by Lydia Dare
“Your brothers accompanied me.”
Prisca released a breath. “What do those cretins want?”
“They came to see how you are. And to see how Lord William fares after your father punched him the other night.” Molly leaned in close. “Honestly, Miss… Lady Prisca, I can’t imagine Sir Herbert punching anyone.”
It had been a surprise to her, too, not that she wanted to rehash the particulars with her maid. “Are all of them here? My brothers, I mean?”
Molly nodded.
Prisca winced. Perfect. She had images of were wolves frolicking in her mind, and now she had to deal with those five dolts. “Help me pick something to wear, will you?” She gestured to the wardrobe at the far side of the room.
In no time, Prisca was dressed and entering the Westfield blue parlor. Pierce lounged against the far wall. Emory paced the back of the room. Blaine and Darius sat on the settee, their heads together, talking quietly. Garrick wore a pensive look and sat stiffly in a high-backed chair.
At her entrance, all of them stood at attention.
“Priss,” Emory began, starting toward her, “what is this about Will being gone?”
She certainly couldn’t tell them the truth. “The dowager has gotten worse,” she explained. “Will has gone in search of a… doctor to help.”
“What about Dr. Bramber?” Garrick asked, concern on his brow.
Prisca shook her head. “He left a tonic, but it hasn’t helped. Will knows someone more… qualified.”
Emory frowned. “I didn’t realize it was so serious.”
“Probably,” she began, “because you were so busy trying to plan my future for me. You each should know that I won’t let any of you go unpunished for that. But my focus now is on my mother-in-law.”
Blaine sighed. “Against my own best interest then, I’ll pray for the dowager’s safe recovery.”
“Will wasn’t angry Father hit him, was he?” Darius asked.
“Honestly, Dari, that seems a lifetime ago,” Prisca answered. “He has other things on his mind.” And she had a million on hers. Alice’s health. Powerful Scottish witches. Crescent-moon-shaped birthmarks. Lycans.
“Well,” Emory began, “we had wanted to ask you both to Christmas dinner tomorrow.”
How normal that sounded. How un-Westfield. Prisca shook her head. “I do appreciate the offer, but I promised Will I would stay near his mother.”
Garrick nodded understandingly. “She always treated you like a daughter.”
“Is there anything we can do?” Pierce asked.
Prisca shook her head. “I believe Will is doing all there is to be done. But thank you.”
Will knew that if he didn’t stop soon, he’d fall from his horse. But he was halfway to Scotland, having just left Yorkshire. If he could just stay on his horse for a bit longer, he’d find Sorcha and then hire a coach to take him back to Hampshire, or at least part of the way until he was rested.
The frosty wind blew, and despite his warm nature, he shivered. It was madness to travel to Scotland on horseback in the dead of winter. But it was faster than going by carriage, and if his mother needed him to travel to the moon, he’d find a way.
The grey sky seemed to meld with the leafless trees, and Will closed his eyes just for a moment to get his bearings. He jerked when he nearly fell from the saddle. He immediately straightened, but his eyes began to close again. Then he heard a female voice calling loudly.
“Lord William!” It came again.
He turned in his saddle to look. He must be so exhausted that his eyes were deceiving him. He squinted and looked again. If he wasn’t so tired, he’d swear he saw Caitrin Macleod, another of Elspeth’s coven sisters. She was poking her head out of a carriage, her flaxen curls blowing in the wind.
“Go catch his lordship. He’s about ta fall from atop the horse,” she directed her coachman.
The man ran forward and helped to ease Will down as he did just that. He still thought he was dreaming. “Leave it to you, Miss Macleod, to see me falling from the saddle in exhaustion,” he grunted.
She stepped from the coach and approached him. “I’m a seer, Lord William. Why do ye think I’m here?”
“You have the plants Elspeth needs?” he asked, praying with all his might that she did.
“Aye, I have everything.” She crossed her arms beneath her breasts and stared at him sternly.
“You’re not going to give them to me, are you?” Will asked, knowing by her stance he was right. “I need them, Miss Macleod. My mother—”
“Am I ta believe ye now have the ability ta see the future, Lord William?”
“Ben always said you were trouble,” he grumbled. “And now I know why he didn’t like you.”
A small smile curved her lips. “He’ll get past that in a few years.” She waved her hand negligently as her coachman secured Will’s mount to the back of the carriage. “And, no, I’ll no’ be givin’ ye Sorcha’s Epipactis youngiana. I’ll be goin’ with ye, instead.” Then she shrugged. “Or ye’ll be goin’ with me,” she added, motioning toward her own carriage.
“Will my mother be all right?” Caitrin Macleod’s visions had never been wrong. An assurance from her would lighten his heart tenfold.
“Ye ken I canna tell ye.” She avoided his gaze.
“Certainly you wouldn’t have come all this way for nothing,” Will pressed.
“No’ for nothing,” she assured him before she and her maid ducked inside the coach.
He followed and flopped heavily onto the seat, and then laid his head back against the squabs and closed his eyes.
“The future’s no’ always certain,” she said quietly. “Sometimes it needs a bit of help.” But he barely heard her as the rocking of the coach and the warm brick at his feet lulled him instantly to sleep.
Will woke with a start and found Caitrin Macleod regarding him from across the coach with an amused look. “Did ye ken that ye talk in yer sleep, my lord?”
He raked a hand through his hair and grunted. “No one’s ever mentioned it.”
Her smile broadened. “Who, may I ask, is Prissy?”
Will frowned at her. Just because she’d come to his rescue didn’t mean he had to take her teasing. After all, she was the one witch out of the bunch who didn’t even like Ben. “My wife,” he answered, hoping to wipe the grin from her face. What the devil had he said in his sleep?
Her icy eyes twinkled with mirth. “I am glad to hear it. Sorcha will be heartbroken, of course, but we don’t need any more Lycans in our midst. Benjamin is more than enough.”
Simon and Miss Macleod were of a mind. Though Will didn’t have any use for this conversation. “What did you see in regard to my mother?” he asked.
The sparkle in Miss Macleod’s eyes vanished instantly. “I saw that she needs the plants. I saw that if yer brother wasna so doggedly stubborn, she would already be well.”
Will gulped. “You may not want to mention that to him. He’s been tortured enough by the decision.”
She shrugged and glanced at the sleeping maid at her side. “El’s no’ as frail as he thinks. She was healing people long before Benjamin entered our realm.”
“You didn’t see her when she healed him,” Will said, the memory of Elspeth’s lifeless body fresh in his mind. “I was there. It was quite terrifying. I don’t think I could let my wife put herself in danger.”
“Prissy?” Miss Macleod asked, her knowing grin returned.
“All right, blast it!” he growled. “What did I say?”
“Ye wanted her ta scratch ye between yer ears and rub yer belly,” she giggled. “I wonder, are those the thoughts of most dogs?”
Will couldn’t ever remember blushing before, but warmth did creep up his neck and cheeks. Dear God, had he actually said those things? Hopefully, Prisca never heard him utter such words. “You truly are a witch, Miss Macleod.”
She sat higher in her seat. “Flatterer.”
“If you give me the plants, I�
�ll take it from here. I can travel faster on horseback.”
Miss Macleod simply shook her head. “I already told ye I was accompanying ye, my lord. Besides ye slept two straight days. We’re nearly there anyway.”
He’d slept two straight days? “You didn’t stop at an inn along the way?”
She looked at him as though he were mad. “Well, of course we did, ta trade out horses. Ye slept through it all. But I wasna about ta stay the night. Public places such as that run havoc on my senses. Besides, I do have a reputation I’d like ta keep intact, one that would be in shreds if it was known ye were my traveling companion. This way, no one even knew ye were with us. It was the best plan.”
Relief washed over him. They were almost to The Hall. “Can you see her? Is my mother still all right?”
Miss Macleod’s eyes clouded over. “Ye have other concerns, my lord.”
“But my mother—”
“There’s a golden wolf in your midst, a lone wolf. I canna see him clearly, which is strange. But I can feel that he means ye harm.”
Brimsworth. Will scowled. “I know the wolf you mean.”
A soft smile settled on her lips. “Do be careful then. He’s a formidable foe.”
“He’s a pup.” Will shrugged. But then his eyes rose to meet Miss Macleod’s. “I’ve no need to worry, do I?”
“It isna possible ta determine who will claim yer Prissy,” the seer said.
“She’s my wife,” Will growled.
“By Biblical standards, aye. But we both ken that means little when ye speak of the Lycan relationship with one’s mate.”
“What would you know of that?” Will mumbled to himself, wishing he’d claimed his wife in the Biblical sense.
She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Then she opened them and the ferocity of her gaze nearly scared him. “I doona ken the particulars of yer mating, but I ken that a beast will claim her. I canna see the face of the Lycan who will do so, however.”
If Miss Macleod was trying to frighten him, it was working. He’d never planned to claim Prisca as his Lycan mate, not after her reaction to the “witch” news. But it appeared as though he might have that choice wrested from him. He had to claim her or risk having the wild golden wolf attempt it himself.
Twenty-Seven
PRISCA RUSHED TO THE DOOR WHEN SHE HEARD THE clatter of a coach approaching. She saw the odd crest as it slowed before The Hall. Disappointment flooded her heart.
“It’s not him,” she said quietly. For days, she’d watched for his approach, wondering when he would return. Alice had become more and more weak, and Prisca had become more and more anxious. True to his word, Ben had delivered a few more books on Lycanthropic lore to her. Each one she read seemed to confirm her suspicions that she’d married some mythical creature. It didn’t even seem like madness any longer. With each day that passed, Prisca missed her husband. Desperately.
Elspeth glanced out the door. With a little squeal, she clapped her hands together with delight. “That’s the Macleod crest!” she said, turning and hugging Ben tightly. “Do ye ken what that means?”
Prisca watched raptly as warring emotions crossed Ben’s face. Finally, he smiled. “It means hope has arrived?” His face scrunched up with consternation. “I never thought I’d be happy to see Caitrin Macleod. But I imagine Will’s with her. And that she brought the ingredients to make Mother well.”
“Will is with whom?” Prisca asked, completely at a loss for words.
But everyone ignored her as they bustled out the door. Will stepped from the coach, smiling broadly, his clothes a rumpled mess. He looked as though he’d slept in them for a straight week. His hair stuck out wildly, as though it had not seen a brush in quite some time. She took a step toward him, happier than she had been for days. But then he turned toward the coach and reached a hand inside. He brought back a slender wrist and thin forearm, which was followed by the rest of a beautiful blonde.
Prisca’s breath caught in her throat. The whole time she’d missed him, wished for his safe return, he’d been with that breathtaking woman? She crossed her arms beneath her chest to quell the indignation brewing there.
Elspeth squealed again and raced toward the coach, and then wrapped the blonde in her arms. Even Ben looked happy now to see the woman.
Prisca had seen enough. She turned on her heel and went back into The Hall. Blasted William! She’d been so happy to see him, so relieved. And there was much to discuss with him. More than anything, she wanted to touch him. She wanted him to touch her. She wanted him to be happy to see her. But he obviously was too well engaged, smiling at that angelic-looking blonde.
She sank heavily onto the settee and raised a fingernail to her mouth to nibble. Obviously, he hadn’t missed her at all. A lone tear trickled down her cheek. She swiped it away with the back of her hand, just before Elspeth, Ben, Will, and That Woman came through the door.
Will and Ben both carried flowering plants into the room. Where on earth might one get flowering plants in the middle of winter?
Elspeth, with her arm linked through the woman’s, called to the men. “Ye can put those in the kitchen.”
“I didn’t think ladies went into the kitchens,” Will chided, a grin on his face.
“This one does.” Ellie grinned back. “I’ll need ta make the potion. And Caitrin is goin’ ta help.” Then her hand flew to her mouth. “Ye would think I left my manners back in Scotland!” she laughed. “Lady Prisca Westfield, this is my dear friend and,” she lowered her voice and whispered, “coven sister,” very dramatically. “Miss Caitrin Macleod, this is Will’s wife.”
The blonde looked down her nose at Prisca. “So, ye’re the unlucky soul who is shackled ta William Westfield for the rest of yer natural-born life?” she asked.
Prisca opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. She assumed she resembled a fish out of water, gasping for air.
“That’s quite all right,” Miss Macleod said as she boldly took Prisca’s hand from her lap and pulled her to her feet. “I would be without words if I was doomed for eternity, as well. Come and help us with the potion,” she suggested. Then the blond witch tilted her head and finally smiled at Prisca. Lord, when the woman smiled, she was even more breathtaking.
Neither Elspeth nor Miss Macleod gave her time to decide. Will tried to reach for her as they dragged her past, but Caitrin slapped at his hand. “Ye’ll have time for that later. We’ve work ta do.”
Both witches laughed and pulled her toward their destination. Prisca had never even been inside the kitchens at home. The room was enormous with pots and pans dangling from the ceiling. The smell of fresh baked bread wafted through the air, mingling with the scent of berry tarts. She might make it a habit to visit the kitchen more often.
Soon Elspeth and Caitrin shooed all the servants away and boldly took over, laughing all the while.
“I think I frighten the servants,” Elspeth admitted as they began to work. “They’re no’ sure what ta do with themselves when I come down ta make my porridge in the morning.”
Prisca leaned a hip against the tabletop and watched the women as they stripped the plants, extracted seeds and leaves, and set them to steep. Elspeth made a circular motion with her finger, and a spoon began to slowly stir the concoction. All by itself. Once again, Prisca did the fish impression.
“Does she ken what ye are?” Prisca heard Caitrin ask Elspeth quietly.
“Aye, she does.” Elspeth laughed. “She hasna ever seen the magic before, though.”
“Th-that’s magic?” Prisca stuttered.
“Aye, an enchanted spoon,” Caitrin said. “She learned ta do it when she was four and hasna stopped since.” She rolled her eyes dramatically.
“Can you do it, too?” Prisca asked.
Caitrin shrugged. “I’m sure I could, but I doona prefer such tasks. My gifts are different from El’s. Each member of the Còig has a different power. Or powers, as the case may be. Like Sorcha, who can make these lovely flowers b
loom right from seeds to fully open in minutes.”
“What’s yours?” Prisca asked, happy to find that her tongue was finally loosening.
“I can see the future,” the woman admitted. “That’s how I found Lord William. I saw his journey ta Scotland and met him part of the way ta speed his quest.”
“You were with my husband for some time, then?” Prisca asked, trying to appear as though it didn’t matter.
“Aye, and it was pure torture, just like every other moment with the beast.” She suddenly stopped talking when Elspeth shook her head slightly. “I am glad ta meet ye, Prisca. And am glad ye’re strong and beautiful. Ye’ll give Lord William a merry chase.”
“He has already caught me,” Prisca admitted.
“He hasna caught ye yet,” Caitrin said, her eyes narrowing. “But he’d like ta,” she added, letting her words trail off slowly.
Will stood in the corridor off the kitchen and listened intently to Prisca and Caitrin’s conversation. Surely, after all the times he’d pleasured her, she didn’t still think he’d been forced into a marriage he didn’t want. He wanted her with every breath in his body.
When they’d turned down the lane, her lilac scent had reached him, and he’d had to swallow harshly to control his need to drool. He was sure Caitrin would have enjoyed that display. Then he’d walked through the door and had his arms full of plants, instead of full of Prisca, as he’d wanted. Then Caitrin had dragged her away. He stood outside the kitchen for just a moment, listening to them talk. Ben’s exaggerated stomp down the corridor broke his concentration.
The women immediately stopped talking.
“You shouldn’t eavesdrop,” Ben said blandly. “How else will I find out what’s in my pretty little wife’s head?” he replied.
“I don’t think you’re supposed to know what’s in her head, William.” Ben shook his finger at him. “You’re supposed to live in blissful ignorance like the rest of us.” He chuckled as he pushed through the kitchen door. “When will the cauldron bubble?” he asked, laughing as Elspeth poked him in the ribs with her elbow.
“It’ll take hours before this is ready,” Elspeth sighed.