Tall, Dark and Wolfish

by Dare, Lydia

  "She was in a lot of pain." Alec continued his pacing.

  "Would you sit down, man? You're making me crazy with all the moving about." Ben knew his voice was a bit too forceful, but the nervous energy in the room was going to send him into a frenzy if it continued.

  "She'll be all right, won't she?" Alec's gaze finally met his, and he saw the anguish behind the man's rigid façade.

  "You truly care about the girl?"

  Alec simply nodded.

  Ben motioned to a footman nearby. The man immediately returned with two tumblers of whisky. Ben offered one to Alec. He shook his head.

  "You'll be no use to her if you're tied up in knots."

  Alec acquiesced and took the glass. He downed it in one swallow. Ben pressed his own glass into the man's shaking hands. He drank that one as well.

  Ben clapped him on the shoulder. "She'll be fine, Alec. You told me yourself that everyone in town goes to Elspeth when they need to be healed."

  "Aye, it's like she has healing warmth in her fingertips," Alec said as he finally met Ben's gaze. "She'll be able to heal her. I'm sure of it."

  A low murmur of female voices from the corridor reached Ben's ears.

  "Ye canna use fireballs on him with MacQuarrie in the room! What's wrong with ye? Are ye daft? Put that thing away."

  Ben glanced around the corner and saw Blaire standing with Sorcha. The raven-haired witch balanced a ball of fire over her fingertips, as though testing the weight of it.

  "Is that for me?" he asked. Certainly she wouldn't use it in front of Alec.

  "Of course it is. Who else would I use it on? If it wasna ye, then it was one of yer kind who hurt her."

  "Your kind?" Alec said as he approached the doorway. Blaire rubbed her fingertips together and extinguished the fireball seconds before he looked around the corner. "An Englishman hurt her? Who? I'll kill him."

  Twenty-five

  Elspeth sat on the edge of the bed and tried to work quickly and quietly. She was relieved to find that although the wounds still bled profusely, most of them weren't deep.

  "Can ye give me a moment, Mr. Macleod?" Elspeth asked, never removing her eyes from an unconscious Caitrin. "I need a bit of privacy."

  "Whatever ye need, lass. I'll be right outside the door."

  It was a relief not to have to lie to him. She usually had to send loved ones on

  special errands

  to be alone with the person who needed to be healed. Since his wife and daughter were both members of the

  Còig, there

  was no need for subterfuge with Angus Macleod.

  When she heard him shut the door behind him, Elspeth touched her fingertips to Caitrin's forearms, where most of the defensive wounds were located. She closed her eyes and concentrated, feeling the heat move from her body into Caitrin's. The girl moved, despite the sleeping draught Elspeth had given her when she'd arrived, since healing could be painful.

  Elspeth used all the power in her body, transferring every bit of herself to Cait. "Ye will be healed," she crooned softly. "No matter how ornery ye are, I need ye."

  The most superficial wounds healed beneath her fingertips. The deepest wounds took more concentration. Elspeth closed her eyes again and imagined the healing power flowing from her touch like a stream of warmth.

  Elspeth knew there was a fine line between healing someone else and hurting herself. But at that moment she didn't care. She needed Cait to be healed. She needed to fight with her another day.

  Elspeth's arms became heavy and cumbersome. But still she pressed on, because beneath her fingertips the wounds closed and the skin repaired. She tried to open her eyes but found her lids were too heavy. Still, she poured her energy into Caitrin.

  She heard voices calling her name, but she was unable to respond. Her tongue refused to move. Her mouth refused to open. Yet the healing powers still flowed freely from her.

  Someone caught her when she finally could sit up no longer. Strong arms closed around her body. She wanted to complain about someone moving her away from Caitrin, since her friend needed her help. Her eyes fluttered open.

  "What have you gone and done, love?" Ben said before the darkness overtook her.

  When Elspeth's body went limp, Ben slid his arm under her legs, lifted her, and cradled her against him. "Ellie!" he said, shaking her just a bit.

  A moment earlier he'd been trying to calm Alec's nerves when he sensed Elspeth slipping away. It was as though part of his soul crumbled. He'd raced to Miss Macleod's room just as she slumped forward.

  He glanced around the room, unsure what to do. In the doorway, Mr. Macleod looked on. "Is she all right?"

  "Does she look bloody all right?" he barked.

  Sorcha Ferguson stepped from behind the older gentleman. "Let's get her a room so she can lie down."

  Ben shook his head. If he left her with these vultures, he'd never get her back. He could feel it. "I'm taking her home. You can summon a doctor for whatever else Miss Macleod and her maid need."

  He stalked toward the door with Elspeth in his arms. Sorcha and Mr. Macleod stepped out of his way, though the young witch followed in his wake. "Ye canna take her from here. There isna anyone at the cottage ta look after her."

  "I'll look after her," he growled over his shoulder as he began to descend the steps.

  At the bottom of the staircase, Alec gaped at him. "What happened?"

  "She collapsed."

  Ben reached the bottom and started for the door, but Alec's hand on his arm stopped him. "Where are you going?"

  Sorcha's panicked voice came from behind him. "He says he's goin' ta take her home."

  "Ben," Alec's voice lowered so that only Ben could hear. "You can't do that. She's better off here."

  Ben didn't respond except to glare at his friend.

  There was no way in hell he was leaving her with these people. No one would watch after her like he would.

  Apparently Alec saw the determination in his eyes, because he released Ben's arm. "Obstinate dolt. In the very least you can't walk her through the woods like this. Take my coach."

  "Thank you."

  The butler pulled open the large oak door, and Ben stepped out into the bright sunlight. Alec's coach was still out front, and he yelled to the driver, "Open the door."

  A moment later they were both safely ensconced inside the carriage, Elspeth still cradled in his arms. Seeing her pale face, he touched her cheek. She was icy cold. He held her tighter, hoping his hot blood would warm her some. "Come on, sweetheart, open your eyes for me."

  Before they could rumble off, the coach door opened and Sorcha Ferguson climbed inside the carriage. With a "humph," she flopped onto the bench opposite Ben, a frown etched across her brow.

  "What do you think you're doing?" he growled.

  The coach moved forward and a look of fear crossed the girl's face, but she bravely met his gaze head-on. "Obviously, I'm goin' with ye."

  "I don't need you."

  "I'm no' doin' it for ye. Elspeth's my friend, and ye should be nicer ta me. I'm the only one on yer side."

  The vines that attacked him were still fresh in his mind. "Indeed? I suppose that ivy took it upon itself to tangle me up, then?"

  The chit had the good sense to stare at her hands. "That was Blaire's idea, and at the time, I thought ye were bad for her."

  Ben wasn't quite sure what to say to that. He glanced back down at Elspeth, but there was no change in her pallor. He didn't know what he would do if she didn't wake up.

  He felt Sorcha's eyes on him and looked across the coach at her. She brushed a tear from her cheek. "She's the sweetest person I ken."

  She was the sweetest person Ben knew, too. "How did this happen?" he asked, not sure if she had the answer, but it was worth a try.

  Sorcha's gaze fell to Elspeth. "The healer gives her strength ta those who need her. It drains from her inta them."

  "And leaves her with nothing?" he whispered in horror. He could never ask her to hea
l him, not if this would be the end result. It would kill him if he hurt her. How could anyone ask that of her? How could her sister witches ask that of her?

  Sorcha shook her head. "I've never seen her respond like this before. But the more attached the healer is ta her subject, the more dangerous it is for her. El and Cait are very close."

  Too bloody close. He should have already taken her and left for London. If he had, she wouldn't be lying lifelessly in his arms. He stared at Elspeth, willing her to open her eyes. "Come on, Ellie."

  As soon as they reached the cottage, Sorcha leapt out of the coach ahead of him and held open the front door. "Her room is—"

  "The one in the back," he finished. "I know." He pushed open her door with his foot. "Pull back the counterpane for me, will you?"

  Sorcha scrambled to do his bidding before Ben placed Elspeth on her small mattress. She looked so helpless lying there. He tugged the blankets up around her and dropped to his knees beside her bed.

  Behind him, Sorcha cleared her throat. "It isna proper for ye ta be in here, my lord."

  "Unless you are capable of dragging me out of here, I'm not leaving her side."

  "Well, then," she began, her voice sounding a bit strangled. "I suppose I'll go start some broth."

  He touched Elspeth's brow and winced at the icy feel of her skin. If only he could warm her somehow, get her blood moving. He rubbed her skin lightly, trying to generate heat. But she did not warm or wake.

  Lycans were known for their body heat. Surely he could warm her with his own body. Ben shrugged out of his coat, lifted the corner of the counterpane and slid beneath it. He pulled her inert form closer to him. But all he felt was her clothing brushing against his. He needed skin-to-skin contact.

  The clank of pots and pans he heard from the direction of the kitchen let him know Sorcha was busy preparing the broth she'd mentioned. He quickly and expertly untied the laces at the back of Elspeth's neck and gently tugged her gown from her shoulders. The reason for undressing her was purely medicinal. He tried to convince himself of that fact as he tugged her gown over her hips, leaving her in a thin chemise.

  Ben tried not to look at the dusky rose color of her nipples, the shadows of which he could see through the thin fabric. He hurriedly yanked his cravat loose, threw off his waistcoat, and tugged his shirt over his head.

  Ben sank beneath the counterpane once more and rolled Elspeth so that the length of her body was pressed along his. He tucked her fiery head under his chin and adjusted her hips to fit nicely against his. She was still too cold.

  Ben pulled one of her legs between his so that he could cradle her closely before he pulled the counterpane higher over their shoulders. He waited, stroking her back patiently as he willed her to wake.

  He'd never felt such a blinding desire to protect someone as when he'd seen Elspeth collapse. He couldn't get to her fast enough.

  She stirred against him, and he took her hand in his, raising it to his cheek. He gently pressed a kiss to her palm. Then he saw the mark she wore, her own mark of the beast. As a last resort, he might use that to reach her. It definitely connected them. He just wasn't sure if the connection was physical or emotional.

  For him, she was both. He closed his eyes tightly when he felt a hint of desire. He couldn't hold her nearly naked form so close and feel

  nothing.

  The stomp of footsteps met his ears, and he groaned at the very thought of someone seeing such a private scene. He glanced up at Sorcha, who stood still in the threshold, her mouth hanging open, a gasp frozen in the air.

  "She was too cold," he said, by way of explanation. "It's the best way to warm her."

  "By usin' yer

  body

  ?" she hissed. "I could have warmed some bricks or…

  somethin'

  !"

  "It's really the best way," he started, but a sound cut him off. "Someone is coming," he said quietly.

  A knock sounded on the door ten seconds later.

  "How did ye ken that?" She crossed her arms over her chest.

  Ben rolled his eyes. "I'm Lycan, for God's sake," he growled. "Now, be a good witch and close the bedroom door before you go see who's here."

  Sorcha flounced off in a huff, but the soft

  snick

  of the door closing told him she'd followed his instructions.

  Elspeth moved against him and he felt himself harden. He groaned and laid his head against the pillow in defeat. "Sorry, lass. I cannot help it holding you this way," he whispered to himself.

  "Canna help what?" she asked quietly from within his arms.

  Twenty-six

  Elspeth's limbs were as weak as water, but she managed to croak out a few words. Strong fingers anxiously pushed at her hair, moving it from her face. An insistent hand cupped her jaw and forced her to look up.

  "Where am I?" she croaked. "What happened?"

  Elspeth's mind told her to move, but her body really wanted to stay wrapped up in the beautiful heat that was the man next to her.

  "You're in your bed," Ben said quietly.

  "With ye in it, too?" She couldn't help but giggle. "This is the best dream I've ever had." She slipped her arms around his waist and pressed a cheek to his bare chest. "So warm," she sighed.

  "I'm happy to hear that you like me in your bed, lass."

  Elspeth tested the huge cocoon that was his body, stretching languidly. Her thigh was trapped between his own. She didn't have the strength to move, so she simply burrowed in closer.

  Wiry hair teased her fingertips as she brushed her hands through the hair on his chest. He groaned and captured her hands. "I can only stand so much."

  Elspeth raised the counterpane and glanced down. "Where are my clothes?" she whispered.

  He chuckled. "I took them off you to warm you up."

  "A likely story," she said as she swatted at his chest.

  "Do you remember being with Miss Macleod, Ellie?"

  "Oh," Elspeth gasped. She did remember. "Is she all right?"

  "You healed her." His fingertip touched her chin and forced her to raise her gaze. "At great risk to yourself."

  "That's the way it is with healers, Ben." She lifted the edge of the blanket again. "I need ta get up ta go check on Cait. But I canna figure out how ta do so."

  "You're not going anywhere," he said as he pulled her tighter against him. "Not until I'm sure you're well."

  "Ye canna keep me against my will," she breathed. But her traitorous nipples hardened in response to his closeness, and when she moved they brushed the fabric of her chemise. They may as well have been touching his skin.

  "I don't think keeping you would be against your will," he growled. "Are you warm yet?"

  "Quite," she gasped as he flipped her onto her back and pressed her into the mattress. The knee that had been so firmly clasped between his was now pushed to the side and he settled firmly between her thighs.

  He looked down at her, a curious smile tilting the corner of his mouth. "Against your will, you say?" His head dipped down to touch his lips to hers briefly. It was like the touch of a butterfly on her finger.