by Dare, Lydia
She scowled at him. How dare he find this amusing? “Well, I doona appreciate bein’ mauled by ye—or anyone else, for that matter. So just turn around and go back ta Hampshire where ye belong.”
The smile faded from his lips. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
“It’s very possible,” she informed him. “Ye just get back in yer coach and go the other way. I have nothin’ else ta say ta ye.”
He shook his head as his captivating eyes darkened. “Running away from me again? You struck me as a girl with a bit more fire in her than that.”
A bit more fire? She wished her coven sister, Blaire, was there with her. The warrior witch could singe the man until he’d had enough fire to last a lifetime.
“I’m no’ runnin’ from ye. I doona ken where ye would get such a ridiculous idea. I doona even ken who ye are.”
“Allow me to remedy that,” he said smoothly. “The Earl of Brimsworth, at your service.”
Brimsworth? Cait recognized his name immediately and took a tentative step back. She might not know his future, but she knew enough of his past. He was a man she should stay far away from. He was dangerous, and, even worse than that, he was a Lycan, distasteful mutts that they were. She was barely able to tolerate the one who’d married Elspeth.
This conversation was over. She did not need a Lycan in her life, no matter how much he made her heart race. Cait tipped her nose in the air and leveled him with what she hoped was her iciest glare.
“Yer services are no’ needed, Lord Brimsworth. Now turn around and go back ta Hampshire or wherever ye came from.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw, and Cait swallowed nervously. Lord Brimsworth took a step closer to her and said, “There’s nothing for me in Hampshire, lass. My future is in Glasgow.”
Blast him! Why did he have to say future? Cait almost swallowed her tongue. Why was the Englishman headed to Scotland? And why Glasgow? Did he think she was headed there? Well, wouldn’t he be surprised to find he was mistaken? She certainly wasn’t going to correct his assumption.
But what if her father met Brimsworth in Glasgow on one of his many business trips? Cait shook her head at her own foolishness. Her father would never meet Lord Brimsworth. Then again, she hadn’t thought she’d ever lay eyes on the man again either.
What if Jeannie told Papa what Brimsworth had done to her? And then what if they did meet in Glasgow? Papa was there often enough. Cait’s belly plummeted. What she wouldn’t give to tell the man’s future.
“Ye canna go there,” she squeaked.
The earl’s disarming smile returned. “I was unaware that I needed your permission to travel north, Miss Macleod.”
Cait gathered up her courage and poked a finger to his chest. “I doona ken what ye’re after…”
He captured her hand in his, and tingles raced across her skin from his touch. Then he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles while his gaze seared her.
“Since last night, I haven’t been able to think of anything but you and your delightful scent.”
Cait’s traitorous heart flipped, though she chose to ignore it and extricated her hand from his grasp. “I somehow doubt that, between yer acts of vengeance, my lord, ye’ve been troubled by thoughts of me or my scent,” she replied tartly.
He threw back his head and laughed. “Ah, so you do know who I am.”
She didn’t find the idea remotely humorous and she nodded curtly, folding her arms across her chest. “I ken ye abducted Lord William and planned ta harm him.” Not that she’d ever cared one way or the other about Lord William. But voicing the earl’s crimes could only help her at this point.
Brimsworth shrugged. “Then you must also know that Lord William entered into a competition with me of his own free will. Then he cheated. I didn’t take too kindly to that.”
No. He didn’t seem like the sort of man… no, Lycan,… who would take kindly to being duped. Not that Cait had any intention of standing in the cold without her tartan to continue this ridiculous conversation.
“Honestly, my lord, I have no desire ta applaud or deride the decisions made by either Lord William or his bride. The matter is moot, anyway. Now, do excuse me. I’m certain my maid is beside herself with worry.”
Then she turned back toward the inn. She half expected Brimsworth to chase after her. He’d apparently been doing so all day. But his footfalls didn’t sound behind her. She shouldn’t have been disappointed by that. It was for the best, after all. She didn’t have room for any more Lycans in her life anyway.
Cait entered the taproom and tried to avoid the visions of the other patrons’ futures that assaulted her. In her mind, one man sat crying over the bed of a loved one, his wife, Cait assumed. A tavern wench at the far side of the taproom was about to learn she was an expectant mother. The portly tavern-keeper would stumble in a hole and twist his ankle.
She focused on the door to the private dining room and was relieved when she stepped over the threshold and blocked out all the unwanted sights. She hadn’t appreciated the fact that her mind was clear and unburdened when she was with the Earl of Brimsworth. That in itself was fairly disconcerting.
As soon as she closed the door to the dining room, Jeannie threw her arms around Cait and kissed her cheek. “Ah, Miss, I was so worried about ye.”
“I’m fine, Jeannie,” she said.
“I’ve never seen ye behave in such a way. Who was that fellow? And why did ye run off like that?”
“Lord Brimsworth,” Cait said casually. “He’s an acquaintance of the Westfields.”
Her maid frowned. “And the rest of it. Why did ye run off?” she asked again.
Cait should have known better than to think Jeannie would let it go that easily. “Havers! It’s been a long day, and I just want ta go ta bed. Can ye save the Spanish Inquisition until tomorrow?” Hopefully, by then she’d have decided what to confide in her maid and what to keep to herself.
Jeannie slinked away. “I doona think Mr. Macleod would approve, Miss.”
“Nonsense,” Cait replied breezily. “There’s nothin’ ta approve of or no’. We’ll no’ be seeing his lordship again anyway.” They were headed to two different cities, after all. They’d lose Brimsworth in the morning, and that would be that.
***
“Sir,” the tavern-keeper called from across the coaching yard.
Dash ignored the man as he was in no mood to enjoy the keep’s company. His mind was still reeling from his conversation with Miss Macleod. The few moments he’d spent in her presence had stirred his blood in a way he’d never experienced before. Well, save the previous evening. And the moment she’d walked away from him had been excruciatingly painful.
Was this a normal reaction to seeing his mate? It was torturous being so close to her since she radiated warmth straight to his soul, but he couldn’t touch her. He couldn’t taste her. He had no claim at all to her, except for the mark he’d left on her neck.
The whole ordeal was a cruel torment. The major’s dire prediction echoed in his head. She wasn’t bound by the same rules he was. Dash didn’t think he could survive a lifetime of lusting after her if she rejected him and chose another. As it was, he needed every bit of self-control he possessed not to storm the stairs, find Caitrin’s room, and claim her in a much more intimate way.
“Sir!” the tavern-keeper called again.
Dash wanted to break the man in two. He stepped out of the shadows. “Yes?”
A look of relief settled on the portly man’s face. “Ah, there you are. I thought you might have left.”
“What do you want?” Dash asked, not even bothering to keep his tone conversational.
The tavern-keeper swallowed nervously and hastened to explain. “Your room key, sir. It’s the only one left, and another fellow was wanting it. But since I promised it to you first… Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?”
Dash scratched his chin. “Actually, there is something you can do for me. And it involves t
hat young woman I asked about when I arrived, my cousin.”
Four
Caitrin sighed deeply as she pulled the pins from her hair and let it tumble about her shoulders.
“Tired, Miss?” Jeannie asked as she folded Cait’s traveling dress and helped her mistress into her nightrail.
Cait leaned back heavily. “Ye have no idea.” Being in places with a lot of people was utterly exhausting. No matter how much she tried to block out the names, faces, and futures, she was unable to do so. Except for the moments she spent with the dashing and dangerous Lord Brimsworth. Those moments were quiet. They were calm. The only emotions that roiled were within her. She received nothing from the people around her. It was almost heaven.
The desire for quiet nearly made her want to seek out his lordship again, just so she could see if he was truly a man who could bring her peace. Even now, she saw Jeannie in her mind’s eye as she snuck from the room after Caitrin slept to go and meet with her suitor, Cait’s coachman, Lamont.
“Why doona ye go ahead and go, Jeannie?” Cait finally asked, trying to keep the irritation from her voice.
“Go where, Miss?” the maid replied, feigning confusion.
“Ye ken perfectly well where,” Cait chided. “Ye canna lie ta me. And ye ken that ye canna.”
“Truly, Miss,” the maid started, but Cait held up a hand to silence her.
“Please, doona tell me an untruth. Lamont is waitin’ for ye.” She tried to gentle her smile at the woman. “Go,” she said, shooing Jeannie toward the door with her hands. The only head she wanted to be in was her own. “Out.”
“Ye’re sure ye’ve no need of me?”
“Positive.” Cait sighed.
The woman nearly skipped out the door. Within a few moments, the maid would be wrapped in the arms of the coachman, and she wouldn’t be back until the morning. Oh, if life were truly that simple.
When Cait was alone, she still caught snippets of the future, but when they weren’t coming at her in concert, they were more like a dream. Or like watching actors at the theater. When they all came at her at once, they were more of a nightmare.
She crossed to the window and pulled back the drapes. The moon still hung high in the sky. She caught a flash of movement a story below her, the top of a blond head moving across the inn yard. Lord Brimsworth? No, that must be wishful thinking.
Wishful? She scoffed at her own thoughts. The day she wished for that Adonis to come and chew on her collarbone some more would be the day she was due for Bedlam. It was peace she wished for. Just a few moments.
A small shower of pebbles hit her window. She looked down and saw the man motioning with his arms, as though he wanted her to raise the window. She shook her head vehemently and let the drapes fall back in place.
Another shower of tiny stones hit the window. Maybe he would go away if she conceded. She thrust back the drapes and opened the creaky pane. Cold air rushed into the room, sliding beneath her nightrail.
“Lord Brimsworth, what do ye want?” She scowled at him.
He called back, his voice somewhat quiet, “You.” He smiled.
Her heart clenched. He did have the most amazing smile with straight, white teeth. But he was also dangerous. She moved to close the window, and pebbles hit her this time. She gasped.
“Are ye tryin’ ta kill me?” she hissed.
“I have excellent aim, Miss Macleod,” he said, his stance completely relaxed. “If I’d wanted to do you harm, I would have done it by now.”
She supposed that much was true. He could have done her harm in Blackmoor’s study or on the cobblestone path this evening if he was of a mind.
“I only want a moment of your time,” he added.
“Can ye no’ wait ’til the mornin’?”
“You won’t be alone in the morning,” he said, raising one eyebrow.
She couldn’t see his future. So, she didn’t know if that much was true. But it was interesting to know that, from this distance, his future was blank to her, while others’ still swarmed around her.
Caitrin heard a shout from the room next to hers. Then a guttural curse. She plugged her ears with her fingers and squeezed her eyes shut tightly. She could already see the future of the occupants of the room. And there wasn’t a bloody thing she could do about it. This time, even their future emotions struck her, causing her to double over in pain.
“Miss Macleod?” she heard from the open window.
“I canna do this right now,” she murmured to herself.
“You can’t do what?” he asked.
How had he heard her quiet complaint?
Caitrin lifted the pillow from the bed and wrapped it around her ears, trying to muffle some of the sound coming from the nearby room. It failed to work. She sank to the floor and drew her knees to her chest and rocked, trying to find a soothing rhythm that could take her out of time and space.
“If you don’t answer me, Miss Macleod, I’m coming up there.”
She couldn’t respond. Feeling anything at all was much too painful.
She did hear a loud thump against the outside of the building and then saw two hands grasp the windowsill. She bent her head and rested her eyes against her knees. Let him come. Let anyone come. It couldn’t be worse than what she was experiencing at that moment.
“Aughhh!” She groaned aloud as he crossed the room and walked toward her. Then he touched her. And her world went silent. The images in her mind vanished. All she heard was the chirp of crickets from outside the window and the whinny of a horse in the stables.
She jumped up and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him to her tightly. Lord Brimsworth caught her in the air and didn’t let go when she clutched him frantically.
“Finally happy to see me?” He chuckled quietly in her ear as he stroked her back.
***
Dash had never been as scared as he was when he’d heard her cry out in pain. It was truly odd, because he usually gave little thought to the feelings of others. But he couldn’t seem to not care about hers.
She clutched his neck tightly, her curves molded against the length of his body. She was a tiny little thing. Her feet dangled above the floor where he simply held her against him, her cheek resting against his shoulder.
“Doona let me go,” she whispered.
“I won’t,” he assured her as he pulled his head back to look down at her. The wavy mass of her hair hung over his hands, the ends tickling his fingers. He wanted to bury his face in it and drink in the scent that had taunted him all day.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?” he crooned at her.
She shook her head against his shoulder. And only then did he realized his shirt was damp. She’d been crying. His heart clenched for her.
Nearly breathless with emotion for the very first time, he didn’t know how to react. What was it? Empathy? Sympathy? Affection? He wasn’t sure what to call it, but he’d never felt it before.
“Tell me,” he prodded. “I might be able to help.”
She raised her head and loosened her arms. He immediately wanted to kick himself for doing or saying anything that would make her pull away from him.
Without meeting his eyes, she said in a childlike voice, “In the next room, there’s a little girl and she shouldna be there. That’s no’ her father. If she stays in that room, somethin’ terrible will happen ta her.”
“How do you know this?”
“I canna tell ye,” she said, finally meeting his gaze. Her hand never left where it touched his arm. It was almost as though he anchored her in some way. “I’m no’ supposed ta tell ye as much as I have. But I canna let her be hurt. Can ye help her?”
“I’ll try,” he started, but her face scrunched up with worry. He leaned and kissed her brow. “I will. Will you be all right by yourself for a moment?” he asked. “I’ll be right back.”
She nodded and tensed her body, as though bracing for an attack. Then she took her hand from his arm. He would find out what that was
about.
Quickly and quietly, he slipped out the door.
***
When he was gone, the visions returned, taking Caitrin’s breath with their intensity. She crawled onto the bed and huddled in the corner, rocking her body slowly, finding a rhythm that soothed her.
In no time, she heard a commotion from the room beside her own. It was as though the sun began to shine, obliterating the shadows in her mind. Thank heavens. The child would be unharmed. The perpetrator put to justice. All would be well. She took a deep breath.
There was a soft scratch at the door just before it opened and Lord Brimsworth slipped back inside.
“That was interesting,” he said slowly, shaking his head in disbelief. “I think you just saved that child’s life.”
“I dinna do it,” she said quietly, all the fight gone from her body. “Ye did.” She wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and sleep.
But Brimsworth was in her room. And she was wearing a nightrail. And only a moment ago, she’d been clutching him to her like she needed him more than anything in the world. She didn’t need him, of course. But she needed the peace he offered her.
He sat down on the side of her bed and held out a hand. She placed her own inside his, and his strong fingers closed around hers. He smiled half a smile. “May I stay with you for a bit?” he asked, his voice a little more raspy than before. “I’d like to know you’re safe.”
“My maid will return,” she began.
“I’ll be gone before then.”
Usually, Cait could confirm or deny it when someone made a prediction like that. But not with him. Dare she trust him?
She craved the quiet he could bring her more than she wanted anything in the world at that moment. A few hours of peace, that’s all she wanted. Besides, no one knew he was there.
“How did ye get in the window?” she blurted out.
He chuckled and lay back on one side of the bed, one hand beneath his head, the other clutching hers. “That’s a bit of a story,” he hedged. Then he asked, “How did you know about the girl?”
