Lydia Dare Wolf Bundle

by Lydia Dare

  “Ha!” he snorted. “Don’t even think about it. I’d sooner send myself off to Bedlam.” But there was something glinting in her eyes, something that made him wonder. “Caitrin told you! Is it a girl?”

  Elspeth’s smile brightened the room. “Ye’ll just have ta wait and see.”

  Copyright © 2010 by Lydia Dare

  Cover and internal design © 2010 by Sourcebooks, Inc.

  Cover design by April Martinez

  Cover images © Phildate/Dreamstime.com; Avava/Dreamstime.com; BillNoll/iStockphoto.com; StanRohrer/iStockphoto.com; Photos.com

  Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Published by Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410

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  Printed and bound in Canada.

  WC 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  To Tammy—Thank you for always being there, for putting up with me when I’m difficult, and for making this process magical.

  To Jodie—Thanks for opening the door to the past, for walking so willingly into the paranormal, and for making it so much fun.

  One

  Langley Downs, Hampshire

  December 1816

  PRISCA HAWTHORNE WAS FAIRLY CERTAIN BEDLAM WAS in her future. Still, she couldn’t help herself. She had to leave, to see if her wolf had returned. It was a foolish thing to do, Prisca well knew. How many nights had she gone in search of him, only to return home tired and disappointed? Still, something in her soul told her she’d be successful tonight. And she never questioned that feeling; it had always been correct in the past.

  She slipped into her long, wool coat as she padded across the cold marble floor. After all, it would be simply foolish to traipse around her property in the middle of night in only her flimsy nightrail. More foolish than searching for an elusive wolf.

  Prisca pushed open the double glass doors that led to the veranda. The frosty winter wind swirled around her, lifting the edge of her coat and making her shiver. This was surely madness.

  She quietly closed the doors behind her and rushed across the veranda, down the stone steps, and out toward her garden. The moon was full tonight, lighting her way, which made her smile. He only came to her when the moon was full. She sped up her pace.

  The garden was not in bloom this time of year, but the hedgerows and topiaries still kept their form. Prisca pressed forward down the path, first around one hedge and then around another.

  She spotted him and stopped in her tracks.

  He had come.

  Standing in a shaft of moonlight, the wolf seemed to be waiting for her. Prisca’s heart pounded out a familiar beat, and anticipation coursed through her veins. He was still the most magnificent creature she’d ever seen, with his regal black coat, icy blue eyes, and proud stature.

  If anyone else had seen her approach the dangerous creature, her conveyance to Bedlam would have been summoned immediately. But she knew from their past encounters that he was, if not tame, of no risk to her.

  She was the only one who’d ever seen the wolf. At times, she doubted he was real. In fact, it seemed like a lifetime since she’d seem him last.

  Prisca smiled at the beast and stepped forward. “There you are. I didn’t know if I’d see you again.”

  She sat on a stone bench and patted the space beside her.

  The wolf appeared to heave a sigh, though that seemed an odd thing for him to do. Then he slowly walked toward her. He stopped before her feet, peered up at her with his cool blue eyes, and rested his head in her lap.

  Prisca stroked his coarse black fur and closed her eyes, reveling in the feel of him. There was something so familiar, so comforting in the animal. Which was why she could never tell anyone about him; they’d all think she had lost her mind.

  The wolf pressed closer to her, and Prisca laughed. “I missed you, too. You should visit me more often. You could even stay here,” she suggested. Wouldn’t all of Hampshire faint if they discovered she kept a wolf for a pet? “I’d take good care of you.”

  The wolf closed his eyes, and Prisca scratched behind his ears. She told him all about her brothers and the goings-on around their village, just like she always had whenever he visited her. All the while, the wolf enjoyed her ministrations and seemed content to stay there forever.

  Suddenly, he lifted his head with a jolt, looked her straight in the eyes, and ran out of the garden and into a copse of trees at the edge of the property as though he’d been summoned by some invisible force. It happened so fast that Prisca couldn’t even call out for him to wait.

  She sighed in defeat, wondering how long it would be until she saw him again.

  Emory Hawthorne sank down into a chair at the breakfast table and stifled a yawn. He glanced around at the other places at the table and discovered the eyes of his four younger brothers all focused on him, which was a bit unnerving. How unusual for any one thing to capture the interest of each Hawthorne brother at the same time. Emory scrubbed a hand across his face. Had he neglected to shave this morning? Or were his eyes red-rimmed? Or his cravat uncharacteristically wrinkled?

  What the hell were they looking at?

  “Well?” Pierce began, his dark brow raised in question.

  Emory frowned at the brother closest to his own age. What the devil was going on? “I beg your pardon.”

  “You’re the only one who still lives here,” Garrick informed him, as though Emory might be unaware of the circumstances of his own residence.

  “And by God, you were supposed to keep the rest of us informed.” Darius folded his arms across his chest.

  No question about it, Emory was definitely missing something. Had the others been this mysterious when they’d all lived together? He couldn’t quite remember that far back, at least not this early in the morning. Life was fairly peaceful without his brothers, however. As it was, only their father and Prisca still remained at Langley Downs…

  Then it hit him. Prisca. This inquisition was about their sister.

  “Ah, the light finally dawns.” Garrick, the vicar, leaned forward in his seat. “What is Prissy’s status?”

  Emory groaned. He wished he knew the answer to that question. He really, truly did. He’d labored over such ponderings on too many sleepless nights. “You know as much as I do,” he admitted, then winced a bit when four sets of brotherly eyes narrowed on him. But what was he to say? Lying wouldn’t do any good.

  “Oh, for the love of God, Emory!” Darius growled.

  “Don’t blame me,” he insisted. “You know how stubborn she is. I’ve tried a million times over to get her to consider a suitor, any suitor. I haven’t been picky.”

  “But she said she was husband hunting.” Pierce, the merchant, raked a hand through his dark hair.

  Emory rose from his seat. “She may have said that—”

  Garrick cleared his throat. It was hell having a man of the cloth at his very own table to keep him honest, Emory thought.

  He shook his head. “All right, she did say that. But I don’t think she meant it.”

  “What’s wrong with her?” Garrick complained. “Most chits want to get married. I’ve performed enough weddings to know the truth behind that. They always have starry eyes. Every last one of them.”

  Prisca’s eyes were never starry. Emory shrugged his answer. If he knew what was wrong with their sister, he’d ha
ve done his best to fix it long before now.

  “It’s William Westfield,” Blaine, the youngest and furthest down the table, finally spoke.

  A hush fell across the room and lasted until Darius chuckled. “God help her if that’s true.”

  “Do you think,” Garrick began, glaring at the recently returned army lieutenant, “that you can keep the Lord’s name out of this, Dari? That’s the third time in as many minutes.”

  Darius ignored the vicar and focused on their youngest brother. “I know she fancied herself in love with him when she was in leading strings, but you don’t think she still does, do you?”

  Blaine sighed. “She still looks at him like a mooncalf.”

  Did she? How had Emory missed that? He’d always thought she looked at Will with barely concealed disgust.

  “It was just an infatuation,” Pierce muttered. “At least I thought it was.”

  Emory sank back down in his seat. Will and Prissy bickered like an old married couple. They’d done that for more years than he could remember. In fact, Prissy saved her most vicious barbs for his old friend. Did she truly fancy herself in love with the scoundrel? It seemed far-fetched.

  “Well, if Westfield is what she wants,” Pierce began, “I say we get him for her.”

  Garrick dropped his cup of coffee back to the table, sloshing the contents on either side. “Have you lost your mind? William Westfield?”

  Pierce shrugged. “Well, of course, Will. Simon and Benjamin already have wives. Besides, she has her heart set on him.”

  “At one time or another, each of you has caroused with the man,” the pious vicar complained. “I hardly think William Westfield would make a suitable match for our sister.”

  Darius broke out into a fit of laughter. “Would you rather thrust her at some unsuspecting man who thought he was gaining a malleable wife?”

  Malleable didn’t begin to describe Prisca. Emory couldn’t believe he actually agreed with the army lieutenant. But Will was one of the few men of their acquaintance who could actually handle their baby sister. “I say we do it.”

  “And just how do you propose that?” Garrick gaped at him, as though he’d grown a horn and sprouted a tail. “The man is far from the marrying sort.”

  At this pronouncement, Blaine rose from his seat. “I think I have the solution.”

  As Blaine was fresh from Cambridge and still wet behind the ears, Emory doubted that his youngest brother had the answer to their problem. Still, he had no ideas himself about how to proceed. “And?”

  Blaine shrugged. “Will plans to spend the holiday at The Hall. He’s going to be around for a while, and we’re all in residence here at the moment. We can finagle reasons and opportunities to thrust her in his path. There are five of us and only one of him. Besides, he has a hard time avoiding pretty women as it is.”

  “For a tumble!” Garrick’s face resembled an outraged tomato. “Do you want Prissy ruined?”

  “No, not ruined—married.” Emory shook his head. Despite whatever character flaws Will possessed, he was honorable. “Perhaps we can trick him into compromising her. Will would do the right thing in that unfortunate circumstance.”

  The air escaped from Garrick’s lungs, and he sunk back in his seat like a deflated hot-air balloon. “You want William Westfield to compromise her?”

  Darius grinned and nodded with enthusiasm. “Brilliant! Think about it, Gar. How many times have you said the ends justify the means?”

  Pierce raised his hand as though he were a schoolboy and had the answer the instructor wanted. “Wrong brother, Dari. That was me. Business is business, after all.”

  “Never mind.” Emory rose from his spot at the table, and though he hadn’t eaten a bite, he felt more rejuvenated than he had in quite a while. Together, they could pull off this charade and see their sister finally walk down the aisle. Of course, if they failed, she’d probably kill each and every one of them. Still, one needed to take chances in life as often as one did at the hazard table. “I say we do it.”

  “Put it to a vote,” Pierce suggested.

  “Very well. It has been proposed that we will seek out ways to thrust Prisca and Will together at every conceivable opportunity. And if there are no opportunities, we will create them ourselves. All in favor, raise your hand.”

  Three arms shot up in the air. Emory smiled as he raised his own and sent a meaningful glare in Garrick’s direction. “If you don’t join us in this, you may not be happy with how we go about it.”

  Grudgingly, the vicar raised one finger in assent. “You’re still a bully, Emory.”

  Emory shrugged. “We all have our talents.”

  Darius leapt to his feet. “We need a campaign.”

  “A campaign for what?” Prisca asked from behind them.

  Emory turned and bowed slightly to their sister and smiled. His mind raced, hoping to come up with a plausible response. “A, um, campaign for Father.”

  “For Papa?” She raised one delicately arched brow.

  “Yes,” Pierce answered, coming to stand beside Emory and clapping him on the back. “I’ve been looking at a piece of property in South Hampton, but Father doesn’t think it’s sound. Darius suggests we put a campaign together to change his mind.”

  She looked from one brother to the next, finally settling her gaze on Garrick. “Is that true?”

  The blasted vicar squirmed in his seat. “Father can be difficult at times. You know that.”

  Emory bit back a smile at Garrick’s evasion. Still, if questioned again, his pious brother would break. He stepped toward Prisca. “Speaking of difficult, I was at Westfield Hall yesterday and the dowager has taken a bit ill. Perhaps you should pay her a call. You know how your visits always cheer her up.”

  Prisca sighed. “A bit ill?”

  “I do think you should visit,” Emory pressed.

  “I’ll go this morning.”

  This morning would be perfect. Will was due to arrive at any time.

  Two

  LORD WILLIAM WESTFIELD AWOKE TO FIND AFTERNOON sun streaming through the window of his rented room at The White Lion. It took him a moment to realize where he was, and then the foolishness of the prior night washed back over him.

  Damn, what was wrong with him?

  He’d tried so hard to stay away from Prisca. Seeing her always tore at his heart. He should have learned his lesson long ago. She didn’t care for him, not anymore, not like she once had. He knew that; he just didn’t want to accept it. And it was so hard to do so when her eyes sparkled with joy whenever she saw him, or at least the wolf he became during a full moon. Her delicate fingers stroked through his fur, and her soft touch, so unrestrained and unhesitant, soothed him. What he wouldn’t give to have her fingers trail over him when he was a man.

  That want must have been what led him to make reckless decisions. He’d been foolish to stay as long as he had the night before. But whenever he was with Prissy, time seemed to stand still. He’d barely managed to get away before dawn.

  He snorted to himself, imagining her reaction if he transformed in front of her. One minute he’d be a wolf and the next a man, completely naked with his face in her lap.

  She’d murder him on the spot, and if she didn’t, her brothers would.

  It was God’s cruel joke that she was only able to be civil to him when he was in his Lycan form. Will heaved a sigh. He needed to get his mind in order if he was going to spend the holidays with his family and see her again. Because the next time she saw him, her pretty violet eyes wouldn’t be looking at him in wonder but with barely concealed disgust. They’d go back to the relationship they had as man and woman. She didn’t like him nearly as much when he wasn’t sporting a tail and long teeth.

  Of course, he had only himself to blame for that.

  If he was smart, he’d turn right back around and return to London. Even as the idea occurred to him, Will knew it wasn’t a possibility. It had been a lifetime since he and his brothers had all been together
, and so much had happened in that time. Besides, their mother would be heartbroken if he didn’t arrive for her holiday festivities. He wouldn’t be allowed to leave until well after the New Year.

  God have mercy on him. He’d need it when the Hawthornes got word of his arrival. Well, when Prisca got word of his arrival.

  Will left the inn and traveled the rest of the way to Westfield Hall in his carriage. Memories spun in his mind as he watched the familiar countryside from the window. Every passing cottage and copse of trees made him think of her. How long did he have to wait before he paid a call on Emory Hawthorne? What was the best time of day to happen upon Prisca? Perhaps the holiday spirit would make her look kindly on him.

  Foolish thoughts, all of them. She hadn’t looked kindly on him in years, not since their elopement failed. Things would have been so different if she’d met him like she was supposed to all those years ago. But that was the past, and there was no going back.

  Will turned his focus to his family. It would be nice to see Benjamin again, and Elspeth. He saw Simon fairly often, but his oldest brother was always in a hurry to return home to his wife. At least for the next few weeks, they’d all be together, almost like old times. Almost.

  His brother’s baroque manor house came into view, and Will leaned back against the squabs. He closed his eyes, hoping to capture the last bit of peace he was sure to have before he entered Westfield Hall.

  The coach rumbled to a stop, and Will threw open the door without waiting for his coachman’s assistance. He strode down the path, white rocks crunching under his Hessians, and then bounded up the stone steps. Before he reached the front door, Billings, the old family butler, hauled it open and greeted him with a smile.

  “Lord William, it is good to see you again.”

  Will handed his hat and cane to the man. “Thank you, Billings.”

  “His Grace and Lord Benjamin are in the duke’s study, my lord.”

  Will inclined his head and then started in the direction of his brother’s inner sanctum. Even before he reached the door, he heard Simon berating their younger brother.

  “Your allowance doesn’t leave room for such indulgences, Benjamin.” Simon’s voice filtered down the hallway.