a dog pleased to see its master—instinctively wanting to play. Her gaze was on his, watching his reaction, and he knew she was calculating her next move and his, too.
Adrenaline and testosterone raced through his blood, preparing him for the mock fight. When she lunged this time with no warning, he seized the ruff of her neck in a natural reaction to protect himself, and she exposed her teeth, an instinctive response in play or battle. He held on as she snapped and snarled, twisting her head to free herself from his iron grip. Still, she didn’t try to bite him, which told him she was only pretend fighting, showing her irritation in a wolf’s way for standing her up and breaking into her place without permission.
With a strong jerk of her head, she broke free of his titan grip, jumped aside, and again lunged. Not expecting her attack to follow so rapidly after the first, figuring she’d pause to determine her next strategy, he fell back, tripped over a suitcase, and landed on his back.
He swore she would have been laughing her head off if she could as a wolf. She quickly stood on his belly, triumphant, panting, chest heaving, looking down at him with a proud expression, eyes gleaming, and almost a smile. Yeah, she was damned amused. He’d been bested by a she-wolf and one flowery suitcase.
A beautiful she-wolf at that, with dark red-brown fur covering most of her body and the top half of her muzzle, pale cream underneath, black-tipped ears and tail, and sharp green eyes.
He smiled. He could have wrestled with her further, but he was afraid that, in his exuberance, he might injure her by accident. Besides, he wanted to make it right with her about his being late and breaking into her villa without her permission. She had to realize he had only done so out of concern for her.
“You win.” He tried to look as without guilt as he could. None of his people would accuse of him of having that trait, either. Not even when one of his brothers had done something wrong and Duncan had been completely blameless of the infraction. He just didn’t have the knack to ever look—innocent. “I apologize for arriving at your place late.”
She closed her mouth, staring at him with her front paws still standing on his chest, waiting for an explanation.
“My room wasn’t available.” He sighed. Hell, might as well tell the truth. “I mean to say I don’t have a place to stay. The hotel was overbooked. So I’ve been all over the blasted island, trying to find another place to stay. None of the other places I checked have accommodations. I’d planned to sleep in the car tonight, then take care of business and leave for Scotland tomorrow night if I couldn’t find some place to stay in the meantime.”
She didn’t move, as if considering his words and what she might do.
“I worried something had happened to you.”
That’s when she finally stepped off him and studied him for a moment more, judging his sincerity as he sat up. She turned and headed into what he suspected was a bedroom, her tail whipping back and forth. He took a deep breath of the sexually enticing smell of female wolf. Their brief physical encounter had definitely turned her on, not that wrestling with her hadn’t done a job on his libido, too.
He got up off the floor, and she suddenly reappeared in the doorway with just a long T-shirt clutched against her br**sts and hanging barely to mid-thigh to cover her torso before she shut the door.
He stared at the door that she’d disappeared behind, wanting to see the rest of her long tanned legs, her br**sts, and hell, the rest of her.
Trying to get his mind off the tantalizing nearly na**d sight of her imprinted on his brain, he finally noted the decor. Everything was light and airy, nothing like Argent Castle in Scotland. All the fabrics were covered in flowers—the sofas, the chairs, the seats at the kitchen table. All the tables were light bamboo, and the curtains over the French patio doors were also floral.
On the kitchen table her laptop sat open, the screen saver scrolling across it showing myriad wolf pictures in woodsy settings, whether wolf-wolves or werewolves he couldn’t decipher. What had she been looking at? Business? Emails? Something else? He wasn’t going to look, yet he was dying to, which was inherently part of a wolf’s curious nature. He wanted to know everything he could about her.
Before he could get himself into hot water by checking out her laptop, she walked out of the bedroom dressed in the clothes he’d seen her wearing previously, minus the silver sandals.
“You have whiskey on your breath,” she said, in an accusing tone, her arms folded.
That didn’t look good. Either she thought he was a real drinker and had been in a bar all that time, or that he’d lied about his lack of accommodations.
“After looking for places for an hour, I stopped at a bar, aye, lass. Sometimes a whiskey improves the disposition.”
She smiled slightly at his comment. “I imagine you looked perfectly lethal to the clerks at every hotel you chanced to query.”
“Aye, I did.” He liked that about her. That she wasn’t afraid of him, even if he might look perfectly lethal.
“You didn’t have to break into the place,” she said, still sounding peeved.
“I worried about you.”
Her head tilted to the side, she gave him a look that said she didn’t believe him.
He conceded, “I couldn’t believe you’d hold my being late against me, so I began conjuring up all kinds of trouble you might have gotten into.”
“Okay,” she said, sounding like she did buy that to an extent, or at least wanted to. “So you were a warrior coming to my rescue.” She smiled a little, gloating over having knocked the warrior flat on his back with one good wolf lunge and a well-placed flowery bag. “You really don’t have a place to stay?”
He felt hopeful for the first time tonight. “Nay. My brother made the reservation, and when I arrived, the clerk said none were available.”
Brow wrinkled, she took a deep breath. “Why are you here?”
“You offered to buy me a drink.”
“No. I mean, are you here on vacation? Business? Why are you here on the island? You don’t appear to be the type who would come here alone on vacation.”
He hadn’t expected that question, and he was certain if he told her what he planned to do, she wouldn’t care for it one wee bit.
“You’re right. I have business. Banking business.”
She frowned a little at that, then nodded. “I have a proposition for you, since I have a bit of a situation myself.”
“Aye?”
“You can stay here with me… if you don’t cause any trouble.”
He wanted to remind her that she was the one who’d attacked him, not the other way around. To his way of thinking, she was the cause of any trouble. Good thing they hadn’t damaged the furniture in the rental, and the villa was isolated so no one would have known about their mock fight. All he intended to do was make this his base of operations. Beyond that, he’d be out trying to find a way to get the clan’s money back.
“What about your roommate?” he asked, hoping Shelley didn’t have one and that he could stay there for the entire week without any problem.
“I got an email from the college that was paying my grant. Seems someone has absconded with a whole lot of the college’s money. My grant money isn’t coming. I’m a college professor, and I can’t afford the villa on my own. I’ve saved enough money to take some excursions, but paying for the rest of the villa is a little beyond my means. I’ll keep the master bedroom suite on the first floor. You can have the guest bedroom with the two twin beds on the second floor.”
“Twin beds,” he said, figuring his feet would hang off the end of the bed, even though he had to remind himself that his only other alternative was sleeping crunched up in a compact car. Beyond that he’d been hoping for at least a couch.