by Lydia Dare
“The major is so relieved you’re awake, milady,” the maid said as she smoothed the dress over Elspeth’s body.
“How long have ye worked for the major?”
She shrugged. “A little more than a year now. Ever since he returned from the Continent.”
“Is he a good employer?”
“The best, milady.” The girl tugged the gown down around Elspeth’s ankles. Then she pulled the counterpane back up to her waist.
“And honest? Does he seem honest ta ye?” Did she dare believe all that he’d told her? Did he really not know about her? Had her mother really not been in contact with him?
Clearly affronted, the maid raised herself up to her full height, which wasn’t all that tall. “Who said otherwise? Major Forster is the most honorable of men!”
“That’s quite all right, Molly,” the major said from the doorway. “I’m certain my daughter was just curious.”
“I—um…” Elspeth felt her face heat and was certain her cheeks were the color of her hair. She really must be more careful around Lycans, with their superior hearing.
The major laughed. “You remind me so much of her. It’ll take some getting used to. For both of us, I imagine.” He crossed the floor and took the seat Will had vacated earlier. Then he leaned forward, took her hand in his, and squeezed. “How are you feeling, my dear?”
“Fine,” she replied softly.
One of the major’s dark eyebrows rose disbelievingly. “Fine?”
She shrugged. “Just a little weak. I’ll be fine in no time.”
Her father pursed his lips. “You knew what would happen, didn’t you? That you’d collapse?”
Elspeth’s eyes dropped to the counterpane. She hadn’t known for sure, but she’d had a pretty good idea. “I couldna let him suffer.”
“He was furious with us for letting you put yourself in danger. If I’d known…”
“Ye wouldna have stopped me.” She raised her gaze to his. “I ken he doesna feel the same about me that I do about him, but I could never let him be in pain.”
Her father’s features softened, and he smiled wistfully at her. “So much like Rose.”
She hoped not. She didn’t want to spend the rest of her life mourning Ben the way her mother had mourned her father. It was an awful way to live. “How did you go on without her?”
He snorted. “Badly. I was fortunate there was always a battlefield that required my attention. But at night there was nothing to distract me from my memories of her. Was she happy?”
“She missed ye. But she had me and my grandfather and the coven…” Her voice trailed off when she saw his countenance fall.
“I’ll never forgive myself for listening to Fiona Macleod. I should have seen Rose with my own eyes. At the time, I didn’t think I could bear to see her as another man’s wife. I was a coward.”
Elspeth’s heart ached for him, and she understood completely. When Ben went on to find his happiness with another, she didn’t think she could ever see him again. She couldn’t imagine anything more painful. “I doona think ye’re a coward.”
He sighed and she noticed tears in his dark eyes. “You have a compassionate nature, my dear.”
“Where do we go from here, Major?”
Her father shook his head. “Wherever you want, lass. I’m your humble servant.”
“No’ a servant,” she choked on a laugh. “Ye’re my father.”
“I don’t know how to make up for lost time, but I’ll do whatever you need, help you anyway possible.”
“Thank ye for that.” She sat up straight and fought back the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. “I’d like ta stay here with ye for a while. I’d like ta get ta ken ye.”
A smile spread across his face, and he scratched his whiskered jaw. “I’d like that, lass.” Then his brow furrowed as he regarded her. “But Benjamin?”
“Is free ta do whatever he wants.”
“I’m fairly certain he wants to be with you, Elspeth. He guarded you with his life last night.”
She shook her head. “I canna go with him.” It would kill her to do so, to see him every day and know he didn’t love her. She was safer here, where she could focus on her father and, hopefully, figure out how to go on without Ben.
Forty-six
After more than a fortnight of travel, Elspeth took her father’s hand in her own as she stepped from the coach in front of her small cottage and took in the sight. A comforting breeze caressed her face. The witches knew she was home. They’d probably known she was coming long before she did.
“Are you all right?” the major asked. It was still hard to think of him as “Father,” since they’d spent so little time together, but they had definitely grown closer as they traveled from London to Edinburgh. She’d learned all about her grandparents in Glasgow and hoped to meet them very soon. She also had several distant cousins and one spinster aunt, whom the major said would dote on her.
Elspeth closed her eyes and inhaled. It smelled like home, so much sweeter than the thick London air. “Aye, I’m all right.” Then she looked over at her father. “Ye didna have ta come all this way just ta see me home, Major.”
He chucked her beneath her chin. “I finally find out I have a daughter, and you want me to let you run off to Scotland alone? What kind of father do you think I am?” He chuckled. “Honestly, I have no idea what kind of father I’ll be.”
“And I’ve no idea what kind of daughter I am,” she said, smiling in his direction. “We’ll learn together.” His eyebrows pushed together as his eyes took in the sight of the old cottage. “Does this bring back good or bad memories, Major? If it’s too painful, we can go straight ta the Thistle and Thorn, and ye willna have ta spend time here.”
“Actually, Elspeth, I’d like to go and pay my respects to your mother.” He avoided her gaze, and her heart ached for him.
“Down the lane. In the church cemetery.” She nodded her head in the right direction. Part of her wanted to go with him, but she knew he needed to do this alone.
“Will you be all right?” he asked.
Elspeth grinned at him. “I’ve lived here my whole life. I’ll be just fine. Besides, I’ve got some things ta tend ta.”
He caressed her cheek then loped off slowly down the lane, his gaze pointed toward the ground. It had to be hard coming back to Edinburgh after all this time. After all they had been through.
A coach rattled down the drive and stopped in front of her. Elspeth smiled as she recognized the crest. The door flung open with a bang; the inhabitant didn’t even wait for the driver to dismount and open the door. Sorcha tumbled out, a vision in white with a coronet of white flowers in her dark hair. “Welcome home!” she cried, nearly knocking Elspeth to the ground with her exuberance.
“Havers, Sorcha! Ye act like I’ve been gone for years!” Elspeth said as she hugged the girl back.
“That’s what it’s felt like. Like ye disappeared from the face of the earth.”
Elspeth laughed and tugged the girl’s arms from around her neck, setting her back so that she could look at her.
“Somethin’ is different about ye,” Sorcha said, touching a fingertip to her chin as she regarded Elspeth from head to toe. “But I canna determine what it is.”
“Aside from the loss of the wolf that was hangin’ on her arm when she left us?” a voice called from behind the coach. Caitrin appeared, with Blaire and Rhiannon in her wake.
“Doona start with me, Cait,” Elspeth bit out. “I’ve only just come home. Let me settle in before I have ta start battlin’ with ye.”
Caitrin crossed her arms and leaned against the side of the coach. “Where’s yer dog? He’s no’ nippin’ around yer skirts.”
Elspeth turned to go inside. She held the door open and raised her eyebrows. “Anyone who can keep a civil tongue in their head can join me. Otherwise I have a lot of work ta do.”
Blaire, Sorcha, and Rhiannon went in and made themselves comfortable on the settee while Caitrin ling
ered in the doorway.
“Do I need ta ply ye with hyssop, Cait?” Elspeth asked, gesturing to the plant that still thrived on her tabletop.
Caitrin sighed and stepped into the room.
Elspeth’s voice finally broke when she said, “I miss him…”
Caitrin flew across the room in a flash. She pulled Elspeth into her arms and cooed softly as she let her cry it out. “I ken that ye miss him. I’m sorry for bein’ so cruel.”
Elspeth wiped her cheeks with her fingertips. “I doona ken what’s wrong with me. I am usually no’ so emotional.” All four of the girls suddenly avoided her gaze.
“What’s wrong?” Elspeth barked. “What is it that keeps ye from lookin’ me in the eye?”
“It’s no’ our place ta tell ye—” Caitrin began.
“Ye’ve seen my future, then?”
“Aye, I’ve seen yers. And that of the bairn ye carry,” Caitrin said softly as she brushed a tendril of hair from Elspeth’s brow. Then she turned and walked out the door.
“Doona go!” Elspeth called. “Ye canna leave me without knowin’.”
“Yer future waits,” Caitrin called back, smiling. Then all four girls started down the lane, their heads pressed closely together as though they were telling secrets she wasn’t privy to. The coach Sorcha had arrived in was abandoned, as the women apparently thought a long walk would be better for their scheming. Elspeth directed the coachman back to the Fergusons’.
She shook her head with dismay as she walked back into the house and sank heavily into a chair, placing a hand on her belly. A bairn. She smiled softly. Then it hit her what Caitrin said. It wasn’t like her to start to speak and then end in a riddle. “Yer future waits?”
“Do you think I’m the future of which she spoke?” a deep voice said from the doorway.
“Ben!” Elspeth cried as she jumped to her feet.
It had been weeks since he’d seen her last. He allowed his gaze to travel slowly over her body. He smiled when he heard her heart start to beat faster. He did still affect her. He’d hoped so. And prayed. And wished.
“May I come in?” he asked.
“We’ve only just arrived.”
“Where’s Major Forster?”
“He went ta the church cemetery.”
“Oh.” Ben understood completely. If anything ever happened to Elspeth, he would probably die with her. Or die a million deaths as the days passed before he could join her.
“How are ye?” Her hands fluttered nervously until she finally clutched them before her.
“Hale and whole. Thanks to a lovely Scottish witch who gave me the healing I needed.”
“So with the moonful ye did change?” she asked as her eyebrows knit together.
“Yes, I did.” He nodded. “I’m back to my old self.”
She smiled slowly at him. “I’m truly happy ta ken I could help ye, Ben.”
“I’m in need of one more bit of healing, though,” he said softly as he walked slowly toward her. She stood still and quiet, but the flowery scent of her became stronger as her body warmed beneath his gaze.
“What seems ta be wrong with ye?”
He took her hand in his and pressed it to the center of his chest. “I think I’ve a problem with my heart.”
Elspeth gasped. “What kind of problem? I have potions for the heart. I can heal ye,” she said frantically.
He placed a finger to her lips. “It’s not that kind of heart problem.” Her confused gaze rose to his. “I’m afraid my heart is broken.”
“That’s no’ humorous,” she said, trying to pull her hand back. But he held tightly. He’d not allow her to mistake his intentions. Her green eyes flashed. “Ye’d have ta love me before yer heart could break.”
He bent his head to touch his lips softly to hers. “I know.” He pulled her closer to him, until her body pressed against his in the most delightful way. He’d missed holding her, the feel of her in his arms. He breathed beside her ear. “Fix my heart, Ellie.” Then he loosened his hold and stepped away from her.
She shook her head. “Ye shouldna have come.”
His stubborn, beautiful, intoxicating wife. “Come now, love. You heal everyone else.”
Elspeth dropped onto her old threadbare settee. “I’ve given ye all I have, Ben. I doona have anythin’ else.”
Which was why it was time for him to take care of her. Something he would do for the rest of his days. He just had to win her back first. “Come to dinner with me tonight, Ellie.”
“Ben,” she groaned.
“I won’t take no for an answer.” He sunk to his haunches before her. “It’s just dinner. You have to eat anyway.”
She shook her head. “But my father—”
“—has been eating camp rations most of his life. I’m sure he can manage one night at the Thistle and Thorn.”
The corner of her mouth twitched, and for a moment he thought she was going to smile at him, but she quickly schooled her features back in place.
Ben tucked a curl behind her ear. “I promise not to bite.”
“Just dinner?”
“Just dinner.” For now.
“All right,” she finally agreed.
Forty-seven
“Whatever ye do, doona say anythin’ stupid,” Caitrin warned Ben. Then she thrust a picnic basket into his arms.
He almost stumbled backward against the Macleods’ grand staircase. A footman snickered, but quickly adopted a stoic expression when Ben glowered at the man. “Findlay,” Caitrin replied waspishly, “ye may leave us.”
Once the servant was gone, Ben turned his attention back to the pretty seer, whom he still couldn’t quite believe was helping him. “Thank you for your confidence,” he grumbled.
Caitrin raised one arrogant brow. “I believe that’s why ye’re in this situation, Westfield. I’m simply sayin’ doona make the same mistake again.”
“Well, that goes without saying.”
She ignored him, then handed him a folded-up plaid he’d come to recognize as belonging to the Campbells. “I’ve put some red candles in there, too.”
“Why red?”
She frowned at him. “Do ye want my help or no’?”
To be honest, he wasn’t sure. He knew he could trust Sorcha, but Caitrin was another matter. “Why are you helping me?”
At once she looked remorseful, which was a change from her usual haughtiness. “My mother was so consumed with keepin’ the Còig intact, she dinna see what she was doin’ ta Elspeth’s mother. At least that’s what I’ve been tellin’ myself.” She took a deep breath and met his eyes. “I canna fathom lyin’ about a vision, Westfield. It goes against my very nature. Her fear and selfishness cost El a lifetime’s worth of happiness. It’s a little late, but if I can bring some ta her, I’ll even help the likes of ye.”
Even when she was helping him, it still came off as an insult. “A truce, then?” he asked.
Caitrin cocked her head to one side, assessing him. “Are ye really goin’ ta split her time between London and Edinburgh? Like Hades and Persephone?”
Ben couldn’t help but laugh. “You whispered that little myth in MacQuarrie’s ear?”
A wicked smile played on her lips. “I’m a bit selfish myself, Westfield. And ye dinna answer my question.”
Ben sighed. He’d never thought he’d have to get approval for his time allotted to him by this particular witch. “Yes, Miss Macleod.”
She winked at him and smiled. “What a good wolf ye’ve turned out ta be. And ye can call me Cait.”
“Cait?” He raised his brow in amusement.
“Well, I’m goin’ ta be the godmother of yer children, after all.”
“Are you, indeed?” He couldn’t resist smiling.
“If ye can win her back. I doona trust my visions
completely anymore. And El can be more stubborn than most.”
But she saw them together. Ben released a sigh. He would take all the help he could get.
“Now, E
l’s favorites are in there, and Rhiannon has guaranteed nice weather for ye tonight. But the rest falls ta ye. Doona say anythin’ stupid.”
“Yes, you said that already.”
Ben helped Elspeth out of his coach, and her eyes swept over the land—a beautiful heather-covered meadow that edged the forest. The warmth of his hand holding hers sent tingles racing to Elspeth’s soul.
She sucked in a steadying breath as her eyes darted back to her husband. Ever since she’d agreed to this outing, she’d worried it was a mistake. Spending time with him would only make things more painful when he left.
Ben scooped up a picnic basket and plaid in one hand, then offered his free arm to her.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“Home,” he answered, with a smile in his voice. “Do you like it?”
“Home?”
“This is the land I bought, Ellie,” he said, gesturing to the open space. “We’ll have the grandest home in Edinburgh, save the castle. Society will be lining up to attend your parties. And out back by the woods you can have your own wing to tend to as many sick Scots as you want. Just say you’ll come back to me.” He brushed his fingers across her cheek.
She closed her eyes at his touch, momentarily lost in a happier time when she thought they were in love. “Ye doona have ta do this, Ben. I doona blame ye for anythin’, ye ken.”
Ben looked away from her and spread the Campbell plaid on the ground.
“We just weren’t meant ta be,” Elspeth continued softly, though her heart protested.
She remembered when Will had uttered the same words about his Prisca and the sadness that emanated from him. The sentiment hadn’t made much sense to her back then. Now she understood it too well.
“We were meant to be. We’re connected, lass, in more ways than one.”
Distance and time would solve those problems. Elspeth stepped away from him and took a spot on the corner of the plaid. She smiled, hoping he wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes. “What have ye got in yer basket?”
He sat beside her; his warm hazel eyes raking across her seemed so sad. “I’m told that roasted pheasant with currants is your favorite.”
Elspeth grinned at him. Who had he been talking to? “No blueberries?” She couldn’t help but ask.
