Dare, Lydia - Tall, Dark and Wolfish

"Aside from the loss of the wolf that was hangin' on her arm when she left us?" a voice called from behind the coach. Caitrin appeared, with Blaire and Rhiannon in her wake.

"Doona start with me, Cait," Elspeth bit out. "I've only just come home. Let me settle in before I have ta start battlin' with ye."

Caitrin crossed her arms and leaned against the side of the coach. "Where's yer dog? He's no' nippin' around yer skirts."

Elspeth turned to go inside. She held the door open and raised her eyebrows. "Anyone who can keep a civil tongue in their head can join me. Otherwise I have a lot of work ta do."

Blaire, Sorcha, and Rhiannon went in and made themselves comfortable on the settee while Caitrin lingered in the doorway.

"Do I need ta ply ye with hyssop, Cait?" Elspeth asked, gesturing to the plant that still thrived on her tabletop.

Caitrin sighed and stepped into the room.

Elspeth's voice finally broke when she said, "I miss him…"

Caitrin flew across the room in a flash. She pulled Elspeth into her arms and cooed softly as she let her cry it out. "I ken that ye miss him. I'm sorry for bein' so cruel."

Elspeth wiped her cheeks with her fingertips. "I doona ken what's wrong with me. I am usually no' so emotional." All four of the girls suddenly avoided her gaze.

"What's wrong?" Elspeth barked. "What is it that keeps ye from lookin' me in the eye?"

"It's no' our place ta tell ye—" Caitrin began.

"Ye've seen my future, then?"

"Aye, I've seen yers. And that of the bairn ye carry," Caitrin said softly as she brushed a tendril of hair from Elspeth's brow. Then she turned and walked out the door.

"Doona go!" Elspeth called. "Ye canna leave me without knowin'."

"Yer future waits," Caitrin called back, smiling. Then all four girls started down the lane, their heads pressed closely together as though they were telling secrets she wasn't privy to. The coach Sorcha had arrived in was abandoned, as the women apparently thought a long walk would be better for their scheming. Elspeth directed the coachman back to the Fergusons'.

She shook her head with dismay as she walked back into the house and sank heavily into a chair, placing a hand on her belly.

A bairn

. She smiled softly. Then it hit her what Caitrin said. It wasn't like her to start to speak and then end in a riddle. "Yer future waits?"

"Do you think I'm the future of which she spoke?" a deep voice said from the doorway.

"Ben!" Elspeth cried as she jumped to her feet.

It had been weeks since he'd seen her last. He allowed his gaze to travel slowly over her body. He smiled when he heard her heart start to beat faster. He did still affect her. He'd hoped so. And prayed. And wished.

"May I come in?" he asked.

"We've only just arrived."

"Where's Major Forster?"

"He went ta the church cemetery."

"Oh." Ben understood completely. If anything ever happened to Elspeth, he would probably die with her. Or die a million deaths as the days passed before he could join her.

"How are ye?" Her hands fluttered nervously until she finally clutched them before her.

"Hale and whole. Thanks to a lovely Scottish witch who gave me the healing I needed."

"So with the moonful ye did change?" she asked as her eyebrows knit together.

"Yes, I did." He nodded. "I'm back to my old self."

She smiled slowly at him. "I'm truly happy ta ken I could help ye, Ben."

"I'm in need of one more bit of healing, though," he said softly as he walked slowly toward her. She stood still and quiet, but the flowery scent of her became stronger as her body warmed beneath his gaze.

"What seems ta be wrong with ye?"

He took her hand in his and pressed it to the center of his chest. "I think I've a problem with my heart."

Elspeth gasped. "What kind of problem? I have potions for the heart. I can heal ye," she said frantically.

He placed a finger to her lips. "It's not that kind of heart problem." Her confused gaze rose to his. "I'm afraid my heart is broken."

"That's no' humorous," she said, trying to pull her hand back. But he held tightly. He'd not allow her to mistake his intentions. Her green eyes flashed. "Ye'd have ta love me before yer heart could break."

He bent his head to touch his lips softly to hers. "I know." He pulled her closer to him, until her body pressed against his in the most delightful way. He'd missed holding her, the feel of her in his arms. He breathed beside her ear. "Fix my heart, Ellie." Then he loosened his hold and stepped away from her.

She shook her head. "Ye shouldna have come."

His stubborn, beautiful, intoxicating wife. "Come now, love. You heal everyone else."

Elspeth dropped onto her old threadbare settee. "I've given ye all I have, Ben. I doona have anythin' else."

Which was why it was time for him to take care of her. Something he would do for the rest of his days. He just had to win her back first. "Come to dinner with me tonight, Ellie."

"Ben," she groaned.

"I won't take no for an answer." He sunk to his haunches before her. "It's just dinner. You have to eat anyway."

She shook her head. "But my father—"

"—has been eating camp rations most of his life. I'm sure he can manage one night at the Thistle and Thorn."

The corner of her mouth twitched, and for a moment he thought she was going to smile at him, but she quickly schooled her features back in place.

Ben tucked a curl behind her ear. "I promise not to bite."

"Just dinner?"

"Just dinner."

For now.

"All right," she finally agreed.

Forty-seven

"Whatever ye do, doona say anythin' stupid," Caitrin warned Ben. Then she thrust a picnic basket into his arms.

He almost stumbled backward against the Macleods' grand staircase. A footman snickered, but quickly adopted a stoic expression when Ben glowered at the man. "Findlay," Caitrin replied waspishly, "ye may leave us."

Once the servant was gone, Ben turned his attention back to the pretty seer, whom he still couldn't quite believe was helping him. "Thank you for your confidence," he grumbled.

Caitrin raised one arrogant brow. "I believe that's why ye're in this situation, Westfield. I'm simply sayin' doona make the same mistake again."

"Well, that goes without saying."

She ignored him, then handed him a folded-up plaid he'd come to recognize as belonging to the Campbells. "I've put some red candles in there, too."

"Why red?"

She frowned at him. "Do ye want my help or no'?"

To be honest, he wasn't sure. He knew he could trust Sorcha, but Caitrin was another matter. "Why

are

you helping me?"

At once she looked remorseful, which was a change from her usual haughtiness. "My mother was so consumed with keepin' the

Còig

intact, she dinna see what she was doin' ta Elspeth's mother. At least that's what I've been tellin' myself." She took a deep breath and met his eyes. "I canna fathom lyin' about a vision, Westfield. It goes against my very nature. Her fear and selfishness cost El a lifetime's worth of happiness. It's a little late, but if I can bring some ta her, I'll even help the likes of ye."

Even when she was helping him, it still came off as an insult. "A truce, then?" he asked.

Caitrin cocked her head to one side, assessing him. "Are ye really goin' ta split her time between London and Edinburgh? Like Hades and Persephone?"

Ben couldn't help but laugh. "

You

whispered that little myth in MacQuarrie's ear?"

A wicked smile played on her lips. "I'm a bit selfish myself, Westfield. And ye dinna answer my question."

Ben sighed. He'd never thought he'd have to get approval for his time allotted to him by this particular witch. "Yes, Miss Macleod."