Lydia Dare Wolf Bundle

by Lydia Dare

  “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 her 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; Elspeth 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.’”

  Tumshie heids? “What is that?”

  “Loosely translated?” she giggled. “Turnip heads.”

  “I see. He didn’t want you to be a turnip head?” Ben smiled at her.

  “He wanted me ta be better than the others. He never let me feel sorry for myself.”

  “He sounds like a wonderful man.”

  Elspeth smiled up at him. “He was the best of men. He always pushed me ta do my best.”

  “Sounds like my brother.” Simon’s last lecture echoed in his ears.

  She stopped walking and faced him. “Ye never speak of yer family.”

  Ben shrugged. “There’s nothing much to tell.”

  “I doona believe that for a second. Ye come from a family of Lycans, and yer oldest brother is a duke.”

  When she put it that way, he couldn’t help but laugh. “I suppose I don’t think of them in those terms. They’re just my family.”

  “There are three of ye?”

  He nodded and led her deeper into the woods. “Simon is the Duke of Blackmoor, and William is the next in line. I’m off the hook unless they both fail to produce an heir.”

  “Is neither one of them married?”

  Ben laughed again, finding the image of Simon or Will in front of an altar particularly humorous. When she stared at him, he brought his levity under control. “Sorry, it’s just hard to imagine. You see, Simon is extremely careful where women are concerned. He keeps them from getting too close, lest they discover our secret.”

  “And William?” she prodded.

  “Is a stubborn mule.”

  “What do ye mean by that?”

  “There’s a girl back home—Prisca. Her family is our closest neighbor in Hampshire. She has a hoard of brothers, and we all grew up together. Anyway, she and Will… Well, he should have married her long ago. It’s obvious how the two of them feel about each other, but Will walked away from her and never looked back.”

  “Why?”

  In the distance, Ben could hear a large number of people heading their direction. “I think the funeral is over, Ellie. Are you ready to return?”

  She faced him and smiled softly. “Ben, thank ye for everythin’.”

  He wished he could do more. Once he got her to London, he’d do everything he could to make her happy. A strand of her hair had come loose from her wolf clips, and he curled it around his finger. “It was nothing.”

  “How can ye say that?” she whispered.

  “Because,” he began and dipped his head down to hers. “I want to give you everything.”

  Then he touched his lips to hers. The rest of the world vanished for a moment, but not nearly long enough.

  The rest of the day was a blur to Elspeth. It seemed as if all of Edinburgh had come out for her grandfather’s feast. Neighbors, people she hadn’t seen in ages, and some people she’d never met before. But only Ben kept her interest. He never left her. Whenever she was thirsty, he handed her a drink. If she was hungry, he got her a plate. When she was tired, he made her sit.

  Caitrin, Sorcha, Rhiannon, and Blaire watched on from a distance, but they never approached her. Somewhere in the back of Elspeth’s mind she knew that something had changed in her life.

  Twenty-two

  ONCE BEN AND ALL THE TOWNSPEOPLE LEFT, IT TOOK less than a minute for the five witches to return the cottage and land to its usual state. After a few simple spells, no one would ever know that half of Scotland had been there moments earlier.

  Elspeth collapsed onto her settee, ready to fall asleep as soon as her friends returned to their homes. The four of them had watched her all afternoon but hadn’t really spoken to her, until now.

  “Ye ken I doona like him,” Sorcha began.

  Elspeth closed her eyes and willed them away. Were they going to have this conversation again? “Please doona start. No’ tonight. Ye can all have a go at me in the mornin’.”

  Sorcha flopped down next to her and Elspeth opened her eyes. The girl was frowning. “I was just goin’ ta say I thought he was real nice ta ye today. Real attentive.”

  Rhiannon dropped into a chair across from them. “Almost as though he knew what ye needed all day without ye havin’ ta tell him.”

  “Ye really are connected,” Blaire added from her spot across the room.

  “Aye.” They really were connected, in more ways than her friends could understand.

  “Well,” Sorcha added quietly, “if ye do leave us for him, I could understand it.”

  “Sorcha!” Caitrin barked from the doorway, arms folde
d across her chest.

  The youngest witch thrust out her chin. “Well, I could, Cait. He’s handsome and rich and—”

  “A beast,” the seer reminded them all.

  “There is that,” Sorcha replied. “But a well-behaved one. Did ye no’ see how he took care of El the whole day?”

  “Do ye ken what will happen if Elspeth goes with him? Our circle will fall apart. In six hundred years the circle has never been broken.”

  “What will happen if we separate?” Sorcha asked quietly. “Will we lose our magic?”

  “We canna be certain,” Caitrin said with a pointed look toward Elspeth. “It has never happened.”

  “I ken,” Sorcha whispered. “I just wish it wasna that way. It seems like he wants ta make El happy, and I think she deserves that.”

  “We all want Elspeth ta be happy. Just with a decent human. Edinburgh is no’ small. There are many men ta choose from.”

  Elspeth had heard enough. They could go on like this for hours. When she saw them next, they’d probably still be discussing it. She rose from her seat. “I’m goin’ ta bed. Once ye’ve all sorted out my life, let me ken what ye’ve come up with.” She awoke early the next morning. It felt a bit strange to be in the cottage all alone, but it was something she would get accustomed to in time.

  Ben, Ben, Ben. She’d thought about him all night, even dreamed about him. She supposed she should go through her mother’s old things looking for something Lycan related. How did one go about healing a werewolf who can’t change with the moon?

  While an enchanted spoon stirred her oatmeal cooking on the stove, Elspeth removed the rug from the kitchen floor, revealing a hidden door. She hadn’t been in her mother’s space for years, as she preferred to work on her potions aboveground.

  She tugged the door up and peered into the darkness beneath her cottage. Shivers raced down her spine. She’d always hated the stale air and freezing room down below. Her mother had loved the quiet and solitude of the dank quarters. She wasn’t afraid of the darkness or the bugs and would sequester herself there for hours at a time, completely engrossed in a new project.

  Elspeth tested the top rung of the ladder with her weight. She was surprised when she found it held her with ease. She held a candle aloft and stopped as she descended into the darkness to periodically wipe spider webs from her path. The most stubborn webs clung to her hair and clothing. She fought back revulsion as she pulled the majority of the sticky strands from her hair. When her foot hit the solid earth that was the room’s floor, relief flooded her. She lifted the candle and used it to light tapers on the wall. The room was immediately flooded with light. Much better.