The Taming of the Wolf (6 page)

“Ye want my kind of challenge every day for the rest of yer life?”

“I don’t have much of a choice, angel.”

She scrunched up her face. “Ye doona make any sense.”

Dash sighed, took pity on her, and decided to tell her the whole truth, or at least as much of it as he knew. “I already claimed you.”

“Well,
un
-claim me.” She folded her arms across her chest.

“It’s not that easy. Major Forster says when a Lycan claims his mate, it’s…” He paused, looking for the right word. “Permanent,” he finally said.

Cait narrowed her eyes at him. “Permanent?” she echoed.

“If the situation was perfect, I’d have courted you and you’d have fallen in love with me. I
am
quite irresistible.” He grinned.

Cait looked out the window as her heart began to pound rapidly, and he caught a glimpse of a smile she tried to bite back. “Ye really are full of yerself.”

“I’ll assume your response means you’re amenable to the plan?” He chuckled when a blush stained her cheeks.

“Canna I have just one secret from ye? Must ye Lycans ken everythin’?”

“We don’t know everything, Caitie,” he murmured. “For instance, I’m not sure if you’re willing to accept me, just as I am. I know you want me. I’ve known that since the very first night. But could you love me? I don’t imagine so. No one else ever has.”

Dash glanced out the window himself. Once again Caitrin had him admitting things he’d rather have left unsaid. He couldn’t even look at her for fear of seeing the rejection he was sure was in her eyes.

***

Cait stared across the coach at the big, strapping Sassenach. Claimed her permanently! How could he have done such a thing? It wasn’t supposed to happen that way. It shouldn’t have happened at all. She would have seen it, if it was. Blast him for going against the fabric of destiny. And blast him for making her consider everything he had to offer.

She shook her head. What was she thinking? How could she consider such a thing? She had a duty to her coven, and marrying some English lord she hardly knew wasn’t in her future.

Jeannie blinked her eyes open, and the very strange conversation came to an end. The three of them rode in silence until the sun began to sink below the horizon.

Finally Cait broke the quiet when the coach rolled to a stop outside an inn. “We’re ta change the horses and keep goin’,” she informed her maid.

“No.” Dashiel shook his head. “We all need some rest. We’ll stay here for the night.”

His amber eyes danced with something she couldn’t quite identify, but it had her belly twisting and panic coursing through her veins.

“We will do no such thing,” she declared as he helped her alight from the coach. “Perhaps his
lordship
would like ta rest, and I think that is a wonderful idea. But I plan ta move on.”

“Do you have to argue with everything I say?” he asked.

“Do ye have ta dictate ta me as though I’m still in leadin’ strings? I made it all the way ta Hampshire by myself. I assure ye that I can find my own way home.”

“That will not happen.” He suddenly looked dark and dangerous. “I need you, Miss Macleod.”

She wasn’t prepared to discuss this any further. Especially not in front of Jeannie. “Ye’ll no’ be permitted ta hound me for the rest of my days, my lord. I’ll no’ stand for it.”

“You’re using the word
hound
to prove your point, I assume.” He shook his head, a faint smile lingering about his lips. “I’ve been called worse, Miss Macleod. Much worse.” A shadow crossed his face as he clenched his jaw.

“I doona do well in crowded places such as this,” she finally admitted. Already, she could see the futures of people she didn’t know. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”

For some strange reason, she trusted that he would try. And that worried her more than the thoughts of a hundred futures clouding her head. She had to do something about Dashiel Thorpe before it was too late. Before she lost her heart and mind completely to the man. And she had to do something sooner rather than later.

Dash stepped into the taproom with Caitrin following closely behind. The woman didn’t trust him to care for her needs. He’d never had to care for another person, but he had to admit he liked it quite a bit. If only she’d let him try.

He turned to ask her a question and was quickly taken aback by the wince on her face.

“Are you all right?” he asked as he cupped her elbow.

“Fine,” she gritted through her teeth. Her pretty blue eyes were shut tightly for a moment. Then she opened them slowly and sighed. “I’m fine,” she said a little more congenially.

“You’re not fine,” he contradicted as he tipped her chin up with his crooked finger, forcing her to look at him.

“I
told
ye I dinna want ta stop.” She swung her head to shake off his attention. “But ye dinna listen, ye beast. If ye plan ta make me stay, ye can at least let me go ta my room.”

The innkeeper smiled from behind his counter. “A room for you and your wife, sir?”

“Yes,” he started, but Caitrin cut him off.

“Two please?”

“We only need
one
,” Dash said, forcing himself not to raise his lip in warning. It took all of his strength to keep from acting like the beast he truly was.

“We need
two
,” Caitrin insisted, glaring at him instead of the innkeeper.

Dash scratched the stubble on his chin for a moment. There were bigger battles to win. He nodded his head, slightly. “My wife prefers her space.”

The innkeeper smirked as he turned to get another key.

A moment later, Dash motioned for her to precede him up the stairs. He watched the easy sway of her hips and immediately wished she
was
his wife. In every sense of the word. What he wouldn’t give to wrap his arms around her and draw her to him with no restrictions. For now, he’d take a smile.
Smile at me, lass.

Of course, she didn’t. She fit her key in the lock and turned it, then slid inside. But before she could close the door, he stuck his boot in the opening to prevent it from closing and then stepped in behind her. He leaned heavily against the door.

“Oh, no, ye willna stay here, Lord Brimsworth,” she shot at him, shaking her head as she advanced on him. “My maid will be here any moment, and ye’re ta be gone before then.”

“I need you,” he said, then watched her face to gauge her reaction. Her eyebrows drew together as she frowned.

“Ye said that in the coach,” she reminded him. “But ye refused ta tell me why ye need me. If ye think ye’re ta find yer way inta my bed—” He placed a finger to her lips to stop her tirade.

She sputtered, her lips moving against the tip of his finger. And, heaven help him, he couldn’t keep from actually circling her waist with his arms and drawing her closer to him.

She didn’t make a sound. Perhaps the way to get the woman to be quiet was to kiss her. Or at least make her think he was going to kiss her. Hell, he wanted to kiss her all the time, so he wouldn’t be acting the part of a devoted suitor. He truly was one. Perhaps it was time he told her the truth of their situation. Maybe she wouldn’t fight him anymore.

“Do you know what it means to claim one’s mate?”

“Lord Brimsworth!” she gasped. “I am shocked that ye mean ta be so coarse in my presence.” He placed his finger to her lips again. This time she talked around it. “I’ll no’ let ye distract me.”

In truth, he was the one who was distracted. He had planned to tell her about the claiming of one’s Lycan mate, what it meant and the little fact that he’d already claimed her as his. But how could he do that when she looked so beautiful? Her lips were full and pouty. Her eyes danced with blue fire. She smelled like honeysuckle and desire all mixed together.

Her lips moved against his finger as she continued her tirade. His trousers grew snug. He chastised himself for his own indecent thoughts. But she was so bloody beautiful. How could he not think of all the carnal delights he could teach her about? The very idea made his mind wander for a moment.

“Lord Brimsworth.” She nudged him back into the present.

Dash threaded his hand through her hair so he could cup the back of her head. “I claimed you the first time I saw you,” he finally admitted. “You’ll not be able to get rid of me. Because I won’t let you.”

“Ye are more than a little full of yerself, my lord.” She wasn’t immune to him, no matter how much she tried to be. He could hear her heart race with his touch. “There’s a bit more ta claimin’ one’s mate than a kiss in His Grace’s study.” She flushed brilliantly when she realized what she’d said.

If only that were true. If so, he’d be able to walk away from her. But would he even want to do that if he could? He wasn’t certain.

“We’ll have to finish this conversation at a later time, angel.” Before Jeannie had the chance to scratch on the door, Dash heard her approach, and he couldn’t hide his scowl. The woman was either around when he didn’t want her or not there when her mistress had a need of her. He’d have to hire Caitrin a better maid to serve her once she was his countess. “Dine with me again this evening.”

Caitrin frowned at that, and her adorable nose scrunched up. “I doona like being ordered about, my lord. It is a distasteful quality found in yer breed.”

Then the scratch came at the door. The inept maid had finally come to her post. “Come,” he growled, while he kept his eyes trained on Caitrin. “Order a bath, freshen up, and I’ll retrieve you in an hour.”

At that moment, the door opened and Jeannie stepped inside.

Dash ignored the woman and took Caitrin’s hand in his and brushed his lips across her knuckles. “Until then, angel.”

***

Caitrin steeled herself for the moment he released her hand, when everyone’s futures would come rushing back into her mind. The short reprieves he offered her were the greatest of gifts. Still, he was an overbearing, self-important Sassenach… With the most mesmerizing amber eyes.

She shook the thought from her mind and extracted her hand from the infuriating Lycan’s grasp. Immediately, she was assaulted by stray images of strange people’s futures. When she walked back through the doors of Macleod House, she would drop to her knees, kiss the floor, and refuse ever to leave her home again.

Once she saw a particular person’s future, it wouldn’t haunt her again unless she focused on it and willed it into her mind. At home, she’d already seen her father’s future, that of the butler, and footmen, cook, and every maid in residence. It would be a relief not to be inundated with unwanted thoughts, like she had been the last several weeks.

“Since ye’re the one who wanted ta stop, my lord, I think I’ll just get some rest and see ye in the mornin’.”

Dashiel shook his head. “I’m afraid I must insist.”

Cait scowled at him. Insist, indeed. “Are ye goin’ ta blackmail me inta dinin’ with ye, now?”

A wolfish smile graced his lips. “If I have to. Will it be necessary, Miss Macleod?”

Blast him for being charming. She really did hate that about him. If he didn’t make her knees weak or look so concerned about her, it would be easy to discount him all together. Cait wasn’t used to either. Only one other man had ever made her knees weak, but they had no future together, no matter how much Cait wished otherwise. And no one ever looked at her with concern the way Brimsworth did. The other witches in her coven always came to her for advice and reassurances that things would turn out all right.

It was nice to have someone worry about her for a change. A very handsome someone. What a shame that he was a Lycan. And how disconcerting that she couldn’t see what the future had in store for him.

“Miss Macleod?” the earl said, a frown marring his face as he took a step toward her.

She must have been lost in thought. Cait shook her head and stepped backward. “Just woolgatherin’, my lord.”

A look of relief passed over his features, and he smiled. “Dinner? We have quite a lot to discuss.”

Doing so would put her heart in danger, and Cait couldn’t allow that. Her coven depended on her, and falling head over heels for a Lycan was not in anyone’s best interest. She’d have to escape him tonight. “I am tired, my lord. Why doona ye come by after my bath and see if I’m feelin’ up ta it?”

“It’ll be my honor.” And with that, he was gone and took with him all the warmth in the room. Cait heard a shoe tapping against the wooden floor planks and then noticed that Jeannie was frowning at her.

“I doona care for that man,” her maid muttered.

Neither would anyone else in her life. Cait flopped down onto her bed and stared up at the water-stained ceiling above her. “Keep yer voice down,” she whispered. “He can hear ye.”

Jeannie’s eyes shot to the door, which was still closed. “He canna hear me.” But she lowered her voice just the same.

Cait smiled. “Trust me, Jeannie. He can.”

Jeannie rushed forward, clasped Caitrin’s hands, and whispered vehemently, “What are ye doin’, Miss Cait? He’s a villain of the worst sort. Lamont says he’s the one who bashed Lord William over the head and chained him ta a bed so he could steal Lord William’s wife.”

Cait knew all about his crimes against the Westfields, but she wasn’t about to discuss the situation with Jeannie. Besides, they needed to do something more important. Escape. Potions were not her specialty—Elspeth and Sorcha excelled at those. But Cait
was
a witch; so she should be able to manage what was required.

“I’ll make ye a list of ingredients I need ye ta find in the village for me.”

Jeannie blinked at her. “Ingredients?”

“Aye,” she whispered. “Somewhere I have Lady Elspeth’s recipe for a sleepin’ draught.” One she’d enhance with chamomile and lavender and a few magic words. When Lord Brimsworth came to take her to dinner, she’d invite him to tea and then make sure the man slept long enough to let her get away. By the time he awoke, he’d be ready to give up this foolish chase.

Jeannie’s brow scrunched together. “Sleepin’ draught?”

“I think his lordship is in need of a good night’s sleep. Make sure Lamont is prepared ta depart this evenin’.”

Jeannie’s eyes lit up as she seemed to understand Cait’s plan. “Aye, Miss.”

“I doona want ta waste any time gettin’ home, Jeannie.”

“I’ll see ta whatever ye need.”

***

Caitrin fought not to roll her eyes as her maid wrung her hands and paced back and forth across the room.

“Ye’ll never be able ta fool him, Miss. He isna daft. He will ken exactly what ye’re up ta as soon as he walks inta the room,” Jeannie said, her voice quaking with worry.

“Shh!” Caitrin frowned. “Whisper.” How many times did she need to remind the woman? If they kept their voices to a whisper, all Dashiel would hear was a low hiss. Something she’d learned in dealing with Benjamin Westfield. She’d never known until now how handy that little bit of knowledge would turn out to be.

“He’ll no’ taste a thing, Jeannie. Everythin’ will be just fine,” she assured her maid, barely making a sound.

“Ye’re underestimatin’ him, I think.” Jeannie’s voice dropped to the level of Cait’s. “But I’ve kent ye long enough ta be aware that once ye get an idea inta yer head, ye’ll no’ leave it ’til it’s done.” Jeannie sighed and sank down on the edge of the bed.

“Lamont is ready?” Caitrin glanced over her shoulder at her maid, who still looked worried.

Jeannie nodded. “Aye. He and Boyd said they’d be ready ta go when ye are.”

Caitrin tried to hide the grin that crossed her face. Overconfidence had caused more than one good potion to fail, and this was too important.

“Ye’ll be meetin’ his lordship for dinner, I assume?” Jeannie asked, a frown marring her brow.

“No, I’ll no’ be leavin’ this room. He’ll be wantin’ ta sleep within moments of drinkin’ the draught. If I gave it ta him downstairs, someone would want ta know why he slept so heavily.”

“Ye hope,” Jeannie snorted.

“Aye, I do.” She had to stop him. To escape while she had the chance and the means to do so. “I’ll invite him in for tea when he comes ta escort me ta dinner.”

Jeannie just sighed heavily.

“Just make sure the coach is ready ta leave. We’ll need ta be off as soon as he sleeps.”

“The trunks are already in the coach, Miss. But I’ll go and check with Lamont and Boyd again.”

Perfect. She needed Jeannie to leave the room so she could add the magic to her potion. Once the maid stepped out the door, Caitrin hurried to enchant the tea leaves.

Ordinarily, lavender and chamomile tea would simply help to relax a person. She drank it herself when she found it difficult to rest. But she needed it to do more than simply relax his lordship.

He was arrogant. He was obnoxious. He was annoyingly persistent. She let those thoughts build her ire as she rubbed dry chamomile leaves and lavender flowers between her hands until they warmed from the friction of her movement. Her fingers began to warm even more as she let her anger and irritation infuse the flowers.