Lydia Dare - Wolf Next Door

Prisca just nodded and chewed on her bottom lip as the maid slipped out the door.

If she looked in her mirror, she probably wouldn't even recognize herself. She prided herself on being confident and composed at all times, but she didn't feel very well put together anymore. In fact, she was a complete mess. Prisca turned and buried her face in her pillow and let out a muffled scream. It was the only thing she could think to do at the moment, and it did help relieve a bit of pent-up frustration, but only a bit.

A heavy fist pounded on her door, heavier than Molly's knock in any event.

"Go away," she called.

"Prisca," her father intoned. "Open the door."

"Papa, may I have a moment, please?" She glanced toward the window. If she wasn't on the second story, she might be able to jump to her freedom. But there were stone tiles below her. Maybe she'd only break a bone or two. How far could one travel with a broken bone? She hadn't gotten very far with a twisted ankle. Could she hobble to the stables before anyone caught her?

Her father called again, "If you don't open this door, I will break it down. You are

not

too big to paddle over my knee."

Prisca gasped. "Papa, I'm not dressed!" she stalled. In fact, she

was

only wearing her nightrail. After all, she saw no reason to dress since she didn't plan to leave her room until the end of time. Besides, it made it easier to wallow in her own self-pity.

She heard a shuffle outside the door. A clink and a clank later, the door was lifted off its hinges. Only it wasn't her papa standing on the other side. It was Will. She pulled her wrapper from the end of the bed and slid her arms into it.

"You should

not

be here," she hissed.

He stalked into her room. "No,

you

should not be

here

," he whispered vehemently. "You should be downstairs, pretending to be an obedient little wife."

Prisca snorted. "If that's what you think you're getting, you are sorely mistaken."

"A man can hope, can't he?" Will murmured.

***

In truth, Will didn't want an obedient little wife. He wanted Prisca. He always had. With her flashing violet eyes and her soft-as-sable hair. He wanted to touch her alabaster skin. She looked positively sinful, even in a cotton nightrail with long sleeves and a frilly collar. He could think of nothing more than sliding it over her head. Soon. Soon he would have her. Soon she would be his for all time.

He adjusted the fit of his waistband and shot her a look.

"Is something wrong with your trousers, William?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.

"Nothing that marrying you won't fix," he replied as he turned to her wardrobe and opened it. "What will you wear for our nuptials?"

"I was thinking of nappies and a bonnet, since everyone seems to think they can decide my fate as though I'm still in leading strings."

Will closed his eyes and sighed. "Prisca." When he opened them, his gaze settled on her angelic face. "Is the idea of marrying me so repulsive?" He crossed the room and tipped her chin up with his forefinger. "If it is, tell me now."

Her eyes grew round. "Would it matter?"

"No," he admitted. He'd marry her with or without her acquiescence, but having it would be better.

"I'd not make it that easy for you, Will. You are officially stuck with me. And I'll not make it an easy alliance. It'll be work on your part."

"I would expect no less," he said as he lowered his head to kiss her. She turned her face away at the last moment, and he caught her cheek.

"

That

will take work as well," she taunted him.

Will had no doubt he affected her. He could hear her heartbeat as it sped up. "I'll look forward to the challenge." He glanced toward her wardrobe. "Will you dress and come downstairs now? Or do I have to remove your nightrail and dress you myself?"

She responded, as he'd hoped, with a gasp. "

Dress

me? And here I thought you were simply an expert at removing a lady's clothes," she replied tartly.

Will frowned at her. "How long will it take you to ready yourself, Prisca?"

"Not long," she replied airily, which only made him suspicious.

If she was going to be accommodating, she'd have done so long before now. "See that it doesn't." Will let her go and walked to the doorway of her room.

"I can't change clothes with the door removed from my room, Will." She smiled sweetly at him. Too sweetly. Something told him he would rue the day she smiled at him like that.

He stepped outside the room and propped the door against the frame, but he didn't slide the hinges in place. He might need to get back in there.

He skipped down the steps, relieved that she'd given in without him having to throw her over his shoulder. Although, that might have been fun, too. He scratched his jaw.

Waiting for her, Will stood in the front entryway, talking with his family, Sir Herbert, and the Hawthorne brothers. The baronet's lips formed a thin, pale line when he heard Prisca's bedroom door crash against the wall. Will could just imagine her shoving it from the doorway, then standing back and wiping her hands together, smiling at her good work.

"Are you sure you want to marry our sister, William?" Emory asked, as he bit back a smirk, not that Will could cry off if he wanted to.

Everyone looked to the top of the staircase when they heard soft footsteps. Lily and Elspeth both gasped. A fit of coughs attacked Simon. The Hawthorne brothers all snickered. And Ben had the nerve to chuckle out loud until Elspeth elbowed him in the stomach.

His soon-to-be wife, his lovely Prisca, stood at the top of the cantilevered steps. Not an inch of her body showed. She was draped in black from her head to her toes. From the heavy black veil she wore to the unattractive black bombazine dress, she looked every bit the widow in mourning.

And all Will could do was wonder who would survive the night—him or her.

"For God's sake, Prisca," Darius Hawthorne grumbled under his breath.

Garrick cleared his throat.

"Sorry," Darius muttered.

Will took a deep breath. He could envision her violet eyes sparkling mischievously behind the veil. She obviously wanted some sort of reaction from him. Well, he was determined not to give it to her. After all, she already held more power over him than she should.

He steeled his expression to one of nonchalance and lifted his hand toward the staircase, waiting for her. "Ah, Miss Hawthorne, so glad you could join us."

Wordlessly, Prisca descended the steps and then brushed past him into the yellow parlor, ignoring his outstretched arm. Will's fury began to mount. She was intentionally goading him, seeing how much of her belligerence he was willing to take. In a few short minutes, she'd be his wife, and they'd have a long discussion about how they would go on from here. Will just had to make it that long. It wouldn't do to lose his temper in front of her entire family or his either, for that matter.

Will watched everyone quickly take their places, as though afraid that any sort of delay on their part would give him a reason to bolt. Prisca stepped up to Garrick and planted her hands on her hips. "I expected a bit more loyalty from

you

."

The vicar looked across the sea of faces to their father and gulped. "You don't have much of a choice, Prissy. It'll be me or someone else."

She folded her arms across her chest but said nothing in response.

Will swallowed uncomfortably. For years, he'd hadn't allowed himself even to hope that Prissy could be his, and yet she would be his wife in a matter of minutes. The idea was both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. He took a steadying breath and then crossed the parlor's threshold.