Tall, Dark and Wolfish

by Dare, Lydia

  "But I have ta ken, does it work for ye?" Her face colored. "When ye're alone?"

  "I

  was

  alone and it didn't work," he admitted. Perhaps she did know what she was talking about.

  "Does it work when ye're with a lass?" She pointed to his thighs. What did his lap have to do with anything?

  "I've never done it with a lass," he admitted. Simon had always beaten into him how dangerous it was to be with a woman when the moon was full. Pushing his luck was what had gotten him into this situation.

  "At yer age?" Her hand fluttered to land on her chest. "That is surprisin'," she muttered.

  "Why is it so surprising?" Now he was thoroughly confused.

  "Forgive me for bein' so bold, but it's no' very often ye meet a man yer age who has never been with a lass." Again her gaze wandered down to his waist.

  Never been with a woman!

  She thought he was talking about

  that

  ? Ben buried his face in his hands and chuckled. He laughed so hard his shoulders shook.

  "There, there, Ben. No need to cry over it. We'll get ye all fixed." Her hand touched his back, rubbing a light circle.

  Ben finally raised his head and wiped the tears of mirth from his eyes.

  She put her hands on her hips. "Were ye laughin' at me?" Indignation sparkled in her eyes.

  "No, Elspeth." He held up both hands in surrender. "I promise," he chuckled. "I'm not laughing at you."

  "Then what is so blasted funny?"

  There was only one option. He'd have to show her.

  Ben hauled her to him with one hand as he pushed the hair back from her face with his other.

  Elspeth couldn't even sputter in surprise as he clutched her to him. He moved much too fast. One moment she was standing several feet from him, and the next she was pressed along against his body.

  "Ye don't have ta put on a grand show just ta prove ta me ye're a man," she scolded him.

  Another chuckle rumbled through him. She raised her hands to his chest to push away from him, but she was well and truly caught within his arms. His chest flexed beneath her fingers. She tested the hard wall with her fingertips.

  "I

  am

  a man," he said quietly. Then his lips touched hers.

  The first taste of him was heavenly. His lips pressed softly against hers, no more than a whisper against her skin. Elspeth had been kissed before. Once by a clumsy stable boy at a church picnic and once by Alec MacQuarrie, who had quickly decided that Caitrin was more to his liking. It hadn't bothered her, though, as kissing him could be compared to kissing her brother, if she'd had one.

  But kissing Ben was nothing like that. Ben's lips slid across hers. His hand lifted to brush the hair back at her temple. She sighed against him, and he took the opportunity to touch her lips with his tongue. She gasped and then he took full advantage of her mouth.

  His tongue slid against hers, and she had no choice but to reach and meet him with her own. They played a game of catch and retreat, neither losing. This was a winning game for both of them.

  Elspeth's heart beat so hard she feared it would clamor so loudly he could hear it. His hand wrapped tighter around her waist, drawing her even closer. The length of him pressed against her belly.

  She broke their kiss. "Ye

  have

  been with a lass, I'd wager." Breaths heaved from her in gasps.

  "What makes you think that?" he chuckled.

  "Ye doona kiss like ye have problems with

  things

  workin'." She glanced down his body.

  He tugged her closer to him, if that was possible, and growled closer to her ear. "You make things work just fine." His lips pressed against the sensitive skin beneath her ear just before he cupped her bottom and pulled her against his hardness. She yelped and swatted at his chest.

  A loud cough drew her attention. It actually sounded more like someone was strangling Caitrin, but she assumed her friend meant for it to be a cough.

  Ben allowed her to step back and turned to face the churchyard. "You go. I'll follow along in a moment. I think we have some things to discuss."

  They certainly did.

  Elspeth was sure her blush matched her hair, if the scandalized look on Caitrin's face was any indication. Her friend hooked her arm with Elspeth's and practically dragged her back toward the cottage. "Have ye gone and lost yer fool mind?" she hissed.

  That was a distinct possibility. She thought she'd been in control of the situation, right up until his lips touched hers. "It was just a kiss, Cait."

  "Ha! And I'm Mary Queen of Scots."

  "Ye look rather good for yer age, and with the missin' of yer head," she countered. Though she knew Caitrin had a point. It was more than just a kiss. Not that Elspeth regretted it for one moment. The feel of his hands, of his body pressed so close to hers, made her shiver at the thought.

  "I dinna tell ye this last night, what with yer grandfather, El, but Westfield's the one. He's the one from my vision."

  Elspeth shook her head as they neared the cottage. "Do ye think I'm daft? I saw the looks between ye and Sorcha. But ye're wrong, Cait. He just has an ailment. He was lookin' for my mother—"

  "Aye, Sorcha told me. Doona ye think it strange that he came lookin' for Rosewyth Campbell? The last beast that came ta these parts left her with a bairn ta raise and no proper name ta give either of ye."

  Elspeth ripped her arm from Caitrin's. Never in all the years of their friendship had Cait spoken so vilely of the circumstances of her birth. If her friend had struck her across the face, she would have been less stunned. "I suppose I should thank ye for puttin' me back in my place, Cait. I nearly forgot ye were higher born than me."

  Her friend closed her blue eyes and sighed. "I dinna mean it the way it sounded. I'm just trying ta get ye ta see reason." She opened her eyes and pierced Elspeth with the intensity of her stare. "He is the one from my vision, El. He bears the mark. He will try ta take ye from us. And from what I've seen, he's done a mighty fine job of that so far."

  The mark? Was it possible? Elspeth felt a connection to Ben Westfield, but she didn't think it was the mark. It didn't feel like she expected it to. But mark or no mark, he'd come for her help—actually her mother's help, but it was the same power. If he thought Rosewyth could heal him, she was certain she could. She probably should have asked the extent of his ailment, however.

  It was hard to imagine that he had anything wrong with him. She'd never met a more virile man. He'd searched the countryside all night looking for her hair combs. How many ailing men could do that? How many healthy ones could?

  She leveled her dearest friend with a furious glare. "We each have our roles, Caitrin. You're a seer and I'm a healer. If Benjamin Westfield needs me ta heal him, I'll do so. I doona expect ye ta understand, but I do expect ye ta respect my decision."

  "Ladies," Ben's deep voice came from behind them.

  Elspeth nearly jumped out of her skin. "Heavens, Ben! I dinna hear ye."

  A wolfish grin spread across his face. "I do tend to move quietly. Am I interrupting?"

  Elspeth turned back to Caitrin to find her glowering. "Ye're no' the only one this affects, El. Bear that in mind."

  Then her dearest friend in the world stomped off through the trees.

  Twelve

  At first Ben didn't believe his ears, though they'd never failed him in the past. Caitrin Macleod was a seer? The image of five beautiful women standing together at the Fergusons' flashed in his eyes. A seer. A healer. A coven. Not the hooked-nose witches from

  Macbeth,

  but a coven just the same.

  Did the good people of Edinburgh know who resided right under their noses? And what powers did the other three women possess?

  Not that it mattered overmuch. He'd come for a healer, and he heard Elspeth vow to help him. Whatever Caitrin Macleod thought he was after, she was wrong. He wanted only to return to his Lycan self, then he'd leav
e them in peace.

  Leave

  her

  . Elspeth. He'd only known the woman a day, but the thought of leaving her pained him. He shook the thought from his head. Major Forster had said a Lycan bonds with his healer. That's all it was. Though the pull the lass had on him was stronger than any he could ever remember. He'd have to take special care not to let things progress to where they shouldn't. He didn't think Elspeth could handle it. Who was he kidding? He didn't think

  he

  could handle it.

  God, but she felt good in his arms.

  "Ye look a million miles away, Ben." Her lilting voice brought him back to the present.

  "I suppose I was in a way. Are you really a… healer, Elspeth?"

  A witch,

  he wanted to ask, but thought better of it.

  "Aye. As was my mother before me, and her mother before her, and on and on."

  Ben smiled. His family's heritage was much the same. All Lycan males, until him. Until this.

  "What exactly is yer ailment? I've never seen a healthier man."

  Healthy, at least, in all the ways anyone could see. It was inside where he was broken. Ben stared at her. To get her help he'd have to be honest. How was she to fix him otherwise? He'd left his home and come all this way to find her. Well, to find Rosewyth.

  Still, being a Lycan wasn't something one openly admitted. In London he'd be locked in Bedlam if he even thought of telling anyone. Or Newgate. He wasn't sure which was worse. Creatures like him usually only confessed all to their intended mates.

  An image of mating with Elspeth flashed in his mind, and he couldn't shake it away. Bonding. It was just bonding with his healer. He could tell her. He had to.

  "I'm a Lycan," he blurted out before he came to his senses. "Do you know what that is?"

  She shook her head, though he noticed she rubbed the skin of her wrist beneath her gloves.

  "A werewolf, in layman's terms."

  He half expected her to run through the woods, screaming like a banshee, but she simply tilted her head to one side and waited for him to continue.

  "You have nothing to say to that?"

  She shrugged. "What would ye like me ta say?"

  "I don't know. Maybe run in fear, at least."

  Her beautiful smile returned. "I doona believe there is a thing about ye I should fear, Ben." Her gaze moved from the top of his head to the bottoms of his feet, lingering as though she'd find the secret of his creation somewhere upon his person. "What does all of this mean? What does bein' a Lycan entail? Do ye change ta a wolf every night?"

  He shook his head. "No. We change only when the light of a full moon touches us. The rest of the month we look like any other man, but beneath the surface the beast inside struggles to be released, stronger in the days surrounding moonful."

  "I see," she said looking up into the forest canopy above them, though the sun was high in the sky. "The moon is but a sliver now."

  Ben heaved a sigh. It was easier to talk about this with her than he had expected. "I left almost immediately after the last moonful."

  "Why?"

  "I didn't transform."

  "And ye

  want

  ta transform?" she asked with a frown.

  "Of course I want to change," he barked. When her green eyes grew round, he shuffled his feet. "Sorry. I suppose I'm not explaining this well after all. The

  change

  is part of me, Elspeth, who I am. I need to fix whatever is wrong with me."

  Elspeth stared at the man in front of her. A Lycan. A werewolf. A beast. Caitrin had been right about that. Is that what the mark indicated? Again she rubbed the mark on her wrist. Was that what her father was? Was that why he'd sought out her mother?

  "Do ye have a mark, Ben?"

  "A mark?"

  "On yer skin?"

  He smiled. "How did you know?"

  Elspeth shrugged. "Lucky guess. Where is it? Can I see it?" Did it look like hers?

  His grin widened. "Only if I remove all my clothes." He glanced around the woods. "I don't think this would be the place to show you."

  Shivers danced across her skin at the thought of Ben Westfield without a stitch of clothing. As a healer, she'd seen men unclothed before, though she'd thought nothing of it. Somehow she didn't think that would be the case with this man. "I'll, um, need ta see it. But no' here, no' now." Then she straightened her shoulders and looked him square in the eye. "I'll need time ta figure out what ta do with ye. Can ye give me a few days?"

  "You can have all the days you need, lass. Do you think you can heal me?"

  "I've never encountered a case like yers before, but I'll do everythin' in my power." And she would try to locate any notes her mother may have left about Lycans. Why hadn't her mother told her more?

  Caitrin threw open the door to her father's study. She didn't know who else to turn to, and she was furious. Angus Macleod looked up from the papers on his desk and regarded her with a look of amusement. "

  Havers, Cait! Ye look like a

  cat whose tail's been set aflame."

  She glared at her father. "How flatterin'."

  He chuckled and leaned back in his chair. "I'm glad ye're here, lass. A gentleman came ta see me today about ye."

  Caitrin shook her head. Nothing he had to say could be more important than her current predicament. "Papa, did ye ever meet Elspeth's sire?"

  Her father frowned and tapped his chin. "No, but yer mother did."

  "Did she say anythin' about him?"

  His laugh warmed the room. "A thing or two. Nothin' I'll repeat in yer presence, lass. Yer mother wasna one for cursin', but she made an exception for Rosie's beast."

  Caitrin rubbed her hands across her face. Could the man never be serious? "Oh, Papa!" she groaned. "I've seen a man, a beast," she clarified. "It's all comin' ta pass. He'll take Elspeth from us and—"

  "Now ye sound like my Fiona."

  "Why?"

  "Doona work yerself up, Cait. The visions are no' always accurate."

  She blinked at her father. What was he talking about? Her visions had always been accurate. She'd never once been wrong. "Papa, ye doona seem ta understand—"

  "I lived with Fiona for a quarter of a century, Cait. I understand perfectly. She was right most of the time, I'll grant ye. But she wasna right about Rosewyth. Maybe it's somethin' in the nature of these beasts; they mess with yer powers."

  "What do ye mean she wasna right about Rosewyth?"

  Her father sighed and sat forward in his seat. "I'd never seen Fiona more upset than she was when she received the first vision about the beast. She kept rantin' and ravin'. The man was goin' ta take Rosie from the coven. The

  Còig

  would fall apart…"

  Just like what she'd seen with Elspeth. Caitrin's heart began to race. She had no idea her mother had seen something similar.

  "… turn out that way. So ye see, lass, yer mother wasna always correct—"

  "Papa, I missed what ye said. Go back. Mama thought the

  Còig

  would fall apart," she prompted.

  "Aye. Fiona said the man would come for Rosie and take her away. Then the man did come, but Rosie dinna go with him. She chose ta stay with the coven instead. Just because ye can see what is supposed ta happen doesna mean that people canna change the course of the future."