Lydia Dare - Wolf Next Door

Brimsworth!

Damn! He'd been certain the man had left the area. Will ran toward the dower house as fast as any Lycan possibly could. He barreled through the door without even waiting for the footman to open it.

"Prisca!" he called. There was no answer. But he could hear her humming from the master chambers. "Prisca!" he called again as he walked in that direction.

She met him in the hallway, her cheeks rosy red and her hair loose about her shoulders. He grimaced as he smelled the earl on her person.

"What were you doing with Brimsworth?" he barked.

Prisca took a step back and covered her chest with one hand. "I beg your pardon?"

"Brimsworth, Prisca." His heart pounded impatiently. "Why were you with him?" Will caught her by the shoulders and pulled her to him. The wild Lycan's scent was strongest on her forearm. "Did he touch you?"

She tugged her arm from his grasp. "How dare you ask me something like that?" she replied waspishly.

"I can smell him on you," Will growled.

Her violet eyes grew round. "Oh, that's ridiculous," she said as she pranced around him. "You must have spotted him from the manor and decided to behave boorishly."

"So you do admit to seeing him?"

Prisca folded her arms across her chest. "I didn't realize I was on trial."

She was driving him insane. "Prisca, what did he want?"

She lost some of her ire when she heard that question. Her eyebrows drew together. "It was terribly odd, Will."

He held back the growl that lingered in his throat.

"He wanted to tell me he would be around if I ever needed him."

"And do you?" Will asked sharply, realizing how it sounded as soon as the words fell from his mouth.

"Why on earth would I need Lord Brimsworth?" she countered, rolling her eyes. "Have you gone daft since we last talked? First

witches

and now you think you can

smell

a man on me?"

He probably did sound mad. Will shook his head. "His shaving lotion is an awful citrus concoction. I could smell him a mile away." That wasn't a complete lie.

Prisca wrinkled up her nose at him, as though trying to sort him out. She'd need more than luck for that. "What

is

wrong with you, William?"

"I just don't want Brimsworth sniffing around your skirts. You're my wife and I…"

"You're still jealous."

Will's mouth fell open. He'd never been accused of such a thing before. "I am not. I'm worried about your safety."

A knowing grin spread across her face as she brushed past him on her way to the stairs. "You'll have to do better than that. I can take care of myself. I was doing so before you popped back into my life."

Will followed her down the corridor. "No, Emory was looking out for you."

Prisca whirled around to face him. "Don't mention him or any of the others to me."

Will frowned at her. Prisca had always been close to her family, tagging along after one brother or another for most of her life. "Why not?"

She tipped her head back to meet his eyes. "Because they plotted against me. They didn't think I knew my own mind and decided you were the man for me, regardless of what I wanted."

The air whooshed out of Will's lungs. "Maybe I am the man for you."

She snorted.

Not quite the answer he was hoping for. "They just wanted what was best for you, Priss."

"Meaning you?"

He grinned despite himself. "I am highly thought of in most parts."

She rolled her eyes and started back for her chambers, and Will followed in her wake.

"You can't stay angry with them forever. You know they love you, and your father does, too."

At that, she spun on her heel and folded her arms across her chest, glaring at him. "Yes, let's not forget my father who thinks I'm a common trollop, thanks to you."

Will almost swallowed his tongue. He didn't know she even knew that word. "He does not think you're a trollop."

"He just handed me over to you without taking my wishes under consideration."

"I'm certain he considered everything," he said, gently touching her cheek.

"Yes, your

lies." She glowered at him. "What wer

e you thinking, insinuating that I could be carrying your child?"

"Well, we could make that a reality," he replied, unable to keep the grin from his face. "Tell me you're not really unhappy that you've married me, Prisca? I think we fit together rather nicely."

She turned her back on him and walked toward one of the windows. "I never wanted this, Will."

His heart sank. "Well, I am sorry things didn't turn out the way you wanted, then. I'll leave you to your solitude so you can lick your wounds in peace. Perhaps someone else will enjoy my company."

When she didn't reply but simply leaned her head against the pane of glass, Will turned on his heel. He wasn't going to stand around and watch her mope about being his wife. Perhaps they both needed a little time.

***

Prisca waited until Will was gone before she turned away from the window and swiped at the silent tears that streamed down her face. Men didn't know how to handle tears. She'd learned that at an early age when all of her big, strong brothers would stand around gaping if she cried in front of them. They always had a helpless look about them, and she didn't want to see that expression on Will's face.

She didn't want him to know she ever shed any tears over him. That would be terribly humiliating.

But the truth was she hadn't wanted any of this, not the way it turned out anyhow. She'd always wanted Will to love her and to want her. She'd wanted him to court her and to go about things properly.

She wanted him to come willingly to her, to care for her enough to do so. She hated that their marriage was based on lies.

Twenty-Three

Prisca was fairly pleased with the appearance of her sisters-in-law. Lily, always so pretty and statuesque, was more radiant than ever in the new red-silk gown Prisca had helped her order from Madam Grenier earlier in the month. Her auburn locks were pulled back, and her hazel eyes sparkled.

And anyone would be hard pressed to find a lovelier matron than Elspeth, even with her rounded belly. Her dark emerald dress matched her eyes exactly, and her fiery curls framed her face and were adorned with tiny white flowers.

Prisca looked down at her own icy blue gown with a shimmery overdress and wondered if her husband planned on making an appearance that evening. He was the one who'd said they would announce their nuptials at the Yule Ball, but after he'd left her that afternoon, he hadn't deigned to grace her again with his presence.

"I am surprised you didn't wear your widow's weeds again," Lily said beneath her breath as they departed the duchess' quarters.

Prisca grinned back at her. "I did consider it," she confessed. "But I decided it was one thing to make a statement to Will and my family and quite another to society in general. Besides, I would never intentionally embarrass you or Elspeth."

"It has been so long since I had a sister, Prisca. I am glad to call you one," Lily replied and squeezed Prisca's shoulder.

"I've never had a sister at all," Elspeth chimed in. "No' by blood anyway."

What a strange thing to say. "What other way is there?" she asked the pretty Scot. Elspeth met her eyes briefly and then looked away. Her earlier conversation with Will echoed in her mind. "You'll never believe the strange thing William said to me today."

Elspeth tilted her head to one side. "He told ye I'm a witch."

Prisca was certain the blood drained from her face. "I… umm… How did you know?" she sputtered, completely surprised that Elspeth would say those words aloud.

"Ben was furious with him. It's a bit of a secret," she explained with a sigh as they began to descend the stairs. "Though it's no' something I'm ashamed of. I come from a long line of witches, and over the centuries, we've helped a great many people."