by Dare, Lydia
“I doona ken what ye mean.” She blinked up at him.
He kissed her forehead. Still his little innocent.
Dash addressed Westfield with a softly breathed comment that only another pair of Lycan ears could hear. “I didn’t do that until I married her.”
“Then what did you do?” The man looked totally flummoxed.
“I claimed her as my Lycan mate. Without any of the benefits.” He arched his eyebrows at the man, still speaking under his breath.
Westfield’s eyes widened in surprise, and he looked a bit ill. “I didn’t know you could do that.”
“Neither did I,” Dash chuckled. “But I’m lucky I did.” He pulled Cait close again and dropped a kiss into her hair, squeezing her tightly. “So lucky,” he finally said in a voice she could hear.
She simply caressed his jaw, love for him shining in her pretty blue eyes.
“I doona understand,” Elspeth said, her eyes flashing fire. Westfield probably had his hands full with that little redhead.
“I’ll explain it to you, later,” her husband answered as he held out a chair for her at the table. Then the man’s face lit up, and he rubbed his chin. “This really is quite fitting, actually.”
Dash followed suit, holding Cait’s seat for her. Then he dropped back into his own chair as Benjamin Westfield passed him the whisky bottle. “Thank you.”
The other Lycan grinned as though enjoying a private joke. “You do know that your wife has taken special delight in antagonizing me?” Westfield asked. “I’ve been called dog, hound, and mutt, among more unsavory things.”
Cait stiffened at his side. “Aye, and in yer case, Benjamin, they’re all accurate.”
Westfield tipped back his head and laughed. “I do believe you deserve each other. I’m thoroughly going to enjoy watching this play out.” He moved his hand, gesturing to encompass both Dash and Cait. “I assume she strong-armed you into residing in Edinburgh?”
Dash shook his head. “Caitie hasn’t made any demands on me.” Not that he wouldn’t have done whatever she asked.
Westfield’s eyes grew round. “Indeed?”
Caitrin sat forward, leveling the man with her haughtiest glare. “Dashiel didn’t need convincin’. He would never dream of takin’ me from my coven, unlike some other flea-ridden mongrel I could mention.”
“Ah, yes.” Westfield turned his attention to Dash. “I do believe Caitrin will punish you more than my brother could ever have hoped to.”
Dash squeezed Cait’s hand. “I hardly find marriage to my beautiful and clever witch to be a punishment. More like a reward I don’t deserve.”
The concerned look on Lady Elspeth’s face vanished, and she actually smiled at him. “In that case, Lord Brimsworth, welcome ta our circle.”
Dash winked at her. “A much nicer welcome than the one I received from Miss Sinclair.”
Cait sighed dramatically. “Rhi shocked him, right in the middle of the church. Can ye believe that?”
Westfield nodded. “You’re lucky that’s all you got. I was attacked by some very determined ivy, my coach was destroyed by lightning, and fireballs were thrown at my head.”
“Please.” Cait’s pretty blue eyes twinkled wickedly. “It was one fireball, Benjamin. Ye are such a bairn.”
It was Dash’s turn to laugh.
***
It was hard not to join in with Dash’s laughter, though Caitrin managed to hide her smile. Goading Benjamin Westfield was one of her most favorite pursuits. But the fireball had made her think of Blaire. She looked across the table at Elspeth. “When ye get home, check on Blaire, will ye?”
“Is she ill?”
The look of mild annoyance on Benjamin’s face quickly became a scowl, and Cait wished she had the power to throw fireballs herself. If one of their sister witches was sick, Elspeth would want to heal her, yet her annoying husband would try to stand in her way. Besides, Elspeth wouldn’t have been given the power to heal if she wasn’t supposed to use it.
“She’s no’ ill.” She sent Benjamin a scathing look. “I havena seen her. She was at some crumbling castle in the Highlands when we left, some monstrosity Aiden inherited, apparently. Anyway, I’ve had a series of frightenin’ visions about her, so Mr. MacQuarrie went ta check on her for me.”
Elspeth sat forward, immediately concerned. “Frightenin’ visions?”
Cait nodded. “It was as if something, someone evil was hunting her. He doesna feel like a regular man ta me. There’s no life within him.” She laughed at herself. “I ken that sounds like the ramblings of a madwoman, but I doona ken how ta explain it any better than that.”
“Alec MacQuarrie went after her?” Benjamin asked.
Cait ignored the low growl that came from her husband at the mention of Alec’s name. “Aye.”
“Well, I’m sure she’ll be fine, then,” Ben assured her. “There’s not a more honorable man to be found.”
Dash rose from his seat. Apparently the talk of Alec MacQuarrie didn’t set terribly well. “Well, it’s been a long day. So nice catching up with you, Westfield, Lady Elspeth.”
Caitrin slowly stood as well and hooked her arm with Dash’s. “I am quite tired.” She looked across the table at Elspeth. “I’ll see ye in the morning.”
As soon as they retrieved their key from the innkeeper, Dash directed Cait up the stairs toward their room. “Did you really try to keep Westfield from marrying Lady Elspeth?”
“Aye. Ye see the good it did me.”
His amber eyes bored into hers as he turned the key in the lock. “Did you not see him in her future?”
Cait cringed and shook her head. “Nay, I saw him. I just wasna happy about it.” She entered the room with Dash’s hand at her waist. He’d been very careful not to let any stray visions encroach upon her mind, for which she was very grateful.
“He seems like an all right sort, when he’s not knocking one to the ground or lauding the many virtues of Alec MacQuarrie.” He shut the door behind them.
Cait rose up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his jaw. “Ye ken there’s no need ta be jealous, Dash. My heart is yers.”
He slid his arms around her and pulled her flush against his hardness. “I don’t plan on ever giving it back.” His lips descended on hers.
“I doona want it back, and I would force ye ta keep it, even if ye tried,” she said when his lips left hers to trail down the side of her neck.
“Saucy little witch, aren’t you?” he murmured as his fingers went to work on the fastenings of her dress. Within moments, she stood naked before him, aside from her garters and stockings.
“Why is it that ye always strip me bare but leave these things on?” she asked absently as he stepped back to work at his own clothing.
“To give you something to complain about?” he said with a big grin.
“Oh, ye are no’ humorous in the least!” she groaned as she looked around for something to throw at him. But before she could pick up any weapons, he’d scooped her up and deposited her on her back in the middle of the bed. He held her foot in his hand as he looked down at her.
“I leave them on you, angel, because if I took them off, I’d have to kiss you in the most inappropriate places.”
She sat up on her elbows. “Such as?” She felt the color creep up her cheeks as he raised an eyebrow at her.
“Shall I show you, my little innocent?”
She was quite happy to hear her voice only quiver a bit when she said, “If ye insist.”
Dash tugged at the ribbons of her left garter until he’d loosened it. Then he began to slowly roll her stocking down her leg. She sighed loudly.
He tilted her leg enough to expose her bottom, which he popped loud enough that it could be heard around the room. The swat didn’t hurt Cait; it surprised her more than anything and she sucked in a breath.
“Patience,” he said, his eyes very intent upon his project.
“Patience is no’ a virtue I have, Dash. I’m very sorry ta tell
ye, but ye would find out soon enough, anyway.”
He chuckled out loud.
But then her foot was bare and his lips touched the inside of her ankle. A shiver tingled up her spine.
Dash made his progression up her calf a lovely experience, his lips adoring every inch of her flesh and raising goose bumps along her skin.
“Dash,” she said, trying to get his attention. His slow torture would drive her mad.
“Yes?” he breathed against the inside of her thigh as he opened her legs a bit with his hands.
Cait gasped as he very tenderly scraped his teeth across the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. “Nothin’.”
Cait found herself gripping the bedclothes fiercely in her hands as his lips traveled farther and farther up, alternating between teasing licks and tantalizing nibbles, until her blood was ready to boil.
Then he did the unthinkable. He touched his lips to the very center of her. Cait jumped and tried to scoot back on the bed.
“Ye shouldna be doin’ that.”
But he wrapped his arms around the outside of her thighs to draw her back down, firmly holding her in place.
“Why not?” he asked, intent upon his task.
“It’s no’ proper,” Cait said, followed by a moan of pure delight as he licked across her center.
He raised his head for a moment and said, “I did warn you that I would have to do things that were completely inappropriate if I took off your stockings. Your only comment was ‘if ye insist.’” He mocked her accent.
His slow licks across her folds quickly became more and more vigorous until he put his fingers inside her. Cait lay her head back against the counterpane and let him take her higher, until she was arching against his mouth and hands and calling his name.
Then one quick suck at the pulse point between her thighs took her over the top, to a place where she soared above him, where he was her anchor to this wondrous sensation.
When he’d wrung every bit of pleasure from her, and only then, he crawled up the bed and looked down at her.
“Are you all right?” he asked as he brushed her hair back from her face.
“I like inappropriate,” she sighed, still quivering on the inside.
He laughed as he drove within her in one stroke. “I know you do.” Then he took her back up, until she wrapped her feet around his back so she could take him even deeper.
Once he’d taken her back to the top of that beautiful precipice, he joined her, which was the most wondrous sensation of all.
Thirty-Two
From the coach, Cait waved good-bye to Elspeth and Benjamin, and then brushed a tear from her cheek as the conveyance lurched forward. Dashiel enveloped her in his arms and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “It won’t be long before you see her again, angel.”
Though she couldn’t see what the future held for her and Dash, she somehow knew that he was wrong. This journey they were on would last longer than either of them expected. Cait wished she had some inkling about what was in store for them.
Two days later, their coach crossed over the invisible border that marked the boundary of Eynsford Park. Cait sensed the change in her husband almost instantly. Gone was the loving and considerate man she’d married. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought someone had replaced him with an irritable duplicate.
He gazed out the window, watching the manor house grow larger as they approached it. Dash’s arms were folded across his chest, and his back was stiff. He appeared to be preparing himself for a most unpleasant encounter. Cait swallowed nervously. His apprehension only made her more anxious.
Cait slid closer to him on the bench and touched his arm. “Dash, are ye all right?”
He grunted noncommittally. Then the coach rumbled to a stop on the drive. Dash didn’t hop out as he generally did. Instead, he took a deep breath and allowed Renshaw to open the door for him. After he stepped from the carriage, he turned back and offered his hand to Cait.
As she stepped out into the sunlight, Cait stared up at the large baroque manor of sandstone that loomed before them. She gulped as she saw a frail old man in her mind, lying in bed. Aside from his nightshirt, he wore only a powdered wig and a scowl.
Dash tucked her hand in the crook of his arm, and the vision vanished as though it had never been. That did nothing to relieve her fears, however.
They walked up the steps, between large stone pillars, and Cait gaped at the size of the place. It was larger even than Westfield Hall. As they approached the massive door, it was pulled open, and they were greeted by an ancient butler who looked as though he might have been in service during James II’s reign. How the man had the strength to open the door was a complete mystery.
Cait glanced around the front hall. Marble floor and pillars. It was as grandiose as any place she’d ever seen.
“Price,” Dash said in greeting.
“M-my lord!” the butler stumbled over his words. “We weren’t expecting you, Lord Brimsworth.”
Dash directed Caitrin over the threshold, though his eyes never left the old servant. “Please prepare a room for my wife and myself. I do not know how long we will be staying.”
Price bobbed his head. “Of course, my lord.”
“And, Price, I would like to see my father.” He led Caitrin further down the corridor and into an immaculate parlor that was stark white with golden accents.
Cait didn’t even want to sit down on the elegant divan for fear of disturbing the pristine nature of the room. “This place is—”
“A bloody prison,” Dash grumbled under his breath.
“I was goin’ ta say spectacular.” Cait’s eyes flashed up to him. His jaw was tight, and his amber eyes were so cold that she shivered.
“Hmm,” he grumbled. “Never thought of it that way.”
“Dash,” she began, touching his chest. “I’m sure it will be all right.”
A twisted smile appeared on his face. “You cannot know that, Caitie, and I highly doubt it.”
“Why doona ye go up and see yer father, Dash? I can entertain myself for a bit.”
Dash visibly shivered, and then she watched him straighten his spine and shake his head. “You afraid to meet the old buzzard?”
Cait sighed. “I’m no’ afraid. If ye need me ta go with ye, I will. I just thought ye might want some time ta be alone with him.”
“Why would I want to see him alone? If you hadn’t insisted on this journey, I wouldn’t even be here.” He fidgeted nervously and drew his eyebrows together.
Cait stiffened her own shoulders. “I should like ta meet him, then.” She tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. His muscle bulged beneath her fingertips. She tugged him to a stop when he began to move.
“Dash,” she whispered.
“What is it, Cait?” he sighed.
“I just wanted ta tell ye I love ye.” She stood on tiptoe to press her lips to his quickly. He immediately drew her into his arms and sunk his face into her hair, inhaling deeply.
“I can do anything with you beside me,” he finally said, then pulled her up the stairs.
***
Cait believed in him. She believed there was goodness in him. She believed he could be worthy of her. He was determined to prove her right.
He rapped quickly on his father’s door. A mousy little maid immediately cracked the door an inch, just enough for him to see her.
“Move aside,” Dash said. Cait punched him in the arm.
“What?” he asked, not understanding the reason for her censure.
“Ye ken what,” she grunted, folding her arms beneath her breasts. “Behave yerself.”
The door opened quickly after his bark. Dash led her into the room with his hand at her back. The maid curtsied with a quick, “Milord, milady,” her gaze pointed toward the open doorway, as though she ached to flee.
The odor of an unwashed body immediately met Dash as they stepped through the door. He fought to keep from covering his nose. He took Cait’s up
per arm in his grasp and turned her. “You should go. This isn’t a place for you.”
She pressed a hand to his chest and smiled softly at him. “I’m here for ye, Dash. No’ for anythin’ else. The rest I can ignore. All of it.”
“Who’s there,” a scratchy voice called. “If it’s that bloody physician, tell him he can go to the devil. I’ll die in good time, when I’m goddamn ready. And not a moment before.”
Cait stood back as Dash approached the bed.
“You do everything in your own time, don’t you, Father? Why should dying be any different?” Dash tried to modulate his tone, showing no emotion, whatsoever. Eynsford did not appreciate displays of emotion. A lesson learned many years ago.
“Who’s there?” his father called from the bed.
“The Monster of Eynsford has returned,” Dash said as he stepped into the man’s line of sight. In all his years, Dash had never seen the marquess look so… vulnerable. No longer strong and robust, Eynsford still wore that damned wig, but his face was gaunt and his skin so pale that Dash could have seen straight through it if he’d looked close enough.
Dash doubted whether the man would even be able to hold his own weight, slight as he now was. For a brief moment he felt a twinge of regret for what might have been, though it passed just as quickly as it came.
“The bastard of Eynsford. The scourge of Eynsford. The monster of Eynsford. What’s the difference? Get out.”
The man’s mind still worked, however. He was the same old rotten blighter, despite his decrepit state. “Charming as ever, I see,” Dash replied conversationally.
The old man snorted. “Did you come to ensure your inheritance, boy? Don’t worry. I haven’t disowned you, not for lack of trying. Damned entailments. But you’ll still have to wait until I take my last breath.”
He turned his head away, as though he refused to acknowledge Dash’s presence. “At least I’ll never have to see such a travesty with my own eyes. A monster like you inheriting all I’ve built. My family seat. My wealth. It’s intolerable.”