The Taming of the Wolf Page 4

  “That’s a bit of a story, too,” she mimicked him.

  He chuckled and rolled toward her. The dip in the center of the bed made her roll toward him as well. She froze as he pulled back the neckline of her nightrail and examined the wound on her shoulder.

  He sighed deeply before he bent and touched his lips to the area, his lips no more than a tender whisper across her skin. “I’m sorry if this hurt you,” he said in a voice she could barely hear. “But I’m not sorry I did it.”

  He rolled back away from her and put inches between them, but he still clasped her hand in his.

  Within moments, the peace in her mind allowed sleep to overtake her. And Cait drifted off to a place where the only dreams she saw were her own.

  Five

  Morning light invaded Cait’s small room, and she sat up with a start. Had she actually lain in this bed with Lord Brimsworth? She cringed and fell backward, blocking the sunlight with her arm. What had she been thinking? She’d behaved like a young witch who didn’t understand her powers. Foolish. She’d behaved recklessly.

  She rarely left home, and had only done so in this case because Elspeth’s family had need of her in Hampshire. On the journey to Westfield Hall, they’d only stopped to change horses—never staying the night at an inn along the way. Of course, she’d been in a bit of hurry then, and sleeping in a bed at night was a luxury she hadn’t had time for.

  She should have known better than to stop for the night. She was accustomed to visions of Jeannie and Lamont. But being alone with so many unfamiliar people had been a strain and more than overwhelming.

  Cait groaned. She hated to think of herself as weak, but there wasn’t another word for her actions the night before. If Lord Brimsworth hadn’t arrived when he did…

  Cait groaned louder. The man had seen her at her worst. That was quite embarrassing. No one had seen her like that since her mother had taught her how to use her powers.

  “That’s two groans, Miss Macleod. Are you quite all right?” Lord Brimsworth’s smooth voice from a nearby chair shattered what was left of her nerves. The man was still here?

  Cait gasped and tugged the blanket up around her chin. “Get out of my room, sir!”

  He chuckled lightly and let his booted feet drop from where he had them propped up on the corner of the bed. “A little late for modesty now, my dear.”

  Cait’s heart pounded in her ears. “Wh—what are ye doin’ here?” Her voice came out as a squeak.

  “I wanted to make certain you were all right and you were able to sleep.”

  There was no reason for him to remind her of what a fool she’d made of herself the night before. Cait scowled up at the ceiling, not daring to look at him. “I doona need a nursemaid, Lord Brimsworth.”

  “I’ve spent the night with you, angel. I think we can dispense with the formalities, don’t you?”

  That was his plan? Cait sat up and pulled the blankets around herself, glaring at him. “Are ye tryin’ ta compromise me?”

  Looking at him was probably a mistake. Until now, all of their encounters had been at night and she had had no idea how handsome he was in the light of day. His golden hair was tousled, radiating warmth from the sun. His amber eyes, with flecks of green, darkened with surprise.

  “That would be most ungentlemanly, and I would never do such a deplorable thing.”

  But abducting the brother of a duke was apparently acceptable. Though Caitrin kept that thought to herself. She didn’t want to be put in the position of defending the Westfields again. Their rivalry with Brimsworth had nothing to do with her, and her most pressing concern was getting a certain earl out of her room before anyone knew he was there.

  “Ye said ye wouldna stay long,” she reminded him.

  Lord Brimsworth rose from his seat and stood before the window, peering out at the coaching yard below. She couldn’t help but notice the way his trousers hugged his muscular thighs, and she sucked in a surprised breath.

  He was a remarkably handsome man who had been very kind to her the night before. If she wasn’t careful, she’d lose her head where he was concerned. And despite the way he made her breath catch and caused flutters in her belly, he was dangerous. He was a Lycan.

  “I said I would leave before your maid returned,” he began quietly. “She never did so.”

  Was it her imagination, or did he sound angry? “I’m sure she’s with my coachman. Ye doona have ta wait for her.”

  “She abandoned you last night, when you obviously needed someone to stay with you.”

  Cait was glad his eyes were still on the yard beneath them. It gave her the opportunity to crawl from the bed and tie her wrapper tightly around herself, putting them on more equal footing. “I think ye should leave, my lord.”

  He glanced over his shoulder at her and nodded. “Very well. It’ll give me time to seek out your maid.”

  “Ye’ll do no such thing!” Cait punched her fists to her waist. “Jeannie is my maid, and ye doona hold any authority over her.”

  “Not yet,” he mumbled, though she heard him clearly.

  “And just what is that supposed ta mean?” she asked, unable to keep the waspishness from her tone.

  Lord Brimsworth stalked toward her, reminding her of an approaching beast. Then he halted, very softly brushed his lips across her brow, and continued to the door. “You’ll meet me downstairs for breakfast.”

  Cait gaped at him. No one ever gave her orders, not even her father. Even within her coven, she was the leader. “I beg yer pardon?”

  “I told the tavern-keeper that you were my cousin. If you can round up your maid, no one will wonder at all about our sharing a meal together.”

  He still hadn’t asked her to join him. “Cousin?”

  Lord Brimsworth smirked at her. “I would have said ‘wife’ if I’d known I was going to stay the night with you. I’ll keep that in mind next time.”

  ***

  Dash had loved the look of utter shock on Caitrin Macleod’s face. Obviously no one else dictated to her. Her cheeks had turned a delightful shade of pink, and her pretty mouth fell open. It was probably best not to think about that mouth, or he’d storm up the stairs again and make proper use of it.

  The previous night had been torturous. Trying to fall asleep in the uncomfortable inn chair, when he really wanted to climb under the counterpane with her, had been particularly hard. Every little sound she made sent the blood pumping to his nether regions. As soon as his mentoring was done, his highest goal would be convincing her to marry him, sooner rather than later, or he might very well explode.

  Waiting in the taproom for Caitrin’s maid to return to her mistress, Dash noticed a tavern wench across the room batting her eyelashes at him. In the recent past, just last week, in fact, he would have pounced on the chance to bed the girl. She had a nice figure, round brown eyes, and shiny dark hair. Such encounters had been commonplace for him; but now he found nothing noteworthy at all in the girl’s appearance or mannerism, so he refocused his attention on the outside entrance.

  Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t found even one woman remotely attractive since the night he claimed Caitrin in the Duke of Blackmoor’s study. He hadn’t engaged one stray thought about another woman, except now to note the change within himself.

  “Ah, Lord Brimsworth,” the tavern-keeper began, stepping across the room while leaning heavily on a cane. “I understand you’d like the private dining room this morning.”

  Dash inclined his head. “Yes. My cousin will be joining me soon.”

  “Of course, my lord. I’ll show you the way.”

  Dash didn’t budge from his seat. “I’d prefer to await my cousin here.” And see how long that useless maid of hers takes to pull herself out of her lover’s arms.

  “As you wish.”

  As if on cue, the taproom door slowly opened, and Caitrin’s maid stepped over the threshold.

  “Excuse me, sir,” he said to the tavern-keeper, as he kept his eyes leveled
on the mousy brunette who was trying to sneak up the steps to the sleeping rooms. “Miss!” Dash called, briskly crossing the floor. “I’d like a word with you.”

  The maid turned at his voice, and her eyebrows scrunched together. “My lord?”

  Dash towered over the woman and couldn’t keep a scowl from his face. The woman had abandoned her duty to Caitrin and his poor angel had been a blubbering mess because of it. “Is it your standard practice to leave your mistress unattended—?”

  “Lord Brimsworth!” Caitrin’s voice filtered down to him from the top of the stairs. “We’ve already had this conversation.”

  “Cousin Caitrin,” he replied, turning his eyes on her. She was stunning, with her flaxen locks knotted over one shoulder. Her blue traveling dress was serviceable, but it showed off her curvy form just the same. For a moment, Dash’s mouth went dry. “How delightful to see you again. You and your maid really must join me for breakfast.”

  “How very generous of ye, cousin,” Caitrin returned, her jaw clenched with irritation and blue fire flashed in her eyes.

  The tavern-keeper cleared his voice. “The room is ready, my lord.”

  “Excellent!” Dash replied, reaching his arm up the staircase to take Caitrin’s hand. “Come along, my dear.”

  When she reached the last step, he tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. It felt right having her there. He led her down the corridor to the private dining room and held out a seat for her as the maid took a spot beside her mistress.

  “Well,” he began, “when I reach Glasgow, I plan to call on Mr. Macleod and inform him of the lackluster staff in his employ.”

  “My lord!” Caitrin hissed, and her cheeks took on a lighter pallor.

  “Beggin’ yer pardon,” the maid gasped.

  “You should have been with your mistress last night instead of entertaining some beau. And—”

  “I told ye, this isna yer concern.” Caitrin leapt from her seat, glaring at him.

  “Anything concerning you concerns me,” he informed her.

  She looked as though she’d smelled something foul, and she folded her arms across her chest. “Ye heavy-handed, ill-mannered Sassenach. I dinna ask for yer help, and nor do I want it.”

  That was true. Dash nodded. “Well, I’m giving it anyway, lass.”

  “Ye have no right,” she continued.

  “I have more than you realize,” he answered.

  “Come, Jeannie. I’ve heard quite enough.” With that, Caitrin stepped away from the table, sent him one final, scathing glare, and then stomped from the dining room, towing her maid right along with her.

  Dash sighed. Was she going to be this stubborn about everything?

  Six

  How dare he presume to scold her maid! Of all the arrogant, irritating, obnoxious men she’d ever met, he had to be the worst. And on top of that, he’d even threatened to visit her father to tell him about Jeannie’s disappearance. And why did he think she lived in Glasgow? Not that she felt obliged to correct his error. Still it was strange. Is that why he was headed to Glasgow? He thought she lived there? He was certainly in for a surprise, wasn’t he?

  “I’m sorry, Miss,” Jeannie sniffled from behind her. “I dinna ken ye would need me. And ye did say ta go,” she cried out as Caitrin tugged her back toward the stairs.

  “Ye did fine, Jeannie,” she said absently, trying to calm the anxious maid. Caitrin called out to the innkeeper as they passed, “Please send our breakfast upstairs and send someone ta collect my trunk.”

  The startled man began to speak, but no words rolled off his tongue aside from a grunt and a sputter. His cheeks reddened.

  “Is there a problem?” Cait asked, using her haughtiest tone.

  “No, Miss, but his lordship said—”

  “His lordship,” she sneered, “doesna make decisions for me.”

  “Yes, Miss,” the man replied, avoiding her gaze.

  Caitrin pulled Jeannie up the stairs and stepped into her room. She glanced around and was surprised to see all of her things were gone. Why would her things already be gone? Brimsworth! She hit the wall with the flat of her hand in frustration.

  “This is all my fault,” Jeannie said quietly as she wrung her hands. “I never should have left ye.”

  Caitrin patted her hand. “Do try ta calm yerself, Jeannie. Now what do ye suppose that arrogant earl has done with our things?”

  Jeannie shook her head. “I couldna say, Miss.”

  But Lord Brimsworth could say, and Caitrin would make sure he did so. She turned on her heel, stomped back down the stairs, and stumbled straight into the awaiting arms of the man who’d sparked her ire.

  Lord Brimsworth’s hands came up to catch her, one hand sliding around her waist as the other moved to steady her. She gasped as his hand grazed the underside of her breast. Then all the breath rushed out of her body. She’d love to be able to say it was because of her mad dash downstairs. But, in truth, it was because of his touch. He took her breath away, and he had since the beginning. Blast him.

  She lifted her head to look up at the earl.

  “That was not intended, Miss Macleod,” he said quietly. Then he chuckled as he shook his head with dismay. “Quite pleasurable. But certainly not intended.”

  “Let me go.” She pushed against his firm chest.

  “My apologies,” he said softly as his gaze continued to search her face, though he made no move to release her.

  Cait punched his shoulder with the heel of her hand. “Now!” she snapped.

  “Oh, of course.” He set her away from him, as though he’d just remembered she was there, or more likely that they were in a public place. He looked behind her. “Where is your maid? Has she abandoned you again?” His eyebrows scrunched together.

  “She hasna abandoned me. And she dinna do so last night. I told her ta leave.” She leveled her most piercing stare at him. “So stop worryin’ her.”

  He nodded quickly. “She should be worried. I doubt your father would approve of her actions.”

  “Jeannie’s a good maid. She’s in love, and ye’ll no’ go spoilin’ it for her.”

  “Love?” Brimsworth snorted. “It’s more like lust.”

  “Certainly, ye are no stranger ta the baser emotions,” she said, and then felt the color creep up her cheeks.

  “How would you know what I am or am not familiar with? We’ve only slept together once—”

  “Slept together?” she hissed. “We did no such thing.”

  “Yes, lass. We did. And I plan to do a lot more of it. Except with a little less sleeping going on next time.”

  Cait couldn’t believe his audacity. She must have truly made a fool out of herself last night for him to think he could say such a thing to her. “And if I have objections ta yer plans?”

  “You simply may not object.” He shrugged, the epitome of male confidence. She wanted to slug him.

  “Do ye always get yer way?” she snapped.

  “Do you?” he shot back.

  ***

  Of course, it would be a battle of wills with her. She was used to being in charge. To doing what she wanted to do. And probably no more than that. She was utterly delightful.

  Dash tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and dragged her back up the stairs and down the corridor toward his unused sleeping room. It was the only place he could be assured of some privacy. He pushed the door wide, stepped inside, and pulled her in with him.

  “We need to talk,” he said, as he closed the door and leaned heavily against it.

  “About?” Caitrin squeaked, glancing around the room as though looking for an escape route. There wasn’t one unless she could jump as far as he could.

  “Us,” he said impatiently.

  “There is no ‘us,’” she scoffed.

  “There’s obviously something between us.”

  “Aye, a dog bite,” she snorted as she absently rubbed her shoulder. “One that still hurts,” she murmured.

  So she
knew what he was? That was fortuitous. He’d explain about Mr. Forster, the shipbuilder, and ask her to be patient while he went through training. Perhaps he could train with Forster during the day and court Caitrin at night, using all of his time to his advantage.

  Dash smiled and took a step toward her. She took a step back. He took another forward. She nearly tripped over a small table that was squarely in the path of her retreat. Dash reached to catch her, but she put up her hands defensively.

  “I have been walkin’ on my own for years, yer lordship. I doona need yer help with that simple task.”

  “Dashiel.”

  “Pardon?”

  “My name is Dashiel,” he continued. “I would like to hear it on your lips.” He’d like that very much.

  “Ye’ll be waitin’ quite a while for that, Lord Brimsworth,” she replied saucily.

  “Dashiel.” He couldn’t keep the corners of his mouth from turning up at the stubborn look on her face. She was enchanting, his stubborn little angel.

  “Lord Brimsworth, this is highly improper,” she said. “And I’ve been alone with ye for far too long.”

  “And?” he asked, happy now that he’d finally backed her into a corner.

  “And I’ll be ruined if anyone finds out.” Her voice quivered a bit as he lifted his arms and touched the wall with his hands, putting his weight there as he leaned in to her. “No decent man will ever want ta marry me.”

  “Is that what you want?” he asked, then inhaled her honeysuckle scent. Her heart was beating like the ticking of a clock wound too tightly. “A decent man?”

  “Aye,” she said, closing her eyes as he let his breath blow over the shell of her ear.

  “I don’t think you would be well satisfied with a decent man.” Dash wanted to chuckle but held it in for fear of ruining the moment. “You would tire of him quickly.”

  “And ye think ye ken so much about me?” she asked.

  Then he almost touched his lips to hers, but not quite. After a moment, she moved forward the last inch and closed the remaining space when she shyly kissed him and then winced as though she realized how easily she fell into his hands.