by Dare, Lydia
Cait accepted him. He knew that in his heart. He could see it in her eyes whenever she looked at him. Dash smiled as her image filtered into his mind. He could almost smell her flaxen hair with its honeysuckle scent. She deserved far better than he. She deserved a man who wasn’t wild and dangerous. If he was honorable in any way, he wouldn’t have forced himself into her life. But he’d been a selfish ass.
Perhaps it wasn’t too late, though. Perhaps he could still protect her from himself. He could send her back to Edinburgh where her coven sisters awaited her return.
God, he was a fool. How did he let the marquess get him so angry? Dash took a deep, calming breath and then another as he watched the moonbeams dance around the rectory. When his soul seemed more at peace, he hiked back toward the manor house, hoping Cait would accept his apology.
He ignored the reproachful look Price shot him as he strode through the front door. The butler could go straight to the devil. Dash didn’t give one whit what the man thought about him. Of all the people currently inhabiting Eynsford Park, only Cait mattered to him.
Dash found her sleeping on their bed in a gossamer nightrail, lying atop the counterpane, her glorious hair draped over one shoulder. She looked like an angel, so ethereal and heavenly. She must have waited hours for him to return.
He doused the lamp, then quickly shed his jacket and waistcoat before tossing his shirt to a damask chair near the bed. When he sat down beside her to tug off his boots, Cait rolled toward him, a smile upon her tempting lips. Dash brushed a curl from her face so he could see her better. “I love you, Caitie. I’m sorry I’m such an unruly beast.”
She sighed in her sleep, and he couldn’t help but smile at the way the sound soothed him. He tugged his boots off, then finished with the rest of his clothes. Gently, he eased the counterpane from beneath her and pulled it up back over her before sliding into bed beside her.
Dash lay down but sat back up at once when something hard poked him in the head. He retrieved a book from beneath his pillow and frowned.
What the devil was she doing with a book in the bed? The answer was obvious, however. She must have been passing the time waiting for her wayward husband to make an appearance, and a fresh wave of guilt washed over him.
Dash glanced at the title. Debrett’s Peerage of England, Scotland, and Ireland? It didn’t exactly make for light reading. It was worse than ‘Genesis’ with all those begats. He tossed the book to the chair where his shirt was, but it fell to the ground with a thud. He frowned at the sound and fell back against his pillow. Could nothing go his way?
“Dash?” Cait said sleepily.
“I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep, Caitie,” he said, as she snuggled against him, her sweet scent teasing his nose.
“Are ye all right?” she asked.
He was as good as he was going to be, stuck in Kent. “I’m fine.”
Before the words were out of his mouth, she smacked his chest. “Then ye are in trouble.”
“Yes, lass, I am in trouble,” he agreed, scrubbing a hand across the spot she’d assaulted. “But there’s no need to hit me.”
Cait sat up and stared deep into his eyes. “I called ye and called ye, ye lummox,” she complained. “Ye should have come back.”
“I wasn’t in any condition to be around you, Cait. Trust me on that.”
“Listen ta me, Dashiel Thorpe.” One slim finger jabbed at his chest. “I am yer wife, and ye doona get ta shut me out and stay away all hours of the night. I dinna ken what ta think, and I was worried about ye.”
Dash sighed, not relishing a fight. He was too tired for that. “There’s nothing to worry about, Caitie. I’m a Lycan. What do you think is going to happen to me?”
“Just because ye’re a Lycan doesna mean that ye’re invincible, Dash,” she said softly.
He tugged her back to him and brushed his lips across hers. “Don’t chastise me, lass. It’s been a long day.”
“I ken it has.” Cait’s arms slid around his neck, and she held him tight. “But ye’re part of me now, Dash. Ye canna just run off.”
“Caitie,” he whispered before kissing her again. “It’s not safe for you to be around me when I’m out of control.”
Her sweet breath blew across his lips, and Dash groaned as he ached to find solace inside her, to erase all the anguish and pain of the day within Cait.
“Are ye in control now?” she asked, as her fingers trailed down his chest.
Dash rolled her beneath him. “Teasing the wolf?” he asked against her soft skin, grazing her shoulder with his teeth. “That’s a very good way to get yourself bitten.”
Cait giggled. “Now who is teasin’ whom?”
***
Dash loved waking up with Cait in his arms. Her bare breasts pressed against him, her pretty hair spread out across his chest.
She shifted beside him and then rose up on her arms to look at him. “Good morning.” Her soft blue eyes twinkled.
He’d never seen a more beautiful sight, and Dash sucked in a breath. He’d deal with the future later, when she didn’t look so desperately in need of a kiss.
“Good morning, angel,” he whispered, leaning forward to brush his lips against hers. She tasted heavenly, like sweet summer berries.
After a moment, Cait gasped and reared back from him.
“What?” he asked, feeling as though his favorite plaything had just been snatched from his grasp.
Cait threw her leg over the edge of the bed. “I forgot. I told Price that I would help the marquess with his breakfast.”
Dash couldn’t help the growl that escaped him as he reached for her but missed. “The man has been feeding himself for seven decades. I think he can manage on his own.”
Standing before him without a stitch, Cait folded her arms across her delightful breasts. “He hasna been eatin’ well. Price said the little bit of soup he had last night was the most he’s eaten in quite some time.”
“If he chooses to starve himself, I don’t see why we have the right to stand in his way.” Dash stared up at the ceiling to avoid the scathing look he knew she sent his way.
“That is a horrible thing ta say, Dashiel Thorpe.”
Perhaps, but he was unmoved by her protest and focused on a tiny crack in the molding. “He’s a horrible man.”
She huffed and then stalked toward the dressing room. In an instant, Cait yelped as her foot made contact with something heavy and she fell back on her bottom. “Ouch!”
Dash bounded off the bed to help her.
Cait ignored his outstretched hand as she clutched the Debrett’s tome to her chest. “Dash, there’s somethin’, I have ta tell ye.”
He scowled at the book in her arms. “I have something to tell you too, Caitie. That thing jabbed me in the back of the head last night. You shouldn’t go around hiding books under pillows.”
A beatific smile lit her face, and then she erupted into a fit of giggles.
He’d obviously missed something. “Just what is so funny, lass?”
“That’s where I’d hidden it, yer wicked little journal. Under my pillow.”
She’d obviously lost her mind this morning. Dash raked a hand through his hair. “Impossible. I burned the thing. Is your head all right? Did you bump it on the way down?”
Cait laughed even harder. “No, ye silly wolf, that night in the inn when ye were searchin’ for it. I had it hidden under my pillow. Ye were rummagin’ through my trunk, up ta yer elbows in chemises and frilly drawers.” She fell backward, nearly breathless from all her laughter. “I wish ye could’ve seen yer face when Jeannie walked in on ye.”
Dash leveled her with his most scathing glare. “I thought you were asleep.”
She rose to her feet, still clutching the heavy tome against her chest. “Well, ye were wrong. I’m sure it willna be the last time.” Cait leaned forward and kissed his brow. “I found Radbourne last night.” She handed the book to him.
Dash’s mouth fell open. That’s what
she’d been up to. He wasn’t certain whether to kiss her or toss her over his knee for plodding forward without him. “I’m not sure I’m ready to meet him, Caitie.”
Her light eyes started to water, and her lips drew up tight. “I’m sorry, Dashiel, but it’s too late.”
Radbourne was dead. He could see it in her tortured expression. “How long?” he choked out. A moment ago, he wasn’t sure he was prepared to meet his sire, and now he knew he would never get that chance. He felt it from his heart to the pit of his stomach.
“How long?” she echoed, shaking her head in confusion.
“How long has he been gone?”
“Oh,” she said softly. “Twenty years. I am sorry.”
Dash shook his head. It shouldn’t matter. He hadn’t even known the man’s name until yesterday. It shouldn’t matter that he was gone, but somehow it did, which made no sense at all.
“His name was Edward Hadley—”
Dash raised his hand, silently halting her. He didn’t want to know any more. His gut was clenching, and he didn’t want her to see him weakened.
Cait’s eyes softened, and she leaned closer to him. “There’s more, Dash.”
“I don’t want to hear it, Caitie.”
She pursed her lips stubbornly. “Ye have brothers,” she blurted out.
“Brothers?” he echoed as the room began to spin.
Cait nodded. “Ye have three brothers.”
Thirty-Six
Upon further reflection, Caitrin thought it might have been a bad idea to tell Dash about his brothers. He’d thrown on his trousers and shirt and fled from the room without another word. No amount of pleading or calling his name had brought him back to his senses. It was the second time in as many days that he’d stalked off, leaving her alone.
“Mo chreach,” she grumbled to herself. “Temperamental wolf.” It was so frustrating that she couldn’t see his future. It would have brought a bit of relief if she could at least know he was safe.
Cait sighed as she quickly dressed herself without the help of a maid and then arranged her hair in a simple chignon. She and Dash were going to have a serious talk about his ill-mannered departures and propensity to brood.
Just as she started for the door, she heard a faint scratch. She opened it to find the butler in the hallway, grimacing. “Price, what is it?”
The old man shook his head. “It’s his lordship, Lady Brimsworth. He’s fading away before my eyes, and—”
“I’ll get him ta eat somethin’, Price.” Cait smiled, hoping to comfort the man. “I’m sure he’ll be fine,” she lied. Though “fine” was probably a relative term. What she did know, what she could clearly see, was that the Marquess of Eynsford would not make it another day. What she didn’t know was whether or not he would find peace with his son before he passed away, and vice versa.
Steeling herself for a difficult day, Cait followed Price to the marquess’ suite of rooms. “I’ve never seen his lordship take to someone like he has you, my lady. I am glad you’ve come to visit.”
Cait squeezed Price’s hand. “Ye are ta be commended for yer loyalty.”
The butler preened a bit at her words, which warmed Cait’s heart. She knocked once on the marquess’ door before letting herself in. “Good morning, Lord Eynsford,” she called brightly.
The drapes were drawn closed and very little light filtered into the room. The marquess’ labored breathing could be heard from the door, and Cait quickly crossed the room to his bedside. She wished Elspeth was here, as she could ease the man’s passing.
Cait settled into a chintz chair beside him and straightened his wig. “I understand porridge is on the menu for breakfast, my lord.”
He glowered at her. “I’m not eating that. Not even for you.”
Cait laughed softly. “It’s no’ my favorite either,” she confessed. “A dear friend of mine is always makin’ the horrid stuff. I doona ken how she stomachs it.”
“I’m dying, Lady Brimsworth.”
“I ken.” Cait studied his ancient face. Even the bit of color he had the day before was gone, but his mind was still sharp, his tongue just as biting.
“And I’m not going to eat anything I don’t want.”
She could see his point. Cait placed her hand on his. “I willna force the porridge on ye then, my lord. Is there somethin’ ye do want?”
The marquess shook his head. “Just stay here. Talk to me. It’s been forever since anyone just talked to me.”
Cait nodded. “Of course, my lord. What shall we talk about?”
“Scotland,” he suggested before coughs racked his body, shaking the bed beneath him.
Scotland? He was literally on his deathbed, yet he wanted to talk about inanities? “How about Dashiel?” she suggested instead, offering him a sip of water.
Eynsford shuddered and refused the drink by clamping his lips shut.
Cait resumed her seat. “Ye said yerself that ye were dyin’, my lord. Wouldna ye like ta be rid of the animosity between ye and Dash before it’s too late?”
He shook his head. “What’s done is done, my dear. It doesn’t have to be so for you, however. The moon is full tonight, but it’s not too late for you to come to your senses and hide yourself away from the monster.”
Cait tried to be patient with the man. He was old. He was dying. He didn’t understand. “He’s no’ a monster,” she said softly. “The line of Lycans is a benevolent one.” Or so Benjamin Westfield had told her often enough. “They have helped to shape history as ye ken it, and Dash is as noble as his ancestors.”
He frowned at her, folding his thin arms across his chest, but Cait could tell he was listening. She took a deep breath and continued.
***
Watching the sun begin to set from his father’s old desk, uneasiness washed over Dash and he refocused on the ledger before him. He’d been dreading the coming of this moon more than any before, though he’d never been particularly fond of any of the moonlight-drenched nights. Until a month ago, he had always spent them shackled and chained, alone, fighting the pain that came with being out of control.
He hadn’t confided his plans yet to Cait, as she’d been holed up with his father, whispering for most of the morning. He hadn’t wanted to interrupt. He hadn’t wanted to see either of them. And now as Eynsford Park was swathed in the glow of a sun-filled day, he decided it might be best to take the coward’s way out, to sneak off like a thief and face the moonful alone, rather than have her bewitch him into staying there and accepting the risk that he could hurt her.
He simply couldn’t. It wasn’t conscionable. He would not, under any circumstances, be with Cait during the moonful. The only way she’d be safe was if he was shackled and chained in the same room where his father had first left him to face the beast within him on that moon-soaked night so long ago. Dash would spend it wrapped up in the irons he hated, but she would be safe, which was the most important thing.
He’d briefly contemplated leaving Eynsford Park before the moonful, but without adequate ways to secure himself, he’d just smell her honeysuckle scent across the river. Hell, he’d probably smell it if he was all the way back in London. Then he’d be traipsing through the woods to get back to her. And he’d probably make it. So, shackled in the room below stairs would work well, or at least it was the best he could do for now.
He considered sending someone to clean the room, to make it a bit more habitable. But he’d spent years with the cobwebs and dust. He could spend one more night.
He remembered the way she had awakened in his arms that morning, her sweet breath tickling the hair on his chest and her hands upon his skin. Lust immediately began to cloud his brain. And then he heard her soft footfalls down the corridor. Bloody hell. Of course, she would seek him out when he was feeling melancholy. She would find him the very moment he grew hard with want for her.
The study door cracked, and she poked her head inside. “Dash,” she called softly. He fought to ignore her for a moment. He
just needed long enough to clear his head. “Dash,” she tried again, this time more urgently.
“What is it, Cait?” he barked, immediately sorry for his tone. But he didn’t even raise his gaze to hers. He couldn’t. Because he didn’t want to see her love for him shining there. Finally, he couldn’t keep from glancing up at her ever so briefly.
“Ye sure are in a fine temper, Dashiel,” she said sternly as she placed her hands upon her hips and glared at him. God, those hips that he just wanted to hold onto so he could ride her through the night.
He slammed his desk drawer, trying to draw himself from his desire. “I’m busy, Caitrin.”
“Aye, I can see that. And so am I, ye big lout.”
He finally threw his quill down on the desk and slouched back. “What have you been doing?”
“Oh, now he has an interest?” she asked sarcastically.
“Cait,” he groaned as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger in frustration.
“Yer father’s cough grew worse durin’ the night, and he’s havin’ a difficult time of it.”
“Sorry to hear that,” Dash mumbled, lowering his head back to his ledger to regard the numbers he’d lined up in neat rows. They swam before his eyes. Almost as though they wanted to swarm together and spell out her name.
“Damn it,” he said as he slammed the book closed. “Why are you here, Cait?”
“Do I need a reason ta visit my husband?” Her blue eyes sparkled with irritation.
“No, but I imagine that you have one. So out with it.”
Cait crossed the room toward him, her stockings whispering softly as she moved slowly in his direction. It made him think of the last time he’d removed her stockings and the new way he’d made love to her.
“Ye need to go and visit yer father, Dash. I’m afraid his time here will no’ be much longer.”