Dare, Lydia - Tall, Dark and Wolfish

Along one wall, her mother had stacked the bottles used for her potions and healing remedies. Elspeth stepped closer to the far wall, which housed a cabinet of small drawers, each no more than three inches in width. She tugged one of the small drawers open and smiled when her nose was assaulted by the smell of mint. She opened another drawer and oregano tickled her nose.

Elspeth went on to find basil and bay leaves. If she couldn't conjure a spell with these, her mother could at least make a decent stew. She laughed lightly to herself at the thought.

A long table was in the center of the room. She recognized her grandfather's handiwork in the piece as she ran a finger longingly across the surface. Atop the table, books were stacked in abandon, some still open to the page her mother had last studied. She felt a tiny catch in her throat as she saw the spell her mother had been writing. It was a spell that would only be used to call a loved one home.

But who would her mother call? As far as she knew, her mother had never loved any man, aside from her father. Elspeth picked up the piece of foolscap and blew the dust from the surface.

That was when she finally knew. She knew who the man was who'd killed her mother. She'd known all along it was her father. But she'd never seen it written in ink the way it was. The foolscap may as well have been marked with her blood, for her mother had poured her heart out on the page. She had finally taken it upon herself to call to him and ask for him to return. To visit her one last time. Obviously, he hadn't come. And her mother had finally died of loneliness.

But she'd left one thing behind. The man had a name—a first one, at least—Des. And Elspeth had to find him.

Ben knew it was much too early to pay a visit to Elspeth, but he'd woken several times thinking of her during the night. He hated the idea of her being all alone in that house. He would take a quick run over to her tiny cottage and see if her friends were around. If so, he wouldn't worry over her.

He jogged through the woods, so intent on his path that he suddenly found himself there and didn't even remember how he'd arrived. Of course, no one was moving about. He glanced at the shrubbery and said quietly, "If you're going to attack me, let's get it over with."

The shrubbery made no response. No leaves trembled. No vines lengthened or entangled him. Perhaps it was safe. He softly knocked on her door. He waited to hear her call out, or at least hear her footsteps as she crossed the floor. His Lycan hearing allowed him to hear the smallest of footsteps, even the ones made by bare feet. He imagined Elspeth climbing out of bed, her feet bare as she padded toward the door.

But no one answered his knock. He tapped a little louder. There were still no signs from inside. What if something was wrong? What if she was hurt?

Ben turned the door handle and poked his head inside. He glanced around the room and saw nothing amiss. But neither did she appear to him. He walked into the kitchen and saw a spoon stirring a pot of oatmeal. All by itself ? Surely that wasn't one of her powers. He walked over to the stove and moved the pot from the heat. The spinning spoon immediately stilled. Ben shook his head and called to her again.

He glanced across the kitchen and finally saw the hidden door, which was usually covered by a large rug. The rug had been casually tossed to the side. He stepped to the edge of the hidden door and looked down. And there he finally found her.

"Elspeth?" he called. He could see her there in candlelight, her face glowing as she sat still, thoroughly engrossed in a book in her lap. She didn't look up.

The rungs creaked only slightly as they bore his weight. When he reached the bottom of the ladder, he jumped softly to the hard-packed earth.

He was before her and pulling the book from her grasp before she even realized he was there.

"

Havers

, Ben!" she cried, her hand fluttering to land on her heart, which now beat so loud that Ben could hear it. "Ye nearly scared the life out of me." Her eyes narrowed at him. "What are ye doin' here?"

"I came to check on you. To be sure you're all right." He wiped a smudge of dust from her cheek with the pad of his thumb.

"Oh, I'm fine," she said and pulled the book back into her lap.

Any other woman would be mortified to be caught in her nightrail by a man. And even more so if she knew what she looked like. Back in London, there were chimney sweeps with less dirt on them than she was wearing.

He reached over and tugged the end of a spider web, untangling the mess from her hair, which looked like orange flames in the light of the candle.

"Thank ye," she mumbled. She barely glanced up at him.

"What is this place?" he asked as he took in the sights and scents around him.

Without looking up from her book, she mumbled, "My mother's secret room."

"I can see why she kept it a secret," Ben said quietly. She didn't turn and look at him. He crossed his arms over his chest. "It's filthy."

"Filthy, aye," she murmured, but still didn't raise her head.

"Elspeth, the trees have come alive, and they tried to kill me on my way to your house." Something had to get her attention.

"That's good, Ben," she said quietly as she turned the page.

"I want to make love to you," he said, unable to bite back the small smile and pleasant thoughts that came with that statement. Perhaps he could shock her out of her trance.

"Aye," she nodded.

"Did you say 'aye'?" he cried.

"Mmm... hmm." She nodded. "Whatever ye say."

Ben blew out a frustrated breath as he paced behind her. Then he had an idea. He unbuttoned his trousers and rubbed his fingertips lightly across his birthmark.

"Oh," she cried as she jumped up. The book fell from her hands and thunked to the floor.

"Finally I have your attention," he said as he leaned against a cabinet.

"Doona do that ta me, Ben." Her green eyes flashed in anger. She shook her first finger at him. "That wasna fair."

He chuckled at the look of indignation on her face. "I gave you fair warning, Elspeth."

She bent and picked up the book. "I'm sorry. I was readin' my mother's journal."

"Anything interesting?"

A spark of pain lit in her eye and then quickly died. "Very much that's interestin'. She wrote about my father." She sighed long and loud. Then drew in a deep breath. "Ben, can I ask ye for a favor?"

He stepped closer to her and brushed a lock of hair from her forehead. "You can ask me for anything."

"Can ye take me ta London?"

That came out of nowhere. "I said I would, but what's so urgent?"

"I need ta find my father. Ye said yer major could help me."

Ben nodded. He'd been trying to get her to London, away from the others, anyway. What a stroke of luck to have her change her mind to leave sooner. "I believe he can."

"Good, because I'm goin' ta kill him once I find him."

Twenty-three

Elspeth was mortified by what she'd said, and more so by the look of utter shock on Ben's face. Still, she wouldn't take the words back. She was a healer, and she'd never wanted to hurt anyone—except for "Des," whoever the devil he was. Perhaps the loss of a limb would suffice. She scratched her head as she considered her options.

For years she'd heard her grandfather lament the fact that her father had killed her mother. She'd never been sure what he meant by that, since she'd never laid eyes on the man, and her mother had only died five years ago. But now, having read pages and pages of her mother's words, she knew exactly what her grandfather meant. She remembered the day. Elspeth had been sick, so sick that she'd nearly died. She'd been told later that her mother had tried every remedy known to her. And nothing worked. So, in desperation, she'd reached out to El's father for support.