Tall, Dark and Wolfish (9 page)

again, Miss Ferguson," he said, hoping to embarrass her into looking away.

She folded her arms across her chest. "Am I ta take it ye were here last night, Lord Benjamin?"

"I—"

Before he could finish, Elspeth cal ed from her room, "Sorcha Ferguson, I wil throw ye out again if ye canna keep a civil tone in yer voice."

The girl clamped her mouth shut.

Ben bit back a smile. He turned to the hulking Scot. "Mr. Ferguson, have you lived in Edinburgh your whole life?"

"Aye," the man replied gruffly.

Wel , that was a bit of luck. "Perhaps you can help me. I didn't set off for Scotland merely for holiday."

"No?" Ferguson's brow furrowed.

"I'm actual y looking for someone who may be a bit hard to find."

"Who?" Sorcha interrupted.

Ben graced her with a smile. At least the irritated sound was gone from her voice.

"A woman. I was sent to find Rosewyth Campbel ."

Wal ace Ferguson's eyes went wide, while a frown

marred his sister's pretty face. "Wel , my lord, I doona think ye'l have much luck with that endeavor."

"Why not?" he asked, his mouth agape.

Sorcha opened her mouth to reply, but Elspeth quickly strode out of the room and spoke over her. "Because she's no' acceptin' visitors, my lord." She

shot a look at Sorcha, who bit her lips together so hard a line of white appeared around them. "What did ye want with her, Lord Benjamin?"

"I heard she was a healer," he said quietly.

"And are ye in need of a healin'?" Maybe he was il . Maybe he needed her help.

"No…" he hedged. His eyes refused to meet hers. He looked at every surface in the room. "I just needed some information."

"What kind of information?" She faced him and placed her hands on her hips. She
would
find out why he was searching for her mother, what reason he

had to be in Scotland.

"It's a bit private," he said quietly. His face colored. The man was blushing?

"Then let's step outside and discuss it, shal we?" She smiled an easy smile at him. He seemed a bit discomfited at that moment. So she hoped a

friendly face would put him at ease. And maybe loosen his tongue a bit.

He walked to the door and ushered her through it with a hand at the smal of her back. Then he closed the door soundly behind them.

"What is it I can do for ye, Lord Benjamin?"

"Ben." He began to pace across the lawn.

"Beggin' yer pardon?" she asked.

"Ben," he repeated. "That's my name. I give you leave to use it. I mean. I'm asking you to use it." His eyes met hers. "Please, cal me Ben."

"Ben," she repeated.

A smile final y crossed his face. "That's better."

He would not lead her astray so easily. "Rosewyth Campbel ?" she prodded. "Ye needed her healin'?"

"I'm not sure, but I'd heard she could fix things."

Things? "What sorts of things?" The man would wear her out with al the pacing in mere moments.

"I real y just need to talk to
Rosewyth
Campbel . Can you tel me where I can find her?"

Oh, sure she could. Six feet under the ground. "Let's take a little walk and discuss yer concerns. I've a bit of a healin' touch, too, ye ken," she said as she

motioned with her hand for him to fol ow.

He walked leisurely down the lane by her side. He was quiet and obviously preoccupied. "Yes, I'd heard you have a way with herbs, Miss Campbel ."

"Elspeth." His glance rose to meet hers, final y. "My name is Elspeth. I grant ye leave ta use it." She couldn't contain the smal smile that hovered around

the corners of her lips.

"Elspeth," he repeated, as though tasting the name on his tongue. It was an old family name. Of which she was quite proud. "It suits you."

She simply inclined her head.

They walked leisurely down the lane until they reached the smal church. Elspeth turned down the pea-gravel drive and motioned for him to fol ow.

"Are ye goin' ta tel me what's ailin' ye, Ben? Or wil ye make me guess?"

"Nothing is ailing me." His eyes met hers and then danced away. "I would real y rather talk with Rosewyth Campbel ." He glanced around. "Does she live

near here? Are we close?"

"Aye, Ben. She resides here." She pointed toward the tal stone monuments in the churchyard, each marking the graves of loved ones. "My mother died

five years ago. She was Rosewyth Campbel ."

Eleven

Ben heaved a great sigh. He studied the headstones in front of them. Of course the woman would be dead! What other luck would he have? First, he'd

lost the ability to change with the moon. And now his only hope for salvation was dead. He'd been left with the mere slip of a girl who stood before him, her

head tilted at an angle as she regarded him curiously.

"If ye'l do me the honor of tel in' me what's ailin' ye, I'l do my best ta help ye. I promise," she said, her green gaze dazzling him as she placed a hand on

his arm. He had her ful attention. That much was positive.

"It's not something I'm comfortable discussing…"

She simply tipped her head in the other direction, her gaze never breaking from his.

"It's fairly personal."

She blinked.

"I can't discuss it with you." The girl was probably stil an innocent. He couldn't possibly tel her about the incident with the whore and that after that

horrible night, he'd lost his ability to turn into a hairy, drooling wolf who howled at the moon.

"I have dealt with problems similar ta yers before, ye ken?" she smiled softly at him.

"You don't even know what the problem is," he gasped. Surely she didn't know. She couldn't possibly read minds as wel as work with herbs.

"I can guess. Men like ye only get so squeamish about one thing." She laughed, a melodic little tune. "It's nothin' ta be ashamed of. Happens more than

ye ken."

Men like him? Ben could only assume his mouth had fal en open in surprise, as he stared at her, completely dumbfounded. How many other Lycan men

had lost the ability to change?

"I have just the thing for it." She nodded at him enthusiastical y.

Ben scratched his head.

"But I have ta ken, does it work for ye?" Her face colored. "When ye're alone?"

"I
was
alone and it didn't work," he admitted. Perhaps she did know what she was talking about.

"Does it work when ye're with a lass?" She pointed to his thighs. What did his lap have to do with anything?

"I've never done it with a lass," he admitted. Simon had always beaten into him how dangerous it was to be with a woman when the moon was ful .

Pushing his luck was what had gotten him into this situation.

"At yer age?" Her hand fluttered to land on her chest. "That is surprisin'," she muttered.

"Why is it so surprising?" Now he was thoroughly confused.

"Forgive me for bein' so bold, but it's no' very often ye meet a man yer age who has never been with a lass." Again her gaze wandered down to his

waist.

Never been with a woman!
She thought he was talking about
that
? Ben buried his face in his hands and chuckled. He laughed so hard his shoulders

shook.

"There, there, Ben. No need to cry over it. We'l get ye al fixed." Her hand touched his back, rubbing a light circle.

Ben final y raised his head and wiped the tears of mirth from his eyes.

She put her hands on her hips. "Were ye laughin' at me?" Indignation sparkled in her eyes.

"No, Elspeth." He held up both hands in surrender. "I promise," he chuckled. "I'm not laughing at you."

"Then what is so blasted funny?"

There was only one option. He'd have to show her.

Ben hauled her to him with one hand as he pushed the hair back from her face with his other.

Elspeth couldn't even sputter in surprise as he clutched her to him. He moved much too fast. One moment she was standing several feet from him, and the

next she was pressed along against his body.

"Ye don't have ta put on a grand show just ta prove ta me ye're a man," she scolded him.

Another chuckle rumbled through him. She raised her hands to his chest to push away from him, but she was wel and truly caught within his arms. His

chest flexed beneath her fingers. She tested the hard wal with her fingertips.

"I
am
a man," he said quietly. Then his lips touched hers.

The first taste of him was heavenly. His lips pressed softly against hers, no more than a whisper against her skin. Elspeth had been kissed before. Once

by a clumsy stable boy at a church picnic and once by Alec MacQuarrie, who had quickly decided that Caitrin was more to his liking. It hadn't bothered

her, though, as kissing him could be compared to kissing her brother, if she'd had one.

But kissing Ben was nothing like that. Ben's lips slid across hers. His hand lifted to brush the hair back at her temple. She sighed against him, and he

took the opportunity to touch her lips with his tongue. She gasped and then he took ful advantage of her mouth.

His tongue slid against hers, and she had no choice but to reach and meet him with her own. They played a game of catch and retreat, neither losing.

This was a winning game for both of them.

Elspeth's heart beat so hard she feared it would clamor so loudly he could hear it. His hand wrapped tighter around her waist, drawing her even closer.

The length of him pressed against her bel y.

She broke their kiss. "Ye
have
been with a lass, I'd wager." Breaths heaved from her in gasps.

"What makes you think that?" he chuckled.

"Ye doona kiss like ye have problems with
things
workin'." She glanced down his body.

He tugged her closer to him, if that was possible, and growled closer to her ear. "You make things work just fine." His lips pressed against the sensitive

skin beneath her ear just before he cupped her bottom and pul ed her against his hardness. She yelped and swatted at his chest.

A loud cough drew her attention. It actual y sounded more like someone was strangling Caitrin, but she assumed her friend meant for it to be a cough.

Ben al owed her to step back and turned to face the churchyard. "You go. I'l fol ow along in a moment. I think we have some things to discuss."

They certainly did.

Elspeth was sure her blush matched her hair, if the scandalized look on Caitrin's face was any indication. Her friend hooked her arm with Elspeth's and

practical y dragged her back toward the cottage. "Have ye gone and lost yer fool mind?" she hissed.

That was a distinct possibility. She thought she'd been in control of the situation, right up until his lips touched hers. "It was just a kiss, Cait."

"Ha! And I'm Mary Queen of Scots."

"Ye look rather good for yer age, and with the missin' of yer head," she countered. Though she knew Caitrin had a point. It was more than just a kiss. Not

that Elspeth regretted it for one moment. The feel of his hands, of his body pressed so close to hers, made her shiver at the thought.

"I dinna tel ye this last night, what with yer grandfather, El, but Westfield's the one. He's the one from my vision."

Elspeth shook her head as they neared the cottage. "Do ye think I'm daft? I saw the looks between ye and Sorcha. But ye're wrong, Cait. He just has an

ailment. He was lookin' for my mother—"

"Aye, Sorcha told me. Doona ye think it strange that he came lookin' for Rosewyth Campbel ? The last beast that came ta these parts left her with a

bairn ta raise and no proper name ta give either of ye."

Elspeth ripped her arm from Caitrin's. Never in al the years of their friendship had Cait spoken so vilely of the circumstances of her birth. If her friend

had struck her across the face, she would have been less stunned. "I suppose I should thank ye for puttin' me back in my place, Cait. I nearly forgot ye

were higher born than me."

Her friend closed her blue eyes and sighed. "I dinna mean it the way it sounded. I'm just trying ta get ye ta see reason." She opened her eyes and