by Dare, Lydia
He wasn't nearly good enough for her. Ben buttoned his trousers and turned from her. His voice quavered as he said, "I have to go."
"No!" She walked toward him. He backed up until he tripped over the settee. He crashed to the floor in a disoriented lump. She approached. He couldn't let her touch him. He wasn't deserving.
He scrambled to his feet and rushed toward the door. "Ben," she said. "Doona go."
"I have to," he said as he opened the door and ran out into the night. He ran until he could run no longer, until the air burned his lungs. Until his muscles pleaded for him to cease. Yet he couldn't get far enough away from her. If he could do one thing, he could protect Elspeth from what might hurt her. And today that danger was him.
Thirty-four
Elspeth stared at her tattered dress and underclothes lying on the floor. What had come over him? She'd never seen him behave in such a way.
We also become
more carnal.
Ben's words from days ago echoed in her ears. How could a man such as him become
more carnal
? She hadn't quite believed him until now.
But he was right. He'd not frightened her, but it was almost as though he couldn't hear her words, as though he wasn't in control of himself. She wasn't sure what to make of it, as the memory of the encounter flashed again in her mind. She didn't even recognize this Ben. He reminded her of a wild animal…
Which, of course, he was.
Elspeth's gaze shot to the door he'd flown through. Ben had looked so devastated when he escaped her. That look of pain was just as disconcerting as her own panic. Perhaps if she'd had some notice, been prepared for what he wanted—no, what he
needed
—things would have ended differently.
Her husband had needed something from her, and she hadn't been able to give it to him. Guilt mixed with fear and encompassed her, Caitrin's warning still fresh in her mind. Ben would hurt her, she'd said, but she hadn't mentioned that Elspeth would hurt him in return.
She had to find him, make sure he was all right. With a frown she retrieved a serviceable dress from her armoire and threw it over her head. Why did he have to run off like that? Why couldn't he explain to her what had happened, what he needed from her?
She wrapped the Campbell plaid tightly around her and ran out of the cottage just as the sun was setting and casting a deep crimson across the horizon. "Ben!" she called, not certain at all which direction he'd gone. How would she ever find him?
Elspeth wandered deep into the woods, calling for him until she couldn't yell any longer. Her throat hurt, and she collapsed beside a boulder, exhausted, with tears streaming down her face.
Where was he? Couldn't he hear her? The man had better hearing than anyone else on earth. Then a horrible thought entered her mind. What if he could hear her, but he still wouldn't come? Her heart constricted and ached.
"Ben!" she called again, straining her voice beyond reason. She looked at her wrist. He could ignore her voice, but could he ignore her touch? With a shaking finger she touched her mark, hoping he could feel how much she loved him.
Ben winced when he felt her stroke across him. Why couldn't she just leave him alone? Couldn't she tell he wasn't fit company? He wasn't fit for her?
He pressed deeper into the darkened forest. He would walk all the way to Glasgow if he had to. How far would he have to get from her before he wouldn't feel her touch anymore?
One after another of Simon's old lectures echoed in his mind.
It's too dangerous to be with a woman from the
time the moon is nearly full until it starts to wane. You're
reckless, Benjamin. You take too many chances. One of these
days you'll go too far.
He'd been reckless, all right, with the one person he was supposed to protect, the one person he'd never wanted to hurt in any way.
He spied a shaft of moonlight in a clearing and looked up into the sky. Hating who he was and what he'd become, he cursed the moon, now nearly full, for the power it had over him.
Ben growled fiercely, until the growl became a scream. He screamed at the moonlit sky until his voice ceased to work. Then he turned and walked back slowly toward Edinburgh. He had no idea how far he'd traveled. But it was far enough that it might take him days to return if he simply walked.
He couldn't go back to her, even though he still felt her tender strokes against his skin. Even though he still felt her touch as she obviously touched her mark, calling to him. He wasn't good for her. It wasn't safe.
The anger and lust no longer raged in his blood. It no longer called to him, and he felt much as he did before he'd sought out Elspeth. He felt empty. He felt less than whole.
Instead of returning to her cottage, he went to the property outside Edinburgh that he'd just bought. There was an old crofter's cabin that seemed reasonably sound. He would go there and wait for the moon to pass him by. Then he'd go back to her and fulfill his obligation.
He passed the rest of the night and day in solitude. When the moon hung high in the sky, he went to a nearby clearing. There, he removed his clothes and stepped from the shadows into the moonlight. He lifted his arms to the sky and felt… nothing. He felt nothing at all. No madness. No shifting. Nothing.
He'd lost his ability to be a Lycan. Feeling nearly dead inside, he walked slowly toward the crofter's cottage, where he remained for six full days.
As the days passed, he hoped the pining for her would gradually decrease. Yet she still called to him, and he imagined her stroking slowly across her mark. It was time to go to her. When he crossed over to her land, he walked casually, knowing he was no longer the person he'd once been. And he just hoped she would accept him as he was.
He knocked softly on her door. Her tiny feet padded across the floor and the heavy wooden door swung inward. There she was. His wife. She held her arms out to him, and he could do nothing more than clutch her to him.
He was shocked that she went to him so easily, but she did. She melted against him and fit into him like she'd been made to be there. Perhaps she was.
She stepped back, took his hand in hers, and pulled him into the cottage as tears pooled in her eyes.
"I—" he started.
She placed a finger to his lips and whispered, "Shhhh…"
"I need to—" he began again. She stopped his words by standing on tiptoe and pressing her lips to his.
He gathered her tenderly in his arms and carried her to the willow bed, where he slowly removed her clothes. She smiled softly as he pulled her nightrail over her head and the wolf combs clattered to the floor.
He bent and picked them up, but she tossed them to a nearby table as though they were nothing. "My wolf," she sighed. "So lost." Her hand stroked the beard stubble on his face.
"Please, help me," he whispered softly, his eyes meeting hers.
"I promise." She kissed him tenderly and unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it from his shoulders. She moved to his trousers and asked quietly, "Did ye miss me?"
"Like a piece of myself was missing," he said as he kissed a slow trail across her bare shoulder.
When she'd fully undressed him, he laid her back on the bed and rose above her. "I didn't mean to hurt you." He proceeded to kiss her softly all over. He kissed her until the scent of her desire reached his nose, and then he settled between her thighs.
"I ken that ye werena yerself, Ben."
"Then who was I?" he asked, looking down into her green eyes.
Who was he? He was her love. He was her life. He was her mate. She had no doubt in her mind that he was the other half to her whole.
"Ye're my wolf," she said as she reached up and brushed the hair from his forehead.
"I'm not," he protested, shaking his head.
"Ye
are
," she repeated, catching his head in her hands. He kept his eyes tightly shut. "Ben," she prodded. "Look at me."
He opened his eyes, but didn't meet her ga
ze.
"I love ye," she admitted. His eyes immediately caught hers. The intensity in his gaze nearly scared her.
"How could you?" he asked quietly.
She shrugged and laughed. "I doona ken. I just do."
"I am not worthy of your love," he said quietly as his hardness prodded her flesh. She arched to meet him. As he slid into her he said, "But I need you so much."
"And I need ye, too," she gasped as he slowly stroked within her. "I couldna live without ye."
He gently carried her up and over the pinnacle of pleasure, slowly and methodically wringing all the pleasure from her body, then joining her. Finally he rolled to the side and pulled her close to him, clutching her closer than he ever had.
In the back of her mind, she briefly noted he'd never professed to love her back.
Thirty-five
The intrusive and obnoxious sun woke Ben the next morning as it filtered through the bedroom window. He blinked and raised his head, searching for Elspeth with his arm. She was gone. But he heard the clatter of pots and pans in the kitchen again. He groaned and pounded the pillow with his fist.
"Sorcha, if that's you, prepare yourself to be offended," he called loudly. "In fact, I suggest you leave now to avoid the embarrassment."
The clatter ceased. He rose, wrapped the counterpane loosely around his hips, and walked toward the bedroom door on bare feet. Scratching his stubbly face, he wished for his valet. He reached to open the door, but before he could touch the handle it flung open on its own.
"Sorcha?" a familiar male voice asked. "How many women do you have, Benjamin?"
Ben cracked one eye and squinted at the man who stood in the doorway. His brother William looked fit and healthy. His clothes were pressed and his hair combed. "Mornin', Will," Ben muttered.
"You look like hell, Ben."
"Thanks" was the only response he could come up with before he closed the door and prepared to face the day. He sat back on the edge of the willow branch bed.
What the devil was Will doing here? He
was
here, wasn't he? Ben hadn't imagined it, had he? Ben stood up and crossed the floor again. He cracked the door open, peeking one eye through the hole.
No, he hadn't imagined it. Will was sitting at the table, drinking what must be blueberry tea and nibbling at toast, while Elspeth prepared something that smelled dangerously like porridge. Ben groaned; he hated porridge.
Breakfast was the furthest thing from his mind. He hurriedly dressed, wishing for a sharp razor and strop, but more concerned about what would have brought Will all the way from London. He opened the door and padded across the cottage in his now stockinged feet. He wasn't about to stand on ceremony with his brother.
Will glanced up from his tea, a wicked glint in his light blue eyes. "You growing a beard now?"
Before he could tear into his unwelcome sibling, Elspeth caught his eye at the stove. "It's so nice yer brother came for a visit?"
"'Nice' wasn't the word I was thinking," Ben replied as he bent to kiss her quickly before sliding into a seat across from his brother. "What are you doing here, Will?"
His brother drummed his fingers on the table. "Imagine my surprise when I called on you at Alec MacQuarrie's and was redirected here. What a lovely wife you have."
Ben glowered at him. Will certainly hadn't answered his question. Why was he being evasive? "Yes, she is lovely. The prettiest girl in Scotland."
Elspeth placed a cup of tea in front of Ben, with a shy smile, and he captured her hand. "Sit, love."
"Ye seem ta have things ta discuss. I can leave ye awhile."
After the last week away from her, the idea was like a dagger to his heart. "Don't be silly. You've barely met my brother, and I don't believe he'll be staying long."
Will grinned at Elspeth. "Sadly, he's not even the rudest member of the family."
"Don't try to charm her," Ben said with a scowl. "You want something bad enough to come traipsing after me, so out with it, whatever it is."
"I do
not
traipse." Will frowned. "I do have a question for you, however, Benjamin."
"Indeed?"
His brother's hand stopped tapping out its rhythm, and his icy eyes pierced Ben with a dangerous stare. "Would you care to tell me why you've been writing to Prisca Hawthorne?"
Was
that what this was about? Ben gaped at his brother
, then he shook his head in disbelief. "Do you mean to tell me that you've come all the way from London—"
"Hampshire," Will growled.
Ben squeezed Elspeth's hand. It was that or punch his brother in the face. "Of course it's Hampshire. Prisca isn't in London this time of year, is she?"
"
Why
have you been writing her, Ben?" Will's voice dropped menacingly.
"You could have saved yourself a trip if you'd just asked
her
."
"I've come all this way because
she
begged me to find you and make sure you were all right, since you've not written a word to either her or mother for far too long."
Elspeth's eyes flashed to Ben's. He was sure she'd have questions by the time this conversation ended. He'd have to explain all of it to her later. When Will wasn't around. "I've been occupied, you may have noticed. You'll have to ask them to forgive me."
Will glanced at Elspeth. "Buying property and getting yourself married?"
"Property?" Elspeth echoed.
He was going to kill his brother. Was it possible for Will to keep his bloody mouth closed? Ben tilted his head to one side, looking at his wife. "That might be part of my surprise."
A knock sounded at the door, interrupting the conversation. Elspeth frowned at him but rose from her seat while Ben avoided his brother's questioning gaze.
A gasp sounded at the door, and Ben looked toward Elspeth. Sorcha Ferguson's eyes seared him as she stood on the threshold and looked in. "So ye've come back, have ye? Do ye have any idea—"
"Sorcha!" Elspeth hissed. "No' now. We have a guest."
The young witch's eyes grew wide when they landed on Will. "Oh, I see that." She didn't wait for an invitation, but stepped inside and went straight to the table. "Ye're one of the brothers?"
Will nodded, a look of confusion on his face.
"Will," Ben began, "this is Miss Sorcha Ferguson. Sorcha, this is my brother, Lord William."
With a charming smile, Will rose from his seat. "Ah, Miss Ferguson, I believe my brother mentioned you this morning. It is indeed a pleasure."
Sorcha sighed and Ben cringed. All he needed was the rest of the coven losing their hearts to Will. "Ellie, it appears I do need to have a conversation alone with my brother after all. Do you mind terribly?"
His wife shook her head, though a look of worry marred her brow. "Will ye be here when I get back?"
He pressed a kiss to her cheek. "I'm not going anywhere without you, love." Though she deserved much better than him, he wasn't about to let her go.
Elspeth's hands settled on his chest. "Good. I'm no' through with ye, Ben Westfield."
"Sorcha," Ben called, "Ellie needs your help with some
plant
thing."
"Some
plant
thing?" the dark-haired witch echoed. "Are ye tryin' ta get rid of me, my lord?"
