The Taming of the Wolf (20 page)

“Make her happy, Lord Brimsworth.”

“Never doubt it,” he guaranteed. And, for once, the beast within him wasn’t demanding that he do the opposite of what his heart desired.

Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough. Dash needed Caitrin like he needed the air he breathed. Just a few more hours. He’d been waiting for nearly a fortnight. A few more hours wouldn’t kill him. It just seemed like it would.

Actually, he could use a strong whisky. That should take the edge off and help him sleep. The entire house was silent. So he quietly made his way to the first floor and down the corridor toward Angus Macleod’s study.

Dash could see a warm light under the door and cocked his head to one side. Had Caitrin’s father left a fire blazing in his grate? He knocked lightly.

“Come,” his future father-in-law called.

Dash pushed the door open and poked his head inside to find the older man poring over papers on his desk. “I hope I’m not disturbing you, sir.”

“Ah, Lord Brimsworth, come in, come in. I stayed at the Fergusons’ for dinner tonight. I hope ye dinna miss me.”

Dash shook his head and then shut the heavy oak door behind him. “I actually took dinner in my room.”

“Nervous?” the Scot asked, gesturing to one of the dark leather seats in front of his desk.

“A bit,” Dash affirmed. But only because he would have Caitrin all to himself the next day. She’d be his. And all he could think about was their wedding night. It wouldn’t do for him to tell the man that all he could think about was rolling his daughter beneath him and taking her as a husband takes a wife.

As Dash dropped into the chair, Mr. Macleod rose from his. “Would ye care for a drink, my lord?”

He nodded, hoping he didn’t appear too eager. He didn’t want the man to think he was a drunkard. When did he start to care what others thought about him? “Thank you. That would be nice.”

Angus Macleod began to pour some whisky from a decanter on his sideboard, and then he raised his gaze to Dash. “Caitrin tells me ye’re of the same variety of beast as Benjamin Westfield and Desmond Forster.”

“Does that bother you?”

His future father-in-law smiled, stepping forward and offering Dash one of the snifters. “Who am I ta judge, Brimsworth? I married a witch, and I sired one.”

Well, that was generous of him, though it wasn’t quite the same thing. Dash relaxed just a bit.

“Since ye’re awake,” Angus Macleod began, “we might as well finish our earlier conversation.”

“Sir?”

“Caitrin’s dowry.”

Somehow, with all the events of the afternoon, he’d forgotten about that. “Of course.”

“What lands do ye possess?”

Dash shrugged. “
I
have a set of rooms in London. Everything else is part of the marquessate. Eynsford’s holdings are extensive. There’s the family seat and manor in Kent. A hunting box in Derbyshire. A home in Mayfair. Cottages in both Gloucestershire and Cambridgeshire.”

“Well, ye can add a home in Berwickshire ta the list.”

Dash sat back in surprise. He hadn’t expected that. Honestly, he hadn’t expected anything save a few hundred pounds. He’d have given up his entire inheritance for Caitrin. “Your daughter doesn’t like to travel.”

“Ah, well,” the man laughed, “ye’ll have ta wait for me ta stick my spoon in the wall before ye can take Macleod House from me.”

A rare warmth rushed up Dash’s neck. “That’s not what I meant, sir. I—”

Angus Macleod just laughed some more. “Doona fash yerself, Brimsworth. I ken ye dinna mean that.” Then his smile vanished as he resumed the seat behind his desk. “Anyway, the Mordington property is Cait’s. Really, it was her mother’s dowry, and someday it’ll belong ta yer daughter.

“It’s the ancestral seat of the seers, though only Cait’s line has survived the witch hunts of the last few centuries, at least as far as we ken. Since ye have a secret of yer own, I doona think I have ta tell ye how imperative it is that no one outside the family discover what she is.”

Then why did it seem as if Alec MacQuarrie already knew that piece of information? Dash shook the errant thought away and swallowed the rest of his whisky. Cait chose him, not MacQuarrie. “I’d protect her with my life, sir.”

Angus Macleod nodded. “I am glad ta hear it. It sounds as though yer firstborn son will be quite taken care of. On the other hand, daughters are often ignored. As Cait is my only child, that isna the case for her, and I’d like ta ensure that it willna be so for her daughters. Upon my death, I’ll leave everythin’ else ta my granddaughters ta be split evenly among however many ye have.”

Dash didn’t quite know what to say to Macleod’s unorthodox idea. So, he grunted out a quiet, “Thank you.”

“What does yer father think about this marriage?”

“He doesn’t know about it yet, Mr. Macleod. It’s been quite some time since we’ve exchanged correspondence.”

Caitrin’s father rose from his desk and looked down at Dash. “Well, ye’ll need ta fix that, lad.”

Dash bristled at the censure. Angus Macleod didn’t know the first thing about his life.

“There are all sorts of circles within the
Còig
, Brimsworth. The first is between the witches themselves. If they are not in harmony with each other, it can play havoc on their powers. And the second circle is within their family. Repair whatever rift ye have. Cait needs her family circle ta be strong.”

Then the man started for the door. “That’s all the unsolicited advice I have for ye tonight. I’m goin’ ta bed as I have ta give away my only daughter inta yer keepin’ tomorrow.”

Mr. Macleod slid into the darkness of the hall, leaving Dash to gape at his disappearing form. Repair the rift with his father? He’d honestly hoped never to see the old man again. Dash shook his head at the thought. It would be a cold day in Hades before he’d send as much as a couple of lines to the vindictive buzzard.

He rose from his spot and made his way back to his room. The whisky had helped dull his senses, and he prayed that sleep would find him soon.

***

Caitrin glanced in the mirror at her reflection. Her light blue silk gown was nice, but
just
nice. It wasn’t exactly what she would have wanted as a wedding dress, but it would have to do. She didn’t have time for something new. A wide white ribbon rested beneath her breasts and made them appear a bit larger than they actually were. Hopefully, Dash wouldn’t be disappointed. Of course he’d already seen them through her wet chemise. He had some idea of what he was getting.

Behind her, Sorcha gasped. “Oh, Cait! Ye look beautiful.” The young witch dropped a small valise on Cait’s bed and then rushed forward to kiss both of her cheeks. “Such a pretty bride.”

“Ye are a bit partial. I hope his lordship likes this old dress.”

“Doona frown,” Sorcha ordered. “Only smiles on yer wedding day. Ye doona want lines across yer brow. And the dress isna old. Ye wore it only once right before ye left for England. And I’m sure Lord Brimsworth will love it. Ye are radiant.” She paused only to take a breath. “He’s already gone over ta the church. I think he’s quite anxious.”

Cait nodded. “I suppose I’m fairly nervous myself.”

Sorcha’s dark eyes lit up. “Oh, Cait! Promise me ye’ll tell me what ta expect on my weddin’ night. I doona want ta get the talk from my aunts.”

Cait’s mouth fell open. She hadn’t had any sort of talk with anyone, and the only person she’d feel comfortable asking questions of was Elspeth, though she was still in England. Cait figured she’d have to make do on her own. After all, Dashiel knew what he was doing.

“I promise,” she somehow managed to say.

Sorcha laughed. “A pretty blush. That is nice.” Then she returned to the bed and opened her valise. “I brought armfuls of honeysuckle for yer hair. I think ye should wear it up. Rhiannon promises an unseasonably pleasant day.”

***

The church was sparsely populated with only the Macleods’ closest friends. Dash figured that was good; the fewer people he met, the fewer he’d have to remember—and his mind was already preoccupied.

He paced a path in front of the altar of the small church, trying not to focus on the vicar, Mr. Crawford, who sat in the front pew rehearsing his lines. The vicar rubbed his balding pate more than once, and just watching the man made Dash’s nerves even worse. Where the devil was Cait? She wouldn’t run out on him again, would she?

Mr. Forster patted Dash’s arm. “She’ll be here soon, lad.”

Angus Macleod walked in through the door at the back of the church, a large grin upon his face. “Ye all right, my lord? Ye look a bit queasy.”

“Fine.” Dash managed to nod.

“Ah, Angus.” Mr. Crawford rose from his spot. “It is surprisingly warm today. That’s a good sign for a long and happy marriage, is it no’?”

Dash noticed Rhiannon Sinclair smother a smile as she sat in the second row of pews. So this was her handiwork? What an intriguing lass.

He didn’t have long to contemplate that before the back door opened again and Caitrin stepped into the church with Sorcha Ferguson following closely behind her.

Dash’s mouth went dry. Cait was breathtaking, even more so than normal. Her blond hair was piled high on her head, and she wore a crown made of honeysuckle.

Sorcha took Cait’s pelisse from her and handed her a bouquet of pink and white roses. Dash couldn’t help the smile that crossed his lips. As soon as the ceremony was over, he was going to peel that blue dress off his bride. She blushed, as if she could read his thoughts, and Dash wished for a moment she could see what he had in store for her.

“Caitrin is here, Mr. Crawford,” Mr. Macleod said, bringing Dash back to the present. “Are ye ready ta begin?”

The vicar nodded and retrieved his bible from the front pew. Dash held his breath as Caitrin walked up the aisle, never removing her eyes from his. Mr. Macleod met her halfway and offered her his arm.

“My darlin’ girl,” he whispered, “ye are beautiful.”

She smiled at her father and then turned her attention back to Dash. Cait stopped before him, and Mr. Macleod placed her hand in Dash’s. Then he slid behind them and took his seat.

“I’m glad you made it,” Dash said beneath his breath.

“I was right on time,” she informed him.

He sighed, knowing he was foolish. “I’m just anxious, angel.”

Mr. Crawford cleared his throat, garnering everyone’s attention. “
Slainte mhor agus a h-uile beannachd duibh.”

Whatever the devil that meant. Dash glanced down at Cait who smiled beatifically at him.

“Repeat after me, Lord Brimsworth. ‘I, Dashiel Jameson Aberdare Thorpe, take ye, Caitrin Louisa Macleod, ta be my wife before God and these witnesses.’”

Dash took a deep breath. A month ago, he’d never have envisioned he’d be in Scotland, holding the hands of the one girl who knew all his secrets and who somehow wanted him anyway. “I, Dashiel Jameson Aberdare Thorpe, take you, Caitrin Louisa Macleod, to be my wife before God and these witnesses.”

Beside him, Caitrin sighed and he squeezed her hands, loving her more than he’d ever thought possible.

Mr. Crawford looked down at Cait and smiled warmly. “And now ye, Miss Macleod. Repeat the words: ‘I, Caitrin Louisa Macleod, take ye, Dashiel Jameson Aberdare Thorpe, ta be my husband before God and these witnesses.’”

Her voice only shook a little as she repeated the words, her light blue eyes boring into his. Dash’s heart leapt at the sound. She was his.

“Do ye have a ring, my lord?” the vicar asked, breaking him from his quiet celebration.

Caitrin’s gaze shot up to reach his, her eyebrows drawn together. “It’s all right if ye doona have one,” she mumbled.

Dash patted his pockets until he found the bulge of the ring box. Then he pulled it out and said, “I have everything you need, angel.” He opened the small box and showed her the contents.

Her gasp could be heard around the church as she raised her fingertips to her mouth and her eyes filled with tears.

“May I put it on you?” Dash didn’t even care if the smile on his face was as juvenile as a puppy who received a treat.

She nodded swiftly, holding out her hand.

“Fits you perfectly,” he whispered as he slid it onto her finger.

“So do ye,” she whispered back.

Caitrin stood on tiptoe to press her lips to his, expecting a quick kiss before they greeted their guests and headed off to their celebration with friends and family. But Dash obviously had other ideas, because when she kissed him, his hands grasped her elbows, encouraging her to wrap them around his neck before his hands slid around her waist and he drew her to him.

Gone was the teasing exploration of her mouth that she’d become used to. Gone was the gentleness that he’d shown when he held himself in check. In its place was a fiery passion that took her breath away. His lips immediately parted hers, his tongue sweeping inside. She nearly felt the need to weep with passion when he groaned and began to move his hands down toward her bottom.

Suddenly Dash jumped and pulled back. “Ouch,” he grunted as he released her.

“What is it?” Cait asked, reaching up to touch the side of his face.

“I don’t know, but it hurt,” Dash mumbled.

“Ye’re in a
church
,” Rhiannon said, smiling as she walked by them.

“Rhi!” Cait hissed. “Tell me ye dinna!”

“Oh, it was only a tiny bit of lightnin’, and it was for yer own good,” she whispered back then had the audacity to wink at Dash.

“Did she just…?” Dash let his voice trail off, shaking his head with wonder.

“Aye, she did. I’m so sorry,” Cait hastened to add. “She should behave like she has some manners.”

“He deserved it, Caitrin,” her father said from behind her. “He may be yer husband, but he needs ta behave in polite company.” He leaned closer to Dash and said, “Be very happy she only hit ye with a little of it, lad. She has a lot more she could have thrown at ye.”

Dash coughed into his hand, hiding the smile upon his face. At least he hadn’t offended Caitrin’s father terribly when he’d tried to devour her without thinking. “My apologies,” he offered.

Cait’s father held his arms open to her, and she fell into them. “I’m so proud of ye,” he whispered. “And yer mama would be, too.” He raised her left hand and pressed a quick kiss to the ruby ring.

“Are ye sure ye want me ta have this?” she asked, praying he would say yes.

“I dinna give it ta ye. I gave it ta yer husband.” He placed Cait’s hand in Dash’s. “And I canna think of a prettier place ta display it.”

***

If Dash didn’t get inside her soon, he would surely lose his mind. He’d spent the last two hours socializing with her friends and her father’s friends. It was the only time he’d ever appreciated anything his father had done for him, since he
did
know how to socialize in polite company. He just didn’t practice it often.

But he wanted Cait. He wanted her with an intensity that even he didn’t understand. He’d had women beneath him, on top of him, and in every position in between since the first time he’d tupped a servant girl at the age of fourteen. But he’d never felt the desire to
hold
a woman. To stroke her. To bring her pleasure. Then to do it again and again until they were both sated. Then sleep and do it some more.

Several times, she’d been dragged away from him completely by her friends or one acquaintance or another. And each time, he felt physical pain at her departure. He wanted her. In the worst way.

Dash made his way across the Macleod drawing room to get her. It was time for them to be alone. It was time for him to love her. She leaned into him and tilted her head back to smile at him when he slid his arm around her shoulders. She felt like
home
, or at least what he imagined a home and family should feel like.

But then a strong wind whipped at his hair.

“Is that a warning?” he asked, forcing a congenial smile he didn’t feel to appear on his lips when he addressed Rhiannon Sinclair.

“Only a reminder, my lord,” the girl said quietly. She stepped closer and leaned in as though she was telling him a simple secret. “If ye ever hurt our sister, there are four of us ye’ll have ta deal with. And Blaire isna even here so ye canna get a taste of what
she
has ta offer.”

“I’m positively shivering in my boots,” Dash remarked, trying to keep the growl from his voice. If the witches thought they could keep him from Cait, they were sadly mistaken.

As casually as possible, he turned Cait away from them and said quietly by her ear, “Do you think we can be alone, soon? I would like to make love to my wife.”

She swallowed so harshly he could hear it. “Now?”

He tilted her chin up until her blue eyes met his. “Please?” he asked.
Please, save me from this torture.

“Aye, we can go,” she said, and then she turned to hug Rhiannon and Sorcha. The younger girl was giddy with excitement.

“Doona forget yer promise. Ye have ta tell me about it.”

“Shh!” she said, attempting to quiet the wood sprite.

Dash tugged her fingertips as gently as he possibly could until he finally had her moving toward the door. “If one more person stops you, I’ll not be responsible for my actions,” he growled.

“Oh, such a beast,” she teased, a watery smile upon her face.

“Are you all right?” Her tears tugged at his heart.

“Aye, I’m all right.” She sniffed and then climbed into the waiting carriage.

“What is it that you’re supposed to inform the littlest witch about?”

Cait waved nonchalantly, but her hand shook a little in the air. “She wants ta ken everythin’ about the marriage bed.” A pretty blush crept up her cheeks.

Dash tugged her into his lap. “You’ll have to learn a bit about it yerself, angel, before you can tell her
all
about it.” He tucked her tightly in his lap and looked down into her warm blue eyes. Then he whispered to her. “But don’t worry. I’ll try to be a good teacher.”

She shivered in his arms.

Cait nearly jumped when he brushed his hand across her cheekbone. “Why so skittish, angel? I can tell you want me. Your pulse is pounding like mad.” He pressed his lips to the side of her neck and then groaned aloud, “If we don’t get to wherever we’re going soon, I’ll disgrace myself and take you in the carriage.” He glanced out the window as the coach slowed. “Where
are
we going?”

“It was supposed ta be a surprise. But ye’ll find out soon enough. Elspeth’s cottage is empty, ever since Westfield built his massive estate. And since they’re in Hampshire anyway, Rhiannon and Sorcha fixed it up a bit and we’re ta stay there tonight.”

Dash’s heart swelled just a bit. She’d made plans for them to be alone. “Alone with you? How’d I ever get so lucky?” He couldn’t remember anyone else ever having planned a surprise for him. No one had ever cared enough.

***

The coach slowed and Dash opened the door, stepping outside. He handed her out, pulled her hand into the crook of his arm, and surveyed the small cottage. “Charming little place,” he remarked.

Cait turned the door latch and stepped inside. The interior took her breath away when she was immediately assaulted by the pleasing aroma of flowers. A fire roared in the hearth where soft blankets had been thrown down upon the rug. The windows were shrouded with hanging vines that twisted and turned, their leaves and flowers blocking all of the sunlight from the room, leaving them in darkness, aside from the glow of the hearth and candles placed about the room.

“Sorcha’s handiwork, I presume?” Dash laughed, his mouth hanging open as he took in all the girl had done. “I had no idea she was so talented.”

“Oh, she just tells the plants what ta do and they do it.” Cait shrugged and then busied herself worrying one of the flowers that hung on the wall.

Dash put his arms around her from behind, drawing her slowly to him. “Why so fretful? Scared?”

She sniffed. “I’m no’ afraid.”

“Then why are you shaking?” he asked as his hands crept up her belly to cup the fullness of her breasts. She raised an arm and hooked it behind his neck, allowing her head to fall back on his shoulder.

His warm breath blew across her neck, and she said in a choked gasp, “I’m no’ shakin’.”

He turned her in his arms to face him, tipped her face up to his, and said, “I’ll not hurt you, Caitie.” She nodded quickly before Dash scooped her up and crossed the room, laying her on the soft blankets piled in front of the fire.

“Dash,” she said, pressing her hand against his chest to stop him.

“Yes, angel?” he asked absently as he slowly untied the laces of her gown, apparently taking great pleasure in drawing out the moment.

“I canna see the future.”

“I know you can’t see ours. That’s a good thing, Caitie.”

“No’ for me,” she protested, but she lifted her arms when he had her gown loosened so he could tug it from her shoulders. Then she lifted her bottom when he tapped her hip so he could slide her dress down over her hips and toss it to the side, leaving her in nothing more than her chemise and stockings. How had he done that so quickly? She immediately crossed her arms over her breasts.

“Ye have done this with a lot of women, Dashiel?” she asked, watching his face closely for a reaction. His eyes narrowed slightly.

He stilled, no longer even touching her, his amber gaze nearly swallowing her whole. “I need you to know, Caitrin, that I have
never
done
this
with anyone before you.”

“I doona ken what ye mean, Dash. Yer book—”

He stopped her with a finger to her lips. “
That
was nothing like this.” He raked a hand through his hair.

“Ye are vexed at me. I should have kept my big mouth closed.” Tears pricked at the backs of her eyelids.

“I’m not angry at you, Cait. You have a good reason to be doubtful. I’m a Lycan. That’s enough to make any sane woman afraid. Not to mention that you’ve never done this before.”

He leaned against the front of the settee and spread his legs, then gathered her and set her in between, his front cradling her back.

“Close your eyes,” he said quietly.

Cait let her lids drift shut, sighing as she rested her head on his shoulder and relaxed into him. “I doona ken what it will be like,” she finally admitted.

“You have to let some things just
happen
,” Dash said as his hands moved up to cup her breasts once again. Without preamble, he stroked across her nipples. She fought back a gasp. “Just like that.” His breath brushed across the shell of her ear.

“Stop trying to predict how well I’ll love you. Because, if I don’t do it well enough the first time, I plan to do it again.” Another stroke across her nipple made her back arch. “And again.” His hand walked down her stomach toward the curls at the juncture of her thighs. “And again,” he growled as his fingers finally dipped into her heat.

He stroked her, the sensation not unpleasant, not nearly what she’d expected. “That all right?”

“Aye,” she gasped as one finger stroked across her pulse point and then slipped inside her. She arched her back, completely ashamed of the way he made her react to him.

“So wet for me.” He panted with every breath.

“Dash, please!” she cried.

“Please, what?” he teased as his fingers moved from inside her to stroke her folds and back again.

“I doona ken!” she finally cried. “I doona ken what happens next!”

“Don’t worry, angel. I’ll show you,” he said as he turned her in his arms and began to work at his own clothing, tugging his shirt over his head.

She’d seen his chest before, but not close enough to touch him. She reached out one tentative hand. His chest pulsed against her fingertips before he closed his own hand around it and placed it back in her lap.

“If you touch me, I’ll be done for, lass.”

“But…” she protested.

He coaxed her into lifting her arms so he could pull her chemise over her head. Then she sat before him completely and totally naked, aside from her silk stockings with the pink garters Sorcha had insisted she wear. “Shall I take them off?”

He shook his head. “No. I like them on.” He smiled at her softly. “Do you need for me to slow down?”

His tenderness and thoughtfulness touched her heart. She lay back and held her arms out to him. The touch of his bare chest moving across her own as he covered her was sublime. She wiggled beneath him, urging him to move a little faster. Toward what? She had no idea. He trailed a kiss down the side of her neck, and she reached up to thread her hands through his hair.

“I never expected you to be so complacent, Caitie,” he teased. “You normally have such fire.”

“I’m a little bit preoccupied, ye beast.” She couldn’t help but giggle at him. Was she the kind of person to just lie beneath him, even if this was her first time? Absolutely not. “But if ye insist… Off with yer trousers, Dash,” she ordered.

“I’m not ready to take them off,” he chuckled, bending to take her nipple into his mouth. She arched her back, tugging his hair to bring him closer. “If I take them off, I’ll have to be inside you. And you’re not quite ready.”