Dare, Lydia - Tall, Dark and Wolfish

She winked at him and smiled. "What a good wolf ye've turned out ta be. And ye can call me Cait."

"Cait?" He raised his brow in amusement.

"Well, I'm goin' ta be the godmother of yer children, after all."

"Are you, indeed?" He couldn't resist smiling.

"If ye can win her back. I doona trust my visions

completely anymore. And El can be more stubborn than most."

But she saw them together. Ben released a sigh. He would take all the help he could get.

"Now, El's favorites are in there, and Rhiannon has guaranteed nice weather for ye tonight. But the rest falls ta ye. Doona say anythin' stupid."

"Yes, you said that already."

Ben helped Elspeth out of his coach, and her eyes swept over the land—a beautiful heather-covered meadow that edged the forest. The warmth of his hand holding hers sent tingles racing to Elspeth's soul.

She sucked in a steadying breath as her eyes darted back to her husband. Ever since she'd agreed to this outing, she'd worried it was a mistake. Spending time with him would only make things more painful when he left.

Ben scooped up a picnic basket and plaid in one hand, then offered his free arm to her.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"Home," he answered, with a smile in his voice. "Do you like it?"

"Home?"

"This is the land I bought, Ellie," he said, gesturing to the open space. "We'll have the grandest home in Edinburgh, save the castle. Society will be lining up to attend your parties. And out back by the woods you can have your own wing to tend to as many sick Scots as you want. Just say you'll come back to me." He brushed his fingers across her cheek.

She closed her eyes at his touch, momentarily lost in a happier time when she thought they were in love. "Ye doona have ta do this, Ben. I doona blame ye for anythin', ye ken."

Ben looked away from her and spread the Campbell plaid on the ground.

"We just weren't meant ta be," Elspeth continued softly, though her heart protested.

She remembered when Will had uttered the same words about his Prisca and the sadness that emanated from him. The sentiment hadn't made much sense to her back then. Now she understood it too well.

"We

were

meant to be. We're connected, lass, in more ways than one."

Distance and time would solve those problems. Elspeth stepped away from him and took a spot on the corner of the plaid. She smiled, hoping he wouldn't see the tears in her eyes. "What have ye got in yer basket?"

He sat beside her; his warm hazel eyes raking across her seemed so sad. "I'm told that roasted pheasant with currants is your favorite."

Elspeth grinned at him. Who had he been talking to? "No blueberries?" She couldn't help but ask.

Ben groaned and squished up his nose. "I don't think I can ever look another blueberry in the face."

Elspeth laughed. "They're really very good for ye."

"I'll survive," he replied, leaning back on his elbows.

She glanced at him, relaxed on the plaid and staring out at his land, his hair hanging rakishly across his brow. Elspeth didn't think it was possible for her to ever stop loving him. Why was he intent on making this harder for her? "Ben, sell the land. Go back ta London. Yer life is waitin' for ye. The right girl is out there somewhere waitin' for ye."

In the blink of an eye he pulled her onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her waist. "The right girl is here, Ellie. I'm not going anywhere without you."

"Ben," she sighed, staring at his neckcloth to avoid his eyes. "I ken ye care about me. But—"

"I do care about you. I love you, Elspeth Westfield. And I was a fool not to realize it sooner. I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make that up to you."

Elspeth's eyes slowly rose to meet his, and her heart leapt at his words. She wanted to believe him. She wanted it more than anything.

"Tell me the right thing to say, Ellie. Everyone seems to think I'll say something stupid and you'll bolt."

She couldn't help but laugh at that. "Everyone thinks that, do they?"

"Caitrin pounded it into my head." He nodded, his eyes searching hers.

"Cait?" she asked in amazement. Her friend was the very last person she would expect to aid Ben in this quest. She wasn't quite sure what that meant.

He smiled at her. "She said she was going to be our children's godmother."

Elspeth's hand flew to her belly. This was about the bairn. He didn't want her to raise their child alone. Her heart plummeted again, and she scrambled from his lap.

"I doona need yer help, ye ken. I'll manage just fine on my own."

Ben's eyes widened and he shook his head. "What did I say?"

"She never should have told ye," Elspeth snapped as she crossed her arms beneath her breasts.

How could

she?

Elspeth had planned to tell him in her own time, in her own way.

"Told me what?" he asked, his eyebrows drawing together as he reached for her.

Forty-eight

Elspeth avoided his touch and his gaze. They'd immediately gone from having a casual, comfortable conversation to her pulling away from him.

"What did I say? Please tell me so I can avoid saying it in the future." He recognized the bite of sarcasm in his own voice and chastised himself. This wasn't the time to show her his bruised ego. Caitrin told him not to say anything stupid, and he'd somehow done so anyway.

Elspeth sighed and raised her knees to wrap her arms around them. Then she dipped her head to rest on her knees. Her voice was muffled when she finally spoke. "Nothin'."

"I seem to have a way of putting my foot in my mouth, Ellie. I'm still learning, though. And I'm a quick study."

"I ken ye are," she said, her voice still muffled as she refused to raise her head.

What could he do to bring her back to him? He reached into the picnic basket and started to unload it. "Can you tolerate my presence long enough to eat with me?" He tried not to sound defeated, but it was difficult.

"Aye, I can tolerate ye." She finally raised her head and looked at him. "Her cook makes the best pheasant."

If he couldn't win her with his personality, at least he could win her with food. But when he unwrapped the roasted bird, Elspeth's hand immediately flew to her mouth. Her eyes grew round. And she turned a most horrid shade of green.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

She stood up quickly and ran to the bushes. He closed his eyes and pounded his forehead with his fist when he heard her cast up her accounts. Now his very presence made her sick. The situation was beginning to look hopeless. Instead of Caitrin telling him not to say anything stupid, she should have told him specifically what

not

to say.

A few minutes later she returned. Thankfully, the greenish tint to her skin had receded. "I'm sorry," she started.

He held up a hand. "That's quite all right. You can't help it if being with me makes you ill."

"It's no' that," she said as he passed her a cup of water to rinse her mouth out. "It was the smell of pheasant. I havena been feelin' my best lately." She looked toward the dish and shuddered. "I appreciate ye havin' it prepared for me, though."

Her hand lifted as though to caress his face, and he was so happy he nearly bumped his nose to her hand like a pup who wanted to be petted. But then she pulled back.

"So how do ye feel about what Caitrin told ye?"

"I was quite put out by it at first." Wouldn't anyone who'd been called an idiot be a little upset by it?

Elspeth gasped and pursed her lips.

"What did I do now?" he groaned.

Tears filled her green eyes and welled up behind her lashes but threatened to spill over at any moment. "I'd like ta go home, now."