by Lydia Dare
“Is the Duke of Blackmoor here this evening?” he asked the footman just to be certain.
The man shook his head. “I have not seen His Grace. However, Lord William was here, my lord.”
Ben looked around the room once more. He didn’t see Will. If he was quick, he could leave before his brother ever knew he was here. “And Major Forster?”
The footman gestured toward the back of the drawing room. “At his usual table, my lord.”
Ben took the first relieved breath he’d had in days, hopeful the major could help him. He thanked the footman and then crossed the room to where his father’s oldest friend sat in a dark corner, sipping whisky. “Am I interrupting?”
Major Desmond Forster’s dark eyes twinkled as he looked up from his drink. “Ah, Benjamin. It’s been an age. Please, please.” He gestured toward an empty chair at his table. “To what do I owe this honor?”
Ben swallowed. It wasn’t something he could just blurt out. In fact, now that he was here, he didn’t know what to say to Forster at all. “I, uh, could use your counsel, sir.”
“My counsel?” The old man leaned back in his seat and grinned. “I am flattered. I thought you generally sought out Blackmoor.”
Usually he did want his brother Simon’s advice. But this wasn’t something he could discuss with either of his brothers. In fact, keeping Simon and Will from learning his secret was of the utmost importance. Ben took a deep breath and leaned in close over the table. “I’m in trouble, Major.”
The man’s smile vanished instantly. “What sort of trouble, Benjamin?”
He held tightly to the table and willed the words out of his mouth. “I didn’t change.”
“You didn’t change?” the officer echoed.
“With the full moon last night,” he explained. “I. Didn’t. Change.”
For the first time in his life as a Lycan man, Benjamin Westfield hadn’t sprouted a tail, long snout, or paws with the coming of the full moon. He’d sought the moon the same way he always did, this time in a clearing in the woods, for his transformation. But last night nothing had happened. A moonbeam touched him, but the change that was so much a part of him didn’t come, and he’d stood there for an eternity waiting and wondering why he was broken.
Major Forster’s face drained of its color and his mouth fell open. “You didn’t change?” he repeated, this time in sotto voce, with a world of meaning in his words.
Ben shook his head. “Do you know why?”
“Benjamin, we always change.”
“Well, not me. Not last night.”
The major motioned for two more glasses. “What happened?”
“Nothing happened. The moon hit me like it always does. But I didn’t feel the pain, nor the joy, of changing. Nothing happened at all.”
Major Forster scratched his head. “Prior to last night, did you feel the same call of the moon in the days leading up to the moonful?” He pushed a glass of whisky toward Ben with the tips of his fingers.
Ben sighed. Now that he mentioned it, he hadn’t felt the same call. He hadn’t been lusty or angry or felt the need to withdraw. But he hadn’t really paid it much attention. Changing was as natural to him as breathing. It had been a part of him for fourteen of his twenty-six years, since adolescence.
Ben could only shake his head in dismay as he slumped in his chair. “No. I don’t believe I did.”
“Do you believe this has anything to do with that little incident in Brighton last month?” Major Forster raised one eyebrow.
Ben’s eyes shot up quickly to meet the major’s. “How did you know about that?”
“News travels quickly in our circle, Benjamin.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt her,” Ben mumbled.
“We never do,” the major said as he clapped a hand to Ben’s shoulder. “What did Blackmoor have to say about it?”
Ben exhaled loudly and shook his head. “What didn’t he have to say about it?” he breathed.
“That bad, huh?”
“Worse,” Ben admitted.
“Those of our kind have to be aware of our strength—and our lust—as the moon grows fuller.” His eyes narrowed as he regarded Ben.
“I know. Believe me, I have heard it all from Simon. ‘You can’t be with a woman that close to the phase of the moon. You could get out of control. How many times do I have to tell you? Now look what happened!’” He mocked his oldest brother’s imperious tone.
Major Forster chuckled.
“The woman was just scared. Really scared. Who would have thought that a whore would have been so squeamish?”
“Blackmoor, obviously.”
Ben finally took a sip of his whisky and appreciated the way it made his eyes water. At least he felt something then. “I went to see the woman after the full moon. She’s doing just fine. She actually apologized to me for screaming loud enough to call the watch.”
“What did you learn from that experience?” the major asked.
“That I can’t control the beast when it’s so close to the full moon. I thought I could.” He waved a hand in the air. “Other Lycans control themselves with women. They get along beautifully together.”
“You will learn more about the type of relationship they have when you meet your own mate, my boy.”
“But what do I do about not changing? I think I’m broken. I need to go back.”
“There’s only one way to go back,” Major Forster mumbled as he scrubbed a hand across his mouth.
“Pardon?”
The major coughed into his hand. “There’s only one person who can help you.” He stopped talking and fixed his stare on his glass of whisky. Ben watched him for a moment.
“Major?” he finally prompted him.
The man finally tore his gaze from the glass. “Yes?” he asked, obviously distracted by his own thoughts.
“You were going to tell me how to fix it.”
“Oh, yes.” The man sat forward. “You must find a healer.”
“A what?”
“A healer,” the major repeated.
“You mean a witch?” Ben fought back a hysterical laugh. He’d come to his father’s old friend for guidance, and he was going to send him to find a fabled creature that didn’t exist. Oh, life was not working in his favor.
“A witch. A healer. Call it what you will. But you must find one.”
“Everyone knows that witches are the things of legends and myths.”
“As are we, my boy. As are we. But you can take my word for it, Benjamin. They do exist.”
Two
ELSPETH BRUSHED HER HAIR FROM HER EYES AND SECURED it with a pewter hair comb. Her fingertips lingered a moment over the raised surface of the comb, which was etched with the form of a large dog, his snout raised in the air. It was one of the only things she had left of her mother.
Despite the fact that it had been given to her mother by the man who left her with child, Elspeth adored the piece because her mother had never been without it. It had held back Rosewyth Campbell’s flaming red hair every day that El could remember. And now it held back hers.
The flyaway locks were quite a nuisance at times. She never could quite keep the wayward tresses in a tidy chignon at her neck like most girls. Her hair had a mind of its own. And it didn’t want to be tamed. Much like Elspeth herself refused to be tamed.
Before her mother had died, El’s lack of social graces had been the cause of their most frequent arguments.
Elspeth smiled to herself as she thought of her mother telling her to tie her hair back with a ribbon to keep it out of her face. Or to tuck it under her bonnet so that no one would notice her constant state of dishabille.
Caitrin broke her from her memories. “I ken ye want ta meet him.”
“Meet who?” Elspeth asked, her mind on other matters.
“The one who wears the mark of the beast.”
Elspeth sighed. “Since ye can see the future, ye must ken I’m already curious.”
“Curiosit
y is in yer soul, El. No’ in yer future,” the girl chuckled as she hooked her arm through Elspeth’s and dragged her down the street.
“I canna help it if I’ve a naturally inquisitive mind.”
Caitrin leaned close and whispered dramatically, “I believe the word is ‘meddlesome.’”
“I am no’ meddlesome.” Elspeth spat it out like the vilest of curse words. Then she couldn’t hold back her grin. “I just need ta ken everythin’ about everyone and help out if needed.”
“Exactly. Meddlesome,” Caitrin laughed, but then she sobered. “What do ye think it means? The mark?”
Elspeth had really hoped they’d changed the subject. “Honestly, I have no idea.”
“But that is what yer mother called the mark you have?”
Elspeth’s fingers automatically slid over her left wrist, where her own moon-shaped mark marred her skin. “She did. My father was a beast. And he wore the mark. So I wear the mark. That’s all she ever said about it.”
“Ye doona ken more than that? Surely she said somethin’ about the man who sired ye.”
“Very little,” Elspeth confessed. Whenever the subject arose, her mother’s eyes would fill with tears and the conversation came to an end. El eventually stopped asking questions. “All I ken is he was a large man. He stood a head and shoulders taller than most others, my grandfather says.”
“And he just disappeared?” Caitrin asked, unable to hide her scandalized tone.
Though they were members of a mystical coven, none of whom followed social strictures, being the bastard daughter of Rosewyth Campbell was still offensive to propriety. “Aye. After he got what he needed from my mother, he disappeared. I canna help but wonder what he needs from me now.”
Caitrin stopped in her tracks, drawing Elspeth to a halt. “Ye canna go with him, El.”
“Doona ye think I ken that?” She started walking again toward the dress shop on Queen Street.
Caitrin chased after her. “Aye, but…”
“I have no intention of leavin’ with him, Cait. But I have ta meet him, especially if he’s come for me. He’s part of me and… well, I doona expect ye ta understand.” She pushed open the door to the shop, and a little bell tinkled as she stepped inside.
Almost at once she was nearly knocked to the ground by the suffocating sandalwood scent that assaulted her. Elspeth blinked back tears and stared up into the dark brown eyes of Mr. Alec MacQuarrie. “My dear Miss Campbell,” he began smoothly in his cultured English accent. When Caitrin entered the shop, his smile broadened to that of a lovesick puppy. “And Miss Macleod. It is truly a pleasure seeing you this fine morning.”
Caitrin shot Elspeth her most exasperated look. In the last few weeks, it had seemed as though they couldn’t go anywhere that Mr. MacQuarrie didn’t show up. There was nothing outwardly offensive about the fellow, other than his unwanted and pointed attention constantly focused on the pretty, blond Caitrin. Mr. MacQuarrie was quite handsome with burnished auburn hair, an athletic build, and a strong chin. However, he was well aware of his attributes and often appeared more vain than the silliest of debutantes. But, Elspeth supposed, a fine English education would probably have that effect on anyone.
“Mr. MacQuarrie,” Elspeth replied with a fraudulent smile as Caitrin turned her attention to the young shop girl. “I certainly wouldna think the interior of Mairghread’s dress shop would interest ye of all people.”
His smile didn’t falter. “I was hoping to find the perfect ribbon for the perfect girl.” His eyes flashed to Caitrin. Then he whispered, “Might you take pity on me, lass? I think you know her tastes better than I.”
Before she could respond, Caitrin cast him an irritated glare. “Alec MacQuarrie, have ye taken ta followin’ me now? And pesterin’ my friends ta help with yer suit?”
“Miss Macleod,” he pressed, stepping around Elspeth. “You can’t fault me for wanting to bask in your presence, can you?”
“I see no future for us, Mr. MacQuarrie.”
Elspeth had to smother her laugh. Alec MacQuarrie would never get around that objection. Poor fellow just didn’t know it.
Undeterred, Mr. MacQuarrie clasped Caitrin’s hands. “Let me escort you somewhere. Anywhere. If I can’t turn your head, I’ll leave you be.”
Caitrin’s frown darkened.
“Give me at least a chance.”
“And then ye’ll leave me be? No more followin’ me in ta dress shops or ta the park or—”
“You have my word as a gentleman.”
Elspeth turned away from the pair and smiled at the shop girl. “I doona suppose the muslin I ordered has come in?”
The young girl nodded, apparently relieved not to bear witness to Caitrin and Mr. MacQuarrie’s exchange any longer. “Just this mornin’, Miss Campbell. Would ye like me ta package it up for ye?”
“That would be wonderful. Thank ye.”
Elspeth turned around to see Alec MacQuarrie escape back on to Queen Street. She glanced at Caitrin. “So?”
Her friend shrugged. “So I told him he could take me ta Sorcha’s ball. That should put an end ta it.”
“But that’s a fortnight away. Ye doona want ta dispense with him earlier than that?”
A beautiful smile lit Caitrin’s face. “He is rather handsome. And I’d prefer no’ ta attend the Fergusons’ ball without an escort.”
“I see.” More likely Caitrin didn’t want to have to face Wallace Ferguson all alone. In addition to the gift of second sight, Caitrin Macleod had been gifted with the body and face of an angel, which most men found positively alluring. It was one thing to rebuff the attentions of Alec MacQuarrie, but more difficult to do so with the brother of one of her sister witches.
“Ye can wipe that smug look off yer face, Elspeth Campbell, I ken what ye’re thinkin’. I’m no’ afraid ta face Wallace Ferguson.”
“Of course no’.”
Her friend heaved a sigh. “We were talkin’ about yer father before MacQuarrie stumbled upon us.”
“So we were. But I believe we’ve finished that conversation.”
The shop girl stepped back into the room with a brown wrapped package. “Here ye are, Miss Campbell.”
“Thank ye,” Elspeth replied and handed the girl a coin for her troubles. Then she turned to leave the store with Caitrin right on her heels.
“Just promise ye’ll be careful.”
Elspeth grinned her most charming smile. “I am always careful.”
“Ha!” Caitrin replied, though Elspeth could barely hear her over the sounds of passing carriages.
Ben crept down the stairs of his rented townhouse. He felt like the biggest of fools, sneaking from his own rooms. But he hoped he could escape London, find the healer in Edinburgh that Major Forster mentioned, and return without either of his brothers being the wiser. It was a ridiculous plan. One or both of them were certain to miss him for the month or longer the entire journey would most likely take.
A healer!
He’d gone and lost his bloody mind.
“Ah, there you are,” came a booming voice behind him. Ben cringed before turning around to face his brother Lord William Westfield.
“Morning, Will.”
His brother’s icy blue eyes raked across Ben and his portmanteau, and he had to keep himself from reacting.
“Going somewhere?”
“Uh,” Ben began, searching for the right words. “Just an impromptu trip up north.”
“An impromptu trip up north?” Will echoed. “That sounds rather nondescript.”
Damn his irritating brother. Ben shrugged, hoping he projected the carefree man he’d been a sennight ago. “Just visiting a friend. Nothing much to tell.”
Will leaned his large frame against the doorway leading to a parlor. “A female friend?”
The last bit of Ben’s patience evaporated. “God damn it, Will! What are you after?” When a look of surprise flashed in his brother’s eyes, a prickling of guilt washed over Ben. “Sorry. I didn’
t sleep well.”
That at least was the truth. He kept hearing Major Forster’s words about witches and healers every time he closed his eyes. It was no wonder he was jumpy this morning.
“You feeling all right?”
Ben nodded. “I, uh, got word from Alec MacQuarrie in Edinburgh. He’s been bored out of his mind and asked me to visit.” Thankfully he knew someone up north to pull off this ruse, at least temporarily. He hoped MacQuarrie was still in Scotland. It had been a month or two since he’d last heard from his old friend, which was unusual. Something must have captured his attention.
“Oh.” Will frowned. “Well, I suppose, considering what happened in Brighton, it’s not such a bad idea for you to change your scenery for a while.”
Ben closed his eyes. He didn’t want to think about the incident in Brighton, and he hated that both his brothers knew about it. He hated that everyone seemed to know about it. “Well, there you are. If the inquisition is over, I’d like to start my journey.”
Will pushed himself away from the door frame and smiled. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather stay here? I’m supposed to meet Simon for lunch today.”
All he needed was for both of his brothers to hover and watch his every move. The image sealed his resolve to find the fabled healer the major spoke of, as ridiculous as it sounded. Ben shook his head. “And leave poor MacQuarrie to his own devices? I wouldn’t be much of a friend to desert him in his time of need.”
Will laughed. “Very well. Travel safe, will you?”
“I always do.”
Three
AFTER TRAVELING THE NORTH ROAD FOR NEARLY a fortnight, Ben was relieved when the city of Edinburgh finally came into view from his coach window. He’d sent a note to Alec, inviting himself to stay with his old Cambridge pal at his home, and he hoped his friend had received the missive. He would hate to show up unannounced.
However, Alec had dropped in on him in London more times than he could count. So he felt that turnabout was fair play. In fact, the last time Alec had paid him a visit, he’d left Ben in quite a mess. He could still hear the clipped tones of Simon’s voice, which spoke of his disappointment in his youngest sibling.