Dare, Lydia - Tall, Dark and Wolfish

"I beg your pardon?"

Elspeth stared at their entwined hands. "Ye can talk ta yer major for me. Ye doona need me." The last bit was especially hard to get out; the truth that he

didn't

need her stung in her throat.

"Elspeth Westfield," he growled near her ear. "I'm not going anywhere without you. Now, tell me what's wrong."

"People here trust me, Ben. They need me."

"Well, they can all hang. You're

my

wife."

She slowly lifted her gaze to meet his. "I was a healer long before today."

A muscle twitched in his jaw and his eyes hardened. "Not anymore, Ellie."

The wind whooshed out of her lungs. Before she could find the words to properly thrash him, he continued.

"I almost lost you today. Do you know what that did to me? Finding you slumped over Caitrin Macleod? And you were so cold, like a lake frozen solid. I could barely make out your heartbeat it was so slow. So no more healing. A doctor could have tended to Miss Macleod, and doing so wouldn't drain his life force."

She gaped at him. He cared about her, even if he had no faith in her abilities. Still, it was disheartening. "I'll have ye ken today was an anomaly. I've been helpin' people for years, Ben. From time ta time I get a little weak, but with Cait… well, we're so close, and—"

"Sorcha explained all of that to me, lass. I won't put you in danger, and neither will anyone else."

And that was why he didn't want her to heal him. It wasn't even the same thing at all. Stubborn man. He should have asked questions before making decisions that affected them both. "Ye told me from the beginnin', Ben, that being a Lycan meant everythin' ta ye. This mornin' when I told ye I knew how ta heal ye, I've never seen yer face light up so. And now ye're willin' ta go through life like a human, turn yer back on who and what ye really are?"

His brow furrowed and he looked at least a decade older than his twenty-six years. "I feel enough like my old self when I'm with you, Ellie. I don't need anything else."

"Ye told me ye needed ta be able ta change with the moon. Ye left yer home and yer family ta seek me out."

He rubbed his hands across his face and rose from his spot. "You're close to Caitrin, Elspeth, and that closeness nearly took you from me today." He stood over her glowering, his hazel eyes dangerously dark. "What we have, you and I, goes beyond closeness. We are connected in a way I don't even understand, a way I didn't even know was possible. So, no, you're not going to heal me. Do you think I would risk losing you, just so I can change to wolf once a month and howl at the moon with my brothers?"

As infuriating as he was, she didn't think anyone had ever cared so much about her. Elspeth reached her hand up and caressed his cheek. "Ben," she said softly.

He closed his eyes and kissed her palm. "I won't let you do it, Ellie."

She heaved a sigh. "It's no' the same sort of thing, Ben. I told ye this mornin' I have my mother's potions and spells. I ken how she fixed him, and if ye'd stop bein' so stubborn and listen ta me, ye'd ken I willna be in any danger."

His eyes narrowed at her. "The extent of your healing will be potions and spells. You will not waste your own energy on me?"

"Silly man. I plan ta spend some of my energy on ye, but not in

that

way." She felt the heat creep up her face as he tipped her chin toward his and chuckled.

He briefly touched his lips to hers before he picked her up and carried her to the bedroom. "You can spend as much of

that

kind of energy on me as you like," he assured her before he tossed her into the middle of the bed and shrugged out of his shirt.

Thirty

Ben stretched to his full height in the small bed, groaning as his head bumped the headboard and his heels hung off the end of the mattress. He lifted his head and looked around. If he spent any more time in Elspeth's bed, he would have to purchase one made for a fully grown Lycan. Even a normal man would have been uncomfortable in her bed, which was just wide enough for her to sleep comfortably, alone.

He smiled slowly to himself as he remembered adjusting her body during the night to pull her as close to him as he could. He had drawn her into the saddle of his hips, but then her beautiful round bottom taunted him. He had pressed her front to his, but then her nipples teased his chest. Finally he had roused her gently, pulled her atop him, and slid inside her. Then she'd fallen asleep in that position after they'd both found their pleasure, her cheek above his heart, her hair a fiery tangle around them both.

He would love to sleep with her in that position every night for the rest of his life. But they would have to do so in a bigger bed. He added it to his mental to-do list. Right behind

install shutters.

Her room was awash with offensive sunlight, the kind that forces one to rise even if one doesn't want to. Ben rolled to his side and clutched the edge of the bed to keep from falling off. He pulled the sheet over his hips before he crooked his elbow and rested his head in his overturned palm.

"Ellie," he called. A clatter of pots and pans met his greeting. He groaned. "Ellie!" he called more loudly. The pots and pans ceased their clatter.

But it was Sorcha who stuck her head through the bedroom door. "Ye bellowed, my lord?" the young witch began drolly, then quickly drew her head back when she saw his state of undress. Her gasp was all it took to get him moving.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you witches how

rude

it is to interrupt newlyweds?" Ben called as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and slid into his pants. He tugged his shirt over his head with enough force to rip a seam. "Ugh," he grunted. Between grass stains and tears, his valet would have Ben's head when he saw the state of his employer's wardrobe.

"Did anyone ever tell

ye

how

rude

it is ta call a woman inta a room when ye're undressed?" the little witch shot back.

"I was calling for my wife," Ben said. His voice lowered to a mumble. "Who I'd hoped would be very happy to see my state of undress." And his state of readiness. "Why are you in my kitchen, Sorcha. And where is Ellie?" He pulled on a stocking and stuck his head through the door.

"Doona come out of there unless ye're properly dressed." She pointed a spoon at him in warning.

"Depends on your definition of 'proper,'" Ben grunted as he adjusted the second stocking and padded into the room. He poured warm water for tea. Sorcha stood alone in the kitchen, pots cooking on every warming surface, spoons spinning at random, victims of their witchy powers. He shook his head. "And the word 'proper' should be used very loosely where you all are concerned."

Sorcha pulled his cup from his hand and added something to it. "Elspeth said ye're ta drink nothin' but the blueberry." She handed it back to him. "Careful, it's hot."

Ben nodded absently. "Thank you. Where's Elspeth?"

The witch avoided his gaze. "The blueberry bush is ruled by the moon. As are ye." She shrugged. "Or at least ye should be."

"Sorcha?" he said firmly. "Where is Elspeth?"

The littlest witch hung her head. "They should've sent someone else," she grumbled. Then her eyes met his before skittering away. "She's gone on an errand."

"What kind of errand?"

"The healin' kind?" Was that a question?

"Where?" he barked as he strode back to the bedroom to put on his boots.

"She's gone ta deliver the bairn for Mrs. Kincaid."

"She delivers babies?" Ben was pretty sure that unmarried women were not normally allowed in the birthing room.

"Not really," the girl hedged.

"Sorcha, you

will tell me now

," he growled.