Lydia Dare Wolf Bundle

by Lydia Dare

  “Oh, have I just caught Prisca Hawthorne as she told an untruth?” he teased. Laughter made his chest rumble beneath her hands. The muscles of his chest were taut beneath her fingertips. She flexed her fingers, testing the muscles. “Don’t do that,” he growled.

  “Do what?”

  “You know what you were doing.”

  “As soon as you tell me, I’ll know.” Why did everything have to be an argument with this man?

  “You were touching my chest. Not quite a caress but definitely exploring.”

  “I was not!” she gasped. Well, maybe she was. But she didn’t have to admit it.

  “If I did that to you, you would cry foul and run from the closet screaming.”

  “I would do no such thing.” In fact, the thought of him exploring her body with his fingers made her heart thump. His body was hard, pressed against her, and warmth radiated from him in waves.

  She tested him with her fingertips again. “You’re just so hard.”

  “Yes, I am that,” he growled. The primitive sound made her soul vibrate. Then she felt him against her lower belly. Perhaps he had something in his pocket.

  “Prissy, let me try that kiss again so I can decide if it’s worth having or not.”

  Did he really want to kiss her again? Prisca lifted her face toward him. “I can’t even see you, much less kiss you.”

  A heartbeat later, his lips touched hers softly, sliding against her closed mouth for only a moment.

  “Not bad.” He lifted his head. “It’ll do.”

  “It’ll do?” she cried. That was hardly complimentary.

  “Let’s try it again.” His lips met hers. This time, he tilted his head, his mouth pressing firmly against hers. His tongue tickled her lips, caressing the seam until she opened for him. Then he swept inside.

  All conscious reasoning left her in that moment. She lifted herself onto her tiptoes and wrapped her hands around his neck. Her breasts pressed against the hard wall of his chest.

  Her fingers tangled in his hair, and her hips rocked against his. There was definitely something in his pocket. Finally, he broke the kiss. But not before she was breathless and witless.

  “Will it do?” she gasped out.

  “And then some,” he grunted.

  “That’s better.”

  “Only a fool would complain about your kisses, Prisca.” And if Brimsworth touches you again, he’s an even bigger fool.

  “When I was with him…” She hesitated until he nudged her. “I mean, kissing him was not like kissing you.”

  “Good.”

  “Why is that good?”

  She wanted to hit him. And kiss him again all at the same time.

  His finger tipped her chin up. “When you’re with him, he doesn’t make you feel like this, does he?” His lips touched hers, a quick and profound kiss.

  “No,” she finally admitted.

  “You’re not made for him,” he told her, as he caressed her jaw with his fingertips.

  She couldn’t see his face, which made it easier to ask, “Then who am I made for?” She steeled herself for his answer.

  “Me,” he said softly, and her heart soared.

  Did he feel the same connection to her that she felt to him? “Will—”

  Before she could ask, the closet door opened and the light from the hallway washed over them.

  Nine

  “GET OUT OF THE CLOSET, WILLIAM,” SIMON HISSED at him. Then he turned his gaze on Prisca. “And you, too,” he growled, making a jerking motion with his thumb.

  Prisca squared her shoulders. “I think I may just stay in the closet the rest of the night. Please close the door on your way out.” She paused briefly and then shot Simon a glare. “Your Grace,” she sneered at him.

  Will wasn’t sure if he should laugh out loud or roll over and show Simon his belly. His oldest brother’s face was ripe with rage, though Prisca didn’t seem to notice.

  “You will get out of the closet and then you will thank me, Miss Hawthorne,” Simon clipped out. “As we speak, each of your brothers is searching the premises for the both of you. Have the two of you lost your fool minds?”

  Will captured Prisca’s hand in his and pulled her from the closet. “No need to bark at the girl, Simon. She was only looking for a little peace.”

  “And what were you looking for?” his brother countered.

  Prisca tilted her face up to him. Will’s heart nearly thudded to a stop when tears welled up behind her eyelashes. He never could bear to see her cry. “Priss, are you all right?”

  She barely nodded. “You’d better go so they won’t find us together.”

  He wasn’t about to leave her. “Not while you’re upset.”

  “William!” She frowned, snatching her hand back from his. “Surely it’s not in your best interest to be caught in my presence. Please go with His Grace.”

  He could only stand there and gape at her.

  Prisca shook her head irritably. “Never mind.” She turned her glared on Simon. “You may tell them you found me and that I have retired to my room with a headache.” And with that, she fled down the corridor and around a corner.

  “And still no ‘thank you,’” Simon grumbled.

  Rage coursed through Will, and before he could stop himself, he grabbed Simon’s jacket and thrust his older brother against the wall with such force he felt the manor’s foundation tremble. “I’ll ‘thank you’ right out the window,” he seethed.

  Simon growled low in his throat. No one ever challenged him, not ever. Will knew better, but his control was long since gone.

  “If you want to keep those hands, you’ll remove them from my person this instant,” Simon threatened.

  Will blinked, trying to regain his thoughts, and released his hold on Simon’s jacket. “I don’t know what came over me,” he apologized, backing away.

  Simon smoothed his jacket back into place and straightened his ivory cravat. “That’s not an excuse, William. Think for one moment about what you’re doing.”

  Will raked a hand through his hair. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

  “Indeed?” Simon’s brow rose. “Because your behavior is a complete mystery to me. Tell me, little brother, if someone other than me had opened that cupboard, what do you think would have happened?”

  But it wasn’t someone else. It was Simon, and Will had heard his approach. “There was nothing to worry about.”

  Simon growled. “Are you trying to compromise her?”

  “No!” The air rushed from Will’s lungs. Honestly, he hadn’t given it any thought. Still… “But it did work for both you and Ben.” It could be the quickest way to get her in front of the altar and away from Brimsworth.

  “The situations aren’t even remotely similar.” The dark look his older brother shot Will nearly shook the idea from his head. But he stood his ground. “There are other ways to go about this, William. Honorable ways. Do you want Emory and the others to think less of their sister? Do you want to lose the best friends you’ve ever had? Because that is what awaits you if you travel down the path you’re on.”

  Will sighed. That was the last thing he wanted for both himself and Prisca. “Well, what am I supposed to do, Simon? You saw the way Brimsworth snatched her from me in the parlor. You saw the way he kept her at his side all night. The damned man is a guest here—in this house—with her. How am I supposed to compete with that?”

  “You can start by behaving honorably,” Simon advised. “I know it’s a stretch for you, but…” He glanced down the corridor. “Emory,” he whispered.

  Will nodded. He’d know his old friend’s approach anywhere.

  “Ah, Will,” Emory said as he rounded the corner. “Garrick was worried when you deserted him in the middle of the game.”

  Will feigned a smile and started down the corridor toward his friend. “Don’t know why. I told him I was going outdoors to get a breath of fresh air for a bit.”

  Emory glanced around Will as though
he was searching for something. “Have you seen Prissy? She seems to have become lost in our own home somehow.”

  Simon cleared his throat. “Actually, I spotted her on the way to her room a while ago, Emory. Said she had a headache. I should have informed you, but when I stumbled upon Will, I became distracted.”

  Emory frowned and seemed a bit disappointed, though Will couldn’t reason out why. “Headache, huh?”

  Simon nodded. “She did look exhausted. Perhaps having so many guests has been a bit draining for her.”

  “It has been a while since we’ve had so many visitors at Langley Downs.” Emory’s voice softened. “I hadn’t realized it might be too much for her.”

  Prisca flopped on her bed and covered her head with a pillow. Heavens, she was a fool. First kissing Dashiel and then Will. She winced. She’d behaved like a wanton, like all the women who threw themselves at him. She would never be able to look him in the eyes again after tonight.

  A knock sounded at her door, and Prisca groaned. There wasn’t anyone she wanted to see at the moment. “Go away.”

  Of course, the door opened. No one she was related to would do as she asked. But that didn’t mean she had to talk to the interloper.

  “Prissy,” Emory’s voice came from the doorway.

  Perfect. Why couldn’t it be one of the others? She could at least intimidate the others.

  “Prissy,” he said again, more urgent.

  She sat up and tossed her pillow at her oldest brother’s head. “Stop it, Emory. You know I hate it when you call me that.”

  He smiled and dropped onto the bed beside her, handing her back the pillow. “Glad to see you’re still feeling yourself. Blackmoor had me worried about you.”

  Perfect! What had that puffed-up, arrogant duke said? “It’s just a headache, Emory. One you’re making worse.”

  He tucked a curl behind her ear. “Is that all it is? A headache?”

  She nodded, as it wasn’t wise to say anything else.

  “Lily wanted me to thank you for a delightful evening. And she asked for you to visit the dowager tomorrow.”

  Then she’d have to see Will again, and Prisca wasn’t at all ready to do that. “I’ve already promised Sarah Giddings that I’d help her pick out a gown for the Yule Ball, tomorrow.” Thank heavens the girl had asked for her help this evening. She wouldn’t want to lie to Lily.

  Emory kissed her brow. “Just get some sleep then.” He winked at her. “You’ll need all the help you can get if you’ve got to spend time in that madhouse tomorrow.”

  She smacked his chest. “You were awful tonight, by the way. Lizzie had her heart set on you, and you acted like a perfect beast.”

  A smile twitched on his lips. “That’s doing it up a bit brown, sweeting. And I don’t think she had her heart really set on me. She seemed to shift her affections fairly easily to Garrick, after all.”

  “Only because he was so much nicer to her than you were. You actually snarled at the poor girl during dinner.”

  Her brother laughed. “I must confess that was Darius’ suggestion. A rather good one. I’ll have to thank him properly.”

  Prisca scowled at him. “Why was I punished with the five of you?”

  Emory’s dark eyes twinkled. “I’d say it’s the other way around, Prissy.” Then he flicked her nose. “See you in the morning.”

  Ten

  WILL SCOOPED UP A HANDFUL OF PEBBLES FROM A SIDE path leading up to Langley Downs. Then he gazed up at the Palladian home as he approached it. Prisca’s room was the fourth window from the far corner on the second floor. At least it used to be. God save him if he woke one of her brothers instead.

  Quiet as a stalking wolf, he made his way around the house until he found the window in question. Fortunately, a soft glow from a lamp illuminated the room, which made him hopeful she was still awake. They had a lot to discuss, especially after what had transpired between them, and he didn’t want the night to pass before they did so.

  Taking aim, he threw the first pebble. It bounced off her glass making a satisfying “ping.” He held his breath, hoping to catch a hint of movement, but there was nothing. After a moment, he took aim again and once more hit his target perfectly.

  Still nothing.

  He heaved a sigh. So her hearing wasn’t as sensitive as his. Will looked down at the pebbles left in his hand. Perhaps if he threw them all, he’d get her attention. Of course, he could also break the glass, which would be rather difficult to explain. Still, nothing ventured, nothing—

  “It won’t matter,” came a deep voice from the shadows. Brimsworth! “She can sleep through anything.”

  And just how would the damned earl know that? Will clasped his pebbles tighter and imagined forcing them down the earl’s throat.

  His nemesis strolled from around a hedgerow, quiet as a deadly predator and with a smug look upon his face. “Should I inform the Hawthorne men that you’ve come to abscond with their precious sister? I doubt they’d appreciate that.”

  Abscond? Will growled, wishing the idea had occurred to him before now. “And I’m equally certain they wouldn’t appreciate the liberties you tried to take with that very girl this evening under their own roof.”

  Brimsworth laughed. “You mean like the ones you stole in that cupboard?” Then he held up his arms as though he was calling a truce. “You should be a good pup and head back home, Westfield. You don’t belong here. We both know you don’t deserve Prisca. Haven’t you done enough damage to the girl’s heart already?”

  Though it was bitter cold, Will grew hot beneath his greatcoat. What the devil did Brimsworth know about it anyway? “I beg your pardon?”

  The earl’s amber eyes narrowed to little shards. “I’ve been at Langley Downs long enough to learn how you crushed her tender heart all those years ago. What a vicious pup you’ve been. You’re fortunate she even lowers herself enough to speak to you.”

  The words stabbed at Will’s heart. It was one thing to know the truth himself, quite another to hear it from the unwelcome Lycan’s lips.

  “The Hawthorne brothers have a long memory,” the earl continued, examining the fingernails of one hand. “So, have you come back to finish her off, then?”

  Will dropped the pebbles in his hand and lunged for Brimsworth, ready to crush the man with his bare hands. However, the earl was quicker and easily slid from Will’s reach. The lack of purchase when he reached for his prey caused Will to tumble to the cold ground. He rolled to his side.

  “Watch yourself, Westfield,” the earl crowed from above him. “Uncontrolled emotions cause one to make mistakes. Now run on home before you wake the entire household.” Then the man dusted his hands on his trousers.

  “Watch yourself, Brimsworth. Prisca Hawthorne is mine,” he growled. Whether she knew it or not.

  The earl grinned, his white teeth gleaming under the moonlight. “I beg to differ. As we speak, Sir Herbert is considering my offer for her hand. I can’t imagine he’ll refuse it.”

  Brimsworth was in for a surprise if he thought Prissy would accept his proposal, no matter what her father wanted. Will tossed back his head and laughed.

  “Something amusing?”

  Will leapt back to his feet, glaring at the other Lycan. “Do you know how many offers Prisca has refused over the years?”

  Brimsworth stared blankly back at him as though he had suddenly sprouted pointy ears and a tail.

  Will folded his arms across his chest. “More than you can possibly imagine. She won’t settle for just anyone.”

  “I’m not just anyone,” the earl growled, as he began to circle Will. “I’m the one who’ll catch her.”

  Not on his life. Will shook his head. “Not if I catch her first.”

  Brimsworth stopped in his tracks. “May the best man win, then?”

  “It won’t even be a competition.”

  The earl’s brow rose with haughty indignation. “I do suppose you’re right about that.”

  Prisca bolted uprig
ht in bed, feeling as though the wind had been knocked out of her. She rubbed her eyes, surprised to realize her candle was still lit. Heaven help her if Papa learned of it. He wasn’t stingy with most things, but beeswax candles could set him off like nothing else.

  She glanced down and realized she was still in her gown from that evening. What was the matter with her? She should have rung for Molly hours ago. It was too late to do so now. Poor girl.

  Prisca heaved a sigh and crawled from bed. She shimmied out of her light blue silk, stumbled over to her wardrobe, and pulled her favorite nightrail from the drawer. She quickly threw it over her head and started for her bedside table to blow out the candle when a strange sound from outside caught her ear.

  Heavens! What was that? She raced to the window but couldn’t see a thing in the darkness. She retreated to her bedside table, blew out the candle, and returned to the window. There in the moonlight, she could make out a man stalking across the lawn toward the old path that led to Westfield Hall. But he wasn’t just some man. Her heart leapt when she recognized Will. What was he doing there? Hadn’t he left hours ago?

  Why would he be there now? In the dead of night? And why was he leaving? Her heart urged her to call out to him, to ask him to stay. Shocking herself with this line of thought, she padded back to her bed and fell on top of the counterpane.

  Will had kissed her. Two days in a row. Each time leaving her more breathless than the last. She was in just as much danger of falling for him now as she had been at fifteen. Was she willing to risk her heart again? If he broke it a second time, she knew it would never heal properly. She would never be whole again.

  Which meant one thing. She had to pack her girlhood fantasies of Will away and never shake them back out.

  Will avoided the flirty gaze of a chambermaid as he strolled toward his mother’s room. Why did it seem as though every maid he came in contact with had that come-hither look? The dowager’s cough had woken him more than once during the night, not that his sleep was particularly restful. But in truth, he was starting to have serious concerns about his mother’s health. She hadn’t been out of bed since he’d arrived from London. And, for her age, Alice Westfield was a healthy and active woman.