Lydia Dare - Wolf Next Door

***

Prisca stared at Will through the black veil and she shivered. Her husband. William was going to be her

husband

. She was relieved that no one could see the tears in her eyes or the fear she was certain was there. Since she was a girl, the mere presence of William Westfield had filled her head with romantic notions.

She'd daydreamed about becoming his bride for almost half her life. But not like this. She wanted his love, not his sense of duty, though it was surprising to know he even had one.

Or did he love her? Why couldn't she remember that blasted proposal? Perhaps he'd professed his undying love and devotion. Perhaps that's why she'd accepted, why she'd shared his bed. Prisca snorted at her own foolishness. Will would never say such a thing. So what had he said? How had he proposed? She'd asked herself those same questions for days.

Garrick cleared his throat, as though he was ready to begin the ceremony. Traitor.

Will closed the distance between them and took her hands in his. Prisca winced, hoping he couldn't tell she was trembling. If he did, she hoped he'd believe it was her fury and not nerves.

Garrick opened his Bible and met Will's eyes. "In Proverbs we read, 'Whoso findeth a wife findeth a good thing.' I do hope, Lord William, that this will be a good thing for you both."

Will inclined his head in agreement, and his hands tightened around Prisca's.

Garrick took a deep breath. "Do you, William Thomas Farrell Westfield, take Prisca Elizabeth Hawthorne to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness or in health, to love and to cherish 'til death do you part?"

"I do." Will's quiet answer whispered across Prisca's heart.

Garrick turned his attention to her and smiled supportively. "And do you, Prisca Elizabeth Hawthorne, take William Thomas Farrell Westfield to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness or in health, to love, honor, and obey 'til death do you part?"

Behind her, one of her brothers—she would wager it was Pierce—snorted when the word

obey

was uttered. She froze and stared at Garrick. He nodded for her to speak, but she didn't have a voice.

"Prisca!" her father hissed at her side.

She swallowed, and her father nudged her. "All right!" she snapped, glaring at him through her veil. It was a good thing he couldn't see her eyes.

"Do you need me to repeat it, Priss?" Garrick asked softly.

She shook her head. "I… I…" Will's hands tightened around hers, and she looked up at him, at the uncertainty in his light eyes. How she wished there was a way out of this. She closed her eyes tightly, ignored the tears that trailed down her cheeks, and wrenched the words from her soul. "I do," she whispered. What other choice did she have?

It seemed as if everyone released the same breath all at once. Garrick smiled with relief. "William, you may kiss your bride."

Will released her hands and lifted the veil from her face. His light-blue eyes widened as he looked at her, and then he carefully brushed her tears away with the pads of his thumbs. When he softly touched his lips to hers, Prisca wanted to cry even harder. How would she ever protect her heart from him now?

Applause broke out behind them, and Will raised his head. His blue eyes seemed to glow with some sort of promise, and Prisca shivered. Almost immediately, they were torn apart. Her brothers swarmed around Will, and the Westfield women swept down upon her.

"Alice had the Westfield staff ready the dower house for you and Will," Lily rushed to tell her.

The quaint Georgian house not far from the main Westfield estate? No one had lived there for as long as Prisca remembered. "The dower house?"

"As newlyweds, she thought you might prefer to have your own space for a while."

More likely it was so their constant bickering wouldn't grate on everyone else's nerves. "How thoughtful," Prisca muttered, though the thought of being alone with Will sent butterflies scattering about her belly.

Nineteen

Will watched Prisca from across the room as she spoke with Lily and Elspeth. She looked utterly ridiculous in her black gown and black veil, but she certainly knew how to get her point across.

She caught his gaze and her eyes narrowed with suspicion, as though she wondered what was on his mind. If she only knew, she would hide her face in embarrassment. All that Will could think of was removing her ridiculous clothing piece by piece, until all of her silky skin was exposed. He wondered if she wore black garters beneath that dress. Very soon, he would find out.

"If you keep looking at her like that, she's likely to melt into one big puddle on the floor before you even get through your wedding night," Ben said quietly from where he stood by Will's side.

"I've no idea what you're talking about." Will tried to look shocked. Ben's chuckle told him he had failed miserably. "Did you know the Duke of Blackmoor couldn't even sit through his wedding breakfast without picking up his new wife and carrying her upstairs to start their honeymoon early?" It was always best to shift the attention to another brother when one wanted to avoid a particular topic.

Ben coughed into his hand. "

Our

brother did that?"

"He most certainly did." Will nodded. He was happy to have the attention back on Simon. "In front of everyone. He marched over and scooped her out of her chair. Then carried her up the stairs two at a time."

Ben sighed. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Will, but I rushed Elspeth away myself. So, I'd not hold it against you if you wanted to sneak away with your new wife."

"Something tells me, dear brother, that Prisca is not going to be quite as willing to be carried away as Lily and Elspeth were."

"I don't see why not," Ben replied. "She's a little angry about how all of this occurred. Beautiful gown, by the way. But since you were successful in bedding her once, I don't think it will be difficult now that she's your wife. She's probably waiting for you to scoop her up in your arms."

Will winced, and it did not go unnoticed by his younger brother.

"What is that look for?"

Will growled. "Leave it alone, Benjamin."

Understanding dawned in Ben's eyes, and his mouth fell open. "You

didn't

," he rasped.

Good God! Was his duplicity written across his brow? "I don't know what you're talking about."

Ben grabbed Will's jacket and tugged him to the far corner of the room. "But you told me you were going to… I mean, Emory and the others found you…" He raked a hand through his light brown hair. "Damn it, Will, you

told

Sir Herbert she could be with child," he hissed.

Will looked over his shoulder. No one appeared interested in their conversation. Thank God. Then he turned his glare back on his ever-seeing younger brother. "Keep your voice down. Do you want Simon to overhear you?"

Ben scoffed. "Simon is the least of your problems, William." But he lowered his voice anyway. "Does Prissy know? I mean that would account for the dress. But why wouldn't she tell Sir Herbert?"

"Because she was so foxed that she passed out, and the next morning I told her we'd consummated the relationship. If she'd known the truth, she would have batted her eyes at her father and limped on that ankle of hers, and he'd have swept it under the rug."

Ben's mouth dropped open wider than Will had ever seen it, and that was saying something.

"Don't stare at me like that. You look like a fish. Close your bloody mouth. Everyone will know something is wrong."

"Wrong?" Ben echoed. "Aren't you always the one who says I don't think things through clearly? I'd love to hear, dear brother, how you plan to tell your new wife that she is more innocent than she believes herself to be."