“Here we are.” Declan turned the car onto a gravel driveway, winding between tall green cacti with arms and smaller purple cacti with flat, circular appendages. “I’ve put you in the guesthouse—reckoned you’d want some time alone, and some space—but you’re more than welcome to stay with us in the main house if you’d prefer.”
“The guesthouse is fine.” Preferable, truth be told. With a sense of wonder Sully took in the sprawling adobe house with its southwestern architecture. So very alien compared to what he was used to in London. “This is…different.”
Pelicia grinned and opened the door. As she got out of the car she said, “Yes, we don’t see much of this style of house in England, do we?” She pulled the lever to move the seat forward so Sully could climb out of the back.
“No, we don’t.” Arms above his head, Sully stretched, working kinks out of his muscles brought on by the nearly forty-five minute ride. So many new smells—predominantly one of citrus. He glanced around and saw two lemon trees at one side of the house.
“So?” Declan walked around to the boot of the car and popped the lid. “What do you think? I mean, I realize it’s not the same as the stately old manor house you grew up in, but—”
“Shut it.” Sully took the big suitcase Declan handed to him. Looking at the gravel, he realized he’d be better off carrying the thing rather than trying to wheel it over the uneven surface.
“The guesthouse is this way.” Pelicia took his small overnight case from the boot and started around one side of the house.
Sully obediently fell in line behind her, aware of Declan bringing up the rear with a third suitcase, smaller than the one Sully carried.
“You brought more luggage than a woman,” Declan muttered.
“Shut it.” Sully wasn’t in the mood to listen to the Irish version of the Mad Hatter. “I brought what I needed.”
“Even Pelicia didn’t bring this much crap with her, and she’s stayin’ three months before she has to get back to Scilly and wrap things up there.”
Before Sully could tell him to shut up for a third time, Pelicia looked over her shoulder. “Declan, stop it.”
“Stop what?” His voice was all innocence.
“You know very well what. You’re trying to rile Sully, so just stop it. Let the man rest from his journey before you throw him headlong into a training session.” Her pretty lips bowed down, and she shook her head in an age-old feminine gesture of irritation. Without waiting for either man to respond, she said, “Here we are.” She took a key from her pocket and unlocked the red door of the small guesthouse.
Sully followed her inside. Setting down the suitcase, he gazed around the room. The front door opened directly into a living room with a plump leather sofa sitting in front of a beehive fireplace, a large flat-screen TV, and various pieces of Native American pottery on the built-in bookshelf beside it.
The room was decorated in warm beiges and dark reds, giving it a calming effect and making him feel like he was home. The stress of travel—the endless tension of being surrounded by humanity first in busy airports and then on crowded flights—began to fade. All he needed was a few hours to himself and then he’d feel…
He stifled a snort of disgust. He would never feel like himself again, not with this thing now a part of him, this beast that roared with fury and hunger.
He turned his attention to the other side of the fireplace, where a set of French doors let in the early evening sunlight. He wandered over and looked through the glass. A cobbled patio with a table and chairs and, beyond that, a small flower garden enclosed on all sides by bushes covered in white and dark pink blooms.
“Oleanders,” Pelicia murmured at his side. When he glanced at her, she made a gesture toward the outdoors and explained, “The bushes that line the yard are oleanders. Declan told me they’re poisonous, so don’t try to eat them.”
He raised one brow. “Don’t eat the bushes. I’ll try to remember that. Thanks.”
She smacked him lightly on the arm. “You and Declan are both a couple of smartasses. No wonder you get on so well together.”
“Hmm.” Sully wasn’t so sure about that anymore.
“You do.” Pelicia put her hand on his arm. Her blue eyes earnest, she said in a soft voice, “For what it’s worth, if you hadn’t been there, that wolf might have attacked me. You saved my life.”
He grimaced. “So…all I did was get in the way, is that what you’re saying? It wasn’t anything I did on purpose.”
“No, I’m not saying that at all.”
Unable to maintain a serious expression, he grinned.
She smacked him on the arm again. “See? A smartass, just like O’Connell.”
“Hey. And here I was thinkin’ you liked my ass.” Declan walked over to them.
She just rolled her eyes again. Turning around to face the living room, she pointed at a doorway on the right. “The bedroom and en suite bathroom are through there, and there’s a small kitchen on the other side of that wall.” She motioned toward an opening on the left of the living room. “Though we do insist you take your meals with us.”
“Of course.” Sully picked up the largest of the suitcases and started toward the bedroom. He paused in the doorway and looked back at his friends. “I think I’ll have a short lie down, if that’s all right.”
“That’s fine.” Pelicia’s voice was soothing. “We’ll have a late dinner at eight p.m.” She grinned. “Well, that’s a normal time for me, but late for Americans. That gives you”—she glanced at her wristwatch—“three hours to get situated. It’ll be dark in about an hour and a half or so, but the walkway is lighted.”
“Ah, he won’t need lights, darlin’.” Declan wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her tight against him. “Remember?”
A light blush moved under the fair skin of her cheeks. “Oh. Right.” She looked at Sully with apology reflected in her eyes. “Sorry.”
He shook his head. “Don’t start with that again. It wasn’t your fault.” When she opened her mouth, he forestalled her by raising one hand. “I’m fine. I ate at the airport during my layover, so dinner at eight is fine, too.”
God, three hours to be by himself. He didn’t know if he should be happy or panic at the idea of being alone again with his thoughts.
“Okay, then.” Declan walked over to him and put one hand on his shoulder, giving a slight squeeze. “It’ll be all right, mate. Trust me.”
Sully lifted his chin in acknowledgment but didn’t say anything.
Declan gave another squeeze, then he and Pelicia left the guesthouse, closing the door softly behind them.
“He seems so…bereft,” Sully heard Pelicia say, her sweet voice holding a wealth of worry.
“He’ll be fine.” Declan’s voice held no doubt.
Sully wished he could be as sure.
He stood there in the doorway of the bedroom, holding onto his suitcase like some bloody befuddled bellman. With an oath he dropped it in the doorway and flopped onto the bed, legs hanging over the edge, feet flat on the floor. He closed his eyes but couldn’t slow his swirling mind.
The need to move, to try to escape his thoughts, rushed through him. His skin prickled, the hairs standing straight up on his arms and the back of his neck. His jaws began to ache, his eyes burned.
Deep, deep inside the wolf howled to be set free.
Sully surged up off the bed, toed off his shoes, and yanked off his socks. He tossed aside his clothing with an urgency