The Taming of the Wolf

by Dare, Lydia

  “Aye, I’m startin’ ta realize that,” she gasped out as he lifted her breast to his mouth and slowly drew the peak inside, his eyes never leaving hers. She inched forward on his lap, trying to get a bit closer to him.

  “Easy,” he said quickly, when she made a wrong move.

  “Sorry. I dinna mean ta hurt ye.”

  “It’s a most delicious pain, angel. No worries. Just trying to keep the beast in check.” He unbuttoned his trousers, and she reveled in the velvet feel of the soft skin that covered his hardness against her thigh.

  “Soft?” she asked.

  “Pardon?” his head snapped up. “Angel, there is nothing soft about me right now,” he chuckled.

  “May I touch ye?” She was suddenly curious to see and feel the part of him that filled her so well.

  He lifted his hands up behind his head and lay back against the squabs. “You may touch me anywhere you like.” A naughty smile played around his mouth.

  Cait sat back to put enough room between them that she could take him into her hand. He drew in a quick breath, and she released him even quicker. “Did I hurt ye?”

  “That was a gasp of pleasure. Not pain. But I’m not sure how much more pleasure I can take, to be quite honest. Might we finish this exploration later?”

  His hands slipped back beneath her skirts so he could cup her naked bottom and pull her forward, to where she rested over him. Then he nudged at her center, kneading her bottom as he tugged her close and filled her in one swift stroke.

  Cait raised her arms around his neck and let him lead their dance, rising and falling as he lifted and lowered her with his hands on her hips. A most curious look crossed his face as she neared the apex of her pleasure and gazed into his eyes. His hand slipped between them and sent her over the top. Cait allowed her eyes to flutter closed as she pulsed around him, and he immediately followed.

  She lay on top of him for a few precious moments, her heart pressed close to his. Then she sat up and peeled back his shirt at the neck. “Ye wear the mark of the beast.”

  He looked down to see what she referred to. “My birthmark?”

  “Aye, it’s just like Elspeth’s. I’ve seen it my whole life. See how it’s shaped like a moon?”

  “I’ve never paid much attention to it,” he said, brushing her hands away gently.

  “Doona do that,” she protested, bending to place her lips to his mark. “I like it. But others may say I belong in Bedlam for loving a Lycan,” she giggled against his neck, where she bent and pressed a quick kiss.

  “I heard that,” he growled.

  “I meant for ye ta hear it.”

  Thirty

  “This is it!” Cait nearly squealed as she looked out the coach window at the Cat and Fiddle Inn.

  Dash sighed. For the last week, he’d watched his wife grow more excited at the prospect of being reunited with Elspeth Westfield. Now, it seemed, the time was upon them.

  “And you’re certain they’re here?” Dash asked. He wouldn’t take her joy from her, but he was not anxious to meet back up with Benjamin Westfield, nor his wife. He hadn’t exactly been a welcome guest when they’d last seen each other.

  Cait turned back to him and smiled radiantly. “Of course, I’m sure. Look, there’s Benjamin’s coach.”

  Dash peered out the window. Sure enough, there in the coaching yard against the setting sun, the Westfield crest was emblazoned on the side of a carriage. A proud wolf, golden against blue. “It does indeed appear as though they’re here.”

  She cupped his jaw in her hands. “Doona worry, I’m sure they’ve forgotten all that business with ye abductin’ Lord William and…”

  That he highly doubted. Dash winced. It hadn’t been his finest moment. The Westfields were a loyal bunch. He wasn’t part of their pack, and he never would be. Still, he wasn’t a coward. He pushed open the coach door and helped Cait alight from the carriage. As they approached the taproom, Dash snaked his arm around her waist.

  He opened the door and directed Caitrin over the threshold. Then she darted from him toward the innkeeper so quickly that he lost his hold on her. Cait reared back and Dash rushed forward, placing his hand on her back, hoping to take her pain away. As long as he was touching her, she wouldn’t be assailed by unfamiliar futures.

  She took a staggering breath and then looked up at him. “My fault. I wasna thinkin’.”

  “You’re just excited.” Dash hooked her arm with his, determined not to let her slide past him again. Seeing her in agony tore at his heart. It was a matter of pride to him that he, and he alone, could keep unwanted images out of her head. Predetermined fate. If he hadn’t been a believer before, he certainly was now.

  He led his wife toward the slender, pit-faced innkeeper behind the bar. Dash nodded in greeting. “My wife and I require accommodations, sir.”

  “Of course,” the man replied.

  “And I believe my friends are here as well,” Caitrin broke in. “Lord Benjamin Westfield and Lady Elspeth.”

  The man scratched his chin. “Indeed, ma’am. His lordship has reserved one of our private dining rooms this evening.”

  Caitrin nearly glowed. “Which one, sir?”

  But there was no need to ask. Benjamin Westfield had hearing that matched Dash’s, and the sound of his name had obviously caught his ear. The Lycan stood at the end of the taproom, the door to a private dining room held open by his hand.

  “Caitrin Macleod?” he asked, though his hazel eyes were leveled on Dash. “What are you doing here, lass?”

  Cait started to move toward the man, but Dash kept his hold on her this time. “Careful, angel,” he whispered to her.

  Westfield still caught the words. Dash could tell by the way his brow furrowed a second later. Cait looked up at Dash, then back across the taproom at the other Lycan.

  “Benjamin, I’d like for ye ta promise ta behave yerself.”

  A moment later, Elspeth Westfield poked her head out into the taproom. Her fiery curls swayed from the motion, and her face lit up in joy. “Cait!”

  The expectant redhead darted from the room and threw her arms around Caitrin’s neck. “Good heavens! Ye’re the last person I expected ta see here. What are ye doing? Why did ye flee Westfield Hall in the dead of night? And what…” Her green eyes finally landed on Dash. “Lord Brimsworth.”

  “Lady Elspeth,” he said smoothly. “How nice to see you again. Cait was certain we’d run into you here.”

  Lady Elspeth blinked at him, apparently at a loss for words. However, that ailment did not afflict her husband who crossed the floor in a few strides to drop a protective hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Perhaps you should join us for dinner,” Lord Benjamin suggested.

  Cait squeezed Dash’s hand, and no matter how awkward he felt at the moment, the love and affection in her gesture warmed his heart. “Thank you, Westfield. Lady Brimsworth and I are quite tired from our journey.”

  He wasn’t certain whose gasp was louder, Lord Benjamin’s or his wife’s. Lady Elspeth recovered from the shock first, and she quickly kissed Caitrin’s cheeks. “Well, congratulations! Do come join us. It sounds as though ye have a tale ta tell.”

  ***

  As Cait stared across the table at her dearest friend in the world, she hoped with all her might that Elspeth and Ben would find a way to accept Dash. As members of the Còig, they would be in each other’s lives until the end of time. It would be better for everyone if they got along.

  “So,” Benjamin began as he pushed a goblet of wine toward Dash, “you’ve married Caitrin?”

  She watched her husband nod and noted the muscle twitching in his jaw. “I was lucky enough to convince Caitrin to accept my proposal.”

  “When did this happen?” Elspeth asked, nervously moving the food around her plate.

  “Ye should eat, El,” Caitrin reminded her.

  Her friend shook her head. “Later. I want ta hear all about it.”

  “Well,” Cait began, “we met at Westfield Hal
l, and then Dash and I met up on the way ta Scotland. By the time I arrived home, he’d won me over.”

  Elspeth would never accept that version of events, but hopefully she wouldn’t question it with the men present. Later, when they were alone, Cait would confide all to her friend. The other witches knew the truth, anyway.

  “The major said he’d sent you off to Glasgow,” Ben said, narrowing his eyes on Dash.

  “He did. Mr. Forster accompanied me to Edinburgh, not that it’s any of your concern,” her husband growled.

  Elspeth put a hand over Ben’s. “It’s clear Cait is happy. We should just wish them our best.”

  Ben Westfield grumbled something under his breath, but Cait was certain it wasn’t his best wishes. She ignored her friend’s husband, like she usually did.

  “Ecstatically happy,” she confirmed, smiling at Elspeth. “In fact, we are on our way ta visit Dash’s father in Kent.”

  After they finished dinner, Elspeth stepped around the table and squeezed Cait’s shoulder. “Do ye want ta go for a walk with me?”

  So she could get to the truth. Cait felt Dash stiffen at her side, and she flashed him a smile. “I’ll be fine. The further we get from the inn, the less the visions bother me.”

  “That doesn’t exactly make me feel better.” He heaved a sigh. “Be careful, will you?”

  Cait nodded. Dash slid his arms around her waist and pressed a kiss to her brow. “Love you.”

  “Love ye, too. We’ll be back soon.”

  Cait followed Elspeth through the taproom and out the front door of the building. The side of her that was incredibly happy to see her sister witch warred with the side that held allegiance to Dashiel.

  “Why do ye look so worried, I wonder,” Elspeth said absently as she fell into step beside her.

  “Elspeth,” Cait began. Then she stopped and shook her head. “I ken ye doona approve.”

  “I wasna aware we had ta approve of one another’s spouses, Cait.” The red-haired witch’s eyes danced with something Cait couldn’t quite identify, but possibly there was a bit of smugness in her gaze. “I vaguely recall that ye were wholeheartedly opposed ta my marriage ta Ben. Ye had Rhiannon shake the town with an angry storm.” Then she laughed and broke the tension. “But at least ye had an opportunity ta object ta my marriage. I dinna even ken about yers. Ye’re my very dearest friend.”

  “There wasna time,” Cait muttered, hoping Elspeth would understand.

  “Why no’? What was the hurry?”

  “What was the hurry with ye and Benjamin?” Cait shot her a pointed look.

  “I’d been ruined, if ye remember correctly.”

  Cait just raised her eyebrows at her and planted her hands on her hips.

  Elspeth caught on immediately. “He ruined ye? Was it on purpose? I’ve always suspected that Ben ruined me on purpose.” She laughed.

  “Westfield never cared if he ruined ye or not. He simply wanted ye.”

  “No more than I wanted him,” Elspeth said softly, a light smile upon her face. “But Ben and Brimsworth are no’ cut from the same cloth.”

  Elspeth must have seen the fury that screamed through Cait’s body at that comment because she hastily added, “I shouldna judge him since I havena spent much time with him.”

  Furious, Cait wanted nothing more than to rail at her friend. Comparing Benjamin Westfield to Dashiel Thorpe was comparing apples to oranges.

  “Why did ye leave Westfield Hall in the middle of the night without even a backward glance?”

  Now, they got to the meat of the matter. “It’s a long story,” she hedged.

  “Then ye should start with the tellin’.”

  “I met Dash,” Cait shrugged. “The rest of ye were frolickin’,” she shot Elspeth a telling glance, “in the woods. No one else was about. And we just bumped inta one another.”

  “And it was love at first sight?”

  More like love at first bite. Cait didn’t answer and just kept walking.

  “What happened, Cait?” Elspeth asked quietly. “I always assumed Alec…”

  Cait sighed. “El, ye ken Alec MacQuarrie and I werena destined ta be together.”

  “So ye said. But I never understood why. The man has been in love with ye for a lifetime. And I thought ye were softenin’ ta him.”

  “I dinna see him with me.”

  “Ye mean ye couldna see him in yer future? Ye ken that ye canna always see what’ll happen. Just because ye dinna specifically see the two of ye with a bairn or two doesna mean it wouldna happen. I hope ye dinna let yer lack of a vision entice ye inta marryin’ the wrong man.”

  The wrong man. Cait winced. It would be nice if Elspeth had a bit of faith in her. Still, her friend knew her better than anyone in the world, and Cait couldn’t lie to her. “I saw Alec with someone else. And they were so happy. I had no choice but ta let him go.”

  Elspeth gasped. “Who was he with?”

  “I canna tell ye,” Cait moaned. “Ye ken I canna. I canna change the events in the future. I canna chance it.”

  “Can ye see yerself with Dashiel Thorpe in the future?”

  “No.” Cait turned away and plucked a tall stem of grass from the trail where they walked. “I can see no future with him at all.”

  “Oh, Cait,” Elspeth sighed pitifully.

  “It’s no’ what ye think,” she explained. “My mother couldna see my father, either.”

  “Truly?”

  “Aye, truly. It’s the way of things, my father says. Ye ken how it is with me. I’m assaulted by every future that exists but, even if I search, I canna find his. In fact, he clears my mind and makes me feel more at ease than anyone before. All he has ta do is touch me. It’s right, El.” She took her friend’s hands in hers and squeezed. “It’s right, I tell ye. He’s right for me.”

  Elspeth squeezed back. “The earl has a bit of a past, and that makes me worry. But if ye can be happy with him, I’ll be happy for the both of ye.”

  Cait pulled Elspeth close for a hug.

  “I’m so glad he claimed me as his own,” Cait sighed.

  Elspeth froze. “What do ye mean claimed ye as his own? We havena had a full moon since the night ye left Westfield Hall. How could he have claimed ye?”

  Thirty-One

  Dashiel Thorpe had never been as uncomfortable in his life as he was sitting across the table from Benjamin Westfield. The man’s shrewd hazel gaze raked him from top to bottom. The hair on the back of Dash’s neck stood up.

  “Miss Macleod means a lot to my wife, Brimsworth,” the man finally said as he raised a glass of whisky to his lips.

  “You mean my countess, don’t you? She’s not Miss Macleod any more, but Lady Brimsworth, and I would appreciate it if you would remember that.”

  Dash knew he was acting a bit high in the instep, but he was an earl, after all. If anyone was entitled to behave in such a way, it was he.

  “It’s a very difficult thing for me to reconcile in my mind. My apologies,” Westfield said as he tipped his head toward Dash and reached to refill his glass.

  “Accepted,” Dash grunted.

  Westfield drew in a deep breath. “I do feel like I have to tell you—you seem like a changed man. Perhaps she’s good for you.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean.” Though Dash had a fairly good idea, he just wanted to hear the man say it.

  “Perhaps Caitrin brings out the best in you,” Westfield clarified. “You’ve lost a touch of the wildness that used to tail you like a hound tails a fox. Not completely, mind you; but a touch.”

  “Hard to shake the hound, isn’t it, Westfield? Particularly when we’re born with it in us, whether we want it or not.”

  “Whether we want it or not?” Lord Benjamin echoed. “That doesn’t sound like you’ve accepted who you are.”

  The man sounded like Niall Forster, and Dash wasn’t anxious to hear again how he should embrace the beast inside him. He downed the rest of his drink in one big swallow and pushed the glass bac
k toward Westfield for a refill. “I’m a Lycan, as are you. There’s nothing else to discuss.”

  Benjamin Westfield bristled visibly. “Well, not all Lycans are the same, obviously.”

  Before Dash could respond to that fairly uncomplimentary remark, Lady Elspeth burst back into the private dining room, with Cait following close behind and calling to her.

  “El, wait,” his lovely wife begged.

  He heard the torment in her voice and immediately jumped to his feet. “What is it, Caitie?”

  Elspeth flew across the room and into Westfield’s arms, and then said vehemently, “Ye willna believe what he did, Ben. He claimed her that night. The night of the last full moon. He claimed her after knowing her for no more than a few minutes.”

  “You mean he…?” Westfield let his words trail off, as his hazel eyes took on a murderous glint.

  “Aye, he claimed her.”

  “Bloody hell,” Dash muttered before he pushed Cait safely to the side and took the first punch Westfield threw across his chin. He crashed into the sideboard, and the unlucky piece of furniture splintered under the force of that momentous blow.

  Cait’s gasp echoed in his ears.

  Dash lay there for a moment, rubbing his jaw, as the enraged Lycan looked down at him. Then he said, “I’m sure I deserved that, Westfield.” He climbed to his feet as Cait came to assess his injuries. He met his attacker’s gaze without flinching and growled, “I’ve not always been an honorable man, but if you ever do that again, I’ll do my best to flatten you.”

  “I canna believe ye told him that, El,” Cait hissed at her friend.

  Dash put her arm around Cait’s shoulders and pulled her to him. “It’s all right. I had that one coming, angel.”

  “He had no right ta hit ye like that,” Cait insisted, standing on tiptoe to kiss the side of his jaw, which was already healing.

  “Yes, he did, angel. He had a right.” A smile tugged at the edges of his mouth. “He has your honor in mind, but I believe he’s thinking I claimed you a bit differently than I actually did.”