Lydia Dare - Wolf Next Door

Just as the lemon tortes were placed before them, a raucous noise came from the hallway. It sounded as though a pack of wild animals had somehow gotten loose inside Westfield Hall. Crashes and stomping rang out.

Before Prisca could even gasp, Will, his brothers, and even the young Earl of Maberley all leapt from their chairs.

"What the devil is he doing here?" Blackmoor grumbled.

"Language, Simon," the dowager duchess reprimanded him.

The duke paid his mother very little attention as he stalked off toward the corridor, Will and Ben flanking him and Oliver following behind. Prisca glanced around the table from Alice to Lily to Elspeth and back again. "What do you think that is?"

The dowager duchess pushed her torte away. "It seems as though Desmond has returned."

Elspeth nodded. "It does sound like Papa."

They all appeared so calm, as though it was commonplace for a grown man—a major in Wellington's army, no less—to destroy everything in his reach. Prisca scoffed. "Aren't you even the least bit curious?"

Alice shook her head. "I'm certain we'll know in due time. Besides, when a man is that angry, it's best to stay out of his path until he's had a chance to calm down a bit."

Her appetite gone and her stomach tied up in knots, Prisca pushed her untouched torte to the side.

Elspeth caught her eye from across the table, just as her fiery-haired sister-in-law's stomach rumbled. "Are ye no' hungry, Prisca?"

She gestured to one of the footman to remove her torte. "Please give this to Lady Elspeth."

The Scottish witch's green eyes widened in surprise. "I couldna possibly—"

"Nonsense," Prisca muttered, glancing over her shoulder toward the doorway the four men had departed through. "I believe your daughter has a craving for lemon tortes. She might as well enjoy mine."

"There's no need to worry, Prisca." Lily sent her a reassuring smile. "It's just a full moon. They always behave a bit differently when the moonful is upon us."

Prisca refocused on her dinner companions and noticed Elspeth and Alice nodding in agreement. "This is normal?" she asked. "Stalking out of the dining room as a rabid group, without a word to the rest of us?"

Lily shrugged. "It's only one night a month, and the benefits far outweigh the detriments, dear. Trust me."

Benefits? It was on the tip of her tongue to find out what Lily meant when the young Earl of Maberley rejoined them. Oliver York slumped down into his seat next to his Aunt Lily, his bottom lip jutted out in a pout.

"Why are you sulking, dear?" the duchess asked her nephew.

He scowled, focusing on the door. "They wouldn't let me stay. Which doesn't make a bit of sense, as I can hear it all anyway."

Prisca focused on the boy, her curiosity piqued. "You can hear what they're saying?" she whispered.

Oliver nodded. "They're in an uproar because Major Forster lost Brimsworth."

Lost Brimsworth

? Prisca hadn't known the major had the earl to begin with. What else didn't she know? She glanced around at the identical looks of worry on Alice, Lily, and Elspeth's faces. "Why did he have Lord Brimsworth?"

The Westfield women all exchanged glances with each other, which annoyed Prisca to no end. Did everyone know about this except her?

Oliver winced. "Now I'm in for it."

"Oliver," Lily warned.

He looked down at his abandoned dessert. "Too late. He already knows I told you. Right now, he's threatening to take me back to Harrow tomorrow instead of next week." He paused a moment. "But now he's back to barking at the major again."

"Enough," his aunt advised softly. "I'd like to keep you the rest of the week. Don't provoke Simon unnecessarily."

Well, if she wasn't going to get any more information from Oliver, Prisca wasn't going to remain in the dining hall. Her chair legs scraped along the floor as she rose from her place.

"Prisca," Lily began.

She waved the duchess off. "I have never been afraid of provoking His Grace, unnecessarily or otherwise." Besides, everyone else seemed to know what was going on. She was a Westfield now, too; they shouldn't keep things from her.

Prisca left the rest of her husband's family in her wake as she started down the corridor toward the duke's study. Loud bursts of anger could be heard right up to the moment she reached the study door. Then the noise suddenly stopped.

Blast them! They could hear her approach. It was quite unfair that they could hear everything in the house and were able to eavesdrop on her conversations yet they worked so diligently to keep her from

learning anything useful at all.

The door to the study flew open, and the duke and Ben barreled into the corridor. They both glanced briefly at Prisca before stalking past her in the direction she'd come from. She tiptoed the rest of the way and peeked her head inside the study.

Sitting in one of the duke's chairs, Major Forster raked a hand through his hair in frustration, while Will, standing sentry at the imposing desk, pinned her with his gaze. "I do wish you wouldn't

try

to irritate Simon. It just makes things more difficult for the rest of us."

She gulped, suddenly not certain if she would ever get accustomed to Will and the others overhearing every breath she took, every word she uttered. Wasn't one entitled to a little privacy? Prisca tipped her nose haughtily in the air. "And I wish he wasn't such a bully. Now are you going to tell me why Major Forster

had

Lord Brimsworth?"

The major's head shot up, and he waited for Will's reply, right along with Prisca.

"I told you he was dangerous, Priss. Promise me you won't go near him."

She had no desire to see Brimsworth. It would have been an easy promise to make, but she didn't appreciate him dictating the fact to her. "You didn't answer my question, William."

He sighed and crossed the room to her side. "It's going to be a long night, love. I don't know when I'll be back. Can we continue this conversation in the morning?"

He was leaving? But it was the full moon. He was supposed to transform in front of her eyes. He was supposed to claim her this evening, become a part of her. Prisca's mouth fell open. "But the moon—"

"Another full moon will come around next month." He brushed his knuckles across her cheek. "God willing, we'll have many more after that."

"But, Will—" she began as he stepped around her into the doorway.

"Major Forster has promised to keep an eye on you for me."

None of this made any sense at all, and Prisca's heart began to race with fear. "William! Tell me where you're going."

"To keep you safe," he replied quietly. Then he touched his lips to her brow.

Thirty-Six

Prisca stepped through the garden gate behind The Hall and looked up at the full moon. Evidently, all that Will had told her of the moonful had turned out to be a lie. She should have known.

At that very moment, instead of claiming her as his Lycan mate, he was off with his brothers, scouring the woods for the Earl of Brimsworth. Truly, what damage could a lone Lycan do? He seemed fairly innocuous, all things considered.

Now Lily and Elspeth were irritated with her, presumably because she'd cut into their time during the moonful by occupying their husbands, or perhaps because she'd successfully sent His Grace into a snit and everyone had to deal with him.

And still, she'd yet to find out what it meant to claim one's mate. But the very thought of Will laying claim to any part of her made a quick shiver dance through her belly. If just thinking about it made her toes tingle, she could just imagine why the other ladies of the house were so put out by her.

It wasn't her fault Brimsworth had slipped away from the major. Elspeth's father stood inside the house and watched her through the window, even now. Will had handed her leading strings right over to the old officer. And he'd begrudgingly accepted them.