The Taming of the Wolf (22 page)

As Dash descended the steps of Macleod House and approached his coach on the drive, he could hardly believe he’d agreed to this journey. The conveyance was already loaded with his wife’s trunks, and Renshaw looked as though he was ready to quit his post. The poor man had driven through brutal winds and storms just to get here, and now Dash was making him turn around and do it again.

At least only Dash and his bride would be going south. No supercilious Scotsmen trying to steal Cait from under his nose. No hulking coachmen with threatening glares. No irritating maids to deal with this time around. This time, Dash could touch Caitrin anytime he wanted without fear of discovery.

At the front of his carriage, Sorcha Ferguson and Rhiannon Sinclair huddled around Caitrin, saying their good-byes. As his wife assured her friends that they wouldn’t be gone long, a hand clapped Dash on the back. He spun around to find Angus Macleod smiling at him.

“Ye’ll take care of my little girl, right, Brimsworth?”

“With my life,” he assured his father-in-law.

The old Scot winked at him. “Well, let’s hope it doesna come ta that. She says ye want ta find a home of yer own here when ye return?”

Dash nodded. “I don’t want to take advantage of your generosity, sir.”

Angus Macleod tossed back his head and laughed. “Ye are a bad liar, lad. Ye want my daughter all ta yerself.”

Was he that easy to read?

“I was the same way with Fiona all those years ago,” Macleod continued. “When ye return, I’ll have ye a broker and ye can search Edinburgh for a proper home ta yer heart’s content. Just watch after her, will ye?”

“Yes, sir.” Dash shook his father-in-law’s hand. Then he looked over his shoulder to find Niall Forster regarding him with a look of mild amusement. What the shipbuilder had to look amused about was a complete mystery.

Dash nodded his head in the man’s direction. “Sir, thank you for all of your advice.”

Forster stepped forward and shook his head. “Ye mean all that advice ye paid no heed ta, Dashiel?”

Somehow, Dash was able to keep a growl from escaping his throat. The old man simply didn’t understand. Forster had been raised knowing what he was, raised knowing how to control himself; Dash had not.

If he allowed the beast inside him free reign, Caitrin could be in grave danger. No matter the menace that called for freedom from within, Dash was enough of a gentleman on the outside to keep the beast at bay. “On the contrary, the run was quite refreshing.”

The shipbuilder lowered his voice, so only Dash could hear. “If ye doona heed everythin’ I’ve said, Dashiel, there’s no tellin’ the harm ye can cause. Accept who ye are, embrace all of yerself, or yer doomed.”

What a cheery thought. Dash scowled at the man. “I believe I have everything under control, sir.”

“Aye,” Forster remarked. “That’s the problem, lad.”

Dash was in no mood for any more of Forster’s words, so he bowed, letting the man know the conversation had come to an end. “Do have a safe journey back to Glasgow.”

Then he caught Caitrin’s attention at the front of the coach, where she was still chatting with her friends. “Lady Brimsworth, are you quite ready?”

Cait smiled at him and stepped around the side of the carriage. Dash opened the door for his wife and helped her inside. Before he could climb in himself, he felt someone tug at his jacket.

Dash turned back around to find Sorcha standing behind him, tears trailing their way down her cheeks. “I’ll take care of her, lass. There’s no need for worrying. We’ll be back before you know it.”

He ignored the groan of his coachman at those words. He was going to have to increase the man’s pay considerably if he wanted to maintain his services.

Sorcha stepped closer to him and handed him a sprig of a purple flowers. “Wisteria,” she said quietly. “It’s for safe travels.”

Dash accepted the flowers and raised Sorcha’s gloved hand to his lips. “Thank you, Miss Ferguson. That was quite thoughtful.”

Then he climbed into the coach and rapped on the ceiling for Renshaw to depart.

The coach lurched forward and Caitrin settled beside him, resting her head against his arm. Her hand landed softly on his chest as she sighed. He’d once scoffed at love. But, no longer. There was no doubt it existed, because it nearly overwhelmed him with every breath he took.

“How long has it been since ye’ve seen yer father, Dash?” she asked quietly as her fingertips began to move slowly across his chest.

“Not long enough.”

“I hope he’s still alive when we get there. I’d like ta meet the man who’s made yer life so miserable.”

“Planning to boil him in oil, angel?” He couldn’t help but laugh at the image. “Or poison him with one of yer potions?”

Cait sighed sadly.

He nudged her with his elbow. “What’s wrong?”

“I canna help but think about how lonely he must be. He never remarried after yer mother died?”

“No woman of sane mind would have him.” He picked at an imaginary piece of lint on his trouser leg.

“Yer mother married him.”

“She also let herself be seduced by a Lycan. Her mental standing is still in question for me.”

She punched his shoulder and sat up, her mouth open wide with outrage. “How can ye say such a thing?” she gasped.

“Oh, come now, Caitie,” he said, trying to soothe her as she removed herself from him completely. “I didn’t mean it,” he finally groaned, though he had no idea why she was suddenly so put out with him.

Cait ignored him and just stared out the opposite window.

“What did I do?” he finally asked when the silence became deafening.

“Nothin’.” She turned up her nose.

“Angel,” he began.

“Don’t
angel
me, Dashiel Thorpe. Ye canna insult me and then expect me ta fall right inta yer arms just because ye’re charmin’.”

“When did I insult
you
?” Damn women. He’d never understand them.

“Ye said yer mother’s mental status was in question because she allowed herself ta be seduced by a beast.” She raised one eyebrow at him and then raked her gaze down and up his body.

“Oh.” He sighed loudly. “I didn’t mean you, Caitie.
You
had no chance against
my
charm.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, though she fought it. Then she pulled at the neck of her gown, exposing her shoulder. “Fight yer bite, ye mean? Once ye had sunk yer teeth inta me, I was done for? It’s no’ as though I had much of a choice, is it?”

“Oh, you had a choice. You could have chosen MacQuarrie. You could have moved on.” He picked her up and set her in his lap, despite her struggles. He lowered his voice. “But you didn’t. Because you love me. Even if I say the wrong things at times and am completely inappropriate.”

She stopped moving in his lap, thank God. If her bottom had wiggled against him for one more moment, the beast would have been under her skirts, even if she was angry at him.

“Ye’re a boor,” she said as she quieted and laid her head against his chest.

“I know. I’m sorry.” She let him brush the hair back from her brow. “Forgive me.”

***

Forgive him? And let the big lout get off that easily? Not very likely.

“Perhaps tomorrow,” she said, unable to stop the giggle that erupted.

“Do you have any predictions about what will occur when we reach Kent?” His brow was marred by concentration.

“Ye ken I canna tell the future where ye’re concerned.” If only she could. She could make this so much easier for both of them. “Are ye worried?”

“We didn’t part on good terms, angel. My father probably will detest my very presence, just like he’s done every day since I was born.”

“That wasna the sense I got in my dream, Dash. He needed ye. I just doona ken why.”

He tucked her closer to him, and she was content just to let him hold her for a while with her head tucked beneath his chin.

“He knows I’m not his son,” Dash finally said quietly. “He told me so himself. I didn’t believe him at the time. I thought it was his disappointment speaking.”

“Do ye think he kens who yer real father is?”

She felt his head move from side to side. “No. If he does, he didn’t tell me.”

“Do ye want ta ken?”

He shrugged.

“Of course ye do,” she mumbled.

“It would be nice to know,” he finally said, though he’d never given it much thought. What good would it do now? “But it isn’t important. I wouldn’t be making this trip, if not for you.” He nudged her playfully. “The things I do for love.”

“Ye just hope ta get beneath my skirts again,” she said, feeling the color in her face rise as he reacted to her comment. She took his chin in her hand and kissed him quickly.

“Don’t try to distract me with your kisses, angel,” he growled. “I like that idea, the one you just had. Let’s go back to that.”

“Ye are incorrigible.” But, truth be told, she liked being one with him. She liked the closeness. Having him inside her was more than she’d ever dreamed it would be. “Ye canna do that in a carriage.”

He looked down at her with his eyebrows raised. “And just why not?” His voice dropped to a low hum. “I can take you anywhere I want.”

Cait could already feel the mad dash of her pulse and knew he could hear it. And the one at the juncture of her thighs began to pound as well. The man just had to mention taking her, and she warmed like a stoked fire on a cold winter day.

“I love the way you react to me,” he murmured as he picked her up and put one leg on each side of his, so that she straddled his lap. His hands cupped her bottom, drawing her closer so she could feel the bulge of him against her thigh.

“We canna do it like this,” she whispered, slightly scandalized but highly aroused at the same time.

Dash distracted her by talking as he loosened the bodice of her gown. “We can do it anywhere, angel. We can do it standing up.” They could? “We can do it lying down.” She nodded, more and more distracted by his movements as he deftly pulled her bodice down and exposed her breasts to the cool air. The peaks of her breasts immediately hardened. “And we
can
do it in a carriage.”

“Aye, I’m startin’ ta realize that,” she gasped out as he lifted her breast to his mouth and slowly drew the peak inside, his eyes never leaving hers. She inched forward on his lap, trying to get a bit closer to him.

“Easy,” he said quickly, when she made a wrong move.

“Sorry. I dinna mean ta hurt ye.”

“It’s a most delicious pain, angel. No worries. Just trying to keep the beast in check.” He unbuttoned his trousers, and she reveled in the velvet feel of the soft skin that covered his hardness against her thigh.

“Soft?” she asked.

“Pardon?” his head snapped up. “Angel, there is nothing soft about me right now,” he chuckled.

“May I touch ye?” She was suddenly curious to see and feel the part of him that filled her so well.

He lifted his hands up behind his head and lay back against the squabs. “You may touch me anywhere you like.” A naughty smile played around his mouth.

Cait sat back to put enough room between them that she could take him into her hand. He drew in a quick breath, and she released him even quicker. “Did I hurt ye?”

“That was a gasp of pleasure. Not pain. But I’m not sure how much more pleasure I can take, to be quite honest. Might we finish this exploration later?”

His hands slipped back beneath her skirts so he could cup her naked bottom and pull her forward, to where she rested over him. Then he nudged at her center, kneading her bottom as he tugged her close and filled her in one swift stroke.

Cait raised her arms around his neck and let him lead their dance, rising and falling as he lifted and lowered her with his hands on her hips. A most curious look crossed his face as she neared the apex of her pleasure and gazed into his eyes. His hand slipped between them and sent her over the top. Cait allowed her eyes to flutter closed as she pulsed around him, and he immediately followed.

She lay on top of him for a few precious moments, her heart pressed close to his. Then she sat up and peeled back his shirt at the neck. “Ye wear the mark of the beast.”

He looked down to see what she referred to. “My birthmark?”

“Aye, it’s just like Elspeth’s. I’ve seen it my whole life. See how it’s shaped like a moon?”

“I’ve never paid much attention to it,” he said, brushing her hands away gently.

“Doona do that,” she protested, bending to place her lips to his mark. “I like it. But others may say I belong in Bedlam for loving a Lycan,” she giggled against his neck, where she bent and pressed a quick kiss.

“I heard that,” he growled.

“I meant for ye ta hear it.”

“This is it!” Cait nearly squealed as she looked out the coach window at the Cat and Fiddle Inn.

Dash sighed. For the last week, he’d watched his wife grow more excited at the prospect of being reunited with Elspeth Westfield. Now, it seemed, the time was upon them.

“And you’re certain they’re here?” Dash asked. He wouldn’t take her joy from her, but he was not anxious to meet back up with Benjamin Westfield, nor his wife. He hadn’t exactly been a welcome guest when they’d last seen each other.

Cait turned back to him and smiled radiantly. “Of course, I’m sure. Look, there’s Benjamin’s coach.”

Dash peered out the window. Sure enough, there in the coaching yard against the setting sun, the Westfield crest was emblazoned on the side of a carriage. A proud wolf, golden against blue. “It does indeed appear as though they’re here.”

She cupped his jaw in her hands. “Doona worry, I’m sure they’ve forgotten all that business with ye abductin’ Lord William and…”

That he highly doubted. Dash winced. It hadn’t been his finest moment. The Westfields were a loyal bunch. He wasn’t part of their pack, and he never would be. Still, he wasn’t a coward. He pushed open the coach door and helped Cait alight from the carriage. As they approached the taproom, Dash snaked his arm around her waist.

He opened the door and directed Caitrin over the threshold. Then she darted from him toward the innkeeper so quickly that he lost his hold on her. Cait reared back and Dash rushed forward, placing his hand on her back, hoping to take her pain away. As long as he was touching her, she wouldn’t be assailed by unfamiliar futures.

She took a staggering breath and then looked up at him. “My fault. I wasna thinkin’.”

“You’re just excited.” Dash hooked her arm with his, determined not to let her slide past him again. Seeing her in agony tore at his heart. It was a matter of pride to him that he, and he alone, could keep unwanted images out of her head. Predetermined fate. If he hadn’t been a believer before, he certainly was now.

He led his wife toward the slender, pit-faced innkeeper behind the bar. Dash nodded in greeting. “My wife and I require accommodations, sir.”

“Of course,” the man replied.

“And I believe my friends are here as well,” Caitrin broke in. “Lord Benjamin Westfield and Lady Elspeth.”

The man scratched his chin. “Indeed, ma’am. His lordship has reserved one of our private dining rooms this evening.”

Caitrin nearly glowed. “Which one, sir?”

But there was no need to ask. Benjamin Westfield had hearing that matched Dash’s, and the sound of his name had obviously caught his ear. The Lycan stood at the end of the taproom, the door to a private dining room held open by his hand.

“Caitrin Macleod?” he asked, though his hazel eyes were leveled on Dash. “What are you doing here, lass?”

Cait started to move toward the man, but Dash kept his hold on her this time. “Careful, angel,” he whispered to her.

Westfield still caught the words. Dash could tell by the way his brow furrowed a second later. Cait looked up at Dash, then back across the taproom at the other Lycan.

“Benjamin, I’d like for ye ta promise ta behave yerself.”

A moment later, Elspeth Westfield poked her head out into the taproom. Her fiery curls swayed from the motion, and her face lit up in joy. “Cait!”

The expectant redhead darted from the room and threw her arms around Caitrin’s neck. “Good heavens! Ye’re the last person I expected ta see here. What are ye doing? Why did ye flee Westfield Hall in the dead of night? And what…” Her green eyes finally landed on Dash. “Lord Brimsworth.”

“Lady Elspeth,” he said smoothly. “How nice to see you again. Cait was certain we’d run into you here.”

Lady Elspeth blinked at him, apparently at a loss for words. However, that ailment did not afflict her husband who crossed the floor in a few strides to drop a protective hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Perhaps you should join us for dinner,” Lord Benjamin suggested.

Cait squeezed Dash’s hand, and no matter how awkward he felt at the moment, the love and affection in her gesture warmed his heart. “Thank you, Westfield. Lady Brimsworth and I are quite tired from our journey.”

He wasn’t certain whose gasp was louder, Lord Benjamin’s or his wife’s. Lady Elspeth recovered from the shock first, and she quickly kissed Caitrin’s cheeks. “Well, congratulations! Do come join us. It sounds as though ye have a tale ta tell.”

***

As Cait stared across the table at her dearest friend in the world, she hoped with all her might that Elspeth and Ben would find a way to accept Dash. As members of the
Còig
, they would be in each other’s lives until the end of time. It would be better for everyone if they got along.

“So,” Benjamin began as he pushed a goblet of wine toward Dash, “you’ve married Caitrin?”

She watched her husband nod and noted the muscle twitching in his jaw. “I was lucky enough to convince Caitrin to accept my proposal.”

“When did this happen?” Elspeth asked, nervously moving the food around her plate.

“Ye should eat, El,” Caitrin reminded her.

Her friend shook her head. “Later. I want ta hear all about it.”

“Well,” Cait began, “we met at Westfield Hall, and then Dash and I met up on the way ta Scotland. By the time I arrived home, he’d won me over.”

Elspeth would never accept that version of events, but hopefully she wouldn’t question it with the men present. Later, when they were alone, Cait would confide all to her friend. The other witches knew the truth, anyway.

“The major said he’d sent you off to Glasgow,” Ben said, narrowing his eyes on Dash.

“He did. Mr. Forster accompanied me to Edinburgh, not that it’s any of your concern,” her husband growled.

Elspeth put a hand over Ben’s. “It’s clear Cait is happy. We should just wish them our best.”

Ben Westfield grumbled something under his breath, but Cait was certain it wasn’t his best wishes. She ignored her friend’s husband, like she usually did.

“Ecstatically happy,” she confirmed, smiling at Elspeth. “In fact, we are on our way ta visit Dash’s father in Kent.”

After they finished dinner, Elspeth stepped around the table and squeezed Cait’s shoulder. “Do ye want ta go for a walk with me?”

So she could get to the truth. Cait felt Dash stiffen at her side, and she flashed him a smile. “I’ll be fine. The further we get from the inn, the less the visions bother me.”

“That doesn’t exactly make me feel better.” He heaved a sigh. “Be careful, will you?”

Cait nodded. Dash slid his arms around her waist and pressed a kiss to her brow. “Love you.”

“Love ye, too. We’ll be back soon.”

Cait followed Elspeth through the taproom and out the front door of the building. The side of her that was incredibly happy to see her sister witch warred with the side that held allegiance to Dashiel.

“Why do ye look so worried, I wonder,” Elspeth said absently as she fell into step beside her.

“Elspeth,” Cait began. Then she stopped and shook her head. “I ken ye doona approve.”

“I wasna aware we had ta approve of one another’s spouses, Cait.” The red-haired witch’s eyes danced with something Cait couldn’t quite identify, but possibly there was a bit of smugness in her gaze. “I vaguely recall that ye were wholeheartedly opposed ta my marriage ta Ben. Ye had Rhiannon shake the town with an angry storm.” Then she laughed and broke the tension. “But at least ye had an opportunity ta object ta my marriage. I dinna even ken about yers. Ye’re my very dearest friend.”

“There wasna time,” Cait muttered, hoping Elspeth would understand.

“Why no’? What was the hurry?”

“What was the hurry with ye and Benjamin?” Cait shot her a pointed look.

“I’d been ruined, if ye remember correctly.”

Cait just raised her eyebrows at her and planted her hands on her hips.

Elspeth caught on immediately. “He ruined ye? Was it on purpose? I’ve always suspected that Ben ruined me on purpose.” She laughed.

“Westfield never cared if he ruined ye or not. He simply wanted ye.”

“No more than I wanted him,” Elspeth said softly, a light smile upon her face. “But Ben and Brimsworth are no’ cut from the same cloth.”

Elspeth must have seen the fury that screamed through Cait’s body at that comment because she hastily added, “I shouldna judge him since I havena spent much time with him.”

Furious, Cait wanted nothing more than to rail at her friend. Comparing Benjamin Westfield to Dashiel Thorpe was comparing apples to oranges.

“Why did ye leave Westfield Hall in the middle of the night without even a backward glance?”

Now, they got to the meat of the matter. “It’s a long story,” she hedged.

“Then ye should start with the tellin’.”

“I met Dash,” Cait shrugged. “The rest of ye were frolickin’,” she shot Elspeth a telling glance, “in the woods. No one else was about. And we just bumped inta one another.”

“And it was love at first sight?”

More like love at first bite. Cait didn’t answer and just kept walking.

“What happened, Cait?” Elspeth asked quietly. “I always assumed Alec…”

Cait sighed. “El, ye ken Alec MacQuarrie and I werena destined ta be together.”

“So ye said. But I never understood why. The man has been in love with ye for a lifetime. And I thought ye were softenin’ ta him.”

“I dinna see him with me.”

“Ye mean ye couldna see him in yer future? Ye ken that ye canna always see what’ll happen. Just because ye dinna specifically see the two of ye with a bairn or two doesna mean it wouldna happen. I hope ye dinna let yer lack of a vision entice ye inta marryin’ the wrong man.”

The wrong man. Cait winced. It would be nice if Elspeth had a bit of faith in her. Still, her friend knew her better than anyone in the world, and Cait couldn’t lie to her. “I saw Alec with someone else. And they were so happy. I had no choice but ta let him go.”

Elspeth gasped. “Who was he with?”

“I canna tell ye,” Cait moaned. “Ye ken I canna. I canna change the events in the future. I canna chance it.”

“Can ye see yerself with Dashiel Thorpe in the future?”

“No.” Cait turned away and plucked a tall stem of grass from the trail where they walked. “I can see no future with him at all.”

“Oh, Cait,” Elspeth sighed pitifully.

“It’s no’ what ye think,” she explained. “My mother couldna see my father, either.”

“Truly?”

“Aye, truly. It’s the way of things, my father says. Ye ken how it is with me. I’m assaulted by every future that exists but, even if I search, I canna find his. In fact, he clears my mind and makes me feel more at ease than anyone before. All he has ta do is touch me. It’s right, El.” She took her friend’s hands in hers and squeezed. “It’s right, I tell ye. He’s right for me.”

Elspeth squeezed back. “The earl has a bit of a past, and that makes me worry. But if ye can be happy with him, I’ll be happy for the both of ye.”

Cait pulled Elspeth close for a hug.

“I’m so glad he claimed me as his own,” Cait sighed.

Elspeth froze. “What do ye mean claimed ye as his own? We havena had a full moon since the night ye left Westfield Hall. How could he have claimed ye?”