The Taming of the Wolf (17 page)

Dash grinned as he left the orangery, quite pleased with himself. She wanted him. He’d known it, but hearing her say the words brought more joy to him than he could have ever imagined.

He marveled at his own ability to walk away from her. The smell of her desire and the rapid rhythm of her heart, beating with excitement, would have been a prelude for disaster before he’d met Cait. But, for some reason, he wanted to do everything right with her. He wanted to be respectable. He wanted to be her husband.

So, he’d tamped down his own lust, pushed the beast further away. He wouldn’t take her like a common doxy in a public place. He’d tempted fate just by holding her bare breast in his hand as he brought it to his mouth.

Dash adjusted his trousers and reminded himself that tomorrow she would be his.

He started down the corridor, hoping a servant could direct him to Mr. Macleod. Then he heard an unhappy grunt, and a man the size of small ogre stepped into his path. The fellow’s arms were the size of tree trunks, and he glared menacingly at Dash.

“Ye’re Brimsworth?” he asked.

Shocked into silence, Dash nodded.

“And ye think ta take my Caitrin from me?”

Who the devil was this man? And why did he think he had a claim on Cait?

“Exactly who are you?”

“Wallace Ferguson. And I understand ye’ve asked for Cait’s hand.”

Dash nodded once more. He had asked Cait on more than one occasion who was waiting for her back home. Already he’d run into Alec MacQuarrie and now Wallace Ferguson. How many other Scots were there waiting in the wings for her? It was a good thing they were getting married tomorrow.

“Angus Macleod has given me his blessing. Perhaps you’ll be invited to the festivities.”

Wallace Ferguson growled. And though he was roughly the size of a baby elephant, Dash was a Lycan. The man didn’t scare him—not much anyway. Although, the giant might possibly have some sort of power Dash was unaware of.

“Wallace!” One of Caitrin’s friends, the pretty dark-haired lass who resembled a wood sprite, emerged from behind the over-sized Scot. Then she floated toward them and heaved a sigh. “I am sorry, Lord Brimsworth, but my brother did have his heart set on marryin’ Caitrin. Ye’ll have ta excuse his poor manners.”

The giant frowned as his eyes raked across Dash as though he was sizing him up.

“I see,” Dash replied.

“Wallace, Papa sent me ta find ye. He and Mr. Macleod are in the library. They’d like for ye ta join them there.” She shooed him away with her hands and an impatient look. The oversized oaf growled a bit when he turned from them, though Dash was sure it was just a human growl intended to scare him. If the man wanted to hear a
real
growl, Dash would oblige.

With his shoulders slumped forward, Wallace Ferguson stomped down the corridor and rounded a corner, vanishing from view. Dash turned his attention back to the wood sprite. “You’re Sorcha?”

Her grin brightened the hallway. “Aye, my lord. It is nice ta make yer acquaintance. Were ye lookin’ for Mr. Macleod?”

He nodded.

“Well, ye might want ta wait a little while. Wallace is no’ in the best mood this afternoon. Did ye leave Cait in my orangery?”

“Aye.”

“Well, I’ve been sent ta find her, too. We’ve got invitations ta send out for tomorrow night.”

Angus Macleod had told him on the way over that they would invite half the town to celebrate with them the next evening. It all seemed rather rushed. “Do you need help with the invitations?”

Sorcha laughed as she started for the orangery. “Ye are kind ta offer, but ye doona ken anyone in Edinburgh.”

“I can still be of help.” He followed the girl back inside the orangery, where his eyes immediately landed on Caitrin.

Just the sight of her kiss-swollen lips made him wonder how he’d had the strength to walk out of the room in the first place. She folded her arms under her chest and seemed unable to meet his eyes.

“There ye are!” Sorcha’s sweet voice came from beside him. “We’re startin’ on yer invitations.”

“Oh?” Cait said, focusing her eyes on the young witch.

“Of course.” Sorcha bustled toward Cait and linked her arm with her friend’s. “Ye have ta come and tell us who ye want ta send them ta.”

“Do you mind if I tag along?” Dash asked.

When Cait finally looked at him, a pretty pink blush settled on her cheeks. “If ye must.”

He winked at her and loved when her blush darkened. “I just met Miss Ferguson’s charming brother. I think I’d best keep you in my sights.”

Sorcha laughed. “I was almost afraid Wallace would trounce ye. But if you’re really as strong as Lord Benjamin, ye have nothin’ ta fear from my brother.”

“He doesn’t have some mystical power?” Dash asked, turning his attention back to the dark-haired lass.

She giggled. “Ye’re in luck. He’s my half brother, no’ that it matters because only the women in my family have had mystical powers. Though I am startin’ to wonder about the next generation. Elspeth has Ben, and now ye have Caitrin.” She looked up at Cait. “What will yer sons be like?” she wondered aloud.

“I’m sure they’ll carry their father’s traits, like other Lycan lads.”

Sorcha nodded, as though that made sense. “Do ye think this is some sort of pattern? Will we all get our own Lycan?”

Cait frowned as she directed her friend toward the exit. “I doona ken how many times I’ve told ye, Sorcha. I’ve seen the man ye marry and he is no’ a Lycan.”

Dash was quick to follow them into the hallway.

“Are ye certain, Cait? Maybe he is a Lycan, and ye just doona ken it.”

She released a long sigh. “He is no’ a Lycan, Sorcha. I am sure of it. Now, no more please.”

***

Cait was aware of Dash’s eyes on her backside all the way down one corridor and then down the next. Her heart still pounded wildly from his
seduction
. She wanted to curse him for stopping, even though she knew it was for the best.

Tomorrow, he’d promised.

Tomorrow he would be her husband, though she still wasn’t quite sure how she felt about that. She wanted him. She needed him. She was halfway in love with him. But he was a bully, and she didn’t appreciate the control he seemed to have over her.

“Here we are,” Sorcha nearly sang as they reached the Ferguson’s yellow parlor.

Inside, she found Rhiannon seated at a writing desk with a stack of foolscap, an ink bottle, and a quill. Her eyes widened in surprise when they landed on Dash.

“Lord Brimsworth, are ye goin’ ta aid us with the invitations?”

Cait looked over her shoulder at him. Dash shook his head. “I just can’t seem to tear myself away from my lovely bride-to-be.”

Sorcha sighed beside her. “Doesna he remind ye of Lord Benjamin?”

“A bit,” Rhiannon admitted.

Cait flounced down on a light yellow brocade settee, while Sorcha chose a seat across from Rhiannon. Then Cait leveled her most regal stare on Dash. “Do ye ken what is the most irritatin’ trait of Benjamin Westfield’s?”

An easy grin played about his lips, and he leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb. “Do tell, angel.”

“We each have our own abilities,” Caitrin began, “as ye probably have guessed. Rhiannon can control the weather inside and out. Sorcha can make things spring to life or wither away at will. Elspeth can heal almost anyone, with just the tips of her fingers.”

He nodded as though he understood all of that. “What a wonderful gift.”

“Aye,” Cait agreed. “She has helped many people over the years, but Benjamin doesna approve and he’s been a bit of a bully about the entire thing. I wouldna have even had ta set out for Hampshire in the first place, if he’d have simply let her use her powers ta heal his mother. Stubborn lout.”

Dash’s brow furrowed, and he stepped into the room. He folded his arms across his broad chest. “So I have Lord Benjamin to thank for leading you to me, do I?”

She scowled at him. That was not the point of the story. “What I am sayin’, Dash, is—”

“That Westfield is a stubborn lout. Yes, Caitie, I heard you. But I might never have found you if you hadn’t come to Hampshire. So I’ll have to send him a token of my gratitude.”

Sorcha released another wistful sigh, and Cait thought she might scream. How could her friend find such traits charming? “Doona ye have somethin’ else ye can do? I think we’re goin’ ta be busy here for the rest of the day.”

“The rest of the day?” He quirked an amused brow in her direction.

“Aye, and most of the night, too. Perhaps I’ll be too tired ta even meet ye at the church in the mornin’.”

He chuckled. “You’ll be there, Caitie. You can deny it all you want, but we both know you want me.” Then he bowed to her friends. “Ladies, I trust that I will see you both on the morrow.”

Rhiannon nodded as she bit back a smile, and Sorcha giggled. “We wouldna miss it for the world, my lord.”

Finally alone, Cait turned to her two coven sisters and frowned. “I doona ken how I’m goin’ ta marry that bully.”

“He loves ye,” Sorcha said, grinning.

Caitrin held in a snort. If he loved her, he’d never told her. She didn’t want to admit as much to her friends, however. “So, the invitations?”

“We’ve got them done,” Rhiannon said. “We just need ta address them.”

Cait nodded. “The Colsons,” she began. “And the Gillespies.” Then she stopped as her heart felt heavy. “I hate that Elspeth and Blaire are no’ here. It doesna feel right.”

Sorcha shrugged. “None of us were there for Elspeth, aside from me.”

Cait frowned at her. “I was in bed recoverin’ from a wolf attack.”

“Ye still wouldna have been there. Besides, Elspeth will understand. She kens all about true love.”

Sorcha and her fanciful ideas. Cait felt her ire building by the second. “But Blaire…” Guilt washed over her. She had seen that awful vision of Blaire’s future, and, even though she knew her friend to be safe, she didn’t know how much longer that would be.

“What about Blaire?” Rhiannon asked softly.

Cait shook her head. “I had a vision. I dinna recognize the place, but it was dark and she was being chased by a creature with dead, black eyes. It seemed as though it was huntin’ her.” They were in a place Cait had never seen before. Right now, Blaire was at Briarcraig Castle, a place Cait had never been. Her heart clenched.

She had to get to her, to warn her before it was too late. She leapt from the settee and started for the door.

“Caitrin!” Sorcha called after her. “The invitations.”

“Invite whoever ye want.”

She flew down the steps of Ferguson House to the streets of Edinburgh and raced toward her home. She barely noticed the other pedestrians gaping at her as she ran at full speed. Within minutes, she bustled up the steps of Macleod House. Findlay opened the door for her, and she nearly threw her pelisse at him. “I need a coach, Findlay. And a valise.”

“Running out on your husband-to-be?” Alec MacQuarrie stepped into the hallway from a parlor.

Caitrin gaped at him. “What are ye doin’ here?”

“I’ve been waiting to speak with you all day,” Alec said.

He hadn’t returned to his own home? He’d been waiting
here
since this morning? She owed him better than that, but she couldn’t do so now. She had to find a way to get to Loch Calavie. “Alec, I doona have time right now, but—”

“Are you really marrying Brimsworth?”

Cait swallowed. She really was, she supposed. But it would have to wait. The words were stuck in her throat, but she managed to nod.

He stepped closer to her, his dark eyes filled with pain and regret. “Don’t do it, Cait. I’ll do whatever you want, if you will just call this off.”

She couldn’t have this conversation with Findlay looking on. So she grasped Alec’s arm and dragged him back to the parlor where he had been so dutifully waiting all day. She swiftly shut the door behind her. “Alec, please.”

“I’m the one begging
you
, Cait. I don’t know what you see for me, but I know what’s in my heart, and I love you.”

Alec loved her. He’d told her that before, and yet she was marrying a man who had never said those words to her. She thought her heart might break. “I’m no’ for ye, Alec. Ye have ta believe me.”

“Shouldn’t I get a say in that?” he asked, his voice stricken.

Tears started to fall down Cait’s cheek. It wasn’t fair. “Please. This is hard enough for me as it is, Alec. And I’m worried about Blaire.”

“She’s not here?”

He was apparently unaware of everything that had transpired today, with the exception of her betrothal. She shook her head. “She’s at some crumblin’ castle near Loch Calavie. Briarcraig Castle, wherever that is. It’s in the Highlands somewhere. I have ta get ta her.”

Alec brushed away her tears with the pad of his thumb. “I’ll go with you. We’ll find her together.”