by Dare, Lydia
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."
"Curiosity 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."
<
br /> 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.
Being the youngest was difficult. For Ben, it meant he was never fully alone. His two older siblings constantly watched everything he did. Simon, the Duke of Blackmoor, did so in a fatherly fashion. A very strict father, who lived by a certain moral code. And Will, the middle brother, had stood back and watched Ben make a fool of himself on more than one occasion. Then he swooped out of nowhere, laughed like he'd done when they'd both been in short pants, and dusted him off. Then he stood back and let him do it all over again.
This time Ben was bound and determined to solve his little problem himself. It really wasn't a little problem, though. Not being able to change with the fullness of the moon was a huge problem for someone like him. It threw his whole life out of kilter.
And that was exactly how he felt when he stopped at the home of his oldest and dearest friend, Alec. Out of kilter. The coach pulled to a stop in front of the mansion, and Ben took a deep breath before he reached for the handle. He could do this. He could be his normal happy-go-lucky self, find the fabled witch who could heal him, and go home. Or he would do the opposite and prove the witch didn't exist. Either way, he'd had an opportunity to escape London in the wake of his recent scandal. And that alone was worth the trip.
Ben stretched his legs when he stepped out of the coach; they had never made those things big enough for men like him. The butler met him at the door, took his hat, and left him waiting in the parlor while he went to find Alec. Ben heard the stomp of booted feet as someone moved at a hurried pace down the corridor. At least Ben hadn't lost his keen sense of hearing when he'd lost his beastliness.
Ben was surprised to see that Alec was dressed in his best evening clothes. In fact, his friend wore a devil-may-care grin that made him look like quite a rake. It was a reputation well earned, much of which they'd cultivated together.
"Benjamin Westfield, is that you?" Alec said as he turned the corner. "I thought your letter said you'd be a few more days, my friend." He held out a hand to Ben.
"So you did receive my note?" Ben asked, extending his hand to shake. "I'm quite glad. I was afraid it wouldn't reach you and I would arrive without warning."
"I believe I did that to you last time I visited London, so that would have been just fine as well. Come, come," he said, motioning toward his study. "I have a bottle of whisky you can help me sample."
"You know, you didn't have to get quite so dressed up for my arrival," Ben joked as he accepted a glass of amber liquid and settled into a comfortable chair.
"I wish I could say this was for you." Alec smiled. "Alas, this is for a lady."
"Just as I thought. You've planned a night of debauchery and drinking, I assume." He crossed one foot over his knee.
Alec colored slightly. "Actually, no. I have planned a night of dancing, and if I'm lucky, I'll get a walk in the garden while I hold the girl's hand."
"
That
kind of a girl, is she?" Ben was shocked. His friend had never looked quite so discomfited to discuss a member of the opposite sex.
"That kind, aye," Alec admitted. "The kind I'm not quite sure what to do with."
"I feel sure that you'll come up with something. Where are you going?"
"The Fergusons are hosting a ball." He pulled his pocket watch from his breast pocket by the chain and flipped it open. "I have an hour yet before I'm to arrive at Miss Macleod's."
Ben grimaced. "Please tell me you're not a man besotted. I don't know what I would do with myself if my best friend shackled himself with a wife." He shivered dramatically.
"Not besotted. Just a bit intrigued. She wants nothing to do with me." Alec frowned into his whisky glass.
"Oh," Ben laughed loudly. So loudly and so long that he clutched his stomach. "A woman who won't give
you
the time of day. What a novelty!"
"It has never happened to me before, I must admit. But I do so love a challenge. Speaking of which, you should come along. The Fergusons won't mind if I bring one more, especially the brother of a duke. In fact, I am to escort a friend of Miss Macleod's as well. You can ride along and accompany her."
"When did two women become too much for you, Alec?"
The man looked shocked. "Never. I just didn't want you to feel all alone." Alec frowned. "There's a bit of scandal attached to Miss Macleod's friend, however. I hope that's not a problem for you."
"What kind of scandal?" Ben was suddenly intrigued.
"A circumstance of her birth, unfortunately," Alec sighed. "She is a bit illegitimate."