Tall, Dark and Wolfish (10 page)

pierced Elspeth with the intensity of her stare. "He is the one from my vision, El. He bears the mark. He wil 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—actual y 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 al 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'l 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

At 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 al it was. Though the pul 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 mil ion miles away, Ben." Her lilting voice brought him back to the present.

"I suppose I was in a way. Are you real y 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. Al Lycan males, until him. Until this.

"What exactly is yer ailment? I've never seen a healthier man."

Healthy, at least, in al 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 al this way to find her. Wel , to find Rosewyth.

Stil , being a Lycan wasn't something one openly admitted. In London he'd be locked in Bedlam if he even thought of tel ing anyone. Or Newgate. He

wasn't sure which was worse. Creatures like him usual y only confessed al 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 tel her. He had

to.

"I'm a Lycan," he blurted out before he came to his senses. "Do you know what that is?"

She shook her head, though he noticed she rubbed the skin of her wrist beneath her gloves.

"A werewolf, in layman's terms."

He half expected her to run through the woods, screaming like a banshee, but she simply tilted her head to one side and waited for him to continue.

"You have nothing to say to that?"

She shrugged. "What would ye like me ta say?"

"I don't know. Maybe run in fear, at least."

Her beautiful smile returned. "I doona believe there is a thing about ye I should fear, Ben." Her gaze moved from the top of his head to the bottoms of his

feet, lingering as though she'd find the secret of his creation somewhere upon his person. "What does al of this mean? What does bein' a Lycan entail?

Do ye change ta a wolf every night?"

He shook his head. "No. We change only when the light of a ful moon touches us. The rest of the month we look like any other man, but beneath the

surface the beast inside struggles to be released, stronger in the days surrounding moonful."

"I see," she said looking up into the forest canopy above them, though the sun was high in the sky. "The moon is but a sliver now."

Ben heaved a sigh. It was easier to talk about this with her than he had expected. "I left almost immediately after the last moonful."

"Why?"

"I didn't transform."

"And ye
want
ta transform?" she asked with a frown.

"Of course I want to change," he barked. When her green eyes grew round, he shuffled his feet. "Sorry. I suppose I'm not explaining this wel after al . The

change
is part of me, Elspeth, who I am. I need to fix whatever is wrong with me."

Elspeth stared at the man in front of her. A Lycan. A werewolf. A beast. Caitrin had been right about that. Is that what the mark indicated? Again she

rubbed the mark on her wrist. Was that what her father was? Was that why he'd sought out her mother?

"Do ye have a mark, Ben?"

"A mark?"

"On yer skin?"

He smiled. "How did you know?"

Elspeth shrugged. "Lucky guess. Where is it? Can I see it?" Did it look like hers?

His grin widened. "Only if I remove al my clothes." He glanced around the woods. "I don't think this would be the place to show you."

Shivers danced across her skin at the thought of Ben Westfield without a stitch of clothing. As a healer, she'd seen men unclothed before, though she'd

thought nothing of it. Somehow she didn't think that would be the case with this man. "I'l , um, need ta see it. But no' here, no' now." Then she straightened

her shoulders and looked him square in the eye. "I'l need time ta figure out what ta do with ye. Can ye give me a few days?"

"You can have al the days you need, lass. Do you think you can heal me?"

"I've never encountered a case like yers before, but I'l do everythin' in my power." And she would try to locate any notes her mother may have left about

Lycans. Why hadn't her mother told her more?

Caitrin threw open the door to her father's study. She didn't know who else to turn to, and she was furious. Angus Macleod looked up from the papers on

his desk and regarded her with a look of amusement. "
Havers, Cait! Ye look like a
cat whose tail's been set aflame."

She glared at her father. "How flatterin'."

He chuckled and leaned back in his chair. "I'm glad ye're here, lass. A gentleman came ta see me today about ye."

Caitrin shook her head. Nothing he had to say could be more important than her current predicament. "Papa, did ye ever meet Elspeth's sire?"

Her father frowned and tapped his chin. "No, but yer mother did."

"Did she say anythin' about him?"

His laugh warmed the room. "A thing or two. Nothin' I'l repeat in yer presence, lass. Yer mother wasna one for cursin', but she made an exception for

Rosie's beast."

Caitrin rubbed her hands across her face. Could the man never be serious? "Oh, Papa!" she groaned. "I've seen a man, a beast," she clarified. "It's al

comin' ta pass. He'l take Elspeth from us and—"

"Now ye sound like my Fiona."

"Why?"

"Doona work yerself up, Cait. The visions are no' always accurate."

She blinked at her father. What was he talking about? Her visions had always been accurate. She'd never once been wrong. "Papa, ye doona seem ta

understand—"

"I lived with Fiona for a quarter of a century, Cait. I understand perfectly. She was right most of the time, I'l grant ye. But she wasna right about Rosewyth.

Maybe it's somethin' in the nature of these beasts; they mess with yer powers."

"What do ye mean she wasna right about Rosewyth?"

Her father sighed and sat forward in his seat. "I'd never seen Fiona more upset than she was when she received the first vision about the beast. She

kept rantin' and ravin'. The man was goin' ta take Rosie from the coven. The
Còig
would fal apart…"

Just like what she'd seen with Elspeth. Caitrin's heart began to race. She had no idea her mother had seen something similar.

"… turn out that way. So ye see, lass, yer mother wasna always correct—"

"Papa, I missed what ye said. Go back. Mama thought the
Còig
would fal apart," she prompted.

"Aye. Fiona said the man would come for Rosie and take her away. Then the man did come, but Rosie dinna go with him. She chose ta stay with the

coven instead. Just because ye can see what is supposed ta happen doesna mean that people canna change the course of the future."

It should have been good news that Rosewyth Campbel chose another path. It meant Elspeth could do the same. Yet it was troubling that her mother

had been wrong. Caitrin hadn't known that was possible.

"And speakin' of the future, Cait. The fel ow today, Mr. MacQuarrie, he stopped by early this mornin', wantin' ta speak with me."

Caitrin shook her head. "MacQuarrie is inconsequential, Papa." Though she wished he weren't. She'd seen such strength in him the night before, and

he made her warm and tingly al over. But his future lay along a different path.

"I'd hardly say that, Caitrin. The lad asked me for yer hand."

She gasped. She hadn't seen that coming either. Why not? Her mind was a jumble.

"I told him he had my blessin' but that ye made yer own decisions. Just like yer mother."

Thirteen

Ben ambled up the steps of Alec MacQuarrie's stately home. Before he could knock, the butler opened the door with a frown. Ben sighed. Must al Scots

frown at him? He was starting to take it personal y.

Honestly, he real y wasn't such a disagreeable fel ow. Most people, most English people, found him a delight to be around. He general y attended the

best parties, told the best stories, and spent the rest of his time with the best women. He couldn't understand why al of Scotland seemed to take umbrage

with him. Wel , al of Scotland except for Elspeth.

He'd left her in the care of the Fergusons and made her promise to get some rest, which was exactly what he planned to do once he reached