The Taming of the Wolf (9 page)

His hold tightened. “You’re not going anywhere until we get a few things straight, Caitrin.”

“Let me go, ye ill-mannered English dog.”

“Stop moving,” he ordered. “You need my heat.”

“I’ll manage.”

His amber eyes darkened. “You’re not going to push me away, Caitie. No matter how hard you try. And you’re not going to poison me again. And you’re not going to run away from me again.”

She could hear the determination in his voice, and Cait shivered. “I dinna poison ye.”

His face softened and his clever hands moved across her body, warming her. “No more sleeping draughts either. Is the thought of being with me so terrible that you had to run away?” Dash shifted her in his arms and very gently touched his lips to hers.

Cait felt his heat encompass every part of her, and she tingled with awareness, wanting more, wanting every part of him to touch her.

“What are the odds,” Jeannie’s voice preceded her into the room, “that ye’d run inta Mr. MacQuarrie
here
of all—” The maid’s eyes landed on Caitrin in Dash’s arms and her mouth dropped open.

“Please, Jeannie!” Cait begged, “Doona scream.”

Dash groaned when the maid slammed the door. Blast the woman. Nothing had changed. She
still
was never around when Cait needed her and
always
showed up at the most inopportune times.

At that very moment, the soft fullness of Cait’s breasts pressed against his chest. He wanted nothing more than to taste the rosy nipples he’d briefly glimpsed through her wet chemise.

“Miss Macleod!” Jeannie hissed.

Caitrin started to scramble from his lap, but Dash wrapped his arm around her waist. “It looks bad,” he whispered. “But if you stand up, it’ll look worse.”

Her light blue eyes focused on him, and she nodded. “Jeannie, give me a moment, will ye?”

The maid punched her hands to her hips and shook her head. “I doona even ken what ta say.”

“Your mistress will call when she’s ready for you.” Dash speared the irritating maid with his gaze. “I suggest you be available to see to her needs, for once.”

“Miss—”

“Jeannie, please,” Caitrin begged. “Just a moment.”

The maid huffed her displeasure as she stomped out of the room, leaving them alone. Dash let Cait slide from his lap and wrap the counterpane tightly around herself. “Ye’ve got ta stop all this, my lord.”

He leaned forward in the seat, not wanting to display the tightness of his trousers. “Once you’re my wife, Caitie, it won’t matter.”

She shook her head. “I do wish ye’d stop sayin’ that. Ye’re no’ my future. I gave ye that sleepin’ draught because I thought it would help ye come ta yer senses about all this.”

All it had done was made his resolve stronger. She was his mate, by chance or design. Being separated from her was physically painful. All he could think of as he raced north was bedding her, making her his in every way. It seemed the only thing that would assuage the ache in his heart and loins.

“And I’m waiting for you to come to yours. I’m not like other men. I can hear your heart race when I touch you. I can smell your body and know it craves mine. I’m not going anywhere, Caitie.”

“Miss Cait!” Jeannie wailed from outside the room.

Dash growled. He could hardly wait to replace the bumbling servant with someone dependable.

“Ye need ta leave.” Caitrin frowned.

“For now.” Dash rose from his seat and pulled his shirt back over his head. “I’ll be awaiting you along with Mr. MacQuarrie.” He snatched up his waistcoat and jacket. “Don’t keep us waiting.”

***

Cait wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse that Lamont and Boyd had managed to lug one of her trunks to The Black Swan. Not having anything dry to wear would have given her an excuse to avoid dinner with the two men who had both been adamant that she would marry them.

She’d wanted to accept Alec MacQuarrie each and every time he’d asked her.
At least he’d asked her, unlike that boorish Sassenach.
But she couldn’t marry Alec then, and she couldn’t marry Alec now. His future hadn’t changed, and she wasn’t a part of it.

And how was she supposed to sit down to dinner with the man? Especially with Dashiel Thorpe present. Who knew what he’d say. The blasted earl made everything complicated. Her emotions were a jumble, thanks to him.

“Miss Cait, ye canna ask me ta keep all this from Mr. Macleod. If he finds out from someone else what’s happened on this journey, he’ll sack me for sure.”

“Ye’re the only one who saw anythin’, Jeannie. And since Lord Brimsworth is headed ta Glasgow, no one else will say anythin’ ta Papa,” Cait said, trying again to reassure her maid.

Jeannie straightened Cait’s blue wool skirt. “It’s no’ the earl I’m worried about, Miss. Mr. MacQuarrie has seen the two of ye together. He’s bound ta say somethin’ ta yer father when he sees him.”

Cait’s shoulders sagged forward. Alec hadn’t been in Edinburgh for months. After suspecting she was a witch, he’d taken off for England without a word.

Would Dashiel Thorpe respond the same way? Cait frowned at the thought. It was no matter. He’d eventually tire of the chase, the way all the others did.

A knock sounded on her door. Cait nodded for Jeannie to answer it. Alec MacQuarrie stood in the doorway, his warm brown eyes focused on her. “You are a sight for sore eyes, Cait.”

She smiled and walked toward him. “Ye have no one ta blame for that except yerself, Alec MacQuarrie. One day ye were in Edinburgh, and the next ye vanished without a word.”

He offered his arm, which Cait eagerly took. He towed her toward the staircase and lowered his voice. “You’re one of them, aren’t you?”

Her mouth went dry. “One of them?” she echoed. “I doona ken what ye mean.”

“The
Còig
,” he answered.

The
Còig
. The five mythical witches in her coven, with powers passed from mothers to daughters for generations. But the membership was a secret.

Cait grinned, as though he was a foolish child. “Do ye believe in faerie tales, Alec?”

“You’re the seer,” he said quietly. “And Elspeth’s the healer, and—”

Cait’s foot faltered on the steps. They weren’t allowed to discuss their coven except with their families, who already knew the truth. She shook her head. “Ye’re bein’ ridiculous.”

He looked down on her with a dark intensity. “That’s why you said you didn’t see a future for us. No matter how hard I pressed, you wouldn’t budge.”

Cait could only stare at him.

“But I prefer to make my own destiny, Cait.”

“I—um—I’m certain Lord Brimsworth is waitin’ for us,” she mumbled.

Alec’s hold on her arm tightened. “Have you seen
him
in your future?”

Cait shook her head. “No,” she answered honestly.

He heaved a huge sigh. “Good.” Then he continued to direct her down the steps and into the overflowing taproom. “Brimsworth has secured a private room.”

Cait’s head swam, and no words came to her mouth. Everything was spiraling out of her control. Alec couldn’t renew his suit of her. His destiny lay along another path, and then there was—

“Caitie.” Dash stepped from a private dining room at the other end of the room. His amber gaze drifted across her and left Cait feeling slightly breathless. He frowned as his eyes landed on her hand tucked into the crook of Alec’s arm.

“Where did you meet
him
?” Alec grumbled under his breath.

Cait tilted her head to better see the man whom she’d foolishly fallen for as a young girl. “Westfield Hall.”

Alec scowled. “And I thought Ben was my friend.”

Before she knew it, Dash was before her, taking her other arm with his hand. Heat radiated from him and tingled across her skin. “I am glad to see you’re not so cold anymore, angel.”

Alec looked down at her, a question upon his face. “Cold? Angel?”

“Aye, after walkin’ in the rain,” she admitted, shooting a look at Dashiel. She had a feeling she was in for a long night.

Dash had never been ignored quite so well in his life, unless he counted interactions with his father into the number. The marquess had a way about him that made Dash feel insignificant, something he’d grown accustomed to in the years after his Lycan traits had become obvious.

But he’d never wanted to be a part of a group as badly as he did over dinner at The Black Swan. Most importantly, he wanted to be a part of Alec MacQuarrie and Caitrin’s group. He wanted to be a trusted friend. He wanted Cait to look at him with fondness as she did MacQuarrie.

“Do you remember the time Sorcha talked you into climbing the tree in the garden and you fell out of it?”

Caitrin laughed softly. “Aye, I remember I thought I’d tumble ta my death.”

“Then, at the last minute, you were falling through the air and the next, you lay in a soft bed of leaves. It was almost as though they’d been placed there just to cushion your fall.”

Dash noted that she refused to meet Alec’s eyes when she responded, pretending interest in her meal. “Aye, it was a miracle.”

“A miracle?” Dash asked slowly. Cait raised her eyes and looked into his. There was a subtle warning there. He just wished he knew what it was.

“Aye,” she said as she took a sip of her wine and avoided discussing the topic any more.

“So, Brimsworth,” MacQuarrie said as he focused his dark eyes on Dash. “What are your thoughts about predetermined fate?”

Dash gulped. What the devil did the man mean by that? Did he know of his connection to Caitrin? “I believe things happen the way they are supposed to,” he answered enigmatically.

The cultured Scot smiled wickedly. “How unfortunate for you, then.”

“What does that mean?” Dash asked as he stabbed a piece of mutton.

MacQuarrie shrugged. “Just that I think a man ought to make his own future. I don’t believe my life is mapped out regardless of my wants and desires.”

Cait’s face turned a bit purple, which made Dash feel sure he was missing something important. He’d make her tell him later. He wished he could take her hand in his and soothe her, though that was impossible with the Scot sharing their table.

“So, tell me, Mr. MacQuarrie,” Dash began, “have you known Cait all her life?”

MacQuarrie nodded. “Most of it. I left Edinburgh as a boy to attend Harrow, but I’ve been home often enough over the years.”

There it was again. Edinburgh. Dash turned his gaze on Caitrin. “I was under the impression Glasgow was your home.”

She shifted a bit uncomfortably. “I’m no’ sure where ye got that idea, my lord. I certainly never said such a thing.”

No, but she’d let him go on believing it. And the whole thing turned his plan upside down. How was he to court her in Edinburgh and train with his mentor in Glasgow at the same time? “Major Forster’s family is from Glasgow. You and Lady Elspeth are close, so I just assumed…”

“Lady Elspeth also hails from Edinburgh,” MacQuarrie informed him rather smugly.

Dash needed all of his self-control to keep from knocking the self-satisfied look off the man’s face. “Does she indeed?” he ground out.

“Aye. Lived her whole life on the outskirts of town until she married my good friend Benjamin Westfield.”

Perfect. The damned man was a friend of the Westfields’. Could his luck get any worse?

“Though my eyes have only ever been for Miss Macleod.” The supercilious Scot reached to cover Cait’s hand with his own and Dash grunted, forcing himself to maintain his control.

Cait tugged her hand from beneath MacQuarrie’s, and the man laughed. “A bit too stubborn for anyone’s good, I must admit.”

“Alec!” she gasped.

Dash bristled at the sound of the other man’s name on her lips. It was as though she’d known him a lifetime, which in truth, she probably had.

The man had a decided advantage over Dash. He had an entertaining list of memories he could rattle off at a moment’s notice. Dash only had a few stolen moments of passion. There was no comparison. It was like watching Prisca with William Westfield all over again, only worse. He’d never felt the connection to Prisca that he did with Caitrin. He wouldn’t recover if he lost her.

“All right,” Cait laughed. “I’ll admit it. I can be a bit stubborn.”

“A bit?” both men said at once. Dash couldn’t hide his grin at her over-reaction when she sat back suddenly and huffed as though she’d been affronted.

“A lot,” she finally acquiesced. “And yet ye both still want ta spend time with me. So I must be doin’ somethin’ right.”

There was his Caitie. Mouthy as the day was long. He loved her gumption.

“It certainly helps that you’re beautiful,” Dash said, smiling softly at her. A pretty blush crept up her cheeks. One point for the Brimsworth team. It was all he could do not to smirk.

“Beauty fades,” MacQuarrie stated blandly. “What Caitrin has will last forever. It’s part of her. And part of what makes her so perfectly lovable.”

Lovable.
Dash nearly choked on his wine. He had never loved a woman in his life. He’d been in bed with more than he could remember, but he’d never truly loved one. What would the emotion even feel like if it were to happen?

“Alec, what are ye doin’ in Leeds? I thought ye were in London. Elspeth said she and Benjamin dined with ye no’ long ago.”

The Scot leaned back in his chair and regarded her. “Aye, I did. Lord Hallam has a hunting box in the area, and he invited me up last week. Elspeth seemed happy.”

Caitrin smiled. “She is. Benjamin finally finished that monstrosity of a home he was buildin’. Ye’ll have ta see it.”

MacQuarrie turned his attention to Dash. “Have you met the other w—?” He grunted and abruptly cut his words off as he reached to rub his shin. “You don’t have to kick me, lass,” he said under his breath. But Dash heard every word. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“What secret would that be?” Dash hated the idea that they were keeping a confidence from him.

“There is
no
secret, my lord,” Cait said. “He’s referrin’ ta my friends, the young
women
I spend most of my time with.”

The friends who were like sisters she’d mentioned earlier. He’d obviously missed something important. “Tell me about them again.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could utter a sound, MacQuarrie spoke. “You’ve met Elspeth?”

Dash nodded. “Benjamin Westfield’s wife.”

“Aye, just being in the room with her can make one feel better, tenfold. Then there’s Rhiannon Sinclair. And Blaire Lindsay. And Sorcha Ferguson. Rhiannon can almost always be found out of doors. She’s daft enough to stand outside in the pouring rain.”

“She’s no’ daft,” Caitrin broke in. “Just because she likes the elements doesna mean she’s meant for Bedlam.”

“And Blaire can shoot an arrow straighter than even I can. Or any of the other men in Edinburgh. We finally had to stop inviting her to affairs with sporting events. Or she’d make us all look like weaklings.”

“Maybe ye are weaklings?” Caitrin said prettily, obviously goading the man on.

“And Sorcha?” Dash asked.

“Sorcha is but a child,” MacQuarrie said wistfully.

“She’s the youngest of my circle of friends. But she’s no longer in leadin’ strings, unlike what Mr. MacQuarrie implies. Many women are married by her age,” she reminded the Scot.

“Sorcha makes anyone around her want to be a better person.” MacQuarrie shrugged his shoulders. “Everyone who knows her loves her.”

“And if they doona love her yet, they will soon enough,” Caitrin sighed out, a bit of sorrow in her tone. Though why that made her sad, Dash had no idea.

***

Caitrin tried to keep the tone of melancholy from her statement. But, in truth, she’d always had a fondness for Alec MacQuarrie, and, at some point, a mutual understanding had been made apparent, one that placed him with her for a lifetime. But no matter how well they rubbed along, Cait already knew he was meant for someone else. He wasn’t, and never would be, hers.

She glanced across the table at Dashiel Thorpe, who had amazingly maintained impeccable manners throughout the meal. He was an intelligent man, one whose wildness must surely be his handicap. It was gratifying to see that he could shed it when he needed to do so and become a perfect gentleman.

“What are your plans for the future, Mr. MacQuarrie?” Dash asked.

Alec shrugged. “I have no plans for the time being. I’ll return home soon, I imagine, and resume management of my estates. I’m only taking a short respite from reality at the moment.”

“Respites from reality usually indicate that one is unhappy with his lot in life.”

Alec’s eyes narrowed, and he lowered his wine glass. “Not unhappy with my lot in life. I’m unhappy not to have an opportunity for the life I want.”

“But ye’ll have one so much better, Alec,” Cait said, stopping him. “Trust me on this.”

“How could it be better if you’re not in it?” Alec grumbled.

Oh, dear. This was a really bad time for
this
conversation. Particularly with Alec suspecting her of being a member of the
Còig
.

“I’ll be in it. Just no’ in the way ye want right now.”

“And what if I don’t want you in my life, aside from in that capacity?”

Caitrin gasped and sat back. “That is the most unkind thing ye’ve ever said ta me.” She felt tears sting the backs of her eyelids and stood up quickly.

Alec stepped toward her, pain etched across his brow. She could immediately tell he regretted his words. But he’d already said them. And there was no taking them back.

Before Alec could touch her, Dash stepped between them. The man was very fast; it must be a Lycan trait. He tipped her face up to his by gently cupping her cheek and tipping her head up. “May I see you to your room?”

“Cait,” Alec tried.

But she wasn’t in the mood to hear anything more from him. Not at that moment. “Yes, please,” she said to Dash, who immediately slid his arm around her and escorted her from the dining room.

Dash’s hand on Caitrin’s waist warmed her all the way through her dress as they walked past the patrons in the taproom toward the stairs. “You’re obviously keeping something from me,” he whispered.

Cait whipped her head up to look at him. She wasn’t about to do
this
now. Not again. Not here. Not after the conversation with Alec.

“And what if I am?” she asked tartly. “I doona owe ye a thing, my lord. My life is just that—it’s
mine
. Stop behavin’ as though ye have a say in it.”