Lydia Dare - Wolf Next Door

If Miss Macleod was trying to frighten him, it was working. He'd never planned to claim Prisca as his Lycan mate, not after her reaction to the "witch" news. But it appeared as though he might have that choice wrested from him. He had to claim her or risk having the wild golden wolf attempt it himself.

Twenty-Seven

Prisca rushed to the door when she heard the clatter of a coach approaching. She saw the odd crest as it slowed before The Hall. Disappointment flooded her heart.

"It's not him," she said quietly. For days, she'd watched for his approach, wondering when he would return. Alice had become more and more weak, and Prisca had become more and more anxious. True to his word, Ben had delivered a few more books on Lycanthropic lore to her. Each one she read seemed to confirm her suspicions that she'd married some mythical creature. It didn't even seem like madness any longer. With each day that passed, Prisca missed her husband. Desperately.

Elspeth glanced out the door. With a little squeal, she clapped her hands together with delight. "That's the Macleod crest!" she said, turning and hugging Ben tightly. "Do ye ken what that means?"

Prisca watched raptly as warring emotions crossed Ben's face. Finally, he smiled. "It means hope has arrived?" His face scrunched up with consternation. "I never thought I'd be happy to see Caitrin Macleod. But I imagine Will's with her. And that she brought the ingredients to make Mother well."

"Will is with whom?" Prisca asked, completely at a loss for words.

But everyone ignored her as they bustled out the door. Will stepped from the coach, smiling broadly, his clothes a rumpled mess. He looked as though he'd slept in them for a straight week. His hair stuck out wildly, as though it had not seen a brush in quite some time. She took a step toward him, happier than she had been for days. But then he turned toward the coach and reached a hand inside. He brought back a slender wrist and thin forearm, which was followed by the rest of a beautiful blonde.

Prisca's breath caught in her throat. The whole time she'd missed him, wished for his safe return, he'd been with that breathtaking woman? She crossed her arms beneath her chest to quell the indignation brewing there.

Elspeth squealed again and raced toward the coach, and then wrapped the blonde in her arms. Even Ben looked happy now to see the woman.

Prisca had seen enough. She turned on her heel and went back into The Hall. Blasted William! She'd been so happy to see him, so relieved. And there was much to discuss with him. More than anything, she wanted to touch him. She wanted him to touch her. She wanted him to be happy to see her. But he obviously was too well engaged, smiling at that angelic-looking blonde.

She sank heavily onto the settee and raised a fingernail to her mouth to nibble. Obviously, he hadn't missed her at all. A lone tear trickled down her cheek. She swiped it away with the back of her hand, just before Elspeth, Ben, Will, and That Woman came through the door.

Will and Ben both carried flowering plants into the room. Where on earth might one get flowering plants in the middle of winter?

Elspeth, with her arm linked through the woman's, called to the men. "Ye can put those in the kitchen."

"I didn't think ladies went into the kitchens," Will chided, a grin on his face.

"This one does." Ellie grinned back. "I'll need ta make the potion. And Caitrin is goin' ta help." Then her hand flew to her mouth. "Ye would think I left my manners back in Scotland!" she laughed. "Lady Prisca Westfield, this is my dear friend and," she lowered her voice and whispered, "coven sister," very dramatically. "Miss Caitrin Macleod, this is Will's wife."

The blonde looked down her nose at Prisca. "So, ye're the unlucky soul who is shackled ta William Westfield for the rest of yer natural-born life?" she asked.

Prisca opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. She assumed she resembled a fish out of water, gasping for air.

"That's quite all right," Miss Macleod said as she boldly took Prisca's hand from her lap and pulled her to her feet. "I would be without words if I was doomed for eternity, as well. Come and help us with the potion," she suggested. Then the blond witch tilted her head and finally smiled at Prisca. Lord, when the woman smiled, she was even more breathtaking.

Neither Elspeth nor Miss Macleod gave her time to decide. Will tried to reach for her as they dragged her past, but Caitrin slapped at his hand. "Ye'll have time for that later. We've work ta do."

Both witches laughed and pulled her toward their destination. Prisca had never even been inside the kitchens at home. The room was enormous with pots and pans dangling from the ceiling. The smell of fresh baked bread wafted through the air, mingling with the scent of berry tarts. She might make it a habit to visit the kitchen more often.

Soon Elspeth and Caitrin shooed all the servants away and boldly took over, laughing all the while.

"I think I frighten the servants," Elspeth admitted as they began to work. "They're no' sure what ta do with themselves when I come down ta make my porridge in the morning."

Prisca leaned a hip against the tabletop and watched the women as they stripped the plants, extracted seeds and leaves, and set them to steep. Elspeth made a circular motion with her finger, and a spoon began to slowly stir the concoction. All by itself. Once again, Prisca did the fish impression.

"Does she ken what ye are?" Prisca heard Caitrin ask Elspeth quietly.

"Aye, she does." Elspeth laughed. "She hasna ever seen the magic before, though."

"Th-that's magic?" Prisca stuttered.

"Aye, an enchanted spoon," Caitrin said. "She learned ta do it when she was four and hasna stopped since." She rolled her eyes dramatically.

"Can you do it, too?" Prisca asked.

Caitrin shrugged. "I'm sure I could, but I doona prefer such tasks. My gifts are different from El's. Each member of the

Còig has a different power. Or powers, as the cas

e may be. Like Sorcha, who can make these lovely flowers bloom right from seeds to fully open in minutes."

"What's yours?" Prisca asked, happy to find that her tongue was finally loosening.

"I can see the future," the woman admitted. "That's how I found Lord William. I saw his journey ta Scotland and met him part of the way ta speed his quest."

"You were with my husband for some time, then?" Prisca asked, trying to appear as though it didn't matter.

"Aye, and it was pure torture, just like every other moment with the beast." She suddenly stopped talking when Elspeth shook her head slightly. "I am glad ta meet ye, Prisca. And am glad ye're strong and beautiful. Ye'll give Lord William a merry chase."

"He has already caught me," Prisca admitted.

"He hasna caught ye yet," Caitrin said, her eyes narrowing. "But he'd like ta," she added, letting her words trail off slowly.

***

Will stood in the corridor off the kitchen and listened intently to Prisca and Caitrin's conversation. Surely, after all the times he'd pleasured her, she didn't still think he'd been forced into a marriage he didn't want. He wanted her with every breath in his body.

When they'd turned down the lane, her lilac scent had reached him, and he'd had to swallow harshly to control his need to drool. He was sure Caitrin would have enjoyed that display. Then he'd walked through the door and had his arms full of plants, instead of full of Prisca, as he'd wanted. Then Caitrin had dragged her away. He stood outside the kitchen for just a moment, listening to them talk. Ben's exaggerated stomp down the corridor broke his concentration.

The women immediately stopped talking.

"You shouldn't eavesdrop," Ben said blandly.

"How else will I find out what's in my pretty little wife's head?" he replied.