by Lydia Dare
His strong arms enfolded her and pulled her close as his hand pressed her head into his shoulder. He reached into his pocket with the other, retrieved his handkerchief, and handed it to her.
“Tired of me drownin’ yer shirt, are ye, Lord Benjamin?” she asked quietly.
A chuckle rumbled through his body. She moved to sit up, but his arms still enfolded her. “Not yet,” he said. “I was just getting comfortable.”
“My friends would say this is highly improper, what with me sittin’ on yer lap and all.”
“Then I’m really glad they’re not here.” Another laugh moved through his body. Then his lips touched her forehead.
“They’re all angry with me anyway,” she said as she blew the hair from her eyes.
“I’m sure they’re not angry,” he tried to assure her.
“Ye dinna see the look on Caitrin’s face. Do ye ken she tried ta make me leave with her?”
“She wouldn’t dare!” he cried in mock dismay.
Elspeth simply raised her head and swatted his chest with her fist. “Ye’re no’ so funny, ye know,” she mumbled. “Ye’re mighty handsome. But no’ so funny.”
“I can’t be perfect,” he said, his eyes dancing with mirth when they met hers. He brushed her hair back over her ear. “Your hair is beautiful down around your shoulders.”
Elspeth’s hands flew to the top of her head. “My combs!” she cried. “My combs are gone.” She jumped to her feet. How could she have lost them? Tears stung her eyes again as they started to fall. How could she have lost her grandfather and all she had left of her mother in the same night?
She rushed into the house and spun around. Thankfully he hadn’t followed her. Elspeth closed her eyes and opened her hand. “Faigh, faigh, faigh. Còmhnadh.”
Then she peeked open one eye. Nothing sat in her palm. Wherever the combs were, they were too far away for her summoning spell to work. Then again, she was distraught; perhaps her concentration was off.
Lord Benjamin stood in the doorway, watching her. She didn’t have time to think about what he thought. She checked the floor and the small table. She searched beside her grandfather’s bed, by the mirrors she’d covered, and by the windows she’d opened. But the combs were nowhere to be found. How could she have been so foolish?
“They’re gone,” she cried, as the last bit of hope escaped her.
“It’s all right.” He took her shoulders in his strong hands and forced her to look at him.
“It’s no’ all right. They’re all I have of her.”
Understanding dawned in his eyes. “I’ll find them,” he promised.
“The ball?” she asked as she motioned toward the door.
“You had them when we left the ball. I’ll go back and find them.” The strength in his gaze startled her, leaving her speechless. “I’ll find them. No matter what.”
All she could do was nod. Then he was gone.
Ten
Ben ran across the meadow behind her house. He ran as fast as he could. The haunted look in her eyes was fresh in his mind. He knew it was the loss of her grandfather, not her hair combs, that she was truly concerned about. The trinkets were something for her to fret over, but he was bound and determined to find them anyway. They meant the world to her, and he’d make sure it was one less thing she had to worry about.
Ben followed his nose into the woods, tracking Miss Campbell’s scent and his own, retracing their steps. The night closed around him like a shroud, the trees blocking all evidence of the moon. But he knew it was there. He finally felt it. He finally felt something.
He searched the darkness, looking for the glitter of the pewter combs, hoping they would present themselves. If not, he’d look all the way to the light of day. He wouldn’t let her down. He simply could not.
He was a bit ashamed to admit how much he’d enjoyed holding her in his lap, feeling the soft angles of her body pressed against him. He’d tamped down his desire and simply allowed himself the pleasure of comforting her. She had needed him at that moment. But for some reason, he felt he needed her, too.
Then something caught his eye against a large moss-covered rock. He bent and picked up one pewter wolf. He smiled up at the crescent moon. One down. One to go. He pocketed the comb, then knelt beside the rock and patted the ground.
Nothing.
He finally stood and dusted the dirt from his knees. What were the odds that the two combs would have landed in the same place anyway? He went back to following their scent, heading in the direction of the Fergusons’ mansion.
Just as the sun broke the horizon, he heard church bells ringing off in the distance. Then he spotted the second comb. It must have fallen from her hair as soon as they’d started to run. He picked it up with a smile and added it to his pocket with its mate. He was gratified to feel the heavy weight of the pewter wolves in his pocket.
He ran at a leisurely pace back to her home. The sun was up now, so he took in the tidy but small appearance of her cottage. But what caught his attention was the coach out front. He slowed to a walk and peered around the corner of the house.
The young dark-haired chit he’d met the night before, the one who didn’t appreciate him lumping all of Scotland in as part of Britain, was just reaching the door. Her big lummox of a brother was at her side.
“I doona ken why we have ta sit here all day,” the giant complained.
The girl turned an irritated gaze upon her brother. “We’re here, Wallace, because El shouldna be alone. Someone has ta sit with Mr. Campbell. We’ll all be takin’ turns. And Caitrin specifically asked for yer assistance.”
“She did?” He brightened just a bit. “Is Cait here, then?”
The girl let out an exasperated sigh. “Mo chreach! Does yer every thought have ta be about Cait? No, she’s no’ here. No’ yet, anyhow.”
The lummox’s smile widened, completely unaffected by his sister’s outrage. “But she’ll be here later.” He pounded on the door, nearly shaking the cottage to the ground.
Ben watched the pair enter the house, then he leaned against the wall. Poor Elspeth, if those two had been designated to keep her company. Still, they were her friends, and he was… nothing. Just a fellow passing through town. Dread washed over him.
He pushed himself off the wall and started for the door. He had hair combs to return. Then he would start his search for Rosewyth Campbell.
Ben ambled up the front step and knocked lightly. A moment later the dark-haired chit pulled the door open, and her jaw dropped. “What’re… I mean, Lord Benjamin?”
As soon as his name fell from her lips, Elspeth came into view. Her green eyes sparkled in the early morning light, and Ben’s heart leapt in his chest. It was ridiculous for the girl to have such an effect on him. Still, he couldn’t look away from her beauty. She hadn’t slept in more than a day, and yet she looked as radiant in her simple homespun as she had in her ball gown the night before. “Miss Campbell,” he said softly.
A beaming smile spread across her face, making her even lovelier, which he hadn’t thought was possible.
“My lord, I’m so sorry ta have sent ye on a wild goose chase last night. I wasna thinkin’ clearly.”
Ben stepped inside the cottage, which seemed much smaller in the light of day. Of course, the overgrown Wallace Ferguson took up a large amount of space.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the two pewter hair combs. “I told you I’d find them.”
Elspeth gasped as her eyes landed on the two wolves in the palm of his hand. Before Ben could say anything else, she threw her arms around his neck, nearly throwing him off balance. He wrapped his arms around her, keeping both of them from tumbling to the ground.
“I canna believe ye found them,” she gushed. Her pretty green eyes glistened, and she looked at him as though he were her own personal hero.
If the Ferguson chit hadn’t suddenly suffered from a fit of coughs, Ben was certain he would have kissed the beguiling girl he still held in his a
rms. As it was, doing so with an audience wasn’t the best idea.
He smiled at Elspeth then drew back, though he wanted nothing more than to hold her even tighter to him. Ben opened his hand once more, revealing the pair of pewter wolves. She snatched them from him and clutched them close to her heart. “I canna ever thank ye enough, my lord.”
“It was my pleasure, Miss Campbell.”
“Doona go anywhere,” she said. Then after one more beatific smile, she escaped into a room off the side of the main one.
Ben turned around to find the Ferguson siblings glaring at him. He lost his silly grin and then frowned when he realized the girl was raking her gaze over every bit of exposed skin he had—his face, his neck, his ears—as though she was looking for something on his person. Quite disconcerting. “Hello, again, Miss Ferguson,” he said, hoping to embarrass her into looking away.
She folded her arms across her chest. “Am I ta take it ye were here last night, Lord Benjamin?”
“I—”
Before he could finish, Elspeth called from her room, “Sorcha Ferguson, I will throw ye out again if ye canna keep a civil tone in yer voice.”
The girl clamped her mouth shut.
Ben bit back a smile. He turned to the hulking Scot. “Mr. Ferguson, have you lived in Edinburgh your whole life?”
“Aye,” the man replied gruffly.
Well, that was a bit of luck. “Perhaps you can help me. I didn’t set off for Scotland merely for holiday.”
“No?” Ferguson’s brow furrowed.
“I’m actually looking for someone who may be a bit hard to find.”
“Who?” Sorcha interrupted.
Ben graced her with a smile. At least the irritated sound was gone from her voice.
“A woman. I was sent to find Rosewyth Campbell.”
Wallace Ferguson’s eyes went wide, while a frown
marred his sister’s pretty face. “Well, my lord, I doona think ye’ll have much luck with that endeavor.”
“Why not?” he asked, his mouth agape.
Sorcha opened her mouth to reply, but Elspeth quickly strode out of the room and spoke over her. “Because she’s no’ acceptin’ visitors, my lord.” She shot a look at Sorcha, who bit her lips together so hard a line of white appeared around them. “What did ye want with her, Lord Benjamin?”
“I heard she was a healer,” he said quietly.
“And are ye in need of a healin’?” Maybe he was ill. Maybe he needed her help.
“No…” he hedged. His eyes refused to meet hers. He looked at every surface in the room. “I just needed some information.”
“What kind of information?” She faced him and placed her hands on her hips. She would find out why he was searching for her mother, what reason he had to be in Scotland.
“It’s a bit private,” he said quietly. His face colored. The man was blushing?
“Then let’s step outside and discuss it, shall we?” She smiled an easy smile at him. He seemed a bit discomfited at that moment. So she hoped a friendly face would put him at ease. And maybe loosen his tongue a bit.
He walked to the door and ushered her through it with a hand at the small of her back. Then he closed the door soundly behind them.
“What is it I can do for ye, Lord Benjamin?”
“Ben.” He began to pace across the lawn.
“Beggin’ yer pardon?” she asked.
“Ben,” he repeated. “That’s my name. I give you leave to use it. I mean. I’m asking you to use it.” His eyes met hers. “Please, call me Ben.”
“Ben,” she repeated.
A smile finally crossed his face. “That’s better.”
He would not lead her astray so easily. “Rosewyth Campbell?” she prodded. “Ye needed her healin’?”
“I’m not sure, but I’d heard she could fix things.”
Things? “What sorts of things?” The man would wear her out with all the pacing in mere moments.
“I really just need to talk to Rosewyth Campbell. Can you tell me where I can find her?”
Oh, sure she could. Six feet under the ground. “Let’s take a little walk and discuss yer concerns. I’ve a bit of a healin’ touch, too, ye ken,” she said as she motioned with her hand for him to follow.
He walked leisurely down the lane by her side. He was quiet and obviously preoccupied. “Yes, I’d heard you have a way with herbs, Miss Campbell.”
“Elspeth.” His glance rose to meet hers, finally. “My name is Elspeth. I grant ye leave ta use it.” She couldn’t contain the small smile that hovered around the corners of her lips.
“Elspeth,” he repeated, as though tasting the name on his tongue. It was an old family name. Of which she was quite proud. “It suits you.”
She simply inclined her head.
They walked leisurely down the lane until they reached the small church. Elspeth turned down the pea-gravel drive and motioned for him to follow.
“Are ye goin’ ta tell me what’s ailin’ ye, Ben? Or will ye make me guess?”
“Nothing is ailing me.” His eyes met hers and then danced away. “I would really rather talk with Rosewyth Campbell.” He glanced around. “Does she live near here? Are we close?”
“Aye, Ben. She resides here.” She pointed toward the tall stone monuments in the churchyard, each marking the graves of loved ones. “My mother died five years ago. She was Rosewyth Campbell.”
Eleven
Ben heaved a great sigh. He studied the headstones in front of them. Of course the woman would be dead! What other luck would he have? First, he’d lost the ability to change with the moon. And now his only hope for salvation was dead. He’d been left with the mere slip of a girl who stood before him, her head tilted at an angle as she regarded him curiously.
“If ye’ll do me the honor of tellin’ me what’s ailin’ ye, I’ll do my best ta help ye. I promise,” she said, her green gaze dazzling him as she placed a hand on his arm. He had her full attention. That much was positive.
“It’s not something I’m comfortable discussing…”
She simply tipped her head in the other direction, her gaze never breaking from his.
“It’s fairly personal.”
She blinked.
“I can’t discuss it with you.” The girl was probably still an innocent. He couldn’t possibly tell her about the incident with the whore and that after that horrible night, he’d lost his ability to turn into a hairy, drooling wolf who howled at the moon.
“I have dealt with problems similar ta yers before, ye ken?” she smiled softly at him.
“You don’t even know what the problem is,” he gasped. Surely she didn’t know. She couldn’t possibly read minds as well as work with herbs.
“I can guess. Men like ye only get so squeamish about one thing.” She laughed, a melodic little tune. “It’s nothin’ ta be ashamed of. Happens more than ye ken.”
Men like him? Ben could only assume his mouth had fallen open in surprise, as he stared at her, completely dumbfounded. How many other Lycan men had lost the ability to change?
“I have just the thing for it.” She nodded at him enthusiastically.
Ben scratched his head.
“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.