Dare, Lydia - Tall, Dark and Wolfish

A knock sounded at the door.

"What?" he barked.

"I'm coming in," Will said.

Ben didn't respond. He just ran his hands up and down Elspeth's cold body, trying to use the friction of his touch to warm her.

"What can I do?" Will asked softly.

"She needs to be warmed."

Will stepped into the hallway and directed the servants to light a fire in the grate. They scurried to do his bidding.

"Why did you let her do it?" Ben cried softly as he held her close to him.

"We didn't know."

Servants began to pour into the room. One stoked the fire while another added layers of counterpanes until the room was filled with a radiant heat. Then they were all alone again.

Ben held her like that for what seemed like hours. She slowly warmed against him, but didn't wake. Her eyelids never fluttered. The slow, even cadence of her breathing never changed. Her heartbeat never quickened. What he would have paid at that moment to hear her heartbeat speed up. He didn't care if it was in anger, in fear, in passion. He simply wanted her to be healthy.

Why had he said those stupid things that drove her away from him? Of course he loved her. How could he not? He just hadn't wanted to admit it to himself. He'd wanted to protect her, but instead he put her in danger. If she didn't wake, he'd never forgive himself.

When morning came, Will tried to get Ben to take a break. But he stoically refused. He needed to be with her. If she drew her last breath, he would be there.

"You need your strength," Will reminded him. "Go and take a walk. Get something to eat. I'll sit with her."

He looked down at her sleeping form. His Elspeth was warm. Her lips were no longer blue. Her cheeks were a rosy red. But she refused to wake.

"Trust me. If she wakes, I'll call you," Will said. "I'll not leave her."

Ben rose, dressed, and stepped out the front door. He walked into the yard and kicked the stone wolf in his path. He didn't even feel the pain. He wanted to vent his frustration. He wanted to hurt someone. He walked down the winding path into the woods, a heavy rain immediately soaking him. Had it been raining when he'd stepped outside? He couldn't remember.

He took a few more steps. The rain stopped and the sun shone. Then, within moments, it poured again.

"Rhiannon?" he asked quietly. He must be losing his mind. He scrubbed his hand across his forehead.

A few feet before him, a small plant emerged from the ground. It flowered prettily. Ben bent and looked at the plant offering. Only Sorcha could present such an item.

"What do I do?" he asked. Another blossom appeared, as if to say

Pick me, you idiot.

He picked the purple blossom. A pinecone dropped from a nearby tree and hit the top of his head. What else could go wrong? He kicked the cone from his path. Four more dropped from the sky. He raised his arms above his head to block more falling objects. "I get the idea," he growled as he picked up a pinecone. A ginger root tugged at the toe of his shoe. He looked up at the sky and said, "That's for me, too?" A pinecone hit his head.

He shook his head with wonder and dug up the ginger root. "You know I have no idea what to do with these things or how much of each to use," he called. He hoped no one was watching him, but he really didn't care. The root and the flower immediately shriveled into dried bits in his hand. Then a gentle wind blew. The majority of the dried leaves left his palm, leaving only a small bit behind.

He raised his eyebrows and said, "Now we're getting somewhere." He held up the pinecone. It fell apart in his hand and left four tiny seeds.

"What do I mix them with?" Thunder crashed in the sky and rain poured from the heavens, soaking him immediately. He closed his fist to keep his precious ingredients safe. When the water stopped, he stood with his eyes closed, a bemused look on his face as he blew water from his face and shook his head like a dog. "I assume that means water." He nearly chuckled. "Is that all?" The sun shone brightly.

He turned and jogged back into the house, stopping to make a fresh pot of tea, and steeped the ingredients in his hands, adding them to the brew. When it was done, he carried the tea upstairs on a tray.

Will sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing the tips of his fingers across Elspeth's lifeless hand. "What do you have there?" he asked.

"A brew from the witches."

"In Scotland?" Will looked befuddled.

"In Scotland," Ben confirmed.

"Why are you all wet?"

"It was one of the clues." He shrugged as he raised a small spoonful of the brew to Elspeth's lips. She took it in without gasping or choking and swallowed slowly. It was the first movement she'd made since she'd passed out.

"When you get yourself in a mess, you really know how to do it, don't you, Ben?" Will asked.

"This isn't a mess, William. This is love."

Forty-five

Elspeth blinked her eyes open as late afternoon light poured into the room. Weak, she tried to turn to her side, but she couldn't gather up the strength. She looked to her side and found Will flipping through

The Times. Her heart sank when she realized it wasn'

t Ben.

Not that she should have been surprised. Though she loved him with all her heart, nothing had changed. She must have made some sort of sound, because Will dropped the paper and sat forward. He smiled with relief. "Thank God. We were so worried."

She tried to sit up but couldn't manage to make her limbs do anything. "Water," she whispered.

"Of course." He leapt from his seat and poured some from a pitcher, sloshing most of it on the floor in his haste to bring it to her.

He helped her sit and brought the cup to her mouth. It was like nectar from the gods, and she drank her fill. Only when she finished did she realize that the counterpane was down around her waist and she had nothing on.

Elspeth gasped and Will's eyes widened. Apparently he didn't realize it either. Quickly, he pulled the blankets up to her neck and tucked them around her. "Ben doesn't need to know about that," he said quietly. Then he added with a wink, "He'll accuse me of trying to seduce you in your weakened state."

Just hearing his name tore at her heart. It was best to think of other things. She shook her head. "My father," she managed, her voice sounded raspy.

Will started for the door. "I've got to wake Ben first."

"Just my father."

He glanced over his shoulder at her but didn't say a word as he stepped over the threshold.

When Ben heard a soft knock, he bolted off the bed he was napping on, rushed across the room, and opened the door. Will stood before him, frowning.

"Is she awake?" he asked.

Will nodded. "She's asking for the major."

Ben took a step backward, realization dawning on him. "But not me."

Will winced. "Forster has a claim on her, but she's

your

wife. I think you should go to her anyway. She can talk to him later."

It wouldn't do any good. She was a stubborn lass when she wanted to be. Apparently, in her eyes he hadn't yet paid for his sins. He certainly didn't want to fight with her, not when she was in a weakened state. Ben sighed. "How is she?"

"She looks frail, but her color is back. She's said a few words, but her voice is scratchy."

"Make sure she drinks the tea."

Will stepped closer to him, so there was only an inch between them. "You should go to her, Ben."

He had every intention of going to her, when she was stronger and he could make her understand. Or when she asked for him. Whichever came first. "In good time. Get Forster. Make sure she drinks the tea."

"She loves you."

Ben knew that. He could feel her inside him, in his heart, his soul, his very essence. She'd healed more than his broken arm. "It won't be good to upset her right now, and I think my presence would do so."