by Lydia Dare
“I don’t clutch you like a child, Priss,” he said as his touch gentled. He brushed a lock of hair back from her forehead. “Never like a child.” Slowly, his knuckles drew along her chin. Prisca closed her eyes, savoring the situation for a moment, until the memory of his betrayal sank back into her thoughts. Strange he should seem concerned about her now.
Perhaps it had something to do with Lord Brimsworth. Was he the reason why Will had dragged her into a room alone? “Are you jealous, William?” she asked as realization dawned.
Jealous? Was he? Bloody hell, of course he was. But he pressed his lips together.
“The consummate scoundrel is jealous. Oh, how far we have come,” she sang as he looked at her.
“If I’m a scoundrel, you made me one,” he said without thinking.
Prisca rolled her eyes. “You can’t blame me for what you are, William. You were a scoundrel long before I came to my senses.”
Will sighed. She would always believe the worst of him.
That night all those years ago came rushing back in his memory, not that it was ever far from his thoughts. If she’d only met him at the edge of the property like she was supposed to, they would have taken off for Gretna Green and all would be fine now. Everything would have worked out. But she hadn’t, and nothing had been right since.
Did she still think he fathered Mary Osgood’s child? No matter that the Osgood chit finally admitted the first footman was the responsible party, her original accusations had ripped Prisca from him. He still had the note she’d sent him the morning after they were supposed to meet, wishing him to the devil sooner rather than later.
Emory and the others had believed the tale in the beginning as well, which probably hadn’t helped. He could only imagine her overhearing the Hawthorne brothers discussing the situation. She’d readily believed them. After all, they’d known him better than anyone, save his own brothers.
Still, Prisca should have known better, shouldn’t she? Where was her faith in him? How could she believe he’d whisper sweet nothings in her ear, offer her his love and his name, and then go spend his nights with Mary Osgood?
If anyone had a right to still be furious about the past, it was him. But he didn’t want to be furious anymore. He wanted his heart to stop aching whenever he was in her presence. He wanted her to look at him with the adoration that once shined in her eyes. He wanted her. Just as badly now as he ever had.
“We would have been married four years now, Priss. Do you ever think about that?” He did, all the time, though he tried his best to push thoughts of her far from his mind. Every widow, every lightskirt, that came his way was a distraction. Distractions that never filled the place in his heart that was reserved solely for her.
“I don’t think about you at all,” she said. But he could tell she was lying as her pupils dilated.
His heart leapt a bit, and he brushed his fingertips across her jaw. “Liar.”
She inhaled quickly at his touch. “Will,” she started, placing a hand on his chest to push him away.
“Do you have an interest in Brimsworth?”
“I haven’t given it much thought. I just met the man. And I don’t see where it’s any of your concern,” she replied. “Do step back. I can’t think with you so close.”
But he didn’t move. He loomed over her like some powerful warrior.
She tried once more to push him away. “Priss…” he said quietly, his hand coming up to cover hers. He just held it there, over his heart. He felt her touch all the way through his jacket and the fine lawn of his shirt.
“Let me go, Will,” she said quietly as she looked up at him, her lips close enough that he could taste the scent of her.
“I can’t,” he said as he clenched his teeth. The other Lycan could probably hear them grind from wherever he lurked in wait for Prisca.
“It wasn’t a request. Let me go.” She tapped his chest with her fingertips and then jerked her arm free of his grasp. He released her hand but leaned in closer, preventing her from sliding out of the enclosure of his arms.
This was why he stayed away from her. Because he could not resist her. He couldn’t trust himself to play the gentleman. She’d normally never allow him to get so close. When they were fighting, she was so stiff and unyielding that he had no chance of ever drawing her near. Why was she letting him do so now?
Will wasn’t about to ask. He might not get another chance. He bent and kissed her forehead softly. She wiped his kiss away like the vilest of concoctions was touching her skin. Then she grimaced. Her pulse beat in the room like the clip, clip, clip of a horse at a trot. Her skin was so hot it was moist, the skin above her bodice flushed and shiny with dew.
He reached out and touched the small gold locket that hung beneath the pulse in her throat. “What’s this?” he asked as he fingered the ornate decoration.
“Just a locket.” She shrugged as she tried to pull it from his hands.
“What’s in it?” He needed to know. He didn’t understand why, but it was imperative that he see what was inside that locket.
“A picture of my one true love.” She smiled coyly at him. Gone was the sour-faced imp who threatened his peace of mind. Gone was the tempting siren who taunted his daydreams.
“May I see?”
“It’s just a likeness I painted, really,” she said as she flipped the catch and opened it.
Will’s heart stopped. A dark wolf stared back at him.
“A dog?” he asked as casually as he was able. “Your one true love is a dog?”
“He’s not really a dog.” She bristled at his words.
“Then what is he?” Surely she didn’t know.
“He’s mine. That’s all that matters.” She jerked the locket from his grasp.
“No need to be offended. I’ll never tell anyone how much you love the dog.” He attempted to chuckle, but it came out more as a cough.
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“I understand more than you think!” he snapped at her. He narrowed his eyes. She didn’t know, did she? There was no way she could know that he and the wolf she wore so close to her heart were one and the same. He tipped up her chin with his crooked finger. “Stay away from Brimsworth, Prisca.”
“Why?”
“Can you, for once, just do as I ask?” he barked.
Finally, she shoved his chest, and he let her push him back. She stood toe to toe with him, her hands on her hips, her chest heaving. “What I do or who I see is no concern of yours, William. You wouldn’t appreciate it if I began to dictate your actions.”
He had to keep her away from the other Lycan. No matter what. He held up his hands in surrender. “Dictate. Go ahead.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You wouldn’t do as I say. Just as I’ll not avoid Lord Brimsworth simply to satisfy your overly inflated sense of self-worth.”
“Dictate, Prisca. Tell me what you want.”
“You don’t care what I want,” she scoffed. “You’re simply jealous.”
“Worried. It’s quite a different emotion.” Hell, he was jealous, too. So jealous he could choke the life from the man, any man, who held Prisca in his arms.
“If you’ll promise to be careful about Brimsworth, I’ll accept a dictate of yours,” he finally sighed.
“Beg your pardon?” Her violet eyes rounded in surprise.
“Anything your little heart desires.”
He tugged her back into his arms, and she went willingly. Poor girl must have been stunned mad. He chuckled.
“No wenches. No maids. No widows. No women at all.” She spoke so softly against his chest that a normal man wouldn’t have heard her. But he did. And his heart nearly stopped beating. The only woman he wanted was her. The others were simply to fill the void.
“Done,” was all he said. “And you’ll stay away from Brimsworth.”
“No.” Prisca squirmed in his arms. “I said I’ll be careful around Brimsworth. Those are very different things.”
&
nbsp; “Will you tell me if he makes advances toward you?” So I can kill him.
“No. But I promise to take great care around the man. And I will strive to never be alone with him.”
He wanted much more than that, but it was better than nothing. “And, in return, I’ll…” Will stopped to cough. Or choke. He wasn’t sure which. “Stay chaste.”
“For how long?”
“God, Prisca, I don’t know. Until our deal is null and void!”
“Very well. It’s worth it just to curtail the most famous rake in London, if only for a little while.”
“You take great pleasure in this, do you?”
“More than you,” she snorted.
“I’m not looking for pleasure. I want you to be safe. And I’ll call on you to check. As often as possible.”
“Perhaps you should ask me if I want you to call on me, William.”
Only Prisca could vex him in such a manner. Yet he still felt a grin tug at the corners of his mouth. “May I call on you, Prissy?”
“You absolutely may not, if you plan to call me Prissy.” She lifted her pert little nose into the air.
“Prisca, darling.” Her harrumph stopped him only momentarily. “May I call on you?”
“I may be able to tolerate your presence.” A small giggle erupted from her throat. She was enjoying this. But then she gasped as he jerked her roughly against him.
“Don’t play with me, Prisca. Unless you would like me to return the favor.”
“Will,” she whispered as he caressed her jawline with the back of his knuckles again. The pulse in her throat called to him. Bending to touch his lips to it, he trailed a kiss up her neck, across her jaw, and finally, his lips touched hers. “You said you’d stay chaste.”
“My exile from lusty pursuits does not pertain to you.”
“It doesn’t?” she breathed.
“You have to grant me a boon, Prisca. I am not a monk.”
She raised one haughty eyebrow at him. “So, if I’m to be wary of Brimsworth, you’re to stay chaste. That’s our deal?”
“That’s our deal,” he agreed. “Shall we kiss on it to formalize the entire plan?”
“I think most people shake hands, Will.”
“Do you want to shake my hand?”
“Not particularly,” she mumbled.
“Thank God,” he breathed as he lowered his head. He pressed his lips against hers insistently, tilting his head to take more of her mouth. And, joy of joys, she kissed him back. He rejoiced when her lips opened and he could tangle his tongue with hers. He touched her elbow and lifted her arm to wrap around his neck. Then followed with the other arm. He wasn’t satisfied until her arms clutched him to her, her fingers threading all the way to his scalp, her nails abrading him, just like when she petted him in Lycan form.
Only now they were equals.
Will heard footsteps coming down the corridor and pulled back to press a finger to her lips. She didn’t even mutter against it. The door handle jiggled lightly before the boots stomped down the corridor.
Brimsworth… he was sure of it. Well, the earl could go straight to hell. Prisca had agreed to his bargain. Prisca was within his grasp. She’d be safe there. The earl could make his way to Kent or wherever else he chose.
“Oh!” Prisca pushed against his chest. “I need to get back to Lily and Elspeth! They’ll think I’m the worst sort of hostess! And I can’t blame my tardiness on you.”
“No, I don’t believe you should. Though I doubt they would be surprised by it.”
Five
PRISCA BOLTED DOWN THE CORRIDOR TOWARD HER private parlor, clutching the dark-green-and-blue silk swatch against her chest. If her heart pounded any harder, it would thump right through the muslin of her gown. It wouldn’t do for her to be short of breath or for Lily and Lady Elspeth to see her in such a state. She slowed her steps and tried to calm herself.
Had Will actually kissed her?
Prisca’s heart soared at the memory. She’d never even dared dream that such an occurrence could happen again. Well, she had dreamt of it, but that was so long ago. She shook her head. It was one thing to lie to others and quite another to lie to herself. In all honesty, she still wanted Will as much as she did when she’d agreed to run away with him all those years ago. She still wanted to be taken in his arms, feel his lips against her bare skin, be the woman he loved…
Prisca laughed at her own foolishness. William Westfield did not love her. He never had. For some reason, he felt threatened by Lord Brimsworth, and that was all it was. She just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Or was it the wrong place at the wrong time? She wasn’t quite sure which.
It had taken years to piece her heart back together after learning of his betrayal. She knew now he hadn’t fathered that trollop Mary Osgood’s child, but he could have. One only had to listen in on her brothers’ conversations to know the truth behind that. He was a scoundrel of the highest order.
Which went to show what a fool she was. From her earliest memories, she’d felt as though there was a connection between her and Will, that they belonged to each other. What nonsense. William only belonged to himself and whatever lightskirt happened to be in the vicinity.
Though he had promised to forgo his usual entertainments if she accepted his demands, hadn’t he? All under the pretense of keeping her safe. That made no sense at all. Will wasn’t the sort of man to give up pleasures of the flesh. Not for her. Not for anyone. Besides, he didn’t even know the earl. How could he possibly have determined so quickly that Brimsworth was unsafe?
She stopped in front of the door to the private parlor where she’d left her guests and took a deep, calming breath. Hopefully they wouldn’t be able to tell that she’d been kissed, and certainly not as thoroughly as she just had.
Prisca closed her eyes, counted to ten, and then bounded through the door with a cheerful exuberance she didn’t quite feel. “Sorry it took me so long. What do you think of this?” She offered the swatch to Lady Elspeth.
The pretty Scot ran the silk through her fingers. “Actually, Miss Hawthorne, I do appreciate yer offer, but…”
“My sister-in-law is concerned about attending the Yule Ball in her delicate state.”
“I doona want ta embarrass Benjamin’s family, and…”
Prisca dropped into a seat across from her guests. “We are not in London, Lady Elspeth. Things are a bit more lax here in Hampshire. Besides, with current fashions, I’m certain no one will even notice you’re expecting. And I do have such beautiful designs dancing in my head.”
“Prisca is a genius with a needle and thread,” Lily gushed. “Just wait.”
“And those colors will make you sparkle with radiance,” Prisca promised.
Lady Elspeth bit her lower lip. “If ye’re certain it’ll be all right.”
Prisca laughed. “Oh, heavens. I’m always right. Just ask Lily.”
The duchess’ hazel eyes twinkled. “She is right more often than she’s not.”
Lady Elspeth nodded. “All right, then.”
“Splendid!” Prisca smiled. “It’s been forever since I’ve had such a delightful project.”
“Ye’re very kind ta offer.”
“So, Priss,” Lily began, sliding forward on the settee. “Who was the golden Adonis you were playing cards with?”
Interesting. Everyone seemed inordinately curious about the earl. Prisca shrugged. “Lord Brimsworth is a friend of Blaine’s. He’s a theology scholar at Cambridge.”
“I’ve never heard you mention him before.”
“He arrived last night. First time I met him.”
“He’s quite handsome,” Lady Elspeth added.
He was, wasn’t he? And she certainly had him to thank for Will’s sudden attention. Or to curse for it… it was too soon to tell. “I hadn’t noticed.”
Lily frowned at her. “I know you better than that, Prisca Hawthorne.”
She couldn’t help but giggle. “Honestly, L
ily, I hadn’t given him much thought.” But she was thinking about him now, and more importantly, Will’s reaction to the man. “He’s fairly charming but a bit rough around the edges, if you must know. But then most men are, aren’t they?”
“Well, he seemed quite taken with ye,” Lady Elspeth said softly.
“But then most men are.” Lily echoed Prisca’s earlier sentiment.
“What an exaggeration!” Prisca insisted.
“Now who is being modest, Priss?” Lily laughed. “I’ve never seen a woman receive and turn down as many marriage offers as you, and I haven’t lived here all that long.”
“I can’t help that all the men in Hampshire are exceedingly dull.” Except for Will, though he spent very little time outside of London anymore. He rarely entered Hampshire.
“Benjamin said ye refused more offers than he could count.”
Prisca fell back against her seat, bubbling over with laughter. “Ben does himself an injustice with such words. I have it from the highest authority, meaning my brother Pierce, that he is quite proficient with his numbers.” She shook her head. “Besides, this is all utter nonsense. The secret to my allure, Lady Elspeth, is I have a rather large dowry.”
“And Aphrodite’s face doesn’t hurt either,” Lily added.
“Heavens, Lily, I thought you’d finished with The Iliad months ago. Adonis and now Aphrodite. What shall you say next?” It was always embarrassing whenever anyone discussed her appearance. There was so much more to someone than outward beauty, but men always seemed to focus on that aspect of her. Rather shallow of them, really.
“Is there no one,” Lady Elspeth began, breaking her reverie, “who ye would consider in marriage?”
Prisca shook her head. “Much to my father’s and brothers’ dismay. I’m afraid I’m a bit difficult and haven’t met a man who can handle me yet.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Lily insisted.
But it might as well be true. Prisca tilted her head to one side. “I’m not complaining. Men are difficult creatures. How do you put up with Blackmoor? Some days I swear I can hear his bellowing all the way from Westfield Hall.”
“He’s quite sweet in his own way,” Lily defended. Then she exchanged a look with her sister-in-law. “I think the Westfield men have the most redeeming qualities. And they are far from dull.”