Tall, Dark and Wolfish (7 page)

Eight

"Just what do ye think ye're doin', Lord Benjamin?" Miss Macleod asked, her hands upon her hips, standing above them.

Alec pushed him off and shrugged to his feet. "Protecting Miss Campbel 's honor, I believe," he muttered as he held a hand out to Ben and pul ed him

up.

"From ye?" Miss Macleod asked. "Why in the world would he need ta do that?"

"Why, indeed?" Alec asked, his head cocked to one side as he regarded Ben with curiosity.

Ben dusted himself off and leveled Miss Macleod with his haughtiest look, the one only sons of dukes ever seemed to master. "What's the matter with

Mr. Campbel ?"

Her lip quivered and she blinked back tears. "He's dyin'. He has been for some time. El's done everythin' she can ta keep him alive."

Elspeth couldn't possibly have the funds to hire a decent physician. Ben took in the cottage. It was tidy and clean, but quite smal . Different in every way

from the Fergusons' mansion and the Macleods' impressive home. Paying for a physician wasn't, however, a problem for him.

He turned to Alec. "What are you waiting for, MacQuarrie? This is your city. Find your best doctor and bring him here."

Miss Macleod gasped. "Ye think a doctor can do better than Elspeth has?"

Ben frowned at the girl. Was Alec right? Were they al uneducated and superstitious? "Knowing herbs is one thing, Miss Macleod, but science is

another. The finest medical school in Britain is here in your fair city."

She puffed herself up to her ful est height. "Thank ye for seein' her home, but I think ye should leave now, my lord."

If she'd punched him, he wouldn't have been more shocked. Alec clapped a hand to his back. "Come along, Westfield. I'l take ye home." Then he

smiled at Miss Macleod. "Wil you be al right here, lass?"

She nodded. "Thank ye, Mr. MacQuarrie, for everythin'."

Ben al owed himself to be dragged from the cottage. "There's nothing to be done, Westfield," Alec said.

"How can you say that? Are al you Scots completely mad?"

Alec pul ed open the door to his coach. "You can cal on her in the morning if you're of a mind."

Against his better judgment, Ben climbed inside the coach and settled against the leather squabs. "This feels wrong, Alec."

His friend sighed as the coach slowly rambled down the dark lane. "You know as wel as I there's nothing to be done for a wasting disease, Westfield.

Even London's most prestigious doctor wouldn't be able to save Mr. Campbel ."

A wasting disease? Ben cringed as he realized Alec was right. Poor Elspeth.

Elspeth clasped her grandfather's hand. It was clammy and she noticed his pulse had slowed dangerously. She shouldn't have left him to go to Sorcha's

sil y party. "Papa, can ye hear me?"

She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked back to see Caitrin swipe a tear from her eye.

"He'l be al right," Elspeth vowed.

But Caitrin shook her head. "Ah, sweetheart, I wish it were so."

She blinked at her friend. "What do ye mean by that?"

Caitrin smoothed Elspeth's wild hair and sniffed back more tears. "Mr. MacQuarrie was walkin' me ta my door when I saw yer grandfather, El, in my

mind. He's no' goin' ta wake up. I sent for ye as soon as I realized."

Tears poured from Elspeth's eyes as she turned back to her grandfather. She clutched his hand tighter and wil ed him to wake. "Papa, I'm here. Doona

leave me."

Caitrin squeezed her shoulders. "Ye should get some rest. Ye're goin' ta need it."

Elspeth shook her head. "Ye saw him die?"

"Aye."

"Then ye must've seen me stay with him until then." She'd never leave him. Not now. Not when he needed her the most.

"Aye," Caitrin whispered. "I saw that, too."

Elspeth barely noticed when the others arrived. But soon her grandfather's smal room was fil ed with al the witches of the
Còig.

Sorcha and Blaire lit candles in every corner. Then the five of them joined hands around Mr. Campbel 's bed, Elspeth's sisters offering silent support.

Elspeth had never felt so helpless in al her life. What was the point of being able to heal others if she couldn't save her own grandfather?

In the dead of night, old Liam Campbel took a loud, deep breath and released it. His chest stopped rising and fal ing. Elspeth staggered to her feet and

pul ed the family plaid up under his chin. She kissed his cold cheek and stumbled from the room.

Caitrin stopped Sorcha from going after Elspeth. "She needs some time alone."

Sorcha bit her bottom lip but did as she was asked.

"There's somethin' ye're no' sayin'," Rhiannon whispered, successful y catching the others' attention.

Caitrin hated that she was so easy to read. Stil , there was no point in denying the truth. She nodded. "It's the Sassenach, MacQuarrie's friend."

"Lord Benjamin?" Blaire asked.

"Aye. I've seen him before."

"When ye went ta London last year?" Sorcha reasoned.

"
Mo chreach
, ye're daft," Rhiannon complained. "He's the one, Cait? The one from yer vision?"

"Aye," Caitrin admitted. She hadn't been certain until after she and Alec MacQuarrie had left the bal . A vision flashed in her mind during the short

journey home before she'd seen Mr. Campbel take his last breath. Westfield intended to take Elspeth from them; there was no doubt in her mind. He

wore the mark she'd seen weeks earlier.

"I ken he was trouble," Rhiannon grumbled. "He had her hair undone. No gentleman does such a thing."

"But she said nothin' happened," Sorcha protested.

As the two of them argued, Blaire touched Caitrin's arm. "What're we ta do?"

"I doona see us keepin' her," Caitrin whispered, the words ripped from her soul. But it was true. She didn't see them winning.

"Wel , we canna give her up. Ye say the man's a beast?"

Unable to speak, Caitrin only nodded.

"So we'l fight ta keep her. We'l move her ta yer house. She'l stay with ye and we'l outlast him. He canna get through al of us."

It was a losing battle. But Blaire was right, they couldn't just give up on Elspeth. She was part of them. She was their sister.

"Rhiannon, make the arrangements with the vicar, wil ye?" Caitrin asked.

"Of course."

"And, Sorcha, ye and Blaire can help me pack up the house. The sooner we move Elspeth, the better."

Elspeth sat in a smal chair and stared off into her memories. She knew this day was coming, but it was stil hard to believe. It didn't seem al that long ago

that her grandfather had been a robust man, the strongest she knew.

Rhiannon explained before she left that she'd make the arrangements with the vicar, and Elspeth nodded silently. There wasn't much else she could do.

Then she realized Caitrin and the others were packing up her herbs and oils.

She stood on shaky legs. "What do ye think ye're doin'?"

Caitrin rushed toward her. "Doona worry, dearest. We'l get yer stores settled right."

"Why do they need settlin'?"

Caitrin swal owed. "Wel , ye're goin' ta come stay with me for a while."

Elspeth shook her head. "I'm no' goin' anywhere. This is my home, Cait."

"Ye shouldna be alone right now. Ye'l just stay with me for a little while."

"No. This was my grandfather's home. It's my home. I'm no' goin' anywhere."

Caitrin draped her arm around Elspeth's shoulders. "Be reasonable. Ye've been through so much."

"And there's the man with the mark," Sorcha added with a quiver to her voice.

Elspeth stepped out of Caitrin's hold. "I'l no' run from him. My father could knock down that door right there, and I'l no' leave with him. And I'l no' leave

with ye. This is
my
home." It was fil ed with memories of her grandfather and she wasn't leaving. They couldn't make her.

"But Lord Benjamin," Sorcha began. "What about him?"

A hysterical laugh escaped Elspeth. "What about him, Sorcha? I ken ye doona like him, but he's a nice man. That's al . What do ye think the brother of a

powerful English duke wants with me? Nothin', that's what. Now enough of this. I doona want ta hear any more."

"But what if he's the man?" Sorcha persisted. "The man with the mark?" The girl's eyes flashed to Caitrin.

Elspeth felt the last of her patience evaporate. "That's the most ridiculous thing I ever heard. I bear the mark myself. Doona ye think I'd feel it if another

were near?"

"Do ye feel it?" Caitrin whispered.

She felt nothing now but emptiness. "Of course no'. This is foolishness. I appreciate al of ye bein' here for me, but I doona want ta hear any more of this

nonsense. When my father arrives, I wil speak ta him. I'l ask him a lifetime's worth of questions, I'l find out what he wants from me. But I'l no' go with him.

Now I'd very much like ta be alone."

"Promise ye won't go off with Westfield, and we'l leave."

"Out!" Elspeth yel ed. "Al of ye!"

Nine

Ben sat bolt upright in bed. What an awful dream. Another moonful had come and gone without his changing. He heaved a sigh and fel back against the

feather pil ows. He would go in search of Rosewyth Campbel in the morning, just as soon as he checked in on Elspeth.

A wasting disease. He shivered at the thought. When his time came, he hoped it was quick and easy. He didn't want to wither away before the people

who loved him. The poor girl. He hadn't even been able to wish her a good night, make sure she was al right.

Ben crossed his hands beneath his head and thought about how she had looked as she ran through the woods. He had never seen anyone so

passionate or uninhibited. She'd lifted her skirts and run.
Run like a wolf.

Ever since Ben was a boy, he'd loved to run. He'd far outdistanced his friends and his brothers. Even other Lycans could not match his speed or stealth.

But he'd been matched by a mere slip of a girl.

Suddenly he knew what he had to do. He had to

see her. Ben rose and dressed in the dark of night. His purpose for coming to Scotland was to find the healer. But he'd found more than that. He'd found a

fieryhaired beauty who was vulnerable. And she cal ed to the wolf in him, unlike anything else had for quite a while. He walked quietly down the stairs and

reached for the door handle. But Alec's voice stopped him.

"Where you off to, Westfield?"

"Why are you up?" Ben shot back.

"Messenger woke
me
an hour ago. Now it's your turn." He raised an eyebrow at Ben.

"I was going to see Miss Campbel . To see how her grandfather is doing."

"He didn't survive the night," Alec said as he shook his head.

"How do you know?" Ben spun to face him.

"Miss Macleod sent a messenger when he died. That's what woke me. I asked her to let me know when something happened. I am surprised she sent

her man so late—or early, as the case may be."

"Why didn't you tel me?" Ben snapped.

"And what would you have done?" Alec narrowed his eyes. "You're nothing to the girl, Ben. You can't help her through this."

"I could try," he mumbled.

"You've never cared for anyone, aside from your brothers. You've been with more women than I can count on my fingers and toes. And never for more

than a night." He advanced toward Ben. "You're not good for her."

"And who are you to decide that?" Ben felt a blinding rage. He pressed through it. During most of the time that he was tarnishing his name, Alec had

been right beside him. "Who made you her guardian?"

"Not her guardian." His friend shook his head. "But I know she'l not be safe with you. You'l ruin her. Then you'l disappear, like you always do. She'l be

left to pick up the pieces of her tattered reputation. Her mother had a hard life. I'd not want the same for her." He clasped Ben's shoulder. "You hear me?

She's a
good
girl. Leave her be."

"She's al alone?"

"She has friends. They'l take care of her." He shot Ben a warning glance.