The Taming of the Wolf

by Dare, Lydia

  “Are you hoping I’ll wrap my hands about his throat and ease his passing? If so, let’s hasten to his room, Cait.”

  Dash saw the subtle warning that was anger in the reddening of her face. She turned quickly and picked up a vase on a table and threw it with all her might, straight at his head.

  He ducked and the vase flew right by his ear, so close he could feel the wind it created. “Cait,” he growled as he took in the broken shards that lay scattered on the rug.

  “Ye’ve run from me twice, Dash. Ye havena sought me out all day, and I’ve been patiently waitin’. But the time has come ta an end, and ye need ta go and see yer father.” She stomped her tiny foot. “Ye will regret it if ye doona go. He’s askin’ for ye.”

  Dash’s ears perked up. “Why would he do such a foolish thing? He abhors the very ground I walk upon.”

  “He needs ye.” She shrugged. “That’s all I ken.”

  Dash scrubbed a hand down his face and took a deep breath.

  “Do ye need me ta go with ye?”

  His words escaped on a heavy sigh. “No. I can do it alone. I just cannot guarantee he’ll be any better because of my visit. If he survives it.”

  “I’ll go with ye,” she resolved.

  “If you think that’s best,” Dash grumbled as he strode quickly past her, holding his breath as he neared her for fear of unleashing the beast within him simply by inhaling her beautiful scent. “Stubborn witch,” he mumbled.

  “Irritable lout,” she murmured at the same time.

  “I heard that.”

  “I meant for ye ta.”

  Dash tried, unsuccessfully, to bite back his smile.

  ***

  Cait followed him, fully aware of the battle that waged within him. The beast in him wanted to rule, while the man in him wanted to wrest control back. And the little boy in him still wanted his father’s approval.

  That was the saddest part, knowing how much Dash craved Eynsford’s love. Knowing how much he needed to belong, if only for a moment. Just as one misplaced word could leave everlasting scars, one well-thought word could heal old wounds.

  Dash knocked lightly on the door before he stepped into his father’s set of rooms and walked slowly toward the bed. The marquess lay so still, she immediately saw the fear in Dash’s eyes that he’d been too late. She saw the regret, and it tore at her heart.

  “My lord,” she called to the sleeping form.

  Then she smiled when he grumbled softly at her, “Go away.” She heard the weakness of his tone and saw how he fought to open his eyes.

  “Dashiel is here,” she said.

  The marquess opened his eyes, searching the room until he found Dash standing at his side. “Did you come to finish the job?”

  “I came because Caitrin said you’d asked for me.” Dash glowered at her.

  “Why in the bloody hell would I do that?”

  She shrugged her shoulders when the marquess confirmed her lie. But what else was she to do? They were both too stubborn for their own good, even now at this late hour.

  Dash looked as though he could commit murder. Only it was directed at her this time. Cait fought to keep from shuddering. “If he’d been thinkin’ clearly, he would have asked for ye,” she said, hoping that both father and son would simply take advantage of the time that was left to them.

  “It appears as though my wife has taken it upon herself to torture us both,” Dash growled. “And since neither of us has a desire for me to be here, I’ll take my leave.”

  The marquess said quietly, “Since you’re here, you may as well stay.”

  Dash sat down so quickly on the edge of his father’s bed that Cait tugged her earlobe, wondering if she’d missed the command to sit. But there he sat, looking as eager as a pup waiting for a treat. It nearly broke her heart.

  “How are you?” Dash asked.

  “Dying,” the old man choked out, coughs raking through his body.

  “I’m sorry,” Dash said quietly.

  Cait immediately wondered what he meant. Was he sorry his father was dying? Sorry for the way he suffered? Sorry for past actions? Sorry for being a bastard? She waited, nearly as eager as Dash appeared to be.

  Tears pooled in her eyes when the old man reached out and covered Dash’s hand with his own. “It’s I who should be sorry, son.” She could swear Dash trembled a bit. But he sat quietly and let the marquess continue. “It appears as though I love your wife.”

  Dash chuckled, his voice only shaking a bit. “I’m not too worried about you stealing her away from me.”

  The marquess motioned to Cait and asked, “Will you open the curtain there?” He pointed toward the one that concealed his late wife’s portrait. Cait happily scrambled to reveal the picture of the beautiful, smiling woman.

  “That’s it, now,” Eynsford murmured, settling peacefully against his pillows, a weak smile upon his lips.

  Dash didn’t make a sound.

  “She loved you,” the marquess finally admitted. “She was very happy to be with child. She talked of nothing more than her desire to hold you in her arms.”

  “Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Dash asked quietly. Cait covered her sniffle with a small cough.

  “I was angry. You took her from me, even before your birth. She loved you more than she ever cared for me. And then she was gone. Because of your origins, it was easy to assume you killed her. And it alleviated my guilt. I wasn’t able to help her at the end. No one could.”

  “She loved me?” Dash echoed, and this time, Cait had to turn away to keep from spilling her tears on the both of them. Else she would have spouted like a big watering pot.

  “She did,” Eynsford whispered. “And, though I never understood the beast within you, your lady explained it all to me today. And so I feel I need to set things right while I still have time.”

  “It’s not important,” Dash began.

  The marquess held up one finger, and Dash immediately quieted, like a good little pup. “I have been a fool, Dashiel. And I am sorry. I am proud to leave you all my worldly possessions. And I leave you my respect as well, son. Now go away so I can rest.”

  “But,” Dash said, as though he needed to say a thing or two of his own.

  With his eyes already closed, Eynsford squeezed Dash’s hand, and Cait watched with awe as Dash turned his over to hold the marquess’ tightly.

  When his father slept, Dash moved to a chair across the room and sat. “I think I’ll just stay a bit,” he muttered, his words choked with emotion.

  Cait walked quietly from the room, closing the door softly behind her. Father and son needed a bit of time alone. And she would give that to them.

  Thirty-Seven

  Cait paced back and forth across the entryway of Eynsford Park, grinding her teeth so loudly that Price shot worried glances in her direction.

  “Ye’re certain he dinna leave a note? Or tell anyone where he’d be goin’, Price?”

  “I’m positive, my lady,” the stoic butler said, avoiding her gaze.

  “Are all the horses in the stables?”

  He finally looked at her. “They are. I just sent Owens to verify it. His lordship did not leave on horseback.”

  It had been hours since Dash had vanished. According to Price, he’d lingered with his father until the man finally slept fitfully. Then he left the room quickly and had not been seen since.

  The sun sank low on the horizon as Cait stared out the window of the parlor, wishing Dashiel was standing with her so they could share the fall of the sun in the sky and the rise of the moon. So they could be husband and wife. Lycan and mate. But she was alone. Shadows danced across the grounds as the sun sank and the moon rose to take its place, but Dash was still nowhere to be found.

  “Are ye certain he dinna go out with an old friend, Price? Perhaps ye missed the comings and goings, since ye were checkin’ on the marquess throughout the day.”

  The man puffed his chest out, his face falling as though she’d dealt him a h
arsh blow. “I do not leave my post unattended, my lady. And I have already asked the footmen for every bit of news they could share. No one has seen him.”

  “I’m sorry, Price. I’m simply worried.”

  Something flashed in the man’s eyes. A bit of regret perhaps? If so, what would he have to be sorry for? Unless… unless he did know where Dashiel was.

  Cait approached him slowly, trying to keep a congenial smile upon her face. “Ye have a bit of dust on yer sleeve, here, Price,” she said casually as she reached to brush the sleeve of his jacket. Just as she’d thought would happen, the man was so flustered at the thought of soiling his clothes that he stopped and intently began to search for the offending dirt.

  “I don’t see it, my lady.” He raised a questioning gaze to her.

  “Have ye taken ta cleanin’ chimneys, Price?” she laughed as she brushed the dust from his shoulder. “My butler back home has never gotten so dirty.”

  “I had some special chores to do today, milady. Beg your pardon.” He stood a bit taller and raised his nose in the air, not appreciating her appraisal at all. Could the butler’s vanity be his downfall? Perhaps.

  “What were yer special chores, Price?” she asked casually as she went back to the window to look again at the deepening shadows.

  “I… I…”

  She turned to face him, giving him her most haughty glare. “Yes, Price?” she snapped.

  “I wanted to clean one of the rooms that we haven’t used in a while, my lady.”

  “And what room would this be, Price?” She narrowed her eyebrows at him.

  “Simply an old chamber, Lady Brimsworth,” he mumbled as he turned from her.

  “By any chance, did his lordship ask ye ta clean this chamber?”

  “Which lord, my lady?” Price asked.

  That was quite enough. Cait placed her hands upon her hips and stomped her foot. “If ye ken where my husband could be, Price, I would suggest ye tell me. Or I will be a very unhappy lady. And ye would no’ like ta see me when I’m unhappy.”

  “I imagine not, my lady,” Price grumbled.

  “Well?” If the man didn’t get on with it, she would have to get out her herbs and make a very special tea, just for him. One that might torture him for days. Oh, yes. That would be very nice.

  “I’m not supposed to say, my lady.” He pressed his lips together in a thin line.

  “On whose orders?”

  “The marquess?” Price said. But it came out more like a question.

  “So ye mean ta tell me that the marquess is upstairs fighting for breath, and he cared about some old dusty chamber enough ta tell ye ta go and clean it?”

  The man nodded quickly. “That’s correct.”

  “Where is this chamber? I’d like ta see it for myself.”

  “I can’t tell you.” He pursed his lips again.

  “Fine,” Cait spit out. “I’ll just go and ask the staff until someone tells me what I want ta ken.”

  “That would be why his lordship sent me alone, my lady. He didn’t want anyone to know.”

  “Surely someone saw you comin’ and goin’,” she said, taunting him on purpose.

  She could tell he thought hard. “Oh, I hope not,” he finally sighed, squeezing his eyes together tightly.

  Cait lowered her voice. “I will find out. So, ye might want ta make it easier for us both, or I’ll go ahead and sack ye now.”

  “You wouldn’t dare!” Price cried.

  “Are ye sure about that?” Cait asked as she picked an imaginary piece of lint from her sleeve.

  “The marquess isn’t even in the grave yet!”

  Caitrin felt a little niggle of regret for her outburst, but it only lasted a moment. “But he will be soon, Price. So, ye might want ta remember who will hold the terms of yer employment in her very own hands.”

  Price hung his head back with defeat and groaned. “The marquess had me clean the room.” He said the last two words with enough inflection that Cait took a step back.

  “The room?”

  “Yes. The room. The marquess had me clean Lord Brimsworth’s room. It hasn’t been used for several years. So, I cleaned it. Fresh linens. A good washing. I must admit it’s almost inhabitable. I even had a new bed brought from above stairs to replace that old cot. His lordship has spent the nights of the full moon in it when it looked much worse.”

  “Then why did he have ye clean it now?”

  “He said he wanted his son to be comfortable on this night that is so painful for him.”

  “He did?” Cait covered her chest with her hand. “How thoughtful.”

  Just then, a footman approached Price and said quietly, “All the maids have been sent from the property, just as you asked. And with little time to spare, I might add. The chains are already rattling down there.”

  Price cuffed the boy on the side of the head. “Watch your tongue around the countess.” He nodded toward Cait.

  “Beg your pardon, milady.”

  Cait tried to put together the pieces of the puzzle in her mind. A dirty chamber that was now clean. It was on a lower level because Owens had said down there. Chains. Cait blew with frustration.

  “I just hope the chains hold the monster,” Owens mumbled as he walked away. “I’ve never known him to get so agitated so early in the night.”

  Cait’s gasp drew Price’s glare.

  “You can’t go down there, my lady,” the butler said, rushing toward her.

  “My husband is in the cellar? That dark and dirty place I saw the first day I was here?”

  “It’s not so dirty anymore,” Price mumbled, shuffling his feet.

  “Mo chreach, that’s where he is!” she cried as she ran in that direction.

  “Where are you going, my lady?”

  “Ta my husband!” she called back, unable to stop the smile that crossed her face at the thought of finding him and spending the night with him under the light of the moon.

  ***

  Dash was already fighting the chains. He’d fought his shift into wolf form as soon as the moon rose above the horizon, but some things could not be stopped, and the emergence of the beast was one of them, he knew from experience.

  Now, the beast within him wanted to escape the shackles and escape the cellar, then go find his wife and have his wolfish way with her. But it wasn’t going to happen. He wouldn’t allow it.

  Dash wore nothing more than the golden fur that adorned his body and a titanium collar that imprisoned him and kept him from going to find his heart’s desire. He shivered at the very thought, a drop of drool dropping from his mouth to land on the stone floor.

  The hair on the back of Dash’s neck stood up when he heard Cait’s soft lilt calling his name. He danced on four feet, tugging at the collar that bound him to the point of pain. She called for him again.

  Unable to resist, he raised his snout into the air and called back to her, his howl deep and rich.

  Oh, God! What had he done? He’d called for her. Perhaps she hadn’t heard him. But then he heard her soft footfalls. Dash whimpered, dancing again in agitation. Cait! He needed her. He wanted her. But he could not have her.

  “Dash?” she said from the other side of the heavy oak door.

  Cait! He cried out in the only way he knew how. But then he remembered. He remembered what he was. He was a Lycan. He was dangerous. He couldn’t have her. Perhaps if he sat quietly, she would leave.

  The bars on the door were made to keep Dash in, not to keep others out, so there was no way to bar her from the room. He crept into the shadows, walking as far as his tether would allow. Perhaps she wouldn’t see him, if she did step inside his cell.

  A heavy thunk sounded as Cait removed the bar from the door. Then she slid the lock free. The door creaked open. Dash sat in the shadows and tried to keep from rushing to her. Then the honeysuckle scent of her reached his hyper-sensitive nose and he had to lick his lips to keep from drooling again.

  “Dash?” she asked again as she s
tepped farther into the room.

  He could see in total darkness because of his Lycan senses. But his little witch could not, he gratefully remembered. She turned and left. Dash’s heart clenched within his chest.

  He wanted her more than the air he breathed. He wanted her more than his next drink of water. He wanted her more than he wanted his very existence. He cursed in his head and tugged at the shackles that bound him to the stone room.

  A moment later, a flash of light caught his eye as it filtered through the crack in the doorway she’d left open. Dash tilted his head to the side so he could clearly hear her. She hummed a spirited little tune.

  Cait pushed the door open fully and stepped back inside, holding a lamp high so that it could illuminate the room. Dash came to his feet and crouched low, growling. She had to leave. She just had to.

  Cait jumped and placed a hand to her chest. “Havers! Ye frightened me.”

  Good. She should be frightened of a feral wolf. If not, the woman was simply daft. And that was one thing he’d never assumed about her. She may be annoying as the devil, but she was completely sane.

  Cait bent at the waist and placed her lamp on the floor, then took a step toward him. He growled low in his throat.

  “Will ye stop makin’ that noise?” she snapped. “I simply want ta take a look at ye. I willna do anythin’ ye doona want me ta do.”

  Dash growled again. He didn’t want to keep her from doing anything. That was the problem.

  Cait put her hands on her hips and scowled at him. Dash was nearly overcome with the desire to hold his paw out for a shake. He shook his head to clear it. Damn the woman.

  “Why are ye trussed up so, Dashiel?” she asked as she walked to where his tether was anchored to the stone wall.

  Because I could hurt you.

  Cait ran her fingers along the metal links until she was within his reach. She was so close he could smell her hair. He could almost taste the valley between her breasts. And then he began to think about the little crease where her thighs met her hips.

  “Ye look like ye want ta gobble me up,” she said absently as she rose and began to search the shelves in the room for something. What could she be looking for? Then he heard the clank of metal against metal. He groaned when she found the key. “And now ye sound like ye had some lunch that didn’t set well in yer stomach.”