Tall, Dark and Wolfish

by Lydia Dare

“What do you mean? Is she all right?” Ben growled.

  “No need to show your teeth, pup. She’s fine.” The major didn’t growl, but his voice held a subtle warning nonetheless. A gust of wind blew as the door flew open behind them and Will burst through. “Nice to see you, too, William.” The major shook his head.

  “Why did you come here?” Ben snarled.

  “Because you left a trail of blood in your wake that a blind wolf could follow. I don’t care how much you hate me right now. I’ll not leave you when you’re injured.”

  “Injured?” the major scoffed. “His heart is not involved with my daughter, from what she tells me. So I doubt Elspeth’s leaving has caused him any injury.”

  “Your daughter?” Will and Ben asked in chorus.

  The major ignored their question and turned to pour a drink.

  Ben weaved a bit unsteadily on his feet as he moved toward the major, a growl stuck in his throat.

  “Look at you, Ben,” Will said. “You can’t even walk.” Then he turned to the major. “Why isn’t his injury healing?”

  “Injury?” the major echoed. The sound of Will’s teeth as they ground together was the only noise in the room. The major looked down at the floor, where a steady drip of blood ran from beneath the sleeve of Ben’s jacket to hit the rug at his feet. “You’re truly injured? And have not healed?”

  Ben nodded weakly.

  “You should have told me,” he said.

  “You were having such a grand time bringing me to heel, I didn’t want to ruin your fun,” Ben breathed out, gasping in pain as the men pulled his jacket from his shoulders to get a better look at the wound.

  Darkness clouded the corners of his vision. Thankfully, Will hooked one foot around the leg of a chair and drew it near, just before Ben would have swooned and hit the ground.

  “Honestly, Ben,” Will chided, his eyes clouded with worry. “I would think you were wearing garters if you didn’t have all that blood dripping from your body.” As they finally removed his jacket, Will whistled softly when he saw the way Ben’s shirt was stained with blood, his arm twisted at an unnatural angle.

  “The day I wear garters is the day you’ll marry Prisca Hawthorne.”

  “Not bloody likely,” Will whispered.

  “Exactly,” Ben hissed as they adjusted his broken arm. Will finally gave up and ripped the shirt cleanly from his body. Why hadn’t they thought of that earlier? It was much less painful.

  “It’s worse than I thought,” Will said as he tested the edges of the deep wound.

  The major called to a maid in the corridor. “Have one of the men fetch the doctor, will you?”

  But then Ben was called from his weak stupor as he heard a voice with a lilting Scottish brogue say, “No need. I can heal him myself.”

  She looked so beautiful there in the doorway that Ben could barely get his breath. She’d removed her combs, and her hair hung wildly about her shoulders. Her image swam before his eyes. “Elspeth,” he breathed. “You will not heal me.”

  “No man has ever told me what ta do, Benjamin Westfield. And I’ll no’ start with ye.” She walked toward him slowly. Her image split into two. He shook his head.

  “I’ll not let you put yourself at risk,” he said quietly. “I’ve seen how it affects you.”

  “I’ll no’ let ye be injured when I can help ye.” She gestured toward the settee. “Can ye move him so he can lie down, please? He’s about ta fall from the chair.”

  Will moved to help and barely caught him as he did just that. Then darkness was all Ben knew from that moment forward.

  Forty-four

  Elspeth did her best to fight the panic as she descended the stairs. She’d already known something was wrong with him; she’d felt it in her soul. She didn’t understand the connection they had, since he professed not to love her, but they were tied to each other, regardless.

  When they’d settled his big body on the settee, Ben was so deeply unconscious that he’d not uttered a sound.

  “Ye say a Lycan can normally heal his own self?” she asked the men.

  “Yes, we heal almost immediately. I’ve never known anyone who is unable to heal. Have you?” Will asked the major.

  Major Forster got a faraway look in his eye before he shook it off and said, “Yes. I have seen it. It’s rare, but it happens.”

  “What causes it?” Will asked as she gently probed the wound. Ben didn’t even move beneath her fingers. She halfheartedly listened to the response.

  “Usually an imbalance. Some unrest within the soul. Or the heart, as the case may be. It’s often an event that tests a Lycan’s confidence and weakens him. It’s not in a corporeal sense. It’s internal. And it can be deadly to one of our kind if we can’t find a healer.”

  “Can you heal him, Elspeth?” Will asked.

  “Aye, I can.” There was no doubt in her mind. She could heal him and make him whole, in body and in spirit. She wished she’d realized it before. The answer could not be found in blueberries, flowerscented baths, or potions. All she had to do was love him. And make him believe it. “Can ye give me a moment alone with him?”

  “Why?” Will wanted to know.

  She smiled a gentle smile at him. “Because I need ye ta leave us be. And let me do my work.”

  “We’ll be a few steps outside, Elspeth. So call if you need us.”

  “Aye, I can already imagine ye passin’ each other in the corridor as ye pace in opposite directions. Go on, now. Out.” She pushed her hands at them impatiently.

  When they were gone, Elspeth took a moment to look at Ben’s sleeping form. She brushed the hair back from his forehead. He looked as peaceful as a child.

  Then she touched her hands to the area of his wound, bringing the edges of the gaping cut together with her fingertips. She closed her eyes and focused all of her power on the job she had to do. His flesh warmed and slowly knitted together. The edges of the wound went from red and jagged to being completely healed. She lifted her hands and was quite content with what she saw.

  Ben still slept peacefully. She touched his arm above the break with one hand and below it with the other. When it was completely healed, she tested his arm by bending it at the elbow. She stopped to smile at her own work.

  But she wasn’t done. There was more that needed to be healed. She didn’t know why she hadn’t seen it before. She placed her hand above his heart. Her power immediately flowed into him, as though this was what his body waited for, what his soul yearned for. Her palm heated against him as her power flowed into him, and she imagined it moving through his body, nourishing his soul and feeding his needs.

  Elspeth tried to open her eyes so that she could gaze upon him as she fixed him, fixed her broken wolf. But her lids refused to lift. Her power continued to wash into him, now pulsing through his entire being. She felt the pieces of him that were broken unfurl. She felt the insecurity vanish. She felt the doubts and fears about himself and his ability to control his Lycan side replaced by her healing warmth.

  Elspeth found she could no longer support her weight and sank down slowly onto his chest until her face rested against his skin. Her hand fell off his chest and hung limply toward the floor. And there she finally gave in to the need for sleep that so clutched at her.

  Ben woke slowly, wrapping his arms around Elspeth’s body as she slept on his chest. He could wake like this every day for the rest of his life. Why did he have his shirt off while she was clothed? He raised his head and looked around the room. They weren’t at her cottage. Or his house in London.

  He ran his hand down her back and cooed gently

  into her ear. “Ellie, wake up, love.” She didn’t move. He jostled her slightly, but she didn’t raise her head. “Ellie?” he said more loudly, panic taking over.

  Will and Major Forster bolted into the room. “What happened?”

  “I have no idea. I woke up and she was sleeping on my chest.” He turned her hand over and gasped when he saw blood. “Is she injured?�
�� he croaked.

  “No, it was you who was injured, Ben.”

  It slowly dawned on him. “You let her heal me?” he cried. He sat up and adjusted her body so that she was cradled in his arms. Her head hung back limply. “Ellie! Ellie!” he called to her. He brought a hand up to touch her face. “She’s freezing! What have you done?” He glowered at the men.

  “She said she could heal you—” Will started.

  “And put herself in jeopardy!” Ben cried.

  Will glanced frantically toward the major.

  “We didn’t know that she would be injured in the process. I would have let you die before I’d let you hurt my daughter,” the major bit out as he moved to take Elspeth from Ben’s arms.

  Ben stood up quickly and moved out of reach. “You’ll not take her from me.”

  The major put his hand under Elspeth’s nose. “She breathes, Ben.”

  “Yes, I can hear her heart beating. But it’s much too slow. And she’s so cold.” He moved toward the stairs. “Where is the bedroom?” he barked.

  “Top of the stairs.”

  Ben ran up the stairs, taking two steps at a time. He burst into the nearest bedroom, slammed the door shut, and pulled back the counterpane. If this was like the time she’d healed Caitrin, she would need warmth from his body. Quickly he undressed her and himself and laid her on a pillow before he pulled her frigid body close to his and raised the counterpane, tucking it tightly around her.

  A knock sounded at the door.

  “What?” he barked.

  “I’m coming in,” Will said.

  Ben didn’t respond. He just ran his hands up and down Elspeth’s cold body, trying to use the friction of his touch to warm her.

  “What can I do?” Will asked softly.

  “She needs to be warmed.”

  Will stepped into the hallway and directed the servants to light a fire in the grate. They scurried to do his bidding.

  “Why did you let her do it?” Ben cried softly as he held her close to him.

  “We didn’t know.”

  Servants began to pour into the room. One stoked the fire while another added layers of counterpanes until the room was filled with a radiant heat. Then they were all alone again.

  Ben held her like that for what seemed like hours. She slowly warmed against him, but didn’t wake. Her eyelids never fluttered. The slow, even cadence of her breathing never changed. Her heartbeat never quickened. What he would have paid at that moment to hear her heartbeat speed up. He didn’t care if it was in anger, in fear, in passion. He simply wanted her to be healthy.

  Why had he said those stupid things that drove her away from him? Of course he loved her. How could he not? He just hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself. He’d wanted to protect her, but instead he put her in danger. If she didn’t wake, he’d never forgive himself.

  When morning came, Will tried to get Ben to take a break. But he stoically refused. He needed to be with her. If she drew her last breath, he would be there.

  “You need your strength,” Will reminded him. “Go and take a walk. Get something to eat. I’ll sit with her.”

  He looked down at her sleeping form. His Elspeth was warm. Her lips were no longer blue. Her cheeks were a rosy red. But she refused to wake.

  “Trust me. If she wakes, I’ll call you,” Will said. “I’ll not leave her.”

  Ben rose, dressed, and stepped out the front door. He walked into the yard and kicked the stone wolf in his path. He didn’t even feel the pain. He wanted to vent his frustration. He wanted to hurt someone. He walked down the winding path into the woods, a heavy rain immediately soaking him. Had it been raining when he’d stepped outside? He couldn’t remember.

  He took a few more steps. The rain stopped and the sun shone. Then, within moments, it poured again.

  “Rhiannon?” he asked quietly. He must be losing his mind. He scrubbed his hand across his forehead.

  A few feet before him, a small plant emerged from the ground. It flowered prettily. Ben bent and looked at the plant offering. Only Sorcha could present such an item.

  “What do I do?” he asked. Another blossom appeared, as if to say Pick me, you idiot.

  He picked the purple blossom. A pinecone dropped from a nearby tree and hit the top of his head. What else could go wrong? He kicked the cone from his path. Four more dropped from the sky. He raised his arms above his head to block more falling objects. “I get the idea,” he growled as he picked up a pinecone. A ginger root tugged at the toe of his shoe. He looked up at the sky and said, “That’s for me, too?” A pinecone hit his head.

  He shook his head with wonder and dug up the ginger root. “You know I have no idea what to do with these things or how much of each to use,” he called. He hoped no one was watching him, but he really didn’t care. The root and the flower immediately shriveled into dried bits in his hand. Then a gentle wind blew. The majority of the dried leaves left his palm, leaving only a small bit behind.

  He raised his eyebrows and said, “Now we’re getting somewhere.” He held up the pinecone. It fell apart in his hand and left four tiny seeds.

  “What do I mix them with?” Thunder crashed in the sky and rain poured from the heavens, soaking him immediately. He closed his fist to keep his precious ingredients safe. When the water stopped, he stood with his eyes closed, a bemused look on his face as he blew water from his face and shook his head like a dog. “I assume that means water.” He nearly chuckled. “Is that all?” The sun shone brightly.

  He turned and jogged back into the house, stopping to make a fresh pot of tea, and steeped the ingredients in his hands, adding them to the brew. When it was done, he carried the tea upstairs on a tray.

  Will sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing the tips of his fingers across Elspeth’s lifeless hand. “What do you have there?” he asked.

  “A brew from the witches.”

  “In Scotland?” Will looked befuddled.

  “In Scotland,” Ben confirmed.

  “Why are you all wet?”

  “It was one of the clues.” He shrugged as he raised a small spoonful of the brew to Elspeth’s lips. She took it in without gasping or choking and swallowed slowly. It was the first movement she’d made since she’d passed out.

  “When you get yourself in a mess, you really know how to do it, don’t you, Ben?” Will asked.

  “This isn’t a mess, William. This is love.”

  Forty-five

  Elspeth blinked her eyes open as late afternoon light poured into the room. Weak, she tried to turn to her side, but she couldn’t gather up the strength. She looked to her side and found Will flipping through The Times. Her heart sank when she realized it wasn’t Ben.

  Not that she should have been surprised. Though she loved him with all her heart, nothing had changed. She must have made some sort of sound, because Will dropped the paper and sat forward. He smiled with relief. “Thank God. We were so worried.”

  She tried to sit up but couldn’t manage to make her limbs do anything. “Water,” she whispered.

  “Of course.” He leapt from his seat and poured some from a pitcher, sloshing most of it on the floor in his haste to bring it to her.

  He helped her sit and brought the cup to her mouth. It was like nectar from the gods, and she drank her fill. Only when she finished did she realize that the counterpane was down around her waist and she had nothing on.

  Elspeth gasped and Will’s eyes widened. Apparently he didn’t realize it either. Quickly, he pulled the blankets up to her neck and tucked them around her. “Ben doesn’t need to know about that,” he said quietly. Then he added with a wink, “He’ll accuse me of trying to seduce you in your weakened state.”

  Just hearing his name tore at her heart. It was best to think of other things. She shook her head. “My father,” she managed, her voice sounded raspy.

  Will started for the door. “I’ve got to wake Ben first.”

  “Just my father.”

  He glanced over
his shoulder at her but didn’t say a word as he stepped over the threshold.

  When Ben heard a soft knock, he bolted off the bed he was napping on, rushed across the room, and opened the door. Will stood before him, frowning.

  “Is she awake?” he asked.

  Will nodded. “She’s asking for the major.”

  Ben took a step backward, realization dawning on him. “But not me.”

  Will winced. “Forster has a claim on her, but she’s your wife. I think you should go to her anyway. She can talk to him later.”

  It wouldn’t do any good. She was a stubborn lass when she wanted to be. Apparently, in her eyes he hadn’t yet paid for his sins. He certainly didn’t want to fight with her, not when she was in a weakened state. Ben sighed. “How is she?”

  “She looks frail, but her color is back. She’s said a few words, but her voice is scratchy.”

  “Make sure she drinks the tea.”

  Will stepped closer to him, so there was only an inch between them. “You should go to her, Ben.”

  He had every intention of going to her, when she was stronger and he could make her understand. Or when she asked for him. Whichever came first. “In good time. Get Forster. Make sure she drinks the tea.”

  “She loves you.”

  Ben knew that. He could feel her inside him, in his heart, his soul, his very essence. She’d healed more than his broken arm. “It won’t be good to upset her right now, and I think my presence would do so.”

  With a curt nod, Will left him and started for the staircase.

  Ben rested his forehead against the wall. How could he make things right? There had to be something he could do.

  The little maid from the night before bustled into Elspeth’s room. It looked as though the young girl was blushing. “Lord William said you needed help getting dressed.”

  The reason for the blush was obvious now. Elspeth cleared her throat. “Thank ye.”

  The girl retrieved Elspeth’s dress from the day before and shook out the wrinkles. Then she pulled back the counterpane and slid the gown over Elspeth’s head. How awkward for someone else to dress her! She felt like a rag doll being pushed and pulled in odd directions.