Lydia Dare - Wolf Next Door

"By marrying her?"

Will nodded. "Simon is already on his way to London to procure a special license."

Sir Herbert sat back in his chair and studied Will as though he were a display at the British Museum. "I don't like the way you've gone about this, William," he said.

Will simply nodded. He'd take his scolding like a man. If someone did the same to his daughter someday, he would probably draw and quarter the fool. "I'll make her happy."

Sir Herbert chuckled. The man actually laughed. "Oh, we'll see about that." Then he leaned forward in his seat and scratched his jaw. "Tell me something, William."

"Anything."

"Do you love my daughter?"

The air rushed from Will's lungs. He'd never admitted that to another living soul. Not even his brothers, though he knew they suspected the truth. "Yes, sir, I do."

"But you haven't told her?" The baronet's dark eyes softened.

Will shook his head. "Have you by chance noticed how much she despises me?"

A smile tugged at Sir Herbert's lips, which Will did not find amusing at all. "I do believe you'll suit each other."

"Thank you," he replied, not knowing if the man meant it as a compliment or not.

Sir Herbert studied him a minute and then said, "My property is unentailed. So in addition to Prissy's dowry, I'm including the northwest patch of land that borders Westfield Hall."

Reducing his friend's inheritance had never been part of Will's plan. It wouldn't be right. "But Emory—"

"Is not your concern, William. You don't have land of your own. Prisca is my only daughter, and I want her close by. You will allow me that."

Finally, Will nodded. "Of course, sir. If you're certain. Would it be all right if I spoke with Prisca? Just for a moment?

Sir Herbert grunted. "I suppose you've done all the damage you can do already."

***

Will scratched lightly at Prisca's door.

"Go away," she called back.

"You don't even know who it is," he said softly, fully aware that she stood close to the door.

"I do now," she sang. "So, go away."

"Do you hate me?" he asked of her.

The door flew open with such force that Will nearly fell inside. "You will be very fortunate if you don't find a knife in your back before the end of the honeymoon, my lord." She smiled sweetly. But the evidence was right before him in her red-rimmed eyes. She'd been crying. And he hated the very thought of her being so miserable because of him.

Stubborn as always, even when she was miserable, Will thought as he shook his head. "I am better for you than Brimsworth," he growled. "I'd never hurt you."

"I'm already hurt." A lone tear slid slowly down her cheek.

He brushed the tear away with the pad of his thumb and replaced it with his lips.

"I don't want to marry you, Will," she said softly. "Please, don't do this."

"You don't want me?" he asked, his pride warring with his heart. "Are you sure about that?"

"I

shot

you, didn't I? Doesn't that give you an idea of how I feel?"

"You didn't mean it." Will caught her lips with his, but she refused to kiss him back. Within seconds, he'd picked her up, sat down in the vacated chair, and pulled her onto his lap. She struggled against him until he locked his arms around her waist.

Will pulled her head down to his and took her mouth. But there was no tenderness in the kiss this time. There was only passion. And a need to prove to her how much she wanted him, to prove it to himself. Finally, she softened against him and he gentled his kiss. When she began to kiss him back, he loosened his hold on her waist and slid his hands up her sides to finally cup her breasts. He began to thumb her nipples as his tongue continued to war with hers. He offered no quarter, no rest from his assault.

When she was mewling and arching against his hands, he stopped his ministrations. But she was so far gone that she didn't notice for several moments. He simply watched her, her eyes closed. He couldn't help but smile. There was no lovelier sight on earth.

When Prisca finally realized he'd stopped, her eyes flew open. It was probably a really bad thing for her to catch him smiling at her.

"You do want me," he said softly. He could smell her desire. "You want me so much you ache with it, like I do for you."

"Oh, you scoundrel!" she said as she heaved herself quickly from his lap. Her violet eyes flashed with anger. "I hate you." She pointed one finger toward her door. He rose and walked slowly through it.

"You might hate me," he said softly as he exited. "But you still want me."

She slammed the door behind him.

***

After a few moments alone in the hallway outside Prisca's room, Will gathered his wits about him and readjusted his trousers. Prisca Hawthorne always left him affected in one way or another, and it would take time for his ardor to cool. Why couldn't he have fallen for a sweet girl like Elspeth or a caring one like Lily?

Loving Prisca was a punishment, a curse of sorts. He'd tried over the years to fight his feelings for her. In fact, he'd made quite a name for himself in London as a charming rogue. He'd entertained women of all classes and positions, hoping someone would make him forget her. No one ever had.

He heaved a sigh. In a matter of days he'd have the girl, but her heart was another matter, and she didn't seem willing to give it to him.

Will ambled down the hallway, wishing he was already at Westfield Hall. He slowly made his way toward the grand front door. The Hawthornes' ancient butler handed him his greatcoat and hauled the door open for him.

Will stepped out into the bright December sunlight. The clouds were sparse, but the sky was bleak and grey. A cold breeze blew past him, and a chill tickled down his spine. He started toward the stables, but a voice behind him halted his step.

"It appears as though you've won, Westfield."

Brimsworth.

Will looked over his shoulder to find the earl just stepping over the threshold. "Your expectations were contrary to the outcome?" Will asked. "Sorry to disappoint. When do you plan to leave?"

The young earl furrowed his golden brow. "I thought I might stay to toast the nuptials."

Will spun on his heels to face the earl. "If you do anything to hurt her…" Will began.

Brimsworth sneered at him. "If you'd only played fair, I'd have accepted the outcome."

Will stalked toward the earl, his fist clenched. "And I'd do it again, pup. You've no choice but to accept it."

The man laughed. "Do I?" Will could barely keep himself from wrapping his hands around the man's throat and choking the life out of him. "You're the same as me. I can smell it."

"And I can sense your wildness, your lack of control. If you touch one hair on her head, there won't be enough left of you to heal." He stared Brimsworth down, until the earl looked away submissively.

Will once again started for the stables.

"Watch your back, Westfield," Brimsworth called after him.

Will didn't even bother to turn around.

Seventeen

"I don't care, Molly," Prisca explained for the thousandth time. "I don't care what he says."

"Please, Miss… It's Mr. Hawthorne's birthday," her maid begged.

Blaine could go straight to the devil along with the rest of them. "I'm well aware of the date. As I'm not feeling the least bit festive, I believe I'll stay right where I am."

With an exasperated sigh, Molly sat on the edge of Prisca's bed. "They can't function without you. Sir Herbert is barking at everybody. All your brothers are grumbling at each other. If you'd just come down and see them, I'm sure—"

"When my father sees reason, I'll join him and my brothers. But not until then. And you can tell him I said so." Reclined on her bed, she closed her copy of

Emma