Lydia Dare - Wolf Next Door

He snorted to himself, imagining her reaction if he transformed in front of her. One minute he'd be a wolf and the next a man, completely naked with his face in her lap.

She'd murder him on the spot, and if she didn't, her brothers would.

It was God's cruel joke that she was only able to be civil to him when he was in his Lycan form. Will heaved a sigh. He needed to get his mind in order if he was going to spend the holidays with his family and see

her

again. Because the next time she saw him, her pretty violet eyes wouldn't be looking at him in wonder but with barely concealed disgust. They'd go back to the relationship they had as man and woman. She didn't like him nearly as much when he wasn't sporting a tail and long teeth.

Of course, he had only himself to blame for that.

If he was smart, he'd turn right back around and return to London. Even as the idea occurred to him, Will knew it wasn't a possibility. It had been a lifetime since he and his brothers had all been together, and so much had happened in that time. Besides, their mother would be heartbroken if he didn't arrive for her holiday festivities. He wouldn't be allowed to leave until well after the New Year.

God have mercy on him. He'd need it when the Hawthornes got word of his arrival. Well, when Prisca got word of his arrival.

Will left the inn and traveled the rest of the way to Westfield Hall in his carriage. Memories spun in his mind as he watched the familiar countryside from the window. Every passing cottage and copse of trees made him think of her. How long did he have to wait before he paid a call on Emory Hawthorne? What was the best time of day to happen upon Prisca? Perhaps the holiday spirit would make her look kindly on him.

Foolish thoughts, all of them. She hadn't looked kindly on him in years, not since their elopement failed. Things would have been so different if she'd met him like she was supposed to all those years ago. But that was the past, and there was no going back.

Will turned his focus to his family. It would be nice to see Benjamin again, and Elspeth. He saw Simon fairly often, but his oldest brother was always in a hurry to return home to his wife. At least for the next few weeks, they'd all be together, almost like old times. Almost.

His brother's baroque manor house came into view, and Will leaned back against the squabs. He closed his eyes, hoping to capture the last bit of peace he was sure to have before he entered Westfield Hall.

The coach rumbled to a stop, and Will threw open the door without waiting for his coachman's assistance. He strode down the path, white rocks crunching under his Hessians, and then bounded up the stone steps. Before he reached the front door, Billings, the old family butler, hauled it open and greeted him with a smile.

"Lord William, it is good to see you again."

Will handed his hat and cane to the man. "Thank you, Billings."

"His Grace and Lord Benjamin are in the duke's study, my lord."

Will inclined his head and then started in the direction of his brother's inner sanctum. Even before he reached the door, he heard Simon berating their younger brother.

"Your allowance doesn't leave room for such indulgences, Benjamin." Simon's voice filtered down the hallway.

"I hardly call the building of my home an indulgence. Besides, I have some investment ideas that should replenish your coffers."

"My coffers are fine," Simon growled. "That's hardly the point."

"I don't need a lecture," Ben complained. "I'm not a boy anymore, Simon."

Will pushed open the door, but both of his brothers were too preoccupied to acknowledge him. His oldest brother, Simon, the Duke of Blackmoor, sat forward, leaning on his desk with a stern look on his face. "Oh, I know you're not a boy anymore. I realized that when you sent word you'd married some lass in Edinburgh. A lass no one has even met until now."

"I've met her," Will replied from the doorway, though he was promptly ignored by both of his brothers.

From his spot across from Simon, Benjamin examined his fingernails. "I know you're unhappy about it—"

"Me?" Simon raised his brow with dark amusement. "I could care less what you do. You're Elspeth's problem now, but Mother was quite offended she wasn't invited. You hurt her terribly."

"In Ben's defense," Will interrupted again, striding into the room, "he didn't have many options at the time. He'd just compromised the girl. Do you think he should have waited for a caravan from London to make things right?"

Simon's grey eyes flashed up to meet Will's. The look the duke wore had intimidated many over the years, but Will wasn't one of them. "I don't recall asking for your opinion, William."

Will laughed, sliding into an overstuffed leather chair next to Ben. "You did the same thing yourself, Simon, with Lily. If Mother hadn't arrived when she did, she would have missed your wedding, too. You're just put out that you had to listen to her complaints."

Simon snorted. "So is that the way of Westfield men, then? We'll only marry by force?"

Will scowled when both Simon and Ben stared at him. He was the only bachelor in the room. "Don't look at me. I'm not planning to ever marry—by force or otherwise." Not when the only woman he truly wanted had closed that option to him.

Simon leaned back in his chair, studying Will with a frown. "What took you so long? You should have been here hours ago."

Will rolled his eyes. "I don't answer to anyone, Simon, not even the formidable Duke of Blackmoor."

"Where were you?" Simon pressed.

The duke was the alpha of their pack, and it was always impossible to dissuade him from his course. Will shrugged. Answering Simon would be easier in the long run.

"Last night was a full moon. Perhaps you noticed. I slept in late today. Please forgive me, Your Grace," he replied drolly.

"Have you seen Mother yet?" Simon leaned back in his seat.

Will shook his head. "You two are the first I've seen."

"Well, go see her, will you? She's been feeling a bit out of sorts. And she's been on pins and needles the last few days."

That didn't make one bit of sense. Their mother was not of the hysterical variety, by any stretch of the imagination. Alice Westfield, the dowager Duchess of Blackmoor, was the picture of grace and charm. Pins and needles didn't describe her.

Obediently, Will rose from his seat. "Of course."

He strode directly down the hallway toward the green sitting room, where his mother generally held court. As Will passed the staircase, he heard a feminine squeal. He turned just in time to catch his fiery-haired sister-in-law, Elspeth, as she hurled herself into his arms. "Will!"

He grinned down at her and kissed her cheek. "How are you, sweetheart?"

"Better after my nap. It's a long journey from Edinburgh. I doona think I'll be ready ta go home anytime soon."

Will winked at her. Halfway through her pregnancy, Elspeth glowed even more than usual.

"William Westfield with a woman in his arms— what a surprise," came a haughty voice from behind him. He suppressed a shudder. He'd hoped the lilac scent that had assaulted his nose and made his mouth water as soon as he stepped through the door was something Lily had taken to wearing. Now he knew better.

Will cringed. It had already started. What he wouldn't give to make her stop hating him. He released Elspeth and turned to find his beautiful tormentor regarding him with distaste. Even furious, she was the loveliest woman in the world.

"Prisca," he said raising his brow. "May I present Lady Elspeth Westfield, Ben's wife."

Her eyes rounded in surprise, which brought him a bit of satisfaction. Will draped his arm around Elspeth's shoulders. "Ellie, this is Miss Hawthorne—the bane of my existence."

"Oh!" Elspeth gasped. "Miss Hawthorne, I have heard so much about ye," she gushed with her charming brogue, her smile focused on Prisca.