by Lydia Dare
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 arms. 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.
&nbs
p; “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.
His tongue slid against hers, and she had no choice but to reach and meet him with her own. They played a game of catch and retreat, neither losing. This was a winning game for both of them.
Elspeth’s heart beat so hard she feared it would clamor so loudly he could hear it. His hand wrapped tighter around her waist, drawing her even closer. The length of him pressed against her belly.
She broke their kiss. “Ye have been with a lass, I’d wager.” Breaths heaved from her in gasps.
“What makes you think that?” he chuckled.
“Ye doona kiss like ye have problems with things workin’.” She glanced down his body.
He tugged her closer to him, if that was possible, and growled closer to her ear. “You make things work just fine.” His lips pressed against the sensitive skin beneath her ear just before he cupped her bottom and pulled her against his hardness. She yelped and swatted at his chest.
A loud cough drew her attention. It actually sounded more like someone was strangling Caitrin, but she assumed her friend meant for it to be a cough.
Ben allowed her to step back and turned to face the churchyard. “You go. I’ll follow along in a moment. I think we have some things to discuss.”
They certainly did.
Elspeth was sure her blush matched her hair, if the scandalized look on Caitrin’s face was any indication. Her friend hooked her arm with Elspeth’s and practically dragged her back toward the cottage. “Have ye gone and lost yer fool mind?” she hissed.
That was a distinct possibility. She thought she’d been in control of the situation, right up until his lips touched hers. “It was just a kiss, Cait.”
“Ha! And I’m Mary Queen of Scots.”
“Ye look rather good for yer age, and with the missin’ of yer head,” she countered. Though she knew Caitrin had a point. It was more than just a kiss. Not that Elspeth regretted it for one moment. The feel of his hands, of his body pressed so close to hers, made her shiver at the thought.
“I dinna tell ye this last night, what with yer grandfather, El, but Westfield’s the one. He’s the one from my vision.”
Elspeth shook her head as they neared the cottage. “Do ye think I’m daft? I saw the looks between ye and Sorcha. But ye’re wrong, Cait. He just has an ailment. He was lookin’ for my mother—”
“Aye, Sorcha told me. Doona ye think it strange that he came lookin’ for Rosewyth Campbell? The last beast that came ta these parts left her with a bairn ta raise and no proper name ta give either of ye.”
Elspeth ripped her arm from Caitrin’s. Never in all the years of their friendship had Cait spoken so vilely of the circumstances of her birth. If her friend had struck her across the face, she would have been less stunned. “I suppose I should thank ye for puttin’ me back in my place, Cait. I nearly forgot ye were higher born than me.”
Her friend closed her blue eyes and sighed. “I dinna mean it the way it sounded. I’m just trying ta get ye ta see reason.” She opened her eyes and pierced Elspeth with the intensity of her stare. “He is the one from my vision, El. He bears the mark. He will try ta take ye from us. And from what I’ve seen, he’s done a mighty fine job of that so far.”
The mark? Was it possible? Elspeth felt a connection to Ben Westfield, but she didn’t think it was the mark. It didn’t feel like she expected it to. But mark or no mark, he’d come for her help—actually her mother’s help, but it was the same power. If he thought Rosewyth could heal him, she was certain she could. She probably should have asked the extent of his ailment, however.
It was hard to imagine that he had anything wrong with him. She’d never met a more virile man. He’d searched the countryside all night looking for her hair combs. How many ailing men could do that? How many healthy ones could?
She leveled her dearest friend with a furious glare. “We each have our roles, Caitrin. You’re a seer and I’m a healer. If Benjamin Westfield needs me ta heal him, I’ll do so. I doona expect ye ta understand, but I do expect ye ta respect my decision.”
“Ladies,” Ben’s deep voice came from behind them.
Elspeth nearly jumped out of her skin. “Heavens, Ben! I dinna hear ye.”
A wolfish grin spread across his face. “I do tend to move quietly. Am I interrupting?”
Elspeth turned back to Caitrin to find her glowering. “Ye’re no’ the only one this affects, El. Bear that in mind.”
Then her dearest friend in the world stomped off through the trees.
Twelve
A
T FIRST BEN DIDN’T BELIEVE HIS EARS, THOUGH THEY’D never failed him in the past. Caitrin Macleod was a seer? The image of five beautiful women standing together at the Fergusons’ flashed in his eyes. A seer. A healer. A coven. Not the hooked-nose witches from Macbeth, but a coven just the same.
Did the good people of Edinburgh know who resided right under their noses? And what powers did the other three women possess?
Not that it mattered overmuch. He’d come for a healer, and he heard Elspeth vow to help him. Whatever Caitrin Macleod thought he was after, she was wrong. He wanted only to return to his Lycan self, then he’d leave them in peace.
Leave her. Elspeth. He’d only known the woman a day, but the thought of leaving her pained him. He shook the thought from his head. Major Forster had said a Lycan bonds with his healer. That’s all it was. Though the pull the lass had on him was stronger than any he could ever remember. He’d have to take special care not to let things progress to where they shouldn’t. He didn’t think Elspeth could handle it. Who was he kidding? He didn’t think he could handle it.
God, but she felt good in his arms.
“Ye look a million miles away, Ben.” Her lilting voice brought him back to the present.
“I suppose I was in a way. Are you really a… healer, Elspeth?” A witch, he wanted to ask, but thought better of it.
“Aye. As was my mother before me, and her mother before her, and on and on.”
Ben smiled. His family’s heritage was much the same. All Lycan males, until him. Until this.
“What exactly is yer ailment? I’ve never seen a healthier man.”
Healthy, at least, in all the ways anyone could see. It was inside where he was broken. Ben stared at her. To get her help he’d have to be honest. How was she to fix him otherwise? He’d left his home and come all this way to find her. Well, to find Rosewyth.
Still, being a Lycan wasn’t something one openly admitted. In London he’d be locked in Bedlam if he even thought of telling anyone. Or Newgate. He wasn’t sure which was worse. Creatures like him usually only confessed all to their intended mates.
An image of mating with Elspeth flashed in his mind, and he couldn’t shake it away. Bonding. It was just bonding with his healer. He could tell her. He had to.