Lydia Dare Wolf Bundle

by Lydia Dare

  Disheartened, she dropped down on a fallen log, sheltered under a large tree, and extended her leg, cursing her blasted luck. Her teeth chattered from the cold. Her hair hung like a sodden, cold mess with wet tendrils sticking to her face. Her clothes were heavy and uncomfortable. And freezing cold. She rocked back and forth as she sat there and shivered while the light of day was replaced by the darkest of nights.

  Someone would come for her soon.

  Will drew his reins in front of Westfield Hall just as Lily ran out the door to greet him. “Did you find her?”

  “Not a trace. Simon? Or Ben?” he asked, knowing the answer already. Lily wouldn’t have asked him, if his brothers had been successful.

  Lily shook her head slowly. “No sign of her. They went back out to search, along with the Hawthorne brothers. They’re checking the local inns and the coaching houses, just in case.” Lily placed a hand on his sodden calf. “Come in and put on some dry clothes. You’ll be no good to anyone if you catch your death.”

  “I can’t stop, Lily. She’s out there somewhere. Damn this storm.” He glared at the darkening sky.

  “Be careful,” she said quietly as she stepped back from his horse. He nudged the mare with his heels and rode toward the neighboring estate. As he neared the stables, he caught a scent in the air. He raised his nose to sniff. Nothing. Unfortunately, the blasted rain made it harder to find the scents that came so easily to those of his kind. But, there was still hope. For a moment, he had smelled the faint scent of lilacs.

  Will tossed his reins to a waiting groom and turned to walk toward the house. He smelled it again. That was most definitely Prisca. His heart began to thump in his chest. Dear God, where was she? He had to find her. He had to be sure she was safe.

  “You smell it, too?” a male voice called out.

  Will looked over his shoulder to find Brimsworth riding toward him. He held up one hand, stopping Will. “You needn’t raise your lip at me like that. I caught the scent about an hour ago. I searched as far as I could, but then I lost it before Blaine and I headed toward the village.”

  “Which way?” Will growled.

  The earl pointed as he turned to Will and said, “We should call a temporary truce, Lord William.”

  “Which way?” he nearly screamed. Prisca was out there somewhere, perhaps injured, and this dolt wanted to call a truce. Brimsworth was the last thing on Will’s mind.

  “I know you’re one, too,” Brimsworth continued calmly. “I’ve never met another like myself before now, but I imagine two snouts are better than one. I’ll accompany you.”

  The devil he would. Will leapt off his mare and charged the earl, knocking him from his steed. “If you’ve done anything to hurt her,” Will snarled. “I will kill you.”

  Stunned, Brimsworth gasped and tugged at Will’s arm. Suddenly, Will released the man and he slumped to the ground. “Why would I hurt her?” he croaked out. “I plan to marry the girl.”

  A light lilac scent tickled Will’s nose, and he turned to the east. “If you want to keep your bloody head, you’ll be gone when I return.” He didn’t wait for a response as he mounted his horse and started for the thick forest that called to him.

  After a mile or so, it was so dark and the brush so thick that he couldn’t continue on horseback. But he knew he was on the right path. Under the shelter of trees, Prisca’s scent had only grown stronger. He dismounted and slapped his mare on the rump. She’d find her way home and hopefully alert the others. For a normal man, the dark, wooded area would seem like an endless pit of gloom. But his eyesight allowed him to see, despite the fog that hung over the area and the lack of moonlight in the heart of the forest.

  “Prisca!” he called, but he heard nothing. He stopped and closed his eyes. The wind shifted, and her scent was stronger than ever. It stayed with him as he ran. In the back of his mind, he tried to calculate the number of miles she must have walked today. He could only imagine her exhausted, wet, and freezing cold.

  Finally, his eyes caught the shimmer of pale fabric ahead. There she was. She rested beneath the overhang of low branches, her legs drawn up close to her chest.

  “Prisca!” he shouted. He could hear her teeth chatter from where he stood.

  Will ran to her, not stopping until he reached her. Prisca’s alabaster skin was even more pale than usual, her lips blue. Will watched the slow rise and fall of her chest, the only indication that she still breathed.

  “Will?” she asked, her voice cracking with the effort.

  “Yes, it’s me, love,” he sighed as he slid his arms from his coat and wrapped her body in it. She instinctively turned toward his warmth as he cradled her gently in his arms. If his bearings were right, they were on Westfield land and there was a small cottage nearby. It was the shelter Simon sometimes retreated to when the moon was full, when he needed to seek solitude. It would have to do, as it was much closer than Westfield Hall.

  She weighed nearly nothing in his arms. He ran with her cradled against his chest. Twice she groaned, but she didn’t complain even once.

  Will looked up when he heard the slosh of boots across the sodden earth.

  “Will, did you find her?” Ben called out.

  “I have her!”

  Ben stopped in front of him, his breathing labored. “Is she all right?”

  “She’s cold.”

  “I’ll run ahead and start a fire at the cabin. I assume that’s where you’re heading.” He didn’t wait for a response. Will would never underestimate the bond between brothers again.

  When Will arrived at the small cottage, Ben had a roaring fire in the hearth and the chill was already being replaced by heat.

  The rustic little cabin had just one bed. Will placed Prisca on it, and then he began to remove her shoes.

  “You can go, Ben,” he said without looking up.

  “And send the others?”

  Will met his brother’s eyes. He might not get another chance if he let this one pass. “Not yet.”

  “What is your plan?” Ben asked, and he didn’t sound the least bit surprised.

  “Firstly, to make sure she’s safe.” He tugged her boot from her left foot. “Turn around,” he said as he reached beneath Prisca’s skirts and pulled off her sodden stocking.

  Ben did as he was bid. “And then…?”

  Will sighed. “You’re a bloody nuisance, Benjamin.”

  “That’s nothing new.”

  “If you must know…” Will heaved a sigh. He couldn’t believe it had come to this. It certainly wasn’t the best possible plan, but he didn’t have much of a choice, not with Brimsworth waiting to snatch her up. This experience had taught him something. He knew he couldn’t lose her, and he couldn’t be without her any longer. “I plan to keep her here long enough to thoroughly compromise her.”

  Ben chuckled at him from behind his back. “Bravo. About time someone took my advice.” He started for the door. “I’ll check on you in the morning.”

  “No need. I’ll bring her back when I’m ready.”

  Will looked at Prisca’s sleeping form, so beautiful despite her current circumstances. He closed his eyes and prayed she’d forgive him.

  Twelve

  PAIN GRIPPED PRISCA. SHE WOKE AND GASPED LOUDLY as Will jerked her right foot to tug her boot off. “Don’t!” she cried.

  He immediately stilled. “What’s wrong?” Worry crossed his features.

  “I twisted my ankle,” she groaned as he jostled her leg. “Please, stop!”

  “Priss, I need to take this boot off so I can see how bad it is. Can you stand it?”

  Prisca bit her bottom lip as he slipped the boot from her foot with the utmost care. “How bad is it?”

  “Honestly, I’m not sure,” he said as he flexed her foot. “Bad enough to keep you off it for the time being.”

  Will’s hands moved to her bodice.

  “And just what are you doing?” she gasped as she shoved his hands away.

  “You need to take off t
hose wet clothes. You’re shaking. And your lips are blue.”

  “Oh.” Prisca glanced around the small one-room cabin. “Where are we?”

  “A crofter’s cottage,” Will replied. “Are you going to take those wet clothes off, or shall I do it for you?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

  “I can manage quite well on my own, thank you,” she grunted.

  “Yes, you were managing quite well there on the forest floor,” he murmured as he turned to stoke the fire. Was that disappointment she’d glimpsed so briefly in his gaze?

  She glanced up at him and stared as he shrugged out of his jacket. Then his waistcoat. When he made a move to tug his shirt over his head, she was thoroughly engrossed in watching him accomplish the task. She’d never seen a man in nothing but his small clothes. He was magnificent. She snapped her mouth closed as she realized it was hanging open and tried to look at something else. But the image of him was still there. Blast him.

  Will tossed her a shirt from a trunk at the end of the bed.

  “Whose is this?” she wondered aloud.

  “Simon’s,” was Will’s only reply.

  Why did the duke have a set of clothes in a crofter’s cottage? Prisca shook the thought from her mind and busied herself by putting on the duke’s shirt. She pulled it down to cover her bottom and then she swung her legs over the side of the bed.

  “Don’t do that,” he said slowly.

  “Don’t do what?” She frowned at him.

  Will covered her legs with the counterpane. “A man can only take so much,” he said.

  “Please,” she snorted. “With as many bare legs as you’ve seen, I’m sure you’re immune to such sights. Besides, I want to sit by the fire.”

  Before she could even blink, Will scooped her up and carried her across the room, taking great care with her injured ankle. He set her down softly in an overstuffed leather chair by the grate, and she tucked her legs beneath her shirt and wrapped her arms around herself. It was so cold.

  Prisca took in her surroundings—one wrought-iron bed, an old musket mounted above the hearth, a settee she thought she remembered from years earlier in Westfield Hall, a writing desk, an oak table with a couple of chairs, and a plush rug that didn’t seem to belong in a small crofter’s cottage. The entire ambiance was very strange.

  “I’m afraid the cupboards are bare except for some whisky,” Will said, interrupting her perusal.

  Prisca blinked up at him. Whisky and soft rugs, the duke’s extra clothing… “Does Lily know about this place?”

  Will laughed and sat on the edge of the bed. “Don’t you think you have enough of your own problems without worrying about what Lily does or does not know?”

  “I’ll take that as a no.” She narrowed her eyes on him. Blasted Westfield men. All of them were deceitful scoundrels. “Why would he keep this a secret from Lily? What does he do out here?”

  Will sighed as though it was a chore even to speak with her. “Lily knows all about this place, Prissy. And it isn’t in your best interest to go around stoking Simon’s ire.”

  As if she cared what the Duke of Blackmoor thought. He was a boorish creature who barked at everyone around him. Though he must have some sort of charm to him, as he’d somehow managed to make Lily fall in love with him. “Honestly, His Grace’s opinion means very little to me.”

  “Only because you can’t manage him.”

  Prisca turned back to the fire. “I have my hands full with my own brothers. What do I care about yours?”

  “You are exasperating, you know?”

  Despite his words, his light blue eyes twinkled, and Prisca’s breath caught in her throat. He had always been devilishly handsome, even as a boy. When she was a child, she’d been mesmerized by his charm and bravado. No. She couldn’t go down this path again.

  “I need to go home,” she said quietly.

  “Not tonight, love.”

  Her eyes flew wide. “Yes, tonight. I’m sure everyone is worried about me. Besides, I can’t stay here with you.”

  Will shrugged. “I don’t think you have much of a choice unless you want to go out in nothing but one of Simon’s shirts, traipsing through the drenched forest alone in the darkness.” His gaze raked down her legs. “You’ll not get far on that ankle. And, as strong as I am, I cannot carry you all the way back to Langley Downs. The dark makes it even worse, Prissy. It’s too dangerous.”

  “It’s more dangerous to be with you.”

  A grin curved his lips. “I promise to be on my best behavior.”

  A likely story. Who knew what he’d do with an entire night on his hands? But he’d mentioned Ben earlier, hadn’t he? Ben wouldn’t leave her with him all night. He’d be back soon with clothes and one of Blackmoor’s mares.

  A twinge of sadness ached in her heart. It had been a lifetime since she and Will had been completely alone. A stolen moment in a cupboard didn’t count. Nor did his dragging her into a room so he could talk to her. Now that they were, she wasn’t quite certain she wanted him to be on his best behavior. She might not ever get another chance such as this. Prisca gasped at her own wicked thoughts. What had come over her? Obviously spending time in his company was not conducive to behaving properly.

  “An entire range of emotions just played across your face, Prissy. What are you thinking? Or should I be afraid to ask?”

  She couldn’t tell him the truth. He’d pounce on her like he would any lightskirt who crossed his path. “I suppose I should thank you for finding me tonight,” she said instead.

  Will frowned, the anxiety he’d experienced earlier still fresh in his mind. Finding her like that had taken years off his life. “What were you doing out there?”

  She stared into the fire. “I went for a walk to clear my head.”

  “And decided freezing to death was preferable to returning home?”

  She worried her bottom lip with her teeth, and Will had the overwhelming desire to kiss the marks she left. Didn’t she know what seeing that did to him?

  “What is it, Prissy?”

  She shook her head.

  “You know you can tell me anything.”

  Her violet eyes pierced him straight to his core. “I got lost, Will.” Then she snorted in disgust. “That is most ridiculous, I know. How does anyone get lost on her own property?”

  “Well, technically, you’re on Westfield land,” he said, hoping to lighten the mood. He hated to watch her berate herself. It had only been a mistake, but one that would make her his once the night was through.

  She choked on a laugh. “Yes, but I started out on my property. Thank you for trying to make me feel better, though.”

  Will clasped his hand above his heart. “Prisca Hawthorne has actually thanked me twice in one night.” However, that apparently was the wrong thing to say as she sobered rather quickly and looked down at her hands.

  Will could have kicked himself. For the first time in ages, she was laughing with him, and he had to go and ruin it.

  “Sorry,” he muttered. Will rubbed his brow. Perhaps he’d finish off the rest of Simon’s whisky after all.

  Her eyes followed him as he stood up and made his way to the small cupboard on the far side of the room. “No brandy?” she asked.

  Will bit back a smile. “Brandy? Afraid not, though you’re welcome to share my whisky.”

  She scrunched up her nose. “It tastes so woodsy.”

  “But it will warm you from the inside out.”

  Prisca heaved a sigh. “Maybe just a bit.”

  Will poured two glasses and handed one of them to her. Standing over Prisca, he had a clear view of her golden locket, tucked in her cleavage. He couldn’t be closer to her heart. “So, your dog…” he began, leaning against the hearth, “Is it one of Emory’s?”

  Prisca put a hand to the chain around her neck. “No.” She avoided his eyes and took a sip of her whisky. She made a face at the taste.

  “I’ve never seen it before,” Will continued. She squirmed in her chair
, giving him a nice view of what lay beneath her borrowed shirt. “What are you keeping from me, Prissy?”

  She frowned, seemingly deliberating on whether or not to trust him. Finally she sighed. “He’s not a dog, Will.”

  “No?” he asked, keeping his amusement in check.

  “You’ll think I’m mad.”

  “I promise I won’t.”

  Prisca raised her eyes to his. “And if I tell you, you promise not to yell at me for being reckless?”

  Will swallowed the rest of the whisky in his glass. “I told you, Priss, you can tell me anything.”

  She heaved a sigh, and he could see a whole new set of emotions flash across her face. “He’s a wolf.”

  No surprise there, though he did his best to feign the reaction she was looking for and let his mouth fall open. “A wolf?”

  She nodded. “He visits me.”

  “A wolf visits you?”

  “I knew you’d think I was mad.”

  He sunk down to his haunches before her. “I think you’re beautiful.”

  “And mad,” she added, though Will noticed a pretty blush creep up her cheeks.

  “I don’t think you’re mad,” he said softly. “So he visits you?”

  “I don’t know how to explain it, Will.” She leaned forward until their noses were almost touching. “I’ve seen him for years, always in the garden at Langley Downs. He’s…” She blushed. “Well, he seems magical.”

  Interesting. He’d always thought of it as the other way around. He was a wild beast in his Lycan form, though she never failed to calm him. She was so close; he couldn’t help but caress her cheek. “Perhaps you’re the magical one.”

  Then he very softly touched his lips to hers.

  Thirteen

  ALL THOUGHT ESCAPED PRISCA’S HEAD AS WILL’S HANDS threaded into the hair at her temples, his thumbs tipping her chin up so he could take her mouth more completely. His tongue coaxed her lips apart, and then he nipped her lower lip with his teeth and growled softly.

  Prisca pulled back from him and brought her feet down to the floor. She’d heard that sound before.

  He let her pull away but didn’t release her. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his eyebrows drawing together.