by Lydia Dare
“How could you doubt that I want you, Prissy?” He watched her face as he asked the question.
“I’ve no doubt that you want me, Will,” she sighed. “But I also know that you want anyone who wears a skirt and has a beating heart.”
Will nearly flinched at her words. But he deserved every one of them, truth be told.
She pushed against his chest, but he just tightened his arm around her. “No,” he said softly. “Let’s finish this before you pull away from me completely.”
“We can talk just as well if we’re several feet from one another, Will,” she rationalized.
“I’ll not let you go, Priss.”
Thirty-Two
I’LL NOT LET YOU GO, PRISS. WASN’T THAT WHAT SHE’D hoped for? Dreamed of? Wanted above all things?
She forced herself to relax against him. “I’m sorry you were forced to marry me,” she said quietly.
“I wasn’t forced to do anything, Prisca,” he growled. He never called her Prisca unless he was angry.
“You had very little choice in the matter.”
“Prisca, I had every choice in the world. If anyone didn’t have a choice, it was you.”
“I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
Will’s chest expanded as he took a deep breath. “I’m quite incapable of doing this well,” he mumbled.
“Doing what?” Prisca felt a little dizzy, like they were walking in circles and not getting anywhere.
“Telling you how I feel.”
“How do you feel?” she whispered.
“Oh, where to start,” he groaned, scrubbing his face with his hand.
“The beginning?” she suggested.
Will stepped back from her and motioned to the bed. “Sit. Get comfortable. This may take a while.”
He looked so pained that Prisca nearly felt sorry for him. Nearly, but not quite.
“Let me dress,” she said as she suddenly realized she still stood in her chemise and wrapper and nothing else.
“Don’t,” he commanded her.
“But you’re fully dressed,” she complained.
Will quickly tugged his shirt from his trousers and over his head. “Is that enough?” His grin was teasing.
Her eyes roamed over his chest and shoulders and down to his flat stomach. He reached for the buttons of his trousers, which were already tented by his length.
“No!” she cried. “That’s quite enough.” He’d seen her in nothing, so she assumed sitting across from him in her chemise would be all right.
She sat down on the bed and scooted to the center. He followed and leaned against the headboard after he tugged his boots off and pulled his legs up onto the bed.
“Come closer.” He motioned for her to slide toward him.
“Why?” Her mind became a muddle when he was near.
“Never mind,” he said, his eyebrows drawing together. “I’ll come to you.” He spun quickly in the bed and laid his head in her lap. “Is this all right?”
It was more than all right. But she just nodded and settled her hand upon his head. He nuzzled into it until she parted his hair with her fingertips and began to stroke him. A long sigh of contentment was her reward.
“You know what I am, Priss,” he said quietly.
“I don’t know anything. I read some books in your absence and that’s all. I am grossly uneducated on the topic. All I know at this point is that you infuriate me.” She lifted her hands from his head until he reached up, took her wrists in his, and pressed them back to his head.
“I love you and cannot live without you,” Will said quickly, the words spilling from his mouth like water from a waterfall. She began to scoff and he said softly, “It’s the truth.”
“Oh, Will.” She stopped stroking. “Please don’t say the words just because you think it will make me happy.”
“Brimsworth did push my hand. But it was a push I needed.”
“What’s this about Brimsworth?” she encouraged him.
“He’s one of us. Well, not just like us. Brimsworth is wild. And dangerous. I refused to let you put yourself in a position where he could hurt you. And I thought you might still love me.”
“You had doubts?”
“I had a lot of doubts,” he grunted. “But then your body warmed when I touched you. And I knew I still had a chance.”
“I seem to warm a lot when you’re around,” Prisca mumbled as heat crept up her face. She was rather warm at that moment. He turned his head and kissed her belly. “Stop that,” she scolded. “We’re supposed to be talking.”
“I can’t even talk when I’m around you. All I can think of is being inside you.”
Prisca closed her eyes as his comment swept over her. She shook it off and went back to stroking his hair.
“Where were we?” he asked playfully. She tugged at his hair until he chuckled.
“You were jealous of Lord Brimsworth,” she reminded him.
“Right. I was jealous, I suppose. So, I found you in the woods on that cold night, and I took you to Simon’s cottage. I said I couldn’t carry you home, but, in all honesty, I could have carried you to the moon and back, being what I am. But if I had, you wouldn’t have been forced to marry me.”
“Oh,” she breathed.
“But you got foxed and fell asleep on my chest before I could make love to you. Call it divine intervention. But I had to make you think we’d been together when we weren’t. So I had to let it look like I’d had you. It worked. I got to claim you as my bride. I trapped you.”
“And that’s why you let my brothers think we’d had relations.”
A rueful smile settled on his lips. “I couldn’t let there be any possible way Sir Herbert would refuse me.”
Will lay with his head in her lap and listened to her breathe. She didn’t utter a word, but her fingers continued to massage his head.
“I love you too much to let you marry another. Nor will I allow anyone to hurt you.” He watched her face as her violet eyes flew to his.
“You truly love me?” she asked hesitantly.
“Always have.”
“Then why did you wait so long?” Her eyebrows scrunched together.
“Because I’m a beast,” he said. This time, he didn’t want to look into her face. If he saw revulsion mirrored back at him, he would certainly die of misery.
“About that,” she started, holding one finger in the air to stall his speech.
“Ask me anything,” he offered. “I promise I will tell you the truth.
“You’re what’s called a Lycan?”
He nodded.
“In other words, a werewolf?”
“That’s a slang term,” Will said.
“Ben said something similar. I assumed it’s derogatory.”
“You would be correct.”
“What does it mean to be Lycan?” she asked softly.
“It’s hard to explain. For us, it seems so normal. We shift into wolf form when the moon is full. With it come some enhanced senses, like hearing. I can hear even the smallest things, like your heartbeat.” He trailed a finger slowly down her chest and smiled when her nipples became small pebbles that pressed against her chemise. “I can smell small scents, like your desire. And that lilac perfume you wear drives me crazy. It has always been the first thing I sniff for when I walk into a room.”
“Truly?”
“It drives me mad,” he chuckled.
“Will,” she scolded, pushing his hand away as he reached for her breast. “Who chained you to that bed?”
He probably should have explained that before now. “Brimsworth,” he told her.
Prisca gasped. “What?”
He hated to see her shocked expression, and jealousy washed over him. “He knocked me out, and I woke up shackled to that iron bed.”
“Why would he do such a thing?”
“I believe he’s a little angry that I won you.”
She shook her head. “But why?”
Did she
really have to ask that? “Priss, don’t you know how beautiful you are? How any man would be beside himself if he lost you?” He brushed his fingers over her rose-petal lips, wishing they were on him.
Prisca blushed. “You’re not a man. You’re a Lycan.”
“Do I repulse you?” he asked, sitting up so he could face her.
She leaned over and kissed him softly, a smile upon her lips. But he could see the questions in her mind, or at least guess at them.
“We only shift into Lycan form when the moon is full. A few days before the moon, we get a little lusty.”
She snorted. “You? A little lusty?” She laughed out loud.
“I’m lusting for you now,” he whispered and then smiled when he smelled the scent of her desire. “You’re not disgusted by me.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.
“How could I be? I love you.”
Will closed his eyes as his heart thundered in his chest. “I knew it,” he said triumphantly.
“Can we make this work?” she asked hesitantly. “I’ll never forgive you if you take another woman.”
“I want no other women,” he growled. “You must believe that.”
“It will take some time for me to get used to this. May I have some time to think?”
“How long?” Surely she didn’t think he could wait much longer to take her as his wife.
“I don’t know. This is just new to me. And I’d like to have some time to get used to it.”
“You may have all the time you need. But do know that I’ll do my best to sway you.”
“And just how will you do that?” Her violet eyes twinkled.
“I plan to show you how much I love you,” he said quietly as he pushed her back on the bed.
“Will,” she complained. “Stop it.”
“Some men are talented poets, Priss. They might write a sonnet to your beauty. But all I can offer you is me.” He ran his thumbs over her nipples. She gasped and closed her eyes as her jaw dropped.
“I’d love to hear you try to write a poem.” She giggled.
“Laughter is not an aphrodisiac,” he warned.
She giggled more.
“God, I love you.” He couldn’t prevent himself from saying it. His heart was nearly flooded with it. Simon’s advice had been to court her. And she deserved it.
“You just want to sleep with me,” she said, or at least that’s what he thought she said over her laughter.
“Well, that, too,” he agreed before he captured her lips with his.
Thirty-Three
PRISCA STEPPED INTO THE KITCHEN AT WESTFIELD HALL and stopped to inhale deeply. The smell was heavenly, just as it had been the last time she visited. As it was, though, she wasn’t in search of food; she was in search of Lily and Elspeth, and Billings had said she could find them in the kitchen.
The butler had frowned a bit when he said it, apparently thinking the room beneath the duchess’ station. Prisca couldn’t help but grin. The man had served two generations of Lycans without complaint. A duchess spending time in the kitchens was nothing compared to that.
She discovered quickly that Billings was correct. As she looked around the room, she found Lily, Elspeth, and that other witch seated at a kitchen table. Lily sipped from her teacup while Elspeth and Caitrin Macleod finished their morning porridge.
“Good morning, Prisca,” Lily chimed. “Come and join us,” she said as she motioned to the vacant chair.
“Do ye want some porridge?” Elspeth chirped.
Prisca glanced into Elspeth’s bowl, and her stomach protested a bit. “No, thank you,” she sighed as she sat down heavily.
“It’s really no trouble,” Elspeth said as she spun her finger quickly in the air. The spoon in the porridge pot began to stir. Prisca wondered if she would ever get used to that.
“I believe I’ll wait for Will to wake up and take my breakfast with him.”
“Left him snug in the bed, did ye?” Miss Macleod asked as she finished the last bite of her breakfast.
Prisca instantly bristled. Before she even realized what she was doing, she replied, “My bed is none of your concern.” She caught the waspishness of her own voice and nearly apologized. But before she could get it out, Caitrin was patting her arm.
“It’s all right,” she said, genuine concern on her face. “It will all turn out the proper way.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Cryptic messages were very confusing. Not to mention bad-mannered.
“Yer worries. They will resolve,” the blond witch continued.
“Which ones?” Prisca nearly wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the conversation.
“The ones that are important,” Miss Macleod said as she shrugged. “I’m afraid I must go.”
Elspeth shot the woman a look.
“I’m goin’,” Caitrin muttered, before she breezed out the door.
“I’m sorry about that,” Elspeth said quietly.
“About what?”
“She canna divulge secrets. And she kens she canna do it. Sometimes she leaves a hint too many.” Elspeth shook her head.
“What good is the ability if she can’t use it?” Prisca was thoroughly confused.
“She can use it. But she canna use it ta change the events in the future. If she comes close ta doin’ that, she has ta leave the situation completely.” Elspeth shrugged. “It’s a rule. One she didn’t follow particularly well with Benjamin and me. She’s trying ta be better.”
Prisca nodded as though she understood. But she didn’t. She almost felt a bit sorry for the witch who had a power she couldn’t use. “How many witches do you know? And do they each have special powers?”
“Aye, there are five of us in all. There’s Caitrin and me. Ye ken what we can do. Then there’s Sorcha who can make the plants do her bidding. And Blaire and Rhiannon. Blaire fights.”
“Like a pugilist?”
Elspeth laughed. “She can fight like a pugilist. But she can also throw fire and has other talents. And Rhiannon controls the weather. Wind. Rain. The sun in the sky.”
Prisca tried to absorb it all. Then she finally said quietly, “I think I’m happy to know you, Elspeth.”
The woman grinned widely.
Lily asked, “What brings you to the kitchens, Prisca? Something weighing on your mind?”
“A bit,” Prisca confessed as she rubbed the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. Then she opened her eyes and drew in a deep breath, before looking over her shoulder to be sure no one was listening. “It’s about Will.”
Both women watched her intently, but neither spoke.
“He’s acting… odd.”
“In what way?”
“I think he’s courting me.”
“Courting his wife? What a novel idea,” Lily laughed. “What is he doing, exactly?”
“He’s leaving little notes lying around, just so I’ll find them. And bringing me flowers. He seems to be trying to please me. With very little thought of himself.”
“And this is a bad thing?” Elspeth snickered.
“No. Not bad,” Prisca admitted. “It’s just odd, and it’s not like Will at all.” Then she blurted out her biggest fear. “I don’t think he wants me.”
Lily put her teacup back on its saucer and regarded her solemnly. “Everything you’ve mentioned makes it sound to me like just the opposite.”
“I know!” Prisca cried, then buried her face in her hands. She looked up at them from between her spread fingers. Perhaps if they didn’t see her face, she could ask them what she needed to know. “He came to me several times yesterday. T-to give me his attention.” She felt the heat creep up her neck and hated the little stutter.
“Ye mean in the bedroom?” Elspeth asked with very little concern for propriety. Lily blushed almost as much as Prisca.
Prisca nodded quickly. “Bedroom. Garden. On the settee.” She drew herself back to the present when she recognized the wistful tone of her own voice.
�
�I hope you mean at the dower house,” Lily said, a smile suddenly tipping the corners of her mouth.
“Of course!” Prisca cried. Then she couldn’t keep from snickering. “But here’s the problem. It’s all for me.”
“I doona ken what ye mean,” Elspeth said, her eyebrows scrunching together.
“Oh, never mind,” Prisca said, sure her face was aflame.
Lily covered Prisca’s hand with her own. “Don’t worry. As long as he is coming to you, you have nothing to be concerned about.”
“I would think so, too,” Prisca admitted. “But when he comes to be with me, I get all the pleasure and he gets none.” There. She’d said it. She blurted the last. “Ever! We haven’t even consummated the marriage yet!”
“Oh.” Prisca and Elspeth both understood at the same time. Lily spoke. “You mean you’ve never?” The women shot astonished looks at one another. “That’s a surprise.”
“Imagine if you were me,” Prisca grumbled. “On the one hand, I’m extremely pleased to be so well taken care of. But I would like to reciprocate, just a bit. Otherwise, I just don’t feel right about it.”
“Seduce him.” Elspeth shrugged, as though it was a simple matter.
“What?” Prisca gasped. “I don’t know how to seduce him,” she groaned.
“All I have to do is look at Simon…” Lily began, then blushed prettily.
“I seduced Ben. I had ta take all my clothes off under the light of the full moon ta get his attention, but I did. It’s how I convinced him ta claim me. We hold more power than we realize at times.”
“Claim? What does that mean?”
“Will is goin’ ta teach ye. Doona worry.”
“And as the moon approaches, it will become more and more difficult for him to resist,” Lily piped in.
“Truly?”
“Aye, truly,” Elspeth concurred.
“Oh, why me?” Prisca groaned. “My husband is courting me, and now I have to seduce him to get him to make love to me.”
Lily and Elspeth both giggled at the same time.
“I could think of worse situations to be in,” Lily said, a smile upon her face.
Thirty-Four
WILL DIDN’T PARTICULARLY CARE FOR THE SMUG expression on Simon’s face as he regarded him from behind his new mahogany desk. The duke leaned back in his chair and folded his hands as his grey eyes swept across Will, who was leaning against the study doorjamb.
