The Taming of the Wolf

by Dare, Lydia

  Dash’s hands stole around her waist, and he held her from behind. “Something about the castle has your attention?”

  She shouldn’t smile. She shouldn’t let him hold her like this, but it felt so nice, so comforting. “Have ye ever been ta Edinburgh?”

  “No.” His warm breath heated her cheek right before he kissed it.

  Cait closed her eyes, loving the feel of him holding her as his citric scent enveloped her senses. “Ye’ll have ta visit Edinburgh Castle. It puts yer Sassenach imitations ta shame.”

  He chuckled, holding her tighter. “My proud little Scottish angel.”

  She liked the way he said that. She liked the way it made her belly flutter, though she knew in her heart that she shouldn’t.

  “But, Caitie,” he continued softly, “Edinburgh is not my destination.”

  Cait’s heart plummeted with those words. She had been playing with fire, and, just like always, she was the one who would be burned by her foolishness. Of course, Dashiel Thorpe was moving on to whatever he was destined to do, and she’d once again be left behind.

  She hadn’t even meant for it to happen. She’d tried to be smart where he was concerned. Kept him at arm’s length, fed him a sleeping draught, and bolted from him in the dead of night. But still, he’d managed to worm his way into her heart only to dash her desire with icy water that might as well have come from the Tyne.

  None of it was fair. Wasn’t she entitled to some happiness? Since when did fair have anything to do with life? Cait stepped from the comfort of his arms and pulled her plaid tighter around her shoulders.

  “Brimsworth!” Alec called from the distance, and Cait groaned. Must she deal with him now too?

  Dash stepped away from her and turned his attention to the irritating interloper. “Ah, MacQuarrie.”

  Alec scowled at the earl. “I wanted to invite you to ride with me today.”

  Cait resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Civility was most assuredly not Alec’s goal. With a charming smile, Dash tipped his head in acceptance.

  “How generous, MacQuarrie. I’d be honored to share your conveyance today. However, I must decline.”

  “Of course you must,” Alec grunted.

  Nineteen

  Dash tried to keep the growl from his voice. Leaving Cait with the supercilious Scot was hardly his choice, but it was that or endanger her with his own presence.

  “I’m afraid you misunderstand me, MacQuarrie. I’ll hire a horse from here and head toward Glasgow. I trust that you can see Miss MacLeod back to Edinburgh safely?”

  “Beg your pardon?” the Scot questioned. The man could not have looked more surprised if Dash had grown two heads and sprouted wings.

  Cait’s icy eyes raked Dash from top to bottom. “No need ta hire a horse, my lord. Yer carriage awaits. I have no more use for it.”

  She was irritated with him and a little furious, if he interpreted her words and scowl correctly. Still he’d offered her his coach, and he meant for her to have it.

  “Don’t be rash, Caitie. My coach will take you safely to Edinburgh—”

  She shook her head. “I’m certain Mr. MacQuarrie willna mind my company the rest of the journey. We are headed ta the same place after all.”

  Damn MacQuarrie straight to hell. “I told you from the beginning Glasgow was my destination.” And the only hope he had for his salvation.

  “Well, I willna keep ye from it any longer. As soon as yer Renshaw moves my bags from yer coach ta Mr. MacQuarrie’s, ye can be on yer way.”

  A growl erupted from Dash’s throat. Damn the beast inside him. He wasn’t in control of a bloody thing anymore. The previous night spent with her wrapped up in his arms was proof of that. What did she want from him? Surely she realized he was too dangerous to be around her at the moment? He’d proven it when he’d raised her dress. They weren’t even alone, for God’s sake. She deserved better.

  Was she accustomed to being mauled by gentlemen? Dash turned his gaze to MacQuarrie. If the scoundrel touched one hair on Cait’s head, Dash would rip his limbs off one by one.

  “You’ll keep her safe until she reaches her father.”

  “Caitrin’s safety has always been my highest priority.”

  Dash ignored the look of pure betrayal on Caitrin’s face. Once he was a controlled Lycan, she’d thank him for his sacrifice. “I’ll see you as soon as I possibly can, lass.”

  He wasn’t sure what she meant to say, but whatever it was, she changed her mind and bit her tongue. Then Cait feigned a smile.

  “Well, I wish ye the best on yer journey and hope Glasgow is all yer hopin’ it ta be.” Then she spun on her heels and stalked back toward the coaches.

  “You’ll miss me when I’m gone,” he called after her departing form.

  In fact, if he had to guess, he’d say she was already missing him. Her reaction was proof that she felt something for him. He didn’t know exactly what she felt, but it was something. That was a start.

  “I wouldna wager on that if I were ye,” she shot back at him over her shoulder.

  “I could love you so easily,” he suddenly blurted. He already did. Or at least what he knew of love.

  She stopped in her tracks and tilted her head to the side to see him better. “Ye have an unconventional way of showin’ that.” Her blue eyes flashed with indignation. “Godspeed on yer journey.” Then she resumed her path toward MacQuarrie’s coach.

  The Scot’s servants were already transferring her belongings to his coach. Dash gritted his teeth. What was he supposed to do? She refused even to look at him. He had no idea how long his training would take. So, he couldn’t make any promises to her. He couldn’t even tell her about how irrevocably she was tied to him, not yet.

  He had to let her go. And pray she was waiting for him when he finally arrived in Edinburgh.

  MacQuarrie was quick on Cait’s tail and hauled open the door to his carriage for her. She ducked her head and stepped inside without even a backward glance.

  “MacQuarrie,” Dash called out.

  The man turned toward him, looking a bit too pleased with himself. Dash was in front of him in three steps. He moved so quickly the Scot took a step back in surprise.

  “If she’s injured or harmed in any way before you deposit her into her father’s very capable hands, I’ll find you. And I will not be happy when I do. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Come now, Brimsworth. If anyone has hurt her, it’s you.” He dusted his knuckles on his jacket. “I just get the good fortune of picking up the pieces of her heart.”

  “Just remember that no matter how many pieces you salvage, they all belong to me,” he snarled fiercely.

  “I think the lady disagrees,” MacQuarrie replied. Then he turned and ducked into the waiting carriage, which pulled away as soon as the door closed.

  ***

  When Dash finally reached the shipbuilder’s modest home on the outskirts of Glasgow, he nearly wept with relief. He bounded up the grey stone steps, took a deep breath, then lifted the cold brass knocker and banged on the heavy oak door. It seemed as though he stood there forever, like an awkward schoolboy waiting for admittance. Dash was ready to do bodily harm to whomever answered, simply for making him wait any longer than was necessary.

  Finally, heavy footsteps sounded from within and then the door was flung open. Forster’s butler looked down his long, crooked nose at Dash.

  “Deliveries are made around back,” the giant said as he turned and began to close the door.

  Dash looked down at himself quickly. He had to admit he looked a bit like a common beggar one might find in the street, though with much more fashionable clothes.

  He stuck his boot in the door just before the butler closed it in his face. He only winced a little with pain and only for a moment. Then he reached into the inner pocket of his coat and pulled out the tattered letter Major Forster had written to introduce him to the shipbuilder. He held it out. “I’ll see Mr. Forster now.”

  Again
Dash looked down at his clothes and dusted himself off while the butler took the letter and still shut the door in his face. Dash supposed he could have forced his way inside, but that probably wouldn’t have made a good first impression. And he needed Niall Forster’s help more than he’d ever needed anyone’s assistance in his life.

  He’d run most of the way from County Durham, once he’d become frustrated by the speed of his own coach. The snow that had begun to fall, combined with the slippery roads, had made travel crawl at a snail’s pace. He didn’t have time to waste. He needed to get back to Cait. And he had to do it quickly. So, he’d set off on foot, following his instincts all way to Glasgow, all the way to Niall Forster’s door.

  He had mud spatters up to his knees, and he even felt a crusty line of mud on his cheek when he moved to rub some heat back into his face. Truth be told, Dash probably would have shut the door in anyone’s face who appeared at his home looking as he did. He shook his head in dismay. How had he been reduced to this?

  The front door opened once more, and the butler motioned him inside. He took Dash’s coat, and, when Dash moved to follow him down the hallway, they both noticed the clumps of mud that were falling from his boots. With a frustrated sigh, Dash sat down and tugged the Hessians from his feet. Hell, he’d walk in his bare feet if he had to. He’d never professed to be a gentleman.

  “Satisfied?” he grunted.

  “Quite,” was the man’s only response.

  With a short growl that didn’t seem to bother the behemoth in the least, Dash followed him down the hallway and into a small library. The walls were covered with drawings of ships of all sizes. And the shelves were lined with books and models of large and small sailing vessels.

  A grey-haired man stood up from behind the large desk at one side of the room and pushed his glasses back firmly on his nose. He didn’t say a word or even reach to take Dash’s hand when he extended it. The man simply motioned to the chair in front of him. Dash sank into it like a recalcitrant child.

  Just when he thought the man would never speak, he put the letter down and steepled his hands in front of himself. “Gotten yerself inta quite a pickle, have ye no’?”

  “‘A pickle’ would be a very generous description for my current situation, sir.” Dash felt quite naked in his stocking feet, with dirt from head to toe. He’d not felt so exposed since he was a very young child. Or at least since the last time he’d seen his father.

  “Why are ye here?” Mr. Forster asked.

  “It should all be in the letter from the major, sir,” Dash said, motioning toward the paper.

  “I’m sure it is, but I’d like ta hear it from yer own lips, son,” Mr. Forster said quietly.

  “What do you already know?” Dash asked, not quite sure where to start.

  “Nothin’,” Mr. Forster offered.

  Dash wasn’t quite sure if he believed that, but he didn’t have much of a choice. “My name is Dashiel Thorpe, the Earl of Brimsworth, heir to the Marquess of Eynsford.”

  “Roughly translated, that means ye have more money than ye have sense.”

  Dash sighed. “Probably, sir.”

  “What can I do for ye, Dashiel? It is all right if I call ye Dashiel?”

  Was that a test of some sort? “You can call me anything you like, as long as you can help me. You see, there’s this girl…” Dash began.

  “A victim of yer ferocity, yes?”

  “I wouldn’t exactly call her a victim.” Dash’s hackles finally rose a bit.

  “What would ye call her?”

  “Well, her name is Cait.”

  Mr. Forster picked up the letter and scanned it quickly, his eyes widening in surprise, and then he peered at Dash over the rims of his reading glasses. “Ye’re referrin’ ta Miss Macleod?”

  “Yes, sir.” He couldn’t help but smile a little when he answered. Just the thought of her brought a smile to Dash’s lips.

  “Well, ye certainly ken how ta get yerself in a spot of trouble, Dashiel.”

  Which was something Dash didn’t need to have reaffirmed.

  “This Miss Macleod is a friend of Desmond’s daughter, correct?”

  Dash nodded.

  The old man chuckled. “And a Macleod, no less. Aye, lad, I believe Desmond has sent ye ta the right place.”

  Dash nearly felt the weight of his burden lift from his chest. Forster’s words were the first bit of good news he’d heard in a long time. “I am relieved to hear it, sir.”

  Mr. Forster sighed. “So tell me, how does the Macleod lass feel about all this?”

  “She likes me. Some of the time.”

  “Ye better hope she does.”

  “Yes, I do.” He took a deep breath. “You see, I’m afraid I’m head over heels in love with her.”

  The shipbuilder’s green eyes twinkled with mirth. “That’s a good thing, lad, since ye’re tied ta her for a lifetime.”

  “I need your help, sir, like I’ve never needed anything else. But I need you to teach me quickly because I have to go to Edinburgh without delay.”

  “To convince the lovely Miss Macleod of yer love for her?”

  “Yes. And I need to do it before someone else beats me to it,” Dash explained. “So, I’m in a bit of a hurry. How long will this training take?”

  “A lifetime, in most of us,” Forster sighed out.

  “I don’t have that long.” Dash stood up to pace, suddenly aware of his stocking feet again, which made him feel like a complete simpleton.

  Mr. Forster drummed his fingers across his desk and confessed, “My wife died a few years ago.”

  “I’m very sorry.” Dash could see the pain written on the man’s face.

  The shipbuilder met his eyes. “If ye doona win Miss Macleod’s heart, ye will be doomed ta be alone until either ye, or she, dies.” He took a deep breath. “And now that I’ve experienced the loss, I wouldna wish it on anyone. So under the circumstances, I think we should go ta Edinburgh together, lad. So, ye have a fair chance ta win the heart of yer lady love.”

  “Truly?” Dash’s heart was about to jump from his chest in excitement. But the memory of holding Cait in the coach had him questioning the wisdom of such a venture. “Will I be safe to be around her? I nearly lost control when I was with her. I’d hoped to go to her once I had complete control of the beast inside.”

  Mr. Forster tossed back his head and laughed. “Control of the beast?” he chortled. “My dear lad, ye canna control the beast. Ye are the beast. It’s a part of ye, no’ the enemy.”

  Dash scoffed. What he wouldn’t give to kill the beast all together and go to Caitrin as a man, whole and hale.

  One of Forster’s eyebrows rose in surprise at Dash’s quick harrumph. “That’ll be yer first lesson, then. We can discuss it on the way ta Edinburgh.”

  He didn’t like being laughed at, but if Forster could help him, Dash would accept the slight without complaint. “Thank you for doing this for me.”

  “Well, yer in luck. I’m in the mood for a good love story. And yer the only Lycan who’s knocked on my door today.”

  If Dash was in wolf form, his tail would be thumping against the floor, he was so excited about the prospect of seeing Cait again.

  “Ye canna go ta her lookin’ like that.” Forster motioned for Dash to stand and follow. “Ye’ll be wantin’ ta speak ta her father. And if we travel through the night, we can be there by mornin’.”

  “That is a relief, sir.”

  “Well, I just hope ye’re no’ too late. Ye have a rival, ye say?”

  Dash nodded.

  “Ye can tell me all about him in the coach. I’m too old ta run all the way ta Edinburgh.”

  Twenty

  At this pace, you should be in Edinburgh tomorrow. Dash’s words echoed in Cait’s ears. He’d certainly been wrong about that, hadn’t he? Just another line to add to his growing list of sins. Not that he could have foreseen the muddy roads that threatened to swallow MacQuarrie’s coach along the way, slowing thei
r process by tenfold. It had even been too late for Cait to say anything that would have prevented the situation when that particular bit of future flashed in her mind. It didn’t matter. She was still laying the blame at Dashiel Thorpe’s feet.

  As soon as she saw the Scotch Arms come into view from her window, she breathed a sigh of relief. She was far from pleased about staying the night in another inn, but she was even less desirous of traveling the perilous road at night. At least if Dash had been with her, she could have blocked the uninvited futures from her mind.

  She sighed, kicking herself for wanting to be with him so much.

  “That’s another sigh, Cait,” Alec informed her.

  She glared at him.

  “Don’t look at me like that. I’m just bringing it to your attention. You’ve done nothing but sigh for the last several hours. Are you feeling all right?”

  Cait snorted. “Aye, Alec. I love nearly bein’ washed off the road, limpin’ along in yer coach, and freezin’ ta my bones.”

  The coach rambled to a stop, and Alec himself sighed. The irony was not lost on Cait. Then the man opened the door and helped her out.

  “I was hoping to have this time to change your mind, Caitrin.”

  She didn’t even bother to look at him. What was the point of engaging in the same argument yet again?

  “Ye’ve known me my whole life, Alec MacQuarrie. Have ye ever known me ta change my mind once it’s been made up?”

  Alec didn’t have time to answer her before the taproom door opened and raucous laughter filtered out into the frigid coaching yard. Ready to wash the dust of travel from her skin, Cait brushed past Alec toward the entrance. She couldn’t wait to stretch out on a bed, not that she dared hope for a comfortable one; but at this point, any bed would be a godsend.

  Cait stepped inside the taproom, thankful for the warmth that emanated from a large hearth at the far side of the dark room. Her back and legs were so sore that she felt as though she’d walked all the way from Hampshire. She released a sigh of relief, but then her momentary feeling of comfort came to an instant halt.