Lights were on in every room in the five-story manor house, and more outside lights cast a soft yellow glow along the driveway and over a carriage house several hundred feet away. Christmas decorations were limited to the blue lights twinkling on a half-dozen fir trees out front.

The light snow continued to drift from the clouds above, collecting on top of the piled-up snow from the recent blizzard.

Ethan and Jasper were standing farther away, watching the comings and goings. The two men were triplets, like many siblings born to lupus garou families. They were dark haired with graying temples, and both were in good shape after having worked with cattle in Texas for years before joining the MacNeill pack. They’d exchanged managing longhorn steer for Highland cattle and worked hard to prove their worth to the pack.

Surprising everyone, Lady Mae most, Ethan had proposed marriage to her. And blushing, she’d accepted. Now Jasper was courting Guthrie’s Aunt Agnes. Though Jasper and Agnes were less vocal in their relationship and a lot more into denial that they were courting each other. Guthrie had seen the way Jasper raced to help Aunt Agnes, whether she needed assistance or not, and how she blushed and looked to see if anyone had noticed. Which in a wolf pack usually meant someone had. When he got caught at it, Jasper swore that he was just being Texas neighborly. Nobody believed it for a moment—not when the neighborly part seemed to always be directed at Agnes.

The only thing that the men had had to get used to when they moved to Argent Castle was swordsmanship practice. Not something they’d done much for centuries while living in Texas. Shooting was more their style. But the brothers had been eager to fit in with the family, and Guthrie was glad to have them here with him tonight.

The talking and laughing grew louder as the drinking got under way inside the manor house, the music becoming just as loud. Guthrie folded his arms, preferring the solitude of the quiet outside—a wolf’s choice of setting. The chilled breeze whipped his kilt about, and his senses were on high alert as he smelled the air currents and checked with his wolf’s vision for any movement in the dark.

All that moved were fir branches waving in the breeze. The grass was still covered with several inches of snow, and the sky at gloaming was a cloudy gray. It was cold, the temperature just at freezing, but he didn’t expect any major changes in the weather.

Ethan glanced back at the manor house. “A couple of men are looking out the window at us.”

“Aye. Just ignore them and watch for any signs of Baird and his men. We don’t want to quarrel with the Rankins,” Guthrie said. As much as he despised having Calla in the house with Kevin, Guthrie had to trust that she could deal with Kevin on her own for now. Especially since she had made it clear that she didn’t want Guthrie’s assistance.

“That’s why we wore the MacNeill tartan, aye?” Ethan said, sounding amused.

Guthrie shook his head. “If we go to a formal gathering where others are wearing their kin’s sett, we do also.”

“Aye,” Jasper said with a twinkle in his eye. “When we’re invited to the shindig.”

Guthrie wasn’t about to admit Jasper was right.

“We might not want a fight, but the vultures are gathering and I warrant they’ll be out here picking a battle with us before we know it,” Ethan warned, again glancing at the manor house.

Snow continued to fall in soft, fat flakes as Guthrie watched for any movement in the trees surrounding the ten-acre parklike setting. He and his companions would see movement in the semi-dark if anyone suddenly appeared. But it was quiet. He wondered if Baird had finally given up chasing after Calla constantly.

“Do you think Baird knows the lass’s schedule?” Ethan asked, as if reading Guthrie’s mind.

“Aye, I’ve told Ian that she shouldn’t mention that she’s in charge of these affairs, which are being announced all over the place. She insists it’s the only way she can adequately advertise her business.” Guthrie stretched a little to warm up his muscles.

Ethan shook his head.

Behind them, Guthrie heard movement on the steps of the manor house. Three sets of footsteps. He glanced over his shoulder. Two were the bouncers from earlier, but the other was Kevin’s younger brother, Ralph Rankin, about twenty-eight or so and a real hothead. Instead of a redhead like his brother, he was a blond. One of the men was nearly black-haired, and the other fairer. All three men were armed with swords now. Being armed and drinking alcohol was not a good combination.

Guthrie turned his back on the men.

“Why would you be here wearing the MacNeill tartan?” Ralph called out, slurring his words slightly.

He was drunk or getting there, Guthrie suspected. He didn’t turn around to acknowledge them further. Ethan and Jasper took Guthrie’s lead and also ignored the men.

“Drunker than a skunk,” Ethan said under his breath.

“Hey! I’m talking to you. What business do you have being here? Afraid your girlfriend’s going to have a go with one of us?”

“Whoreson,” Ethan said this time.

“He’s not worth it,” Guthrie warned. He didn’t plan to cause any trouble for Calla, despite his wanting to take the men to task. He had every intention of keeping his mouth shut and doing his duty. Which was watching out for Baird and his kin. Not dealing with these rowdy, drunken sots.

“Hey! You think you’re too good for us?” Ralph continued.

Guthrie smiled. He knew he was.

“Turn around when I’m talking to you.”