Lydia Dare - Wolf Next Door

He smoothed a curl from Prisca's forehead. "Sorry about that."

Her face squished up in mortification, and he felt a twinge of remorse, but only a twinge. She'd be his forever now. "But it was probably for the best," he tried to assure her.

She swung the pillow at his head. "How can you even say that, William?"

"Well, they'll have to accept our marriage now," he said hopefully.

***

Prisca wanted to thrash him. How dare he take advantage of her in her drunken state? How dare he get her so foxed she couldn't even remember his lovemaking? If she was going to have to marry the lothario, she at least would like the memory of the sin. Or maybe she didn't. How wanton was she?

Prisca groaned again. Why had she agreed to marry him in the first place? William Westfield was the last man she should marry. If she hadn't been able to keep her heart safe from him before, how would she ever protect herself now? Now that they would live together. Now that he could share her bed whenever he wanted. Now that she didn't have a say in the matter. "Where are my clothes?" she snapped.

Will frowned and appeared a bit wounded, but Prisca couldn't bring herself to care at the moment. What was she going to do? The reprobate had seen to her complete ruination, and her own brothers had witnessed the event. Heaven help her, there was no way out. Blast them all. And still she could only remember the briefest of memories from the night before. Shouldn't she remember more? Shouldn't she remember everything? Shouldn't she feel different?

She remembered the feel of his lips as he'd kissed his way down her body. And the naughtiest kiss she could even imagine. Who'd have thought having someone kiss her

down there

would feel so sublime? Not in a million years. But after that, she couldn't remember anything else.

Will slid from the bed and retrieved her peach walking gown from a chair by the grate, where it lay drying. "Still a bit damp, I'm afraid," he said, handing it to her.

A bit damp? The thing was practically drenched, and she couldn't imagine sliding it over her head. She shivered at the very thought.

Will turned his back on her and began tossing his own clothes on. Muscles flexed in his back as he pulled on his trousers, and Prisca winced. She really would like to remember what he'd done with her the night before. She had a feeling it was worthy of remembering, especially if even half the tales about him were true.

"I know you're angry," he said as he pulled his shirt over his head. Of course,

his

clothes seemed perfectly dry. Blast him.

"I'm not angry, I'm…" What was she? Humiliated? Confused? Frightened? "Never mind."

Will turned back to face her, sympathy in his eyes. "I'll go speak with your brothers."

He tugged his boots on, and then without a word trudged outdoors where Emory and the others waited.

Prisca tossed her sodden dress across the room and wrapped the counterpane around herself in a panic. She tested her ankle by putting weight on it and gasped as pain shot up her leg. She hobbled to the small window to see what was going on outside.

All five of her brothers stood with their arms folded across their chests, identical frowns upon their faces. They resembled a small army of irritable soldiers. She winced. Poor Will.

Then a smile broke out on Emory's face. "I assume you plan on marrying our sister?"

She could only see Will's back, so she couldn't see his face, but he did nod. "I'm sure that took a few years off your life…"

Pierce stepped forward. "So you'll marry her as soon as possible?"

Again Will nodded. "She agreed last night, before…"

Why

had

she agreed? What had he said to convince her? She would never drink whisky again. The horrid stuff had ruined her life.

"You'll be by Langley Downs within the hour to speak to our father?"

"Of course," Will agreed.

Then Emory chuckled. Prisca inhaled sharply. How could her oldest brother

laugh

at her ruination? It was the most unlaughable situation she could imagine.

"Funny how things turn out," Emory began. "To be quite honest, I should tell you that we intended to trap you for Prissy before Christmas."

She pressed her face against the window. She couldn't have heard him correctly.

"I beg your pardon?" Will said. Apparently, he couldn't believe it either.

"In marriage," Blaine clarified.

Well, of course, in marriage. What other way was there to trap a man?

Darius had the good sense to frown. "Though we hadn't planned on you

truly

ruining her."

"You schemed to trap me as a husband for Prisca?" Will sounded indignant, as he should. In fact, if she was wearing more than an old counterpane as a wrap, Prisca thought, she'd give each of those insufferable louts a piece of her mind. Why would they plan such a thing? Didn't they care about her feelings at all?

Emory nodded. "Yes, but on our terms. We figured you were the only man of our acquaintance who could actually manage her."

Prisca's vision turned red. There wasn't a place in Britain where her brothers would be safe from her wrath.

"Of course," Pierce broke in, "you'll still have to answer to us for actually compromising her. We didn't really plan for that contingency."

Prisca was numb. If those five idiots thought she would take this lying down, they had another think coming. Ruined or not, she wouldn't marry William Westfield. Not like this. No matter what her brothers said or did. And they would rue the day they stoked her wrath.

Fifteen

"I can't believe she refused to come back with us," Blaine grumbled as Emory paced the length of their father's study. Garrick sat in a high-backed chair, staring at the floor and clenching his jaw every few seconds.

"What did you expect her to do? Be happy we arrived to rescue her? She'd never have been placed in that situation if not for our meddling." Garrick pointed a finger at Emory, Darius, and Blaine in turn, his expression so stern that Emory feared a lightning bolt would split the heavens and cleave the three of them into sixes.

"And why did Blackmoor have a musket in the blasted cottage? If she'd never found that, we'd have been able to force her to return."

"None of this is Blackmoor's fault." Garrick's frown darkened. He was correct, of course. The musket belonged to the duke, but the five of them had given Prisca the ammunition and the desire to pull the trigger.

"You should have seen the look on your face when she lifted that gun to her shoulder," Blaine said, a smile breaking across his mouth. "And the way Will dove for cover was priceless."

Of course, they'd all scattered when she'd flung the door open, wearing nothing more than a man's shirt that hung to her knees, and pinned them within her sights. The barrel of the gun had swung from one to another.

"She's probably up there in that little cabin crying her eyes out," Garrick snapped.

"Pfftt," Darius scoffed. "It's more likely she's plotting our demise. If she doesn't poison our food, we'll be quite lucky."

"I doubt any luck will be involved. Not for the five of us." Emory dropped heavily into a chair. "She'll make our lives miserable until the end of our days. On that you can depend."

"It was your brilliant idea to admit we'd been trying to pair her up with William."

In hindsight it hadn't been the best idea, not that Emory would admit that to his brothers. "How was I to know she was listening?"

"Because she's Prissy?" Blaine suggested as one dark eyebrow rose in half-amusement.

"It was foolish to say anything." Darius shook his head. "Will ended up walking into a trap of his own making. There was no

reason

to tell him what we'd planned!"

"She'll never forgive us," Garrick added dramatically.