Dare, Lydia - Tall, Dark and Wolfish

The mark? Was it possible? Elspeth felt a connection to Ben Westfield, but she didn't think it was the mark. It didn't feel like she expected it to. But mark or no mark, he'd come for her help—actually her mother's help, but it was the same power. If he thought Rosewyth could heal him, she was certain she could. She probably should have asked the extent of his ailment, however.

It was hard to imagine that he had anything wrong with him. She'd never met a more virile man. He'd searched the countryside all night looking for her hair combs. How many ailing men could do that? How many healthy ones could?

She leveled her dearest friend with a furious glare. "We each have our roles, Caitrin. You're a seer and I'm a healer. If Benjamin Westfield needs me ta heal him, I'll do so. I doona expect ye ta understand, but I do expect ye ta respect my decision."

"Ladies," Ben's deep voice came from behind them.

Elspeth nearly jumped out of her skin. "Heavens, Ben! I dinna hear ye."

A wolfish grin spread across his face. "I do tend to move quietly. Am I interrupting?"

Elspeth turned back to Caitrin to find her glowering. "Ye're no' the only one this affects, El. Bear that in mind."

Then her dearest friend in the world stomped off through the trees.

Twelve

At first Ben didn't believe his ears, though they'd never failed him in the past. Caitrin Macleod was a seer? The image of five beautiful women standing together at the Fergusons' flashed in his eyes. A seer. A healer. A coven. Not the hooked-nose witches from

Macbeth,

but a coven just the same.

Did the good people of Edinburgh know who resided right under their noses? And what powers did the other three women possess?

Not that it mattered overmuch. He'd come for a healer, and he heard Elspeth vow to help him. Whatever Caitrin Macleod thought he was after, she was wrong. He wanted only to return to his Lycan self, then he'd leave them in peace.

Leave

her

. Elspeth. He'd only known the woman a day, but the thought of leaving her pained him. He shook the thought from his head. Major Forster had said a Lycan bonds with his healer. That's all it was. Though the pull the lass had on him was stronger than any he could ever remember. He'd have to take special care not to let things progress to where they shouldn't. He didn't think Elspeth could handle it. Who was he kidding? He didn't think

he

could handle it.

God, but she felt good in his arms.

"Ye look a million miles away, Ben." Her lilting voice brought him back to the present.

"I suppose I was in a way. Are you really a… healer, Elspeth?"

A witch,

he wanted to ask, but thought better of it.

"Aye. As was my mother before me, and her mother before her, and on and on."

Ben smiled. His family's heritage was much the same. All Lycan males, until him. Until this.

"What exactly is yer ailment? I've never seen a healthier man."

Healthy, at least, in all the ways anyone could see. It was inside where he was broken. Ben stared at her. To get her help he'd have to be honest. How was she to fix him otherwise? He'd left his home and come all this way to find her. Well, to find Rosewyth.

Still, being a Lycan wasn't something one openly admitted. In London he'd be locked in Bedlam if he even thought of telling anyone. Or Newgate. He wasn't sure which was worse. Creatures like him usually only confessed all to their intended mates.

An image of mating with Elspeth flashed in his mind, and he couldn't shake it away. Bonding. It was just bonding with his healer. He could tell her. He had to.

"I'm a Lycan," he blurted out before he came to his senses. "Do you know what that is?"

She shook her head, though he noticed she rubbed the skin of her wrist beneath her gloves.

"A werewolf, in layman's terms."

He half expected her to run through the woods, screaming like a banshee, but she simply tilted her head to one side and waited for him to continue.

"You have nothing to say to that?"

She shrugged. "What would ye like me ta say?"

"I don't know. Maybe run in fear, at least."

Her beautiful smile returned. "I doona believe there is a thing about ye I should fear, Ben." Her gaze moved from the top of his head to the bottoms of his feet, lingering as though she'd find the secret of his creation somewhere upon his person. "What does all of this mean? What does bein' a Lycan entail? Do ye change ta a wolf every night?"

He shook his head. "No. We change only when the light of a full moon touches us. The rest of the month we look like any other man, but beneath the surface the beast inside struggles to be released, stronger in the days surrounding moonful."

"I see," she said looking up into the forest canopy above them, though the sun was high in the sky. "The moon is but a sliver now."

Ben heaved a sigh. It was easier to talk about this with her than he had expected. "I left almost immediately after the last moonful."

"Why?"

"I didn't transform."

"And ye

want

ta transform?" she asked with a frown.

"Of course I want to change," he barked. When her green eyes grew round, he shuffled his feet. "Sorry. I suppose I'm not explaining this well after all. The

change

is part of me, Elspeth, who I am. I need to fix whatever is wrong with me."

Elspeth stared at the man in front of her. A Lycan. A werewolf. A beast. Caitrin had been right about that. Is that what the mark indicated? Again she rubbed the mark on her wrist. Was that what her father was? Was that why he'd sought out her mother?

"Do ye have a mark, Ben?"

"A mark?"

"On yer skin?"

He smiled. "How did you know?"

Elspeth shrugged. "Lucky guess. Where is it? Can I see it?" Did it look like hers?

His grin widened. "Only if I remove all my clothes." He glanced around the woods. "I don't think this would be the place to show you."

Shivers danced across her skin at the thought of Ben Westfield without a stitch of clothing. As a healer, she'd seen men unclothed before, though she'd thought nothing of it. Somehow she didn't think that would be the case with this man. "I'll, um, need ta see it. But no' here, no' now." Then she straightened her shoulders and looked him square in the eye. "I'll need time ta figure out what ta do with ye. Can ye give me a few days?"

"You can have all the days you need, lass. Do you think you can heal me?"

"I've never encountered a case like yers before, but I'll do everythin' in my power." And she would try to locate any notes her mother may have left about Lycans. Why hadn't her mother told her more?

Caitrin threw open the door to her father's study. She didn't know who else to turn to, and she was furious. Angus Macleod looked up from the papers on his desk and regarded her with a look of amusement. "

Havers, Cait! Ye look like a

cat whose tail's been set aflame."

She glared at her father. "How flatterin'."

He chuckled and leaned back in his chair. "I'm glad ye're here, lass. A gentleman came ta see me today about ye."

Caitrin shook her head. Nothing he had to say could be more important than her current predicament. "Papa, did ye ever meet Elspeth's sire?"

Her father frowned and tapped his chin. "No, but yer mother did."

"Did she say anythin' about him?"

His laugh warmed the room. "A thing or two. Nothin' I'll repeat in yer presence, lass. Yer mother wasna one for cursin', but she made an exception for Rosie's beast."

Caitrin rubbed her hands across her face. Could the man never be serious? "Oh, Papa!" she groaned. "I've seen a man, a beast," she clarified. "It's all comin' ta pass. He'll take Elspeth from us and—"