Lydia Dare - Wolf Next Door

"I do." He nodded.

She giggled when he didn't move. "May I have some?"

"Oh, of course," he said, jumping up in one lithe move. He splashed some of the amber liquid into a glass and held it out to her.

"Are you all right, Will?" she purred at him.

"I will be, as soon as I get you beneath me," he growled.

Prisca tapped her chin, her eyebrows drawing together while a smile that wasn't quite sincere played across her lips. "But since you like games so much, William…" she began as she stood up slowly and sensually, and then smoothly walked across the room. She flipped the counterpane from the top of the bed, revealing a chess set that lay in the middle. "Since you like games, I thought we'd play."

"Excuse me?" he choked, all hope of getting inside her escaping him in one big sigh.

"Chess, William. Let's play."

He didn't know what to say and could only gape at her. Did she intend to punish him then? "You don't like chess," Will finally growled.

"I will tonight," she said, smiling sweetly at him. "Besides, it's about as close as you'll get to having me in bed with you any time soon." She sat down on one side of the chess board, the slit at her thigh riding high.

Will's mouth watered.

"Shall I go first, Will?"

She couldn't be serious. She wouldn't do that to him. "Do you honestly intend to deny me my husbandly rights?"

"My, you are quick in understanding the situation." She moved her pawn forward one spot. "Your move."

Will gaped at her. What could he possibly say? He pulled the top off the brandy bottle and lifted it to his lips.

Twenty-One

The morning sunlight poured into the bedroom, and Will groaned as he squinted his eyes and threw an arm over his face. Blasted light! Who would pull back the drapes? "Priss," he grumbled.

But he couldn't hear a sound in the room. No breathing other than his own. Will's eyes flew open. He bolted upright in bed and then realized he was all alone in the little guest room of the dower house, still wearing his clothes from the day before.

Prisca had won the rights to the master's room at the end of their chess game the previous night. The memory of that made his blood boil. There was no way he should have lost the match, except that it was too difficult to concentrate on game play. Whenever he'd clear his head long enough to focus on the board, she'd lean forward and he could see straight down that damned ensemble he'd been foolish enough to give her.

Little tease.

He'd let her have her fun last night, but he'd endured all that he intended. Prisca was his wife, and that's all there was to it.

Will rose from the bed but then sat back down when the room began to spin. Damn brandy. "Prisca!" he called.

But of course, she didn't come running to his aid.

After a moment, he stood again and slowly made his way to the corridor. Finally having his bearings, he stalked toward the master chamber. "Prissy," he began as he threw open the door, "I think we need to have an understanding…"

But she wasn't there. It didn't appear that the bed had even been slept in. Will's breath caught in his throat. Had she left him in the dead of night? Stubborn chit!

Will sniffed the air and could smell lilacs all around him. She hadn't been gone for long. Perhaps she'd simply gone downstairs. "Prisca Westfield! Where are you?"

Nothing. Not a goddamned sound in the whole house!

The air whooshed from his lungs. She wouldn't up and leave him like that, would she? Will closed his eyes and concentrated on his hearing. The wind blew outside, and he could hear something small scamper in the woods nearby, but

nothing

inside the house.

He should have known better. He shouldn't have told her the truth. She said she wasn't going to make this easy on him, but he hadn't thought she'd run away.

Where would she go? Back to Langley Downs? And do what? Tell her father and the others about his duplicity? He shook his head at his own foolishness. He'd have to go after her. She was his wife. Just as he was about to stalk out, he spotted it. A small piece of foolscap folded up, lying in the chair beside the bed.

Will

was scrawled across the top in her delicate hand. He snatched the note and opened it.

Will,

I have gone to Westfield Hall.

Prisca

Gone to the manor house? Without him? He could just imagine what sort of trouble she was getting into up there all alone. Simon would have his head.

Of course, he was relieved that she hadn't taken off in the dead of night. But he couldn't help being annoyed that she was gone. Was it too much to ask for his bride not to trek out on her own the morning after their vows? Was it too much to ask for her to give him a chance to make things right between them?

He was a fool. Did he think she'd suddenly become malleable just because she'd married him? She'd proved just the opposite the previous night, hadn't she?

Well, no more. He'd had enough. Blood pounding in his veins, Will started off for Westfield Hall, ignoring the biting wind whipping at his face. When he found his wife, they'd have quite the discussion about her abandonment and then…

Will stopped in his tracks. He would do no such thing. She already held more power over him than was wise. If she knew how besotted he was, she'd lord it over him. He shoved his hands into his pockets and resumed his hike to the manor house.

Billings met him at the door with a smile. "My lord, I believe your wife is in the breakfast room with the other ladies."

"Perfect," Will grumbled. Everyone knew of her desertion, then. He'd never hear the end of it from his brothers. He doubted either of their brides left them lying alone in their beds the morning after their weddings. Of course, their wives had also shared their beds the night their vows were spoken. He'd not been nearly as fortunate.

After handing his coat to Billings, Will started toward the breakfast room.

"William," Major Forster called from the green parlor.

Will turned on his heel and poked his head in the room. "Morning, sir."

The old officer smiled and started toward him. "Your lovely bride is visiting with your mother, if you're looking for her."

His frustration with Prisca vanished immediately. "Oh. How is Mother this morning?"

The major's eyes lost a bit of their twinkle. "She's not well, son." He sighed. "She's losing what life she has left in her. A little bit more each day."

Will's soul ached at the words. He should have taken more care. He'd been so caught up in his situation with Prisca that he had neglected his mother a bit. "I'll go see her."

The officer shook his head. "Your Prisca does make her smile. Leave them be for the time being."

Mother had always adored Prisca. She'd taken her under her wing as a young girl and acted as a motherly figure, as Priss only had a house full of males growing up.

"Besides," the major broke into his thoughts. "There's something else I'd like to discuss with you." He gestured for Will to take a seat on the divan and then resumed his spot in a brocade chair.

Obedient as ever, Will sat. "What else is wrong, sir?"

Major Forster reached into his pocket, retrieving a folded note. "I'm worried about this Brimsworth fellow whom you've made an enemy of."

"Brimsworth left the area."

"Are you sure about that?"

Well, he hadn't seen the man or smelled his scent in days. "Sir Herbert said he'd decided to return to London."

"Well, perhaps it's nothing then," the major said. "Still, I should tell you Ben asked me to find out what I could about Brimsworth and his sire. This letter arrived from The Society yesterday."

There was obviously something unsettling the man. "And?"

The major frowned. "And there's nothing to be found. It appears, William, that there's no history of Lycans in Brimsworth's family at all."