Dare, Lydia - Tall, Dark and Wolfish

He swung his leg back to the right side of the terrace wall. He was before her in seconds.

"You insult me and then seek me out?" he growled.

"I doona ken how I insulted ye," she breathed.

"Those aren't dogs," he growled.

This time it was Miss Campbell who faltered. She reached a hand to her hair to touch the rough surface of the comb. "Certainly they are."

"My dear Miss Campbell, there is no one who knows better than I. Those are

not

dogs."

"And what makes ye an expert on women's jewelry?"

"Not on jewelry," he said quietly. Her eyes rose slowly to meet his when she tipped her head back. "On beasts."

"Beasts?"

"Yes. Beasts," he snapped.

"Ye're certainly doin' a fine imitation of one now, are ye no'? So I assume ye're quite an expert."

A twinge of guilt nearly made him wince. How much more did he have to reveal before she admitted the true origin of the combs? He searched her face, looking for even a hint of subterfuge. He found none. "You truly thought they were dogs?"

"I've never been told differently," she said quietly.

"I'm telling you differently now."

"I doona ken what difference it makes. Beasts?

Dogs?" She tugged the combs from her hair and held them out to him. "Just what about them offends ye?"

Her hands shook noticeably and she worked to steady them. His eyes narrowed when he noticed, but he took the combs from her and held them up to the lantern that lit the terrace.

"You speak of them like they're average creatures," he mumbled. "Like they're inconsequential."

"No' inconsequential," she denied. "They're beautiful." She raised her index finger and ran it over the snout of the beast. "Look at the way he raises his head. He calls ta the moon, as though it is part of his very soul."

"It is." He sighed. "Or it usually is." Was that sadness that entered his voice?

She took the combs from him and attempted to put her hair back to rights. Finally she gave up, allowing her shoulders to drop in defeat. She settled onto a bench in the shadows.

"I'm sorry I overreacted," he said softly.

"It's all right," she allowed. "I'm used ta it."

"Used to men who act like children?" he asked as he sat down beside her.

"No. Used ta bein' miserable at events like this." She leaned back and looked up at the stars. "I doona ken how I do it. I offend ye and I doona even know ye."

Lord Benjamin's finger surprised her when he touched her chin, gently forcing her to look up at him. Still, she avoided his gaze.

"I'm very sorry," he said quietly. "I mistook what you said. It's completely my fault. Not yours."

"I almost got one dance in this time, so it's better than usual," she admitted, the heat creeping up her cheeks when she realized what she'd said. "Thank ye for the opportunity."

"You said you normally don't dance. Why not?"

"I'm sure ye've heard the rumors." She looked up and caught his gaze. Of course, he'd heard. He was an English lord. People who walked in his world didn't accept people from hers.

"I heard rumors that there was a girl named Miss Elspeth Campbell who had flaming red hair and eyes that danced with laughter." His gaze lingered on her mouth. "And I am quite happy to find out the rumors are all true." He bumped her with his shoulder. "Now, tell me why you don't dance."

She sighed and admitted, "The only reason I'm invited ta these things is because I have a few friends. They feel like they have ta bring me in, despite the fact that I'm no' quite respectable."

"And just what about you is not respectable?" he asked, his eyebrows drawing together. "If you'll point out the people who said it, I'll go and have a discussion with them."

No one had ever attempted to stand up for her before, aside from her grandfather and her coven sisters. She found that it warmed her heart, more than a little.

"It's no' important," she whispered. "Do ye still want ta flee as fast as ye can over the wall?" she asked, pointing a thumb behind her.

"Only if I can take you with me," he said softly. He reached to cup her face, the pad of his thumb caressing the apple of her cheek. "Care to go and be really unrespectable with me?"

She couldn't help but laugh at him. "Ye would jump over the wall? How would I get over?"

"In my arms. How else?"

How else, indeed? It sounded like quite a feat. Before she could say it, he replied, "I'm not an average man."

"That much is obvious, Lord Benjamin. That much is quite obvious."

He stood and held a hand out to her. "Then if you won't go over the wall with me, I'll have to take you back to the party. It's either flee or dance. What'll it be?"

Oh, how she truly wanted to flee. She would be much more comfortable running away with him than returning to face the judgment of the party-goers.

But then all four of her coven sisters stepped out onto the terrace. Lord Benjamin's head swiveled around as they descended upon them.

Caitrin spoke first. "Are ye all right, Elspeth?" Her gaze shot to Westfield, the look scorching.

"Aye, I'm fine. Just takin' a little break from the party."

"Why did ye need a break?" Caitrin asked, her eyes never leaving Lord Benjamin. "And what happened ta yer hair?"

Westfield chuckled and said very quietly so that only she could hear. "I'll leave you to your friends so they can put you to rights. Then may I claim a dance when you return to the ballroom?"

Elspeth could only nod. She admired the swagger in his walk as he went back to the party through the terrace doors.

They all descended upon her at once. "What happened? Why is yer hair all a mess? Did he take it down?" All their words ran together as one.

Elspeth just laughed and shook her head. She held up the pewter combs. "He was just admirin' my hair combs. I took them out so he could see. He dinna do a thing that was improper. I promise."

The group sighed with collective relief. But Elspeth couldn't help but wonder what it would be like if he did.

Six

"So," Alec began as he draped his arm around Ben's shoulder. "You like the lass after all?"

He did. He liked her a lot, surprisingly. If nothing else, Elspeth Campbell kept his mind off his own problems. "She doesn't fit in here. I'm afraid she'll be eaten alive amongst the others in your ranks."

Alec sighed. "You do have the right of it. Half the people here wouldn't speak to her under normal circumstances if it weren't for a few powerful families she's attached to. But if they get a case of gout or a fever, you should see how fast they run to her. Hypocritical bastards, the lot of them."

Gout or a fever? Ben frowned at his friend. "What do you mean by that?"

Alec chuckled. "Superstitious Scots. When they've a need of her, they think she can cure the pox." His attention shot to the terrace doors, where five young women reentered the ballroom, Elspeth in the center of them all. "No matter how badly they treat her on the street, she never turns anyone away who needs her help. She's a saint, if you ask me."

Cure the pox? Ben's eyes lingered on the pretty lass. "They think she's a healer of sorts?"

Alec threw back his head and laughed. "A healer? She's good with herbs, is all. She learned it at her mother's knee. Honestly, Westfield, you sound as ridiculous as the unlearned masses that go to her for help."

Ben shook his head. It was ridiculous. He was looking for a healer, so he had jumped at the idea it could be Elspeth Campbell. It would certainly make his search easier. She might not be the woman he sought, but he wouldn't mind spending his spare time with the lass. She was more genuine than most people whose acquaintances he kept. Like a breath of fresh Scottish air.