Dare, Lydia - Tall, Dark and Wolfish

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'll do me the honor of tellin' me what's ailin' ye, I'll 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 full 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 still an innocent. He couldn't possibly tell 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 well 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 fallen 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 enthusiastically.

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 full. 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'll get ye all fixed." Her hand touched his back, rubbing a light circle.

Ben finally 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 well and truly caught within his arms. His chest flexed beneath her fingers. She tested the hard wall 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 full 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 belly.

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 pulled her against his hardness. She yelped and swatted at his chest.

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

Ben allowed her to step back and turned to face the churchyard. "You go. I'll follow 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 practically 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 tell 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 Campbell? 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 all 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 pierced Elspeth with the intensity of her stare. "He is the one from my vision, El. He bears the mark. He will try ta take ye from us. And from what I've seen, he's done a mighty fine job of that so far."