Taming of the Wolf

by Lydia Dare

  “You’re the seer,” he said quietly. “And Elspeth’s the healer, and—”

  Cait’s foot faltered on the steps. They weren’t allowed to discuss their coven except with their families, who already knew the truth. She shook her head. “Ye’re bein’ ridiculous.”

  He looked down on her with a dark intensity. “That’s why you said you didn’t see a future for us. No matter how hard I pressed, you wouldn’t budge.”

  Cait could only stare at him.

  “But I prefer to make my own destiny, Cait.”

  “I—um—I’m certain Lord Brimsworth is waitin’ for us,” she mumbled.

  Alec’s hold on her arm tightened. “Have you seen him in your future?”

  Cait shook her head. “No,” she answered honestly.

  He heaved a huge sigh. “Good.” Then he continued to direct her down the steps and into the overflowing taproom. “Brimsworth has secured a private room.”

  Cait’s head swam, and no words came to her mouth. Everything was spiraling out of her control. Alec couldn’t renew his suit of her. His destiny lay along another path, and then there was—

  “Caitie.” Dash stepped from a private dining room at the other end of the room. His amber gaze drifted across her and left Cait feeling slightly breathless. He frowned as his eyes landed on her hand tucked into the crook of Alec’s arm.

  “Where did you meet him?” Alec grumbled under his breath.

  Cait tilted her head to better see the man whom she’d foolishly fallen for as a young girl. “Westfield Hall.”

  Alec scowled. “And I thought Ben was my friend.”

  Before she knew it, Dash was before her, taking her other arm with his hand. Heat radiated from him and tingled across her skin. “I am glad to see you’re not so cold anymore, angel.”

  Alec looked down at her, a question upon his face. “Cold? Angel?”

  “Aye, after walkin’ in the rain,” she admitted, shooting a look at Dashiel. She had a feeling she was in for a long night.

  Twelve

  Dash had never been ignored quite so well in his life, unless he counted interactions with his father into the number. The marquess had a way about him that made Dash feel insignificant, something he’d grown accustomed to in the years after his Lycan traits had become obvious.

  But he’d never wanted to be a part of a group as badly as he did over dinner at The Black Swan. Most importantly, he wanted to be a part of Alec MacQuarrie and Caitrin’s group. He wanted to be a trusted friend. He wanted Cait to look at him with fondness as she did MacQuarrie.

  “Do you remember the time Sorcha talked you into climbing the tree in the garden and you fell out of it?”

  Caitrin laughed softly. “Aye, I remember I thought I’d tumble ta my death.”

  “Then, at the last minute, you were falling through the air and the next, you lay in a soft bed of leaves. It was almost as though they’d been placed there just to cushion your fall.”

  Dash noted that she refused to meet Alec’s eyes when she responded, pretending interest in her meal. “Aye, it was a miracle.”

  “A miracle?” Dash asked slowly. Cait raised her eyes and looked into his. There was a subtle warning there. He just wished he knew what it was.

  “Aye,” she said as she took a sip of her wine and avoided discussing the topic any more.

  “So, Brimsworth,” MacQuarrie said as he focused his dark eyes on Dash. “What are your thoughts about predetermined fate?”

  Dash gulped. What the devil did the man mean by that? Did he know of his connection to Caitrin? “I believe things happen the way they are supposed to,” he answered enigmatically.

  The cultured Scot smiled wickedly. “How unfortunate for you, then.”

  “What does that mean?” Dash asked as he stabbed a piece of mutton.

  MacQuarrie shrugged. “Just that I think a man ought to make his own future. I don’t believe my life is mapped out regardless of my wants and desires.”

  Cait’s face turned a bit purple, which made Dash feel sure he was missing something important. He’d make her tell him later. He wished he could take her hand in his and soothe her, though that was impossible with the Scot sharing their table.

  “So, tell me, Mr. MacQuarrie,” Dash began, “have you known Cait all her life?”

  MacQuarrie nodded. “Most of it. I left Edinburgh as a boy to attend Harrow, but I’ve been home often enough over the years.”

  There it was again. Edinburgh. Dash turned his gaze on Caitrin. “I was under the impression Glasgow was your home.”

  She shifted a bit uncomfortably. “I’m no’ sure where ye got that idea, my lord. I certainly never said such a thing.”

  No, but she’d let him go on believing it. And the whole thing turned his plan upside down. How was he to court her in Edinburgh and train with his mentor in Glasgow at the same time? “Major Forster’s family is from Glasgow. You and Lady Elspeth are close, so I just assumed…”

  “Lady Elspeth also hails from Edinburgh,” MacQuarrie informed him rather smugly.

  Dash needed all of his self-control to keep from knocking the self-satisfied look off the man’s face. “Does she indeed?” he ground out.

  “Aye. Lived her whole life on the outskirts of town until she married my good friend Benjamin Westfield.”

  Perfect. The damned man was a friend of the Westfields’. Could his luck get any worse?

  “Though my eyes have only ever been for Miss Macleod.” The supercilious Scot reached to cover Cait’s hand with his own and Dash grunted, forcing himself to maintain his control.

  Cait tugged her hand from beneath MacQuarrie’s, and the man laughed. “A bit too stubborn for anyone’s good, I must admit.”

  “Alec!” she gasped.

  Dash bristled at the sound of the other man’s name on her lips. It was as though she’d known him a lifetime, which in truth, she probably had.

  The man had a decided advantage over Dash. He had an entertaining list of memories he could rattle off at a moment’s notice. Dash only had a few stolen moments of passion. There was no comparison. It was like watching Prisca with William Westfield all over again, only worse. He’d never felt the connection to Prisca that he did with Caitrin. He wouldn’t recover if he lost her.

  “All right,” Cait laughed. “I’ll admit it. I can be a bit stubborn.”

  “A bit?” both men said at once. Dash couldn’t hide his grin at her over-reaction when she sat back suddenly and huffed as though she’d been affronted.

  “A lot,” she finally acquiesced. “And yet ye both still want ta spend time with me. So I must be doin’ somethin’ right.”

  There was his Caitie. Mouthy as the day was long. He loved her gumption.

  “It certainly helps that you’re beautiful,” Dash said, smiling softly at her. A pretty blush crept up her cheeks. One point for the Brimsworth team. It was all he could do not to smirk.

  “Beauty fades,” MacQuarrie stated blandly. “What Caitrin has will last forever. It’s part of her. And part of what makes her so perfectly lovable.”

  Lovable. Dash nearly choked on his wine. He had never loved a woman in his life. He’d been in bed with more than he could remember, but he’d never truly loved one. What would the emotion even feel like if it were to happen?

  “Alec, what are ye doin’ in Leeds? I thought ye were in London. Elspeth said she and Benjamin dined with ye no’ long ago.”

  The Scot leaned back in his chair and regarded her. “Aye, I did. Lord Hallam has a hunting box in the area, and he invited me up last week. Elspeth seemed happy.”

  Caitrin smiled. “She is. Benjamin finally finished that monstrosity of a home he was buildin’. Ye’ll have ta see it.”

  MacQuarrie turned his attention to Dash. “Have you met the other w—?” He grunted and abruptly cut his words off as he reached to rub his shin. “You don’t have to kick me, lass,” he said under his breath. But Dash heard every word. “Your secret is safe with me.”

  “
What secret would that be?” Dash hated the idea that they were keeping a confidence from him.

  “There is no secret, my lord,” Cait said. “He’s referrin’ ta my friends, the young women I spend most of my time with.”

  The friends who were like sisters she’d mentioned earlier. He’d obviously missed something important. “Tell me about them again.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could utter a sound, MacQuarrie spoke. “You’ve met Elspeth?”

  Dash nodded. “Benjamin Westfield’s wife.”

  “Aye, just being in the room with her can make one feel better, tenfold. Then there’s Rhiannon Sinclair. And Blaire Lindsay. And Sorcha Ferguson. Rhiannon can almost always be found out of doors. She’s daft enough to stand outside in the pouring rain.”

  “She’s no’ daft,” Caitrin broke in. “Just because she likes the elements doesna mean she’s meant for Bedlam.”

  “And Blaire can shoot an arrow straighter than even I can. Or any of the other men in Edinburgh. We finally had to stop inviting her to affairs with sporting events. Or she’d make us all look like weaklings.”

  “Maybe ye are weaklings?” Caitrin said prettily, obviously goading the man on.

  “And Sorcha?” Dash asked.

  “Sorcha is but a child,” MacQuarrie said wistfully.

  “She’s the youngest of my circle of friends. But she’s no longer in leadin’ strings, unlike what Mr. MacQuarrie implies. Many women are married by her age,” she reminded the Scot.

  “Sorcha makes anyone around her want to be a better person.” MacQuarrie shrugged his shoulders. “Everyone who knows her loves her.”

  “And if they doona love her yet, they will soon enough,” Caitrin sighed out, a bit of sorrow in her tone. Though why that made her sad, Dash had no idea.

  ***

  Caitrin tried to keep the tone of melancholy from her statement. But, in truth, she’d always had a fondness for Alec MacQuarrie, and, at some point, a mutual understanding had been made apparent, one that placed him with her for a lifetime. But no matter how well they rubbed along, Cait already knew he was meant for someone else. He wasn’t, and never would be, hers.

  She glanced across the table at Dashiel Thorpe, who had amazingly maintained impeccable manners throughout the meal. He was an intelligent man, one whose wildness must surely be his handicap. It was gratifying to see that he could shed it when he needed to do so and become a perfect gentleman.

  “What are your plans for the future, Mr. MacQuarrie?” Dash asked.

  Alec shrugged. “I have no plans for the time being. I’ll return home soon, I imagine, and resume management of my estates. I’m only taking a short respite from reality at the moment.”

  “Respites from reality usually indicate that one is unhappy with his lot in life.”

  Alec’s eyes narrowed, and he lowered his wine glass. “Not unhappy with my lot in life. I’m unhappy not to have an opportunity for the life I want.”

  “But ye’ll have one so much better, Alec,” Cait said, stopping him. “Trust me on this.”

  “How could it be better if you’re not in it?” Alec grumbled.

  Oh, dear. This was a really bad time for this conversation. Particularly with Alec suspecting her of being a member of the Còig.

  “I’ll be in it. Just no’ in the way ye want right now.”

  “And what if I don’t want you in my life, aside from in that capacity?”

  Caitrin gasped and sat back. “That is the most unkind thing ye’ve ever said ta me.” She felt tears sting the backs of her eyelids and stood up quickly.

  Alec stepped toward her, pain etched across his brow. She could immediately tell he regretted his words. But he’d already said them. And there was no taking them back.

  Before Alec could touch her, Dash stepped between them. The man was very fast; it must be a Lycan trait. He tipped her face up to his by gently cupping her cheek and tipping her head up. “May I see you to your room?”

  “Cait,” Alec tried.

  But she wasn’t in the mood to hear anything more from him. Not at that moment. “Yes, please,” she said to Dash, who immediately slid his arm around her and escorted her from the dining room.

  Dash’s hand on Caitrin’s waist warmed her all the way through her dress as they walked past the patrons in the taproom toward the stairs. “You’re obviously keeping something from me,” he whispered.

  Cait whipped her head up to look at him. She wasn’t about to do this now. Not again. Not here. Not after the conversation with Alec.

  “And what if I am?” she asked tartly. “I doona owe ye a thing, my lord. My life is just that—it’s mine. Stop behavin’ as though ye have a say in it.”

  Thirteen

  That went well. Dash berated himself as he watched Caitrin stomp off toward the steps alone. He shouldn’t have pushed her. After all, he was the one escorting her to her room. He should have kept his bloody mouth shut.

  But so many questions were nagging him after that uncomfortable dinner that he was apparently incapable of holding them in any longer.

  “Caitie,” he called after her, though she refused to turn back to look at him.

  He had to claim a Scottish lass with a temper, didn’t he? He couldn’t have sought out a mild-mannered English girl who would follow his every dictate and make his life easy. He had nothing except his own impulsiveness to blame for his predicament.

  Dash wasn’t even sure if it was a predicament. Every time his eyes settled on Caitrin, he felt a tug at his chest. Was it because he’d claimed her, or was there something more to it? Something predetermined? He didn’t feel like he was here because of some accident, some momentary loss of control. He felt as if he’d always known her. Yet he didn’t know her at all. He didn’t even know until this evening that she lived in Edinburgh, for God’s sake.

  Dash heaved a sigh and turned back toward the private dining room. He might not know her at all, but Alec MacQuarrie most assuredly did. He could get answers from one source or another.

  He found the man throwing back a whisky. MacQuarrie lowered his glass and leaned forward in his seat. “Well, that was faster than I expected.”

  “Oh?” Dash closed the door behind him. “What did you expect?”

  MacQuarrie shrugged, and then he poured himself another drink. “She doesn’t see you in her future either, you know?”

  Dash ground his teeth together. How the devil did the scoundrel know that? “She has no better idea of what’ll happen in the future than you or I. You speak as though she’s a soothsayer.”

  The Scot snorted. “You might be surprised.”

  Dash frowned at MacQuarrie, who obviously wasn’t the sort who could handle his liquor.

  The Scot raised his glass in a mock toast. “I’d wish you good luck with your pursuit, but I’d rather not.”

  Well, that was honest. Dash pointed to one of the empty chairs. “Do you mind?”

  “Help yourself.”

  Dash slid into the seat and regarded the man across from him. Alec MacQuarrie looked positively tortured. Was this an eerie prelude of his own future? The idea sent a chill down his spine. “You know something she’s keeping from me.”

  MacQuarrie leveled him with an icy stare. “If you’re asking me to divulge her secrets, you can save your breath. I’d sooner die.”

  Well, that was an option and not one Dash was particularly opposed to. “Hurting her is not part of my agenda.”

  “And what is your agenda?”

  Dash sighed. It was changing by the moment. “I plan to meet with Mr. Macleod and ask him for Caitrin’s hand.” And learn how to be a good little wolf, not that MacQuarrie needed to know that last bit.

  The Scot scoffed as he raised his glass to his lips. “Angus Macleod gave me his blessing. You can see the good it did me. Cait’ll make her own decision. So you might as well cut your losses. She won’t change her mind.”

  Of course, Dash couldn’t give up. His life was doomed unless h
e could convince her to marry him. “Macleod gave you his permission, but she refused you?” Stubborn chit. He’d thought for sure if he could get her father’s approval, she would have no choice but to accept his suit.

  MacQuarrie nodded. “She has her father wrapped around her pretty little finger. He lets her make her own decisions.”

  Damn! This was getting worse by the moment. She’d told him time and again they didn’t have a future. What could he do to get Caitrin to change her mind? Or what could he do to get Mr. Macleod to put his foot down and make her listen to reason? The answer leapt to his mind, and he winced.

  He hadn’t wanted to take her innocence. It seemed like such a cowardly act and was completely ignoble without his ring on her finger. But the rest of his future lay in the balance. Given the right situation, he could seduce her. She couldn’t continue to refuse him after that. Then he’d make it up to her for the rest of his days.

  It wasn’t much of a plan. But he didn’t have a lot to work with. And looking at the pained expression on Alec MacQuarrie’s face made him even more wary about ending up like the Scot. But MacQuarrie could find another woman of some sort. That wasn’t a possibility for Dash.

  “You look very serious all of a sudden.” MacQuarrie broke into his thoughts.

  “It’s just been a long day of travel.” In truth, he’d had several long days of travel, racing across England to catch up to his Scottish angel. “I think I’ll retire early.”

  MacQuarrie lifted his glass again. “Sleep well, Brimsworth. I may just follow you to Scotland, and you’ll need your wits about you.”

  Dash didn’t even bother to keep the growl from his voice. “Get in my way, MacQuarrie, and you will regret it.”

  ***

  “Lamont says the axle is cracked on the coach, Miss,” Jeannie said as soon as Cait stepped over the threshold.

  Her heart sank. A cracked axle. That didn’t sound good at all. Cait sighed. “Help me get out of this dress, Jeannie.”

  “But the coach, Miss—”

  She shook her head. “The problem will be there tomorrow. I’ll think about it then.”

  Jeannie made quick work of the dress and helped Cait into her nightrail. “Perhaps Mr. MacQuarrie could be of assistance,” her maid suggested.