Tall, Dark and Wolfish (2 page)

"We never do," the major said as he clapped a hand to Ben's shoulder. "What did Blackmoor have to say about it?"

Ben exhaled loudly and shook his head. "What
didn't
he have to say about it?" he breathed.

"That bad, huh?"

"Worse," Ben admitted.

"Those of our kind have to be aware of our strength—and our lust—as the moon grows ful er." His eyes narrowed as he regarded Ben.

"I know. Believe me, I have heard it al from Simon. '
You can't be with a woman that close to the phase of the moon. You could get out of control. How

many times do I have to tell you? Now look what happened!'"
He mocked his oldest brother's imperious tone.

Major Forster chuckled.

"The woman was just scared. Real y scared. Who would have thought that a whore would have been so squeamish?"

"Blackmoor, obviously."

Ben final y took a sip of his whisky and appreciated the way it made his eyes water. At least he felt something then. "I went to see the woman after the ful

moon. She's doing just fine.
She
actual y apologized to
me
for screaming loud enough to cal the watch."

"What did you learn from that experience?" the major asked.

"That I can't control the beast when it's so close to the ful moon. I thought I could." He waved a hand in the air. "Other Lycans control themselves with

women. They get along beautiful y together."

"You wil learn more about the type of relationship they have when you meet your own mate, my boy."

"But what do I do about not changing? I think I'm broken. I need to go back."

"There's only one way to go back," Major Forster mumbled as he scrubbed a hand across his mouth.

"Pardon?"

The major coughed into his hand. "There's only one person who can help you." He stopped talking and fixed his stare on his glass of whisky. Ben

watched him for a moment.

"Major?" he final y prompted him.

The man final y tore his gaze from the glass. "Yes?" he asked, obviously distracted by his own thoughts.

"You were going to tel me how to fix it."

"Oh, yes." The man sat forward. "You must find a healer."

"A what?"

"A healer," the major repeated.

"You mean a witch?" Ben fought back a hysterical laugh. He'd come to his father's old friend for guidance, and he was going to send him to find a fabled

creature that didn't exist. Oh, life was not working in his favor.

"A witch. A healer. Cal it what you wil . But you must find one."

"Everyone knows that witches are the things of legends and myths."

"As are we, my boy. As are we. But you can take my word for it, Benjamin. They do exist."

Two

Elspeth brushed her hair from her eyes and secured it with a pewter hair comb. Her fingertips lingered a moment over the raised surface of the comb,

which was etched with the form of a large dog, his snout raised in the air. It was one of the only things she had left of her mother.

Despite the fact that it had been given to her mother by the man who left her with child, Elspeth adored the piece because her mother had never been

without it. It had held back Rosewyth Campbel 's flaming red hair every day that El could remember. And now it held back hers.

The flyaway locks were quite a nuisance at times. She never could quite keep the wayward tresses in a tidy chignon at her neck like most girls. Her hair

had a mind of its own. And it didn't want to be tamed. Much like Elspeth herself refused to be tamed.

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 tel ing 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 dishabil e.

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 natural y inquisitive mind."

Caitrin leaned close and whispered dramatical y, "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 real y hoped they'd changed the subject. "Honestly, I have no idea."

"But that is what yer mother cal ed the mark
you
have?"

Elspeth's fingers automatical y 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 al 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 fil with tears and the conversation came to an end. El eventual y

stopped asking questions. "Al I ken is he was a large man. He stood a head and shoulders tal er 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 fol owed social strictures, being the bastard daughter of Rosewyth Campbel was stil

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, especial y if he's come for me. He's part of me and… wel , I doona expect ye ta

understand." She pushed open the door to the shop, and a little bel 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 Campbel ," 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 fel ow, 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 wel aware of his attributes and often appeared more vain than the sil iest 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 al 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 fol owin' 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 fel ow 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'l leave you be."

Caitrin's frown darkened.

"Give me at least a chance."

"And then ye'l leave me be? No more fol owin' 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 Campbel .

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 bal . 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' bal without an escort."

"I see." More likely Caitrin didn't want to have to face Wal ace Ferguson al 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 al uring. 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 Campbel , I ken what ye're thinkin'. I'm no' afraid ta face Wal ace 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 Campbel ."

"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'l 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 Wil iam Westfield.

"Morning, Wil ."

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?" Wil echoed. "That sounds rather nondescript."

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 tel ."

Wil 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, Wil ! 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 wel ."

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 al 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." Thankful y he knew someone

up north to pul off this ruse, at least temporarily. He hoped MacQuarrie was stil 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." Wil frowned. "Wel , 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. "Wel , there you are. If the inquisition is over, I'd like to start my journey."