There was something on the witch's mind; Glen was sure of it. And whatever it was, it scared her enough to shine through the mask Barabell kept over herself. Those eyes of hers were heavy with fear and it made Glen want to kill the person responsible for putting it there. His wolf agreed; baring teeth and demanding retribution.

"Barabell?" He growled when she fell silent. Her soft, delicate hands rubbing against each other and head hung low in submission. He made himself stay firm even when everything inside of him told him to take her in his arms. The Mating Heat was getting stronger.

"Tell me." He snapped.

Still she hesitated, golden and blue eyes focusing on some insignificant thing by her feet. Glen couldn't help but take note that Barabell hadn't once looked him in the eye since he had returned. At first he think that she was still angry with him for the kiss earlier that morning. Glen regretted every bit as much of that encounter as she but it couldn't distress her this much. Something worse was troubling her.

"I know," She began slowly. ",that you do not think very highly of me. And I have no right to ask for anything from you, but I need your help." Her eyes flickered quickly up to his before they shot down just as fast.

Glen observed the proud woman who sat so meekly before him. In his short time spent in Barabell's company, he had come to know her to be an independent, albeit strange woman. Her disconnected stare and unnerving ability to see things she shouldn't, had made her an outcast. But he had seen the passion buried inside, a yearning for human contact.

"My help; with what?" He let his arms fall to his sides, no longer tense and ready for a fight. He had no wish to frighten the girl anymore than she already was. So, he tried to appear as less threatening as possible; burying the wolf down as far as he could go.

"Has it ta do with that woman?"

"No...but yes. I mean it concerns Mr. Cooper; her husband."

Glen felt jealousy bubble inside his chest until it burned. It was irrationally, he knew that very well but his wolf still imagined this woman to be is mate. Was Barabell involved with this man; did he touch her, did he kiss her? In his eyes, Barabell should concern herself with any other man but Glen. He couldn't live like this for much longer without losing everything about himself to the animal inside. At this point, Glen doubted that Aoden or his sister would even recognize him.

He gave a quick shake of his head to snap himself from his thoughts; realizing that Barabell had asked him a question and was now waiting for his answer.

"Sorry, Lass, what was that?" He asked, running his hand over his cropped hair. He had a headache.

She gave him a look of vexation. "Will you protect me from Mr. Cooper of not?"

He froze. "Why should ye need protection from the man?"

"He had taken up the hobby of beating his wife." She spat, showing anger for the first time. Her finger nails digging into the skin of her hand. A very thin frown had burrowed into her brow, her eyes lit with hatred. Glen shared her fury. Glen itched to give it to him a slow and painful death.

"I created a potion- it was just simple herbs, but it put him sleep. Mrs. Cooper slipped it into his whiskey every night just after he returns home from work. He didn't wake up until morning and by then she was gone for the day. But he found the jar hidden under the floorboards of the kitchen and demanded an answer for it. She fled to warn me of his wrath and that he plans to kill me."

Glens vision went red. "The Hell he does!"

Upon Barabell's startled expression, Glen muttered a vicious curse and paced to the window; which was not even a full stride away; the cottage was so small.

"Ye think me to be man who will no' help a defenseless female?" Of course he would help her and when that bastard showed his face, Glen would thoroughly enjoy releasing all his pent-up frustration into making his enemy bleed.

He will hurt what is ours; kill him slowly.

It was the first time in a long time that he and the wolf were completely agreed upon something.

""I am no defenceless female." Barabell proclaimed, her pride bringing some confidence back to the surface.

"Oh aye, lass. I ken that well enough." Glen snorted, she had ensnared him easily enough without even lifting a finger. Which begged the question; why couldn't she use those powers to deal with Mr. Cooper herself? Perhaps she wasn't in total control of them; she was young after all. It would stand to reason that she was as inexperienced with her magic as she was with carnal pleasures. Her vulnerability only served to intensify Glen's urge to protect her.

He glanced over his shoulder and caught eyes with hers. She looked so small; sitting there with her muddy blue dress and disheveled black hair. She looked more like a lost child more than evil Witch.

His eyes drifted down her lips; remembering vividly what they tasted like; what they felt like pressed intimately against his own. He could feel himself hardening; could feel his fangs drop. He frowned at the strange taste in his mouth but thought nothing of it. He had to keep his head. He had to leave this room before the compulsion to kiss her became too hard to deny.

"I need ta run." He groaned suddenly and headed to the door with single-minded intention.

"Glen-" Barabell had barely gotten out his name before Glen had slammed the door behind him.

Barabell stood stunned into silence at his sudden departure. She wasn't entirely sure if his answer was a yes or no but she felt confident that he wouldn't just abandon her to her fate. She had watched such an array of emotions cross his face is such quick order that she could hardly keep track of the all let alone understand their meaning.

His face red with anger at hearing her life was in danger, bitter over the 'curse' and then he had taken to staring at her mouth like a hungry beast. She remembering seeing that expression before; it had ended with his lips against her; his tongue warm against her neck. Her heart had raced in anticipation for experiencing that again even though there had been more than a fair share of terror involved.

But it had all come to naught. Barabell walked to the window in time to see Glen disappear down the hill towards the thicket of trees. He had said that he needed to run but she really didn't understand what that meant. She would imagined that it would involve the horse, but the mighty beast peacefully nibbled on the grass just outside the goat pen.

Perhaps Scottish men liked to run naked in the woods? What a strange tradition; she mused. He had woken up naked that morning and had entered back into the woods to find his clothing; perhaps that was the reason.

Barabell was so curious to follow him but she knew that she couldn't. He wouldn't welcome the intrusion and she didn't want to feel foolish.

So, instead, she would busy herself with cleaning. The house had begun to smell far too much like a certain golden warrior.

Glen returned just after sunset; walking straight into Barabell's cottage without even the decency to knock. If he kept talking all the liberties with her personal space, the next step would be him spying on her bathing. Barabell must be sure to be decent at all times while he was here.

"What is there ta eat?" He fell heavily into her poor wooden rocking chair. Barabell winced when she heard a horrible creaking noise from the strain of Glen's weight.

"Cabbage and rabbit stew."

"And have ye any Ale?" Glen pushed the limit of the chair; leaning back as far as it could go. He crossed his boated feet at the ankle; stretching them out before him.

"What use have I got for Ale?" Barabell looked at him in surprise. "It is a Scottish Drink; I rarely indulge in cigar." Mama had never allowed her to partake in drinks with the fine ladies that had dinner in her house. Barabell had always observed such parties from through the railings of the upper floor. After they had all gone, Barabell would sneak down and steal a taste of her Mama's Sherry. The taste of that sweet liquid had been like a gift from the gods.

Glen's mouth fell open in shock. "Ye dinnae' drink, Lass? Not even that god awful wine ye Sassenach are so fond of?" When she gave a small, slightly embraced, shake of her head, Glen's jaw dropped further.

Barabell, feeling small under the weight of his stare, turned her back to stir the pot. The crackling fire was the only noise; besides the pounding of her heart. How she longed for more culture; to have the grand dinner parties her Mama used to have. To have divine food every night for supper.

"I do not care for it." She hoped he couldn't hear the lie in her voice.

"Ye dinnae care for it, Bullocks." Glen snorted. "Never used wine in one of yer spells?"

"Never."

She could feel the heat of his gaze on the back of her neck and scrambled her mind for something to say; anything to change the subject. "The counter spell for you is coming along quickly."

She regretted bringing up the subject almost instantaneously. The light mood was quickly sucked from the room; she risked a glance over her shoulder. He had leaned forward,his hands folded tightly in his lap. She tried to decode the meaning of the look in his eyes; it almost looked disquieted, like he was torn about something.

"I could maybe,..maybe even have it ready by tomorrow night." The lump in her throat made the words sound strained. "After you chase Mr. Cooper off; you can return to your life."

Glen didn't reply, didn't jump for joy like she had anticipated. Barabell scooped a heathy portion of stew into a bowl for Glen, and turned towards him. He didn;t looked up when she approached and didn't take the bowl when she offered it out for him. Barbaell's arm slowly got tired so she set the bowl on the table.

Just as she started back towards the fire for her own bowl, Glen's hand shot out ensnaring her wrist in a firm hold. Barabell gasped when he yanked her back and into his lap so hard so hard that she had to settle a hand on his chest to steady herself. But Glen's arm wrapped securely around her waist and pulled her flush against him.

"What-"

Glen took firm hold of the back of head and forced his lips down on hers had enough to knock their teeth together. Eyes wide with terror, she sat rigid in his lips for what seemed like hours; so shocked that she couldn't reaction. He felt so warm beneath her; his arm so firm around her tiny waist. Her hand unconsciously rubbing against him; getting a feel of his strong chest muscles. They tensed then melted under her exploration and Glen's kiss softened into something tender.

Her eyes grew heavy and she allowed them the close, surrendering herself to the pleasure. Glen eased up the pressure of the back of her head and tangled his fingers through her hair. Her sculp tingled as he massaged her deeply and before she could contained it, a moan escaped her lips.

Glen growled; and she suppressed a smile. Apparently he approved.

He urged her to shift her leg until she fully straddled his lap. Barabell found the position odd but terrifically wonderful. Something was hard in the front of her trousers and was pressing perfecting into the most intimate part of her. Barabell instinctively rocked her heads forward.

Glen broke off the kiss with a shaky sigh, his big body trembling and his eyes rolling in the back of his head. "Dinnae do that Lass; Ye make me spill my seed like an adolescent."

Barabell didn't want to talk. She leaned back into him, pressing her breasts into his chest and recapturing those sweet lips again. Glen moaned, slipping his tongue passed her lips until it danced along hers. She ran her hands up the length of his chest and slipped around his neck; the tips of her fingers teasing the hairline of his golden locks.

Glen's hand slipped over and under her skirts; trailing fire with his touch as he dragged the palm of his hands over her thighs. Barabell shivered, her toes curling, the rough texture of his skin creating a lovely friction. He nestled his hand between her legs and she jerked in surprise.

"Shhh." He soothed, his voice rough like he had been drinking."That's my girl."

His words calmed the small fear that lodged itself inside her chest and she felt herself relaxing again. Barabell slowly unclenched her thighs and allowed Glen's hand freedom to stroke her again. It felt wonderful; even if it was a strange experience. The building pressure inside came to a boiling point and she rubbed herself against him like a cat.

Barabell tossed her head back with soft cry, and Glen took possession of her neck. The whiskers on his chin scratched and itched and when he gave a soft nip the pressure exploded and her world went black. A screamed echoed in he ears and she knew somehow that it had come from her.

Barabell had no judge of time, or how much had elapsed. She came too nestled deeply into Glen's warm body. His arms wrapped tenderly around her limp body. She felt boneless, too weak to even lift her arms; not that she wanted to. No, she quite content just as she was.

"I think my heart has stopped beating." She murmured, her voice muffled by the collar of his shirt.

Glen's hands slowly unwrapped from around her and pushed her back. Barabell cast him a confused look and tried to sink into him again. He shot to his feet, causing Barabell to follow him; her weak legs barely able to keep her up right.

Barabell cocked her head and cast him a confused look. What had she done wrong? She had thought that they had shared something special but now he acting as if it was the mistake.

"Glen? What's the matter?" She asked softly, watching with unease as he rubbed his forehead so hard it left red marks behind.

"No, it's late. Go ta bed." He sighed.

"Will you come with me?" She knew she was putting her heart on the table, risking it all, but how she longed for him to accept it. He turned slightly so she could see the tight frown on his lips. She had thought for a moment that he was going to say 'aye'.

"I cannae." He replied leaving her crestfallen and abandoned, standing alone in her empty cottage.