Lydia Dare - Wolf Next Door

"I don't think you're supposed to know what's in her head, William." Ben shook his finger at him. "You're supposed to live in blissful ignorance like the rest of us." He chuckled as he pushed through the kitchen door. "When will the cauldron bubble?" he asked, laughing as Elspeth poked him in the ribs with her elbow.

"It'll take hours before this is ready," Elspeth sighed.

"How's Mother?" Will asked as he stepped closer to Prisca. He slid an arm around her waist, happy to find that she didn't pull away. He'd wanted her in his arms since before he left on his journey.

"Sleeping for the time being. She's been fading a bit more each day." Ben frowned. "I'm just glad you're back, and I hope this works." He gestured to the concoction cooking on the woodstove.

"You say it will be hours?" Will asked as he slid his hand down Prisca's back to caress the swell of her bottom. Her eyes shot up to meet his, a warning in her gaze.

"Aye, hours," Elspeth replied, grinning. "Get out of here," she laughed, motioning with her hands.

Will didn't have to be asked twice. Within seconds, he'd bent at the waist and hoisted Prisca over his shoulder. She yelped but didn't fight him as she had in the past. She just hung over his shoulder and swatted his rear.

"A simple invitation would do, Will," she said as he carried her through the door.

"I like carrying you around, wife," he said as he stepped outside with her and walked quickly toward the dower house. He slid his hand beneath her dress and raised it to cup her bottom. She squirmed against him.

"Someone will see your hand beneath my skirts," she hissed at him.

"I don't care," Will said as he pinched her plump flesh.

"Ow!" she cried.

"I'll kiss it and make it better," he growled.

It had been days since he'd held her. He'd never wanted a woman so much, and he was not about to let anyone keep him from her any longer.

He burst through the door of the dower house and slammed it shut. The erection that tented his trousers made walking so difficult he feared he couldn't take another step. Instead, he lowered her slowly down the front of his body, until she hovered with her skirts around her waist. He raised her legs, encouraging her to wrap them around his hips.

He framed her face with his hands, stroking gently. Her violet eyes stared at him with wonder. "I missed you," he whispered. He was surprised to find that he had to swallow past the lump in his throat to continue. "I missed you more than I thought could ever be possible."

"I didn't miss you at all," she whispered, her voice cracking, betraying her lie. "In fact, I don't even remember your name." She grinned. The little minx.

"Let me remind you," he said as he bared her breast and pulled her nipple between his lips.

"Who are you again?" she asked. If she could still tease him, he wasn't doing his job very well.

"Your husband," he grunted, barely able to speak to her.

"I vaguely remember that I have one," she gasped out the last word as he switched to her other breast.

"I'll be sure to leave a better impression," he said as he opened his trousers and pressed at her center. She wrapped her arms even more tightly around his neck and tucked her face into the crook of his shoulder.

"Will you take me for the first time like this?" she asked quietly.

"What?" he asked, trying to clear the lust that fogged his brain.

"I do want you," she sighed.

But not like this. Like she was some common trollop. Not the first time. He held her there against the door for a moment, while he tried to catch his breath.

"I'm not sure if I'll claim you as my husband, William," she said, her nose scrunching up.

He heard the word

claim

, and his ears perked up. "What?" Surely she didn't know about that.

She shook her head playfully. "I'll not admit that you're my husband, Will."

"And why not?" He couldn't help but smile at the way her pert little nose scrunched up.

"Honestly?" she asked, batting her eyes at him coquettishly.

"Please."

"Because you smell like one of Emory's hounds," she said as she uncurled her legs from around his waist and slid down his body until she stood before him. "I'd wager you've not bathed in days."

He threw his head back and laughed. "I'll bathe and then love you so well you'll be afraid to deny me."

"You can try," she teased.

He did so love a challenge.

"Will." Prisca frowned suddenly. "Your mother hasn't said much the last few days, but she did ask about you."

***

Prisca watched Will from the doorway of Alice's chamber. He sat with his elbows resting on the side of his mother's bed, her limp hand in his.

"Elspeth and Miss Macleod are working in the kitchen now, Will," she whispered. "They'll be here soon, and they have high hopes this will work."

"You don't even believe in magic, Prisca."

Will didn't look in her direction.

"

My life

is far-reaching," he murmured softly, but she heard him.

"Speaking of which," Prisca said. Then she stopped to clear her throat. "I did some reading when you were gone."

"The society rags? Who is having an affair with whom? You know most of those stories are fabricated," he scoffed.

"Were they fabricated when the pages were full of

your

exploits?"

He finally raised his eyes to meet hers. "No. Not typically. I was just as bad as the rags made me out to be. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Not particularly," Prisca muttered. This was going badly. She wanted to discuss the Lycan books with him. Perhaps take his mind from his mother's condition. Yet she failed miserably at both.

Prisca sighed and sat down on the opposite side of the bed. She crossed her arms and waited as the nothingness stretched into an eternity.

"I wanted my mother to meet our children," Will said quietly after a few moments. "I always assumed she would be here. She was so strong."

Prisca rose to walk closer to him. He sat back in his chair and pulled her into his lap, drawing her close to him. He immediately sighed and relaxed, inhaling deeply with his nose close to her hair.

Prisca wanted to assure him that things would be all right, but she wasn't certain they would. Unless the witches could perform a miracle, which she still had doubts about, his mother would not be with them much longer. So, she just whispered, "I know," as she kissed his forehead. Her hands slid into his hair, stroking him gently.

"I've always loved it when you do that," he said, pressing into her hand. She continued to stroke him, her fingers wildly mussing his hair, but it seemed to calm him. "The first time you ever touched me like that, you were still a young girl. You touched me with the innocence of youth and brought me a peace like I'd never experienced, not close to the moonful."

He spoke softly and slowly, as though her ministrations put him into a trance. "It makes me wild and unmanageable. And, oh, how I hated it. But I came to you, and you did just this."

Prisca's back stiffened. She had no idea what he was talking about.

"Don't stop," he said, when her hands slowed.

"I don't remember touching you like this before we were married." Surely he wasn't remembering another woman.

"The first time, you were wearing a yellow dress. And you had yellow ribbons in your hair."

"Are you sure it was me?" She tried to keep the waspishness from her voice.

"I'm positive. No one else smells like lilacs." Will sighed with contentment. "It was after your birthday party. I couldn't come to the festivities."

Prisca searched the room for a liquor decanter. Perhaps he'd been imbibing before she joined him.

"But I sat outside and listened. Your brothers finally teased you one too many times. You stomped by them and out into the garden. I hated to see you cry."