by Lydia Dare
Nothing had ever been easy for him. He somehow always picked the toughest path. One would think he’d learn after a lifetime’s worth of mistakes. So what did he have to do to get back in her good graces? Flowers? Jewelry? An apology? Though what would he apologize for? I’m sorry I’ve bedded other women before I met you? He’d be a pretty sad man at six and twenty not to have done so. He’d be the laughingstock of the Lycan world.
“Are you going to stand there all night?” Alec’s voice called from the front door.
Damn! Ben’s shoulders slumped as he started toward his friend’s house.
“You look like a man who could use a drink.”
That was probably true. He ambled up the steps. “What are you doing up so late?”
Alec shrugged and opened the door wide for Ben to pass. “Couldn’t sleep. I thought some whisky would do the trick.”
Whisky sounded wonderful. Numbing his brain was preferable to trying to sort out the way of women. “Lead the way, mon ami.”
Inside Alec’s study he poured two generous tumblers and handed one to Ben. “So I take it from your down expression that things aren’t going well with Miss Campbell?”
Ben took a sip and welcomed the smoky burn down his throat. “Please don’t start, Alec.”
His friend laughed. “I’m not one to kick a man when he’s down, Westfield. You look as if you’re in enough misery without me adding to it.”
Ben raised his tumbler in a mock toast. “Many thanks.”
They sat in companionable silence for some time, which was nice. After a few more rounds of whisky, Ben leaned back in his chair and stared up at Alec’s ceiling. “Do you ever think you’ll understand the workings of the female mind?”
Alec sighed. “Not if I live ta be a hundred. I’m beginning to think it would be easier to perform Hercules’ twelve labors than to court Caitrin Macleod.”
“Perhaps you should take that as a sign from the gods.” Ben couldn’t imagine a worse fate than being leg-shackled to that haughty witch.
“Now, now,” Alec began good-naturedly, “if I’m keeping my mouth shut about Miss Campbell, you can at least return the favor where Miss Macleod is concerned.”
That did seem fair. “All right, what’s the problem?”
“You’d think I was daft.”
“Who says I don’t already?” Ben chided him.
Alec sighed. “I’d rather not confirm your suspicions, then. You want to tell me what Miss Campbell said to get you looking like a lost puppy dog?”
“She wasn’t happy to learn I’ve had relations with whores.”
Alec choked and Ben sat forward to pound on his friend’s back. “Are you all right?”
“Good God, Westfield! I don’t even want to know how you ended up discussing that.”
Feeling like the biggest of fools, Ben slunk back into his seat. “She made me tell her.”
Alec roared with laughter. “I can’t imagine why you would do such a featherbrained, idiotic thing.”
Ben glowered at him. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Do you tell the duchess of your exploits as well?”
Mother. He hadn’t written her in weeks. She was probably worried about him, but she’d be more so if he put pen to foolscap. After all, he’d never been able to fool her when something was wrong. Now he didn’t even bother. Besides, if Elspeth could heal him, there was no reason to get his mother upset in the first place.
Alec laughed even harder. “Please tell me you haven’t.”
“Of course, I don’t tell my mother everything.” Who would need to? She could read about it in the society rags. “I’m going to bed.”
The sound of Alec’s laughter followed him up the stairs.
Twenty
Elspeth woke to the sound of a gentle knock on her door. She pulled a wrapper over her nightrail, lifted her hair over the lace collar, and opened the door a crack.
Caitrin’s blue eyes flashed at her. “We ken ye’re angry at us, but we’re here ta support ye today, no matter what.” Caitrin, Rhiannon, Blaire, and Sorcha brushed past Elspeth into the room. “Ye bury yer grandfather today, and we’ll be here with ye whether ye want us or no’.” She brushed a tear back from her cheek.
“Cait, of course I want ye,” Elspeth said as she fell into the huddle of girls. “Ye’re my family, and I canna do without ye.”
When they finally separated, Caitrin looked down at her friend’s wrapper. “Is that what ye plan ta wear today?”
“Of course, it’s no’,” Elspeth said. “Doona be daft.”
“Then ye better hurry, because the vicar already rang the death bell in the square. People will be arrivin’ shortly.” She clapped her hands together sharply. “Let’s get ye movin’.”
“I overslept?” Surely she hadn’t stayed in bed that long. Although it had been late when she’d finally fallen asleep.
Caitrin smoothed Elspeth’s wild hair with her hand. “Ye deserve ta rest more than anyone I ken. Ye’ve been dealin’ with a lot.” Then she moved to the window and raised the curtain. “The first of the mourners are walkin’ this way. Unless ye plan ta greet them in yer nightrail, ye need ta dress.”
Elspeth spun into action. She disappeared into her room and changed clothes after washing quickly. Then she combed through her unruly locks. They had a mind of their own, no matter what she did. She secured the flyaway tendrils with her mother’s hair combs, knowing all the while that her hair would be down around her shoulders before the hour had passed.
She bustled around the kitchen, started a pot of water for tea, and rushed out the front door. As soon as she stepped through the opening, she ran into the broad chest of a man.
“Whoa, there,” a deep voice said as strong arms steadied her. She knew immediately who they belonged to. Elspeth stopped and inhaled deeply. He had a scent like no other. He smelled of shaving soap and… Ben. It was unique to him, almost a wild scent, and it set her heart to thumping.
Finally she raised her head and met his gaze. “I doona ken what made ye think ye’d be welcome here, Lord Benjamin,” she whispered harshly.
His eyes narrowed as he released his hold on her and stood up to his full height. “I came with Alec to bring chairs.”
“Ye’ll be leavin’ when ye’re done, I assume?” The words sounded harsh to her own ears, but she couldn’t deal with him at the moment.
His fingers reached out to touch her chin, gently but forcefully making her meet his gaze. “No, lass. I’ll not be leaving you today. You can hate me all you want. But I’ll be staying.”
Elspeth couldn’t contain the small leap her heart made when he said he wouldn’t be leaving.
“Suit yerself.” She stepped back, moving out of his grasp. She immediately felt alone. More lonely than she’d ever been.
“Tea is ready,” Caitrin called to her from the doorway. Elspeth glanced up at Ben. The annoyance on his face when he looked at her friend would have been funny any other time. She thought she heard him grumble as she turned and went in the house. The other three witches were busy preparing food for the mourners who would visit.
“Why is he here?” Caitrin groused.
“He said he came with Mr. MacQuarrie ta bring the chairs, Cait.” She sighed, “Just leave it be, please.”
“He dinna ken yer grandfather,” Cait said quietly.
“Do ye want ta cause a scene and force him ta leave?” Elspeth whispered vehemently. “I would rather have him stay than have ta listen ta all the waggin’ tongues. I doona think my grandfather would’ve wanted that.”
“After the service, can I toss him out on his ear?”
“Ye can toss him out on his arse if ye want. I doona care,” Elspeth groaned under the weight of a heavy stockpot.
“Here, let me help ye,” Caitrin said as she tried to take some of the weight from Elspeth’s burden. Suddenly the weight was lifted away.
“Tell me where you want it,” Ben said, his hazel eyes twinkling at her. He bore he
r burden with ease. “I’ll be at your beck and call today. So use me as you see fit.”
“Ye doona have ta—” El started.
“Just tell me where to put it, Ellie,” he said quietly.
She pointed to a table across the kitchen. “Over there is fine.”
Caitrin suddenly clutched her arm and spun her around. “Did he call ye Ellie?”
“I dinna notice,” Elspeth lied smoothly as she shrugged her shoulders.
“He’s goin’ ta ruin ye. I can see it now.” She closed her eyes tightly.
“Will ye stop with the theatrics, Cait. He moved a bloody pot,” Elspeth said low enough for only her friend to hear. To be caught swearing by anyone else would be terrible for the little bit of reputation she did have.
Ben chuckled from across the room. Of course he would have heard her curse. He was party to every nonsensical thing she’d done for the past six days.
Ben could stand in the corner all day and would be perfectly content just to watch her bustle about the kitchen. He tried to appear busy, arranging chairs and helping carry heavy items for the other girls. But he really just wanted to eavesdrop.
He couldn’t bite back a chuckle when he’d heard her curse. She was as fiery as her hair. He wanted at that moment to touch his mark and see if she would respond the same way she had the night before, but this wasn’t the time or the place. He knew that today was important for her. And he would not detract from her sorrow, nor would he contribute to it.
Alec called from the doorway, “Come and help me, Westfield. There’s food to be brought inside.”
“Food? Where did food come from?” Elspeth asked.
Mrs. Ross lumbered into the kitchen, her girth cumbersome. “I thought ye might need some things for the feast,” the woman said as she directed the men to bring in items.
Ben saw the furrow of Elspeth’s brow as she looked at the bountiful feast the men carted through the door. They went back and forth and returned time and again.
Ben’s heart ached for her when he saw Elspeth approach Mrs. Ross quietly and place her arm on her sleeve. “I’ll have ta settle up with ye over all this food. But it may take some time.”
The woman squeezed Elspeth’s hands before she reached one hand out to cup her face. “No need ta fret, deary. It’s been taken care of.”
Elspeth spun quickly toward Caitrin. “Did yer father do this?”
Caitrin shook her head. “No, El. I doona believe he did.”
Elspeth’s gaze searched the other three faces of her friends, and they all denied having set it up.
“Who would have…?” Elspeth’s voice trailed off as her gaze finally landed on Ben, who did his best to avoid looking at her. Certainly she wouldn’t assume he was responsible for the feast, although he was.
Elspeth raised her hands to her face, and she surprised everyone in the room when sobs started to shake her shoulders. She’d put on a brave face for days. Ben was sorry to see her so upset, but happy to help her ease her burden.
Before she could even take a breath, he was across the room. He pulled her safely and snugly against his chest and stroked his hand over her hair. She settled against him like she belonged there.
“There now, Ellie,” he said softly. “No one knows that it was me who paid for the feast. Nor shall they.”
Caitrin ushered all the women out of the room, asking for their help outside. She left the door open, but he assumed that Cait would be outside the door, barring anyone else from entering.
“I am very, very angry at ye because of what ye said ta me last night when ye so casually referred ta someone ye had been intimate with as ‘just a whore,’” Elspeth sniffled. “I’ve heard my mother called that horrible word my whole life.” She drew in a deep, shaky breath. “Then ye had ta go and do somethin’ so kind.” She pounded lightly on his chest with one fist. “So I canna be mad at ye right now.”
“You can come back to it later, love. I’ll expect it.”
“Good.” She sniffled again.
He lowered his head so that he could speak right beside her ear, wishing more than anything it would reach her heart. “I’m sorry I used a word that’s so painful for you. It was a poor choice, and I’ll never even use the word again myself. In any circumstance.”
He barely felt her nod against his chest, her acquiescence was so small. But it was a start. He simply held her for a moment, enjoying the sensation of her body pressed against him. But he knew he would have to let her go or risk ruining her. He brushed the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs and kissed her lips softly, gratified when she kissed him back. “I hear footsteps,” he whispered with a grin, before he stepped back from her and busied himself with arranging more of the chairs.
“I’ll repay the favor, Lord Benjamin,” she said. To the casual observer, it sounded like she was simply thanking him for all his help.
“Perhaps I’ll take it out in trade, Miss Campbell.” His eyes danced at her, and she couldn’t hide the blush that stained her cheeks. “I could be in need of healing.”
Elspeth barely heard the words the vicar, Mr. Crawford, said in the church. Her mind was too occupied with reflections of her grandfather. The way he’d tell her stories when she was a young girl, sitting on his knee. The way he’d always let her win at loo. The way he’d draped his arm around her shoulders and tell her that great things were going to happen in her life.
Since she didn’t have a father, her grandfather had filled that role, until now. It had been hard watching him wither away over the last year. At least now he would have the peace that had eluded him since his illness had set in.
Before Elspeth knew it, Mr. Crawford had finished his speech and the men from town lined up to take turns walking the coffin to the churchyard. The women, as always, weren’t allowed.
One by one the townspeople filed out of the church, but Elspeth remained in her seat. She should rush back home and make sure everything was ready for the feast. She just couldn’t muster the energy to do so.
Then she felt a hand on her shoulder and looked to see Caitrin and the others standing behind her. “Are ye ready, El?”
She nodded, though she didn’t really feel ready.
Caitrin linked arms with her on one side while Rhiannon took the other. They stepped out into the bright sunlight, and Elspeth managed a smile. “Did ye have anythin’ ta do with the weather?”
Rhiannon looked bashfully away. “Personally, I felt like rain, but Mr. Campbell was always so cheerful. I thought he’d prefer it this way.”
“And,” Caitrin added, “it would be terribly inconvenient ta host an outdoor feast in a downpour.”
Rhiannon giggled. “Aye, that’s true as well.”
The five of them started back toward Elspeth’s cottage.
Twenty-one
Ben leaned against an old oak tree, keeping Elspeth’s cottage in sight. His current position was about as far away as he could get and still hear her voice, though she did very little of the talking.
Sorcha Ferguson chatted nonstop, like a ninny. Ben had the feeling the chit thought if she stopped talking, Elspeth would dissolve into a puddle of tears. Maybe she was right.
“…and he always had butterscotch candies in his pocket. Every time I saw him he’d give me a piece of candy. ‘And how are ye feelin’ today, Sorcha?’ he would ask me. Then he’d sit back in his chair and let me prattle on and on about Mama being overly strict and Wallace no’ being fair—”
“Havers, Sorcha!” one of the other witches said. Ben wasn’t certain which. “Is it possible for ye ta keep yer trap closed for five minutes? I canna even hear myself think.”
He heard Elspeth take in a sharp breath and he started forward. What was the matter with these women? They fought like sisters. In just a few strides he was in front of the cottage and knocked lightly on the door.
Naturally it was Miss Macleod who answered, with her perfected sneer. “What a surprise.”
Ben wouldn’t allow her to bait him; El
speth didn’t need that right now. He looked past her and found his little witch standing in the middle of the room. Her eyes seemed to sparkle when they landed on him.
“Ellie,” he said with a smile. “Why don’t you come for a walk with me?”
“There’s so much ta do,” Caitrin Macleod cut in.
The little liar. All the food was out as well as the tables and chairs. Plates, cups, and utensils were simply waiting for the hoard to arrive. Elspeth wouldn’t get another break until afterward. “Well, Miss Macleod,” he replied smoothly, “I’m certain the four of you won’t mind finishing up whatever it is that needs Elspeth’s attention, would you?”
There was no other answer she could give other than to nod and, of course, glare at him.
Ben paid her no attention. He outstretched an arm and waited for Elspeth to come to him. The look of relief as she moved toward him was thanks enough.
He tucked her hand around his arm and led her toward the scenic path she’d pointed out earlier.
“Ye canna be gone long,” one of the others called after them.
“I’ll have her back in plenty of time.”
Once they were out of earshot from the others, Elspeth looked up at him and smiled. “How did ye ken I needed an escape?”
Ben squeezed her fingers. “I didn’t for sure. But if I’d been in there with those harpies, I would have needed an escape.”
“They’re no’ harpies,” she said quietly. “They’re tryin’ ta help me, and I’m simply worthless today.”
They entered the woods at a slow pace, and Ben watched a skylark fly above them. Elspeth noticed it, too. “My grandfather loved birds.”
“Did he?”
“Aye. Sometimes he’d sit in the woods just ta watch them.”
She was quiet. More wistful than he’d seen her thus far. “Do you want to tell me about him?”
Elspeth smiled. “He was a simple man, and he always wore a smile no matter what went wrong.”
“A good quality to have.” One Ben did not possess.
“He was my rock. When I was growin’ up, children were particularly cruel about my situation. He would sit me down and say, ‘Elspeth, I’m no’ goin’ ta tell ye ye’re just as good as those other tumshie heids.’”