by Lydia Dare
He would love to sleep with her in that position every night for the rest of his life. But they would have to do so in a bigger bed. He added it to his mental to-do list. Right behind install shutters.
Her room was awash with offensive sunlight, the kind that forces one to rise even if one doesn’t want to. Ben rolled to his side and clutched the edge of the bed to keep from falling off. He pulled the sheet over his hips before he crooked his elbow and rested his head in his overturned palm.
“Ellie,” he called. A clatter of pots and pans met his greeting. He groaned. “Ellie!” he called more loudly. The pots and pans ceased their clatter.
But it was Sorcha who stuck her head through the bedroom door. “Ye bellowed, my lord?” the young witch began drolly, then quickly drew her head back when she saw his state of undress. Her gasp was all it took to get him moving.
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you witches how rude it is to interrupt newlyweds?” Ben called as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and slid into his pants. He tugged his shirt over his head with enough force to rip a seam. “Ugh,” he grunted. Between grass stains and tears, his valet would have Ben’s head when he saw the state of his employer’s wardrobe.
“Did anyone ever tell ye how rude it is ta call a woman inta a room when ye’re undressed?” the little witch shot back.
“I was calling for my wife,” Ben said. His voice lowered to a mumble. “Who I’d hoped would be very happy to see my state of undress.” And his state of readiness. “Why are you in my kitchen, Sorcha. And where is Ellie?” He pulled on a stocking and stuck his head through the door.
“Doona come out of there unless ye’re properly dressed.” She pointed a spoon at him in warning.
“Depends on your definition of ‘proper,’” Ben grunted as he adjusted the second stocking and padded into the room. He poured warm water for tea. Sorcha stood alone in the kitchen, pots cooking on every warming surface, spoons spinning at random, victims of their witchy powers. He shook his head. “And the word ‘proper’ should be used very loosely where you all are concerned.”
Sorcha pulled his cup from his hand and added something to it. “Elspeth said ye’re ta drink nothin’ but the blueberry.” She handed it back to him. “Careful, it’s hot.”
Ben nodded absently. “Thank you. Where’s Elspeth?”
The witch avoided his gaze. “The blueberry bush is ruled by the moon. As are ye.” She shrugged. “Or at least ye should be.”
“Sorcha?” he said firmly. “Where is Elspeth?”
The littlest witch hung her head. “They should’ve sent someone else,” she grumbled. Then her eyes met his before skittering away. “She’s gone on an errand.”
“What kind of errand?”
“The healin’ kind?” Was that a question?
“Where?” he barked as he strode back to the bedroom to put on his boots.
“She’s gone ta deliver the bairn for Mrs. Kincaid.”
“She delivers babies?” Ben was pretty sure that unmarried women were not normally allowed in the birthing room.
“Not really,” the girl hedged.
“Sorcha, you will tell me now,” he growled.
“She only goes if there’s healin’ needed.” She wrung her hands.
“You mean healing like she did with Caitrin?” He shook Sorcha’s shoulders. “Don’t you?”
She simply nodded.
He had told Elspeth that she was not to heal anyone else. She was not to put herself in danger. It wasn’t even possible that she had forgotten from the night before.
He forced Sorcha to tell him where to find her, then he took off at a run toward the Kincaids’ small cottage.
As he neared, he slowed and listened intently to the sounds coming from inside. He clearly heard Elspeth’s voice, clear and resonant as she encouraged the woman birthing the babe. He heard the frantic pacing of a heavy-footed man, whom he assumed was the father, in the front room of the house.
Ben rapped briefly on the door. It swung open and a man’s face met him. He was a bit younger than Ben, and obviously the expectant father, if the way he chewed his fingernails was any indication.
Ben suddenly was at a loss for words. He’d come fully prepared to wrest Elspeth from the clutches of people who would suck the life from her inert body, taking all the healing she had to offer and leaving nothing. Nothing for him.
“My wife is here,” he started.
The man stepped back and opened the door widely.
“She’s a godsend, she is.”
Yes, she was.
“Seamus Kincaid,” the man said, offering his hand in greeting.
“Ben Westfield. How are things going?” he asked, although he knew he probably had better information than poor Seamus, since he could hear every word, mumble, and moan from inside the room.
“I doona ken,” Kincaid said quietly. “They willna let me in there.”
“I hear it’s not a place we would want to be.”
“Oh, no!” the man gasped. “I want ta be right there, holdin’ her hand. This is my fault, ye see.”
Ben clapped a hand to Seamus’ shoulder. He opened his mouth to speak, and then he heard a whimper. “Ellie?” he asked as he turned toward the birthing room.
Elspeth had never attended such a frightening delivery. The woman had been laboring for hours. If the bairn wasn’t delivered soon, there would be nothing Elspeth could do. She couldn’t heal the dead. She could only heal the living.
The midwife instructed Mrs. Kincaid, telling her when to push and when to rest. She’d known for some time what powers Elspeth had. She’d used them in her presence on enough occasions. The first time had been an accident. But the woman had just chuckled and said, “Well, that’s quite the thing,” as though El had just shown her a new pair of earbobs.
The mothers never knew of her powers; they were usually too far gone by the time she intervened to notice what she did. And she’d never asked for any credit. Healing was a gift, and she was meant to share it. To do anything less would go against her very nature.
She heard the door when it opened a crack. “Elspeth,” Ben called. “Are you all right?”
Elspeth got up and walked to the door, opening it only enough that he could see her face. “What are ye doin’ here, Ben?”
“I had to come and find my wife,” he said quietly. “You shouldn’t be here.”
She nodded to the man over his shoulder. “Tell him that when he loses them both,” she whispered. “Because I willna do it.”
He’d actually thought to keep her from her life’s work? He’d thought to keep her from healing? He would be more likely to get her to stop breathing at his command.
“Ellie,” he started.
“Ben, ye willna change my mind.”
A muscle in his jaw clenched.
The woman in the bed behind her moaned, and Elspeth closed the door quickly despite his quick protest. She knew the door was a flimsy barrier between the two of them. But it offered some privacy for a moment.
The midwife worked to turn the baby within the mother, as only she knew how to do. With a grunt of satisfaction, she washed her hands quickly in a bowl of water and clapped them together.
“Now we can deliver this babe,” she said, her eyes aglow. They wouldn’t need Elspeth after all. Within moments, the mother held the bundled baby against her chest, a contented but exhausted smile upon her face.
Elspeth opened the door wide and invited the harried father inside, then quietly took Ben’s hand in her own and pulled him out the door.
They walked briefly in silence as he tightened his jaw beside her.
“Ye do a poor imitation of a happy man, Ben,” she finally said.
“What were you thinking back there, Elspeth?”
“I was thinkin’ that someone needed me.” Surely he understood.
“I need you.” He took her hand and pulled it to his chest, covering it with his own.
“Aye, tell that ta the good peop
le of Edinburgh,” she laughed as she pointed toward her own cottage, where three people already stood outside, waiting for her help.
Ben worked beside her for the rest of the day, refusing to leave her side. If he left her, she would probably take it into her head that she needed to heal someone. He couldn’t allow that.
She passed out bottles of herbal medicine for coughs, made poultices for wounds, and even gave a child a teaspoon of sugar to help stop her hiccoughs. Everyone received a smile and a treatment for what ailed them.
As the sun finally sank in the sky, she turned to her husband, blew a lock of hair from her eyes, and grinned. “Now it’s yer turn.”
“My turn?” Ben asked, placing a sarcastic hand upon his chest. “You mean to say that I get some attention from the great healer?” He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her close to him.
“Aye, ye get me all ta yerself.” She pulled a large washtub from the corner of the room and placed it before the fire. Then she began to methodically fill it with warm water, boiled on the stove. Ben took over the task, unable to watch her work when she had shadows beneath her eyes.
“Let’s worry about me tomorrow, love,” he said softly as he pulled her down onto his lap. She immediately curled into him, soft and yielding as she kissed his neck.
“But I want ye naked now,” she said, her voice a little huskier than before, and she began to tug his shirt from his trousers. He lifted his arms and let her pull it over his head.
“You want me naked?” he joked. “All you had to do was say so.” His fingers tangled with hers as she reached for the buttons of his trousers. He left that to her tender care and started on her clothes.
“What are ye doin’?” she asked as she pressed her lips to the space beneath his ear.
“Undressing you. What else?”
“But I’m no’ in need of a medicinal bath,” she teased, standing up. Her dress fell from her body and landed in a heap upon the floor. She stood still and proud before him, nearly naked. He groaned and reached for her. She slipped from his grasp.
“Inta the tub with ye,” she said, pointing her finger toward the washtub. Ben shrugged out of his clothes and stepped into the water, sighing softly as the warmth surrounded him. She stood outside his grasp. He reached for her.
“No, no,” she teased as she dropped dried flower petals into the water.
Ben sniffed. “You want me to smell like a flower?” He sniffed again. “Like a gardenia, no less?” Though he would smell like roses if it made her smile like she smiled at that moment.
“Gardenia is ruled by the moon,” she said quietly as she picked up a cloth and began to gently sponge the water onto him.
“Like blueberries?” he asked, laying his head back, happy to simply enjoy her loving ministrations.
“Stronger than the blueberry.” She twitched her nose. “The fragrance calls ta the moon. So it canna hurt ye ta wear it.”
“Can’t you wear the fragrance and I’ll just keep you with me? I promise not to leave your side.”
“I think ye made that quite obvious today,” she scolded him gently. He growled at her as her hand brushed over his nipple.
She sat up to pick up a bottle of gardenia oil and poured a few drops into the bath. The oil shimmered on the surface of the water. But nothing shimmered brighter than her smile.
Elspeth sat back to pick up the cloth again, and his eyes trailed down her body. Her chemise was transparent when wet. Her nipples stood hard against the sheer fabric, the triangle between her thighs beckoning to him.
“How long am I expected to endure this torture?” he growled.
“About an hour.” She put her hands on her hips. Her breasts shifted. “‘Torture’ is a mighty strong word for a perfumed bath,” she scolded.
“I can’t stand an hour.” He reached for her hand and pulled it into the water. Her fingers fluttered briefly before they closed around his length. “And even less time if you do that,” he snarled.
“Ye’re the one who pulled my hand inta the water,” she reminded him saucily as her fingertips continued to play across his flesh.
Ben groaned, and with just one arm around her waist, he lifted her from beside the tub and drew her into it.
“Ben!” she squealed as water rolled over the edges of the tub.
“If I have to stay in the bath for an hour, I’ll have you with me.” He turned her away from him so that her back rested against his chest. Then he cupped her breast in his hand, rolling the nipple with his thumb.
“We both canna fit in this tub,” she gasped.
“I think I’ll fit just fine,” he whispered, the sound no more than a quick brush across her cheek as his hand slid between her thighs and parted her flesh.
“Aye, we both ken ye fit there.” Her gasp broke when his fingers rubbed her folds, parting her silky flesh, finding her warm and willing.
“I want to be inside you,” he breathed before drawing her earlobe between his teeth.
Ben’s hands adjusted her body so that she opened above him. He parted her folds and pressed himself insistently against her center. She settled over him like a warm silken glove. He groaned as she sighed, her head falling back against his shoulder.
Ben lifted her legs over the rim of the tub, parting them so that he could rest his hand in her curls.
“This isna the best position, I’d wager,” she said. But then she inhaled deeply when he firmly rubbed around her center.
“It’s a perfect position,” he groaned. As he began to stroke her, she arched her hips to meet him, moving along his length in time with his fingers.
Her tiny movements pushed him in farther and farther as his fingers moved faster and faster.
“Watch me,” he whispered against her ear.
“No,” she gasped, pushing her head into his forearm.
“Watch, or I’ll stop.” His fingers stilled until she lifted her head and looked down at his hand.
That was all it took to make her erupt around him, the sight of him toying with her, just as he’d known it would. He quickly followed.
Thirty-one
“Ellie,” Ben began as she placed a bowl of hardboiled eggs in front of him. “I never thought to have my wife cook for me. I’m fairly plump in the pockets. Can’t I hire someone for you?”
Hire someone to cook for her? Elspeth couldn’t help but laugh. Then she slid into a seat across from her husband at the small table. “Eat the eggs, Ben; they’re for rejuvenation.”
“Rejuvenation,” he grumbled. “What I really need is a new bed. That would rejuvenate me.” Then he rubbed the back of his neck.
Which, of course, she knew. He did talk in his sleep. He also had a point. Her bed was rather small, especially for a man his size. “Well, I believe ye’ll be happy with what Sorcha has planned for ye then.”
“Oh?” he asked warily before plopping one egg into his mouth. After swallowing, he leaned forward. “I don’t know that I liked the way you said that.”
Elspeth smiled at him. “I think ye’ll be pleasantly surprised, my lord.”
“Meaning you’re not going to tell me.” He frowned as he eyed another egg. “How many of these do I have to eat?”
She laughed again. “My, ye’re rather grumpy this mornin’. And ye have ta eat all of them, Benjamin. That’s why I put them in front of ye.”
Finally he smiled at her. “Simon will adore you.”
“His Grace?” she asked in surprise. He so rarely spoke of his oldest brother, and then it was generally complaints.
“Hmm. You can take turns barking orders at me.”
“Eat yer eggs,” Elspeth said, rolling her eyes heavenward.
With a scowl he popped another egg into his mouth, and she slid from her seat to prepare him some more tea.
“I had no idea I married such a moody man, Ben. Ye seemed so sweet up ‘til now,” she teased.
In a flash he stood behind her, hands on her waist, grinning like a fool. “It’s working, Ellie.”
He glowed like an exuberant child.
She glanced back at the table. “The eggs?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know what exactly, but you’re right. I am moody. I get moody, we all do, in the week leading up to the full moon.”
That was good news. She turned in his arms and slid her hands up his chest. “Indeed? Does that mean I can look forward ta a difficult husband one week a month for the rest of my life?”
Ben pulled her flush against him. “We also become more carnal.”
“More carnal?” she asked, twirling a lock of his hair around her finger. “How will I ever survive?”
Ben nuzzled her shoulder and neck, nipping her lightly. His teeth grazed her sensitive skin, sending frissons of desire straight to her core. Her knees almost buckled, so she wrapped her arms around his waist to keep from falling.
His fingers tugged at the bodice of her gown, then they stilled. “Damn!” Ben grumbled, lifting his head.
“What?” she asked breathlessly, wanting his lips back on her skin.
“A coach just stopped.” He rested his forehead against hers, like a man defeated. “Ellie, I’m feeling much more like myself. Can’t we leave? A fortnight in a carriage with only you would do wonders for me. No one stopping by unannounced. No one else vying for your attention. Every night a new inn with a decent-sized bed.”
Elspeth leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Ben,” she whispered, “ye should finish yer eggs.”
“Rejuvenation, I know,” he muttered.
She kissed him again. “My moody wolf.” Then she righted her gown as a knock came from the door. She crossed the room, smoothing her skirts one last time before she opened the door.
From the threshold, Alec MacQuarrie winked at her then kissed her cheek. “My lady, you’re looking well.”
She opened the door wide. “Thank ye, Mr. MacQuarrie. Would ye like ta come in?”
