by Lydia Dare
In the blink of an eye, he was across the room, leaning against the window frame. Prisca gaped at him. No one could move that fast. No human, anyway.
A grin settled on his lips. “Trust me, Prissy, you wouldn’t want to see where mine is, and I don’t think Elspeth would be at all happy about you forcing the issue.”
Prisca was certain the blush that instantly warmed her cheeks would never go away. What was she thinking? “Forget I asked,” she mumbled.
“I’m certain that will be hard to do,” he replied with a chuckle. “Though I shall try.”
She winced and then noticed that Ben stood a little taller. His ears actually perked up.
“Do excuse me. My wife is in need of my assistance.” He quickly exited the room.
Prisca sank onto the settee and buried her face in her hands. A Lycan. She didn’t dare believe it.
Twenty-Nine
WILL PULLED AND PULLED TO NO AVAIL AT THE CHAINS that bound him. Brimsworth was right; they hadn’t budged at all. Will had never been engulfed in despair before, but now he was flooded with it. If he couldn’t get free, he couldn’t protect Prisca. He couldn’t keep her safe from the earl. The Monster of Eynsford. The Lycan who couldn’t control himself.
“Agh!” he cried out in agony.
If Brimsworth meant to punish him, to torture him, he couldn’t have done a better job. Will howled again out of frustration, not willing to give up, not willing to concede the loss.
Then off in the distance he heard a sound. A familiar growl he’d known all his life.
Simon.
Thank God. Relief washed over him. “Simon!” he called at the top of his lungs. “Simon!”
Within moments, he heard two sets of boots pounding toward his location, and his heart thudded to a stop. Two sets! Damn both of his brothers for leaving Prissy unprotected. Before he could even yell out, the door of the cottage was thrust open. Moonlight flooded the room until Simon eclipsed it.
“Good God, Will!” his older brother rasped as he rushed inside.
Will tugged on his chains. “He’s gone after Prisca! How could you leave her alone…” his voice trailed off as he realized Oliver, the thirteen-year-old Earl of Maberley stood behind the duke, his mouth agape. “Where’s Ben?”
Simon picked up one of the chains and shook his head. “He’s with our wives. You don’t think I’m a complete dolt, do you? How the devil did you get yourself into this situation?”
Will growled at his brother. “Just get the bloody things off me, will you?”
The duke nodded and trailed his hands down the chain, finding the lock that held the ends together. “Where’s the key?”
The key? Will winced as if he’d been struck. Brimsworth must have it. “I don’t know.” His heart constricted with the admission.
“Just pull them apart,” Oliver suggested from inside the doorway.
“It’s titanium,” Simon grumbled, his eyes boring into Will. “Too strong even for us.” Then he glanced over his shoulder at the boy. “Look around for the key, Oliver.”
Will closed his eyes, not wanting to see the concerned expression that was certain to be on Simon’s face. He heard Oliver rummage around the small room. “He has it on him. You know it as well as I do.”
“There’s only one thing left that we can do,” Simon said as he surveyed the iron bed frame.
“Cut my hands off?” Will grumbled.
Simon scratched his chin. “It would take weeks to heal from something like that.”
Will’s mouth fell open. His brother was actually considering it?
“Maybe the baby?” Oliver pitched in quietly.
“Do be quiet,” Simon snapped. “We’ll not ask the unborn to grow new hands for Will.” Suddenly, he stood and jerked the foot of the bed, until it slid several feet from the wall. “And I had so many wonderful memories of this bed. Lily will have your head for forcing me to dismantle it.”
Will found it hard to keep his mouth shut as Simon slid his hands beneath his body and then lifted him in one smooth motion and flipped him so that he stood behind the iron headboard.
“I hate it when you do that,” Will mumbled.
“Of course you do,” Simon said blandly as he tore the mattress from the bed and swiftly broke the slats that held the mattress up from the floor.
“It’ll be a bit of a hindrance carrying the headboard back,” Simon said. “Can you manage it?” He arched one dark eyebrow.
“No, perhaps you should carry me and the headboard,” Will growled. Of course, he could handle it. Why was Simon suddenly treating him like an invalid?
“Let’s go then. We have a wild Lycan to catch.”
Prisca paced back and forth in the entryway, waiting for Will to return.
“You said you loved Will when you were talking with Mother. Did you mean it?” Ben asked.
“How did you know?” He raised an eyebrow at her. Of course, he’d heard her. She stared at her hands, avoiding Ben’s gaze. “I suppose.”
“Try not to sound so happy about it, will you?” Ben said as he lightly squeezed her shoulder. “When he comes back, talk to him. I wish I had talked more to Ellie. I wasted some time I could have spent loving her, hiding from myself.”
A clatter arose on the front steps. It was followed by a clank, a curse, and some mad shuffling. Prisca held her breath until Will was inside, followed by Blackmoor and Oliver. Yet, above Will’s head was the oddest contraption.
“If you hit me with that thing one more time…” the duke growled.
“I’m very sorry to burden you with my anchor,” Will spat back. “The next time someone chains me to a bed, I’ll be sure and have the madman leave a key, just for your convenience.”
“What is he holding?” Prisca asked under her breath.
“It looks like a headboard,” Ben answered, sounding just as surprised as Prisca felt.
Not just any headboard. She’d recognize it anywhere. It was from the same bed the two of them had shared in Blackmoor’s crofter’s cottage. The same cottage she doubted Lily knew a thing about. Someone had chained him to that bed?
Her mouth fell open in astonishment, and a squeak escaped. How dare he? She’d just spent the better part of an hour worrying about Will’s whereabouts. She’d just finished telling Ben how much she loved the rogue. She’d fretted over him, for God’s sake. And all that time he’d been chained to a bed?
“Is she all right?” Will asked, his voice full of concern.
She couldn’t even form a sentence she was so furious. He’d kissed her and caressed her, and he’d gone off on some quickly remembered assignation?
“She will be,” Ben said softly.
“Prisca?” Will asked. “What is it?” He turned toward Ben ’s voice, forcing Simon to duck to avoid being decapitated by the spinning headboard. “Has Brimsworth been here?” He spun again, this time bumping into Maberley, who wasn’t quite as fast to evade the blow. The boy fell to his knees as he clutched his head.
“Sorry, Oliver,” Will grunted.
“No harm done,” the boy said graciously as he regained his footing.
“Perhaps you should stand still until that thing is removed, William,” the duke growled.
“Priss?” Will asked again, a question certainly in his gaze, though she hadn’t enough control of her thoughts to figure out what it was.
“Yes, Will?” she asked, wishing him to the devil.
“Oh, God, Priss,” Will said as he closed his eyes tightly. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”
She tried to suppress a snort, failing miserably. She turned to address Benjamin. “Would you ask Billings to ready a carriage, please. I’d very much like to go home now.”
Then she escaped back into the parlor and slammed the door shut, ignoring Will’s call for her to stop.
“Ben, get out of my way,” Will grumbled as he tried to get past his younger brother into the green parlor after Prisca. In the process he clocked Simon in the head again with the to
p of the iron headboard.
“For God’s sake,” the duke grumbled.
“Sorry,” Will offered and then turned his attention to Ben. “What’s wrong with her?”
“She hasn’t had an easy time of it, Will. You may want to leave her be for the moment.”
Like hell. Will reached for the handle again, but Simon’s arm on his shoulder halted him. “Billings!” the duke barked.
When the butler appeared, his eyes grew round as they landed on Will. “My lord?” The old man’s mouth dropped open.
“Summon Mr. James,” Simon ordered.
“The blacksmith?” Billings asked, still in awe.
“Do you have a better suggestion of how to get this off him?”
Billings shook his head. “You’re right, of course, Your Grace.” Then he started down the hallway at a spirited clip.
Will paid them very little attention, his gaze focused on Ben. “What do you mean she hasn’t had an easy time of it?”
“She’s figured out what you are, what we all are.”
Will’s shoulders slumped from both the weight of the iron headboard and Ben’s words. “She figured it out?” he snarled menacingly.
Prisca couldn’t possibly have figured it out! The word Lycan didn’t simply pop up in one’s mind if someone else hadn’t planted the seeds. Benjamin would be wise to hide until the end of time for his own safety. The dolt would need both Elspeth’s healing power and that of their daughter to put himself back together.
His younger brother gulped. “She came right out and asked me where my mark was.”
Will purposely bumped Ben with the headboard. “And did you show her?”
“Of course not!” Ben pushed at Will’s chest. “That’s your place, not mine. Though I did tell Ellie right from the very beginning, and I’m not quite sure what you’re waiting for.”
“She’s not ready,” Will said, but he recognized the growl in his own voice and softened his tone. “She’s not ready for this.”
Prisca stepped out of the parlor, a book clutched in her arms and pressed tightly against her chest. Will recognized it immediately. Lycans and Lore. What the devil was she doing with that?
Will’s fingers twitched to touch her, but Prisca stayed just out of reach. She turned her violet eyes on him as both of his brothers and Oliver all seemed to disappear into one room or another. “Priss,” he began.
But she slipped past him. “Save it, William. I’ve heard all of your lies I intend to.”
“Lies?” he echoed and tried to reach for her, but the blasted headboard got in the way.
“Yes, lies.” She glared at him. “How long have I known you, William?”
What kind of question was that? “Forever.”
She nodded in agreement. “I’ve known you my whole life, and just today found out you’re not really a man.”
“I’m not quite sure how to respond to that. You can take my word for it that my masculinity has never been called into question before.”
Her glare darkened. “Don’t feign ignorance. Everyone in this house knew what you were but me. Even that snooty Scottish witch. She referred to you as a beast earlier. I had no idea that she meant it in earnest.”
The air whooshed out of Will. He expected that she’d be afraid or skittish when she found out, but… angry? “Priss, I was going to tell you.”
“Indeed?” she asked mordantly. “You’ve had nearly twenty years to do so, William. Pray, forgive me if I have a difficult time believing you now.” She looked down at the book clutched in her hands, and a smile he didn’t think she felt crossed her face. “They should make one of these for women.”
“There are no Lycan women,” Will said softly. She looked like she could break at any moment.
She scoffed. “I mean for the ignorant women who love them.” She started down the corridor, walking away from him.
“Prisca!” he called after her.
She stopped but didn’t turn back to face him. “I believe I’ll go stay with my father for awhile.”
“Sir Herbert?” His heart thudded in his throat. She couldn’t mean to leave him.
“Of course,” she snapped. “He’s never kept secrets from me or made a habit of lying to me.”
It wasn’t the same thing at all. “I wish you wouldn’t say it like that. This isn’t something I’ve ever told anyone.”
“I’m not just anyone, William. I am your wife.” She continued her escape down the corridor.
“Prisca Westfield, come back here this instant!” he bellowed.
But she didn’t stop, and the iron bed frame prevented Will from chasing after her.
Thirty
PRISCA TOSSED ONE DRESS AFTER ANOTHER INTO HER trunk. She should have a maid pack for her, but none of them would answer her summons from the bellpull. Most likely they were following William’s directive. It was probably better this way. Packing her own clothes gave her something to focus on. Something other than her husband anyway.
A bed! He’d been shackled to a bed, for heaven’s sake. He’d left her to run off, and someone had shackled him to a bed. Prisca wasn’t in a hurry to see him anytime soon.
A knock sounded at her door, and Prisca glanced briefly at it before stuffing her favorite blue muslin into the trunk. “Go away, William.”
The door cracked open, and Alice poked her head inside. “Prisca dear, do you have a minute for me?”
She nodded and sank down onto the bed. “Only if you promise not to plead his case.”
Alice winked at Prisca and closed the door behind her. “Love them as I do, none of my sons handled this aspect of their marriages particularly well. Not that Jonathan handled it any better all those years ago.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
Alice took a spot on the bed beside Prisca and tucked a wayward curl behind her ear. “Elizabeth would have been so proud of you.”
It had been years since anyone had mentioned her mother. A lump formed in Prisca’s throat.
“After five sons, she desperately wanted a daughter, you know,” Alice continued. “You look so much like her.”
“I wish I’d known her.”
Alice’s eyes crinkled as she smiled. “She was so spirited, so full of life.”
Her father always said the same. Elizabeth Hawthorne had been a pillar of society, the life of every event.
“She was fearless,” the duchess continued.
Fearless? Prisca stared at her mother-in-law. “What do you mean by that?”
“Elizabeth would never have turned tail and run away. She was made of sterner stuff. If Herbert had done something foolish, she would have made him atone for the mistake.”
Prisca heaved a sigh. “I seriously doubt that my father lied to her for two decades.”
Alice frowned and patted her hand. “I know how you feel, my dear. I was quite furious with Jonathan when I first learned what he was. He didn’t tell me until the first full moon of our marriage. That was quite a surprise, I can assure you.”
Prisca leaned closer to her mother-in-law. “Was he afraid you’d turn tail and run away?” she echoed the duchess’ earlier words.
“I’m sure there was a bit of that. I know Simon was afraid Lily wouldn’t love him if she knew the truth. That she’d see what he really was and run away in fear. It can be a bit terrifying to reveal your soul to the one you love, especially when it’s something like this.”
Prisca scoffed. “Love?” She shook her head. “Alice, you’re mistaken. William does not love me.”
The dowager duchess’ eyes twinkled. “Are you certain about that?”
He wanted her, but he didn’t love her. He’d had years to tell her if that was the case.
“Before you leave, Prisca, why don’t you discover the truth, whatever it is?”
Did she dare do that? Would it hurt worse if she learned for certain what Will’s feelings were? She shrugged.
“What a lovely locket,” Alice said, touching the golden chain aroun
d Prisca’s neck. “It’s very pretty. Do you have Will’s miniature inside?”
Prisca fingered the locket absently and then flipped it open to show her the likeness of the wolf inside. “I don’t have Will’s picture in it yet. Although I assume I should. What with him being my husband and all.”
“I believe you already wear him close to your heart.” Alice smiled softly, kissed Prisca on the cheek, and left the room.
Will stalked the halls like the furious wolf he was when he’d been unable to find Prisca in the guest room. All of her clothes had been flung into a trunk, and none of her personal items lay about.
“Prisca!” he called, walking the corridors downstairs and flinging doors open at random. He would know her heartbeat anywhere, and he’d not heard it for hours. Of course, he’d been out at the stables where the blacksmith could work on the shackles.
He absently rubbed his wrists, thankful to finally be free of the chains, not to mention the iron headboard that he’d carried around. With time, it had become as heavy as an anvil and much more cumbersome.
Simon passed him in the corridor. “Do you know what time it is?” he barked.
Will felt little remorse. He’d raise them all from their beds if he didn’t find Prisca soon. “Time for all good little wolves to be tucked in their dens?”
Simon scowled at his comment.
“Sorry,” Will mumbled.
A nod was Simon’s response, and then his eyes dropped to Will’s wrists. “They finally got them off?” he asked absently, motioning for Will to follow him into his study.
“Yes. It took the blacksmith and two stable hands to do the job. And it finally came down to Mr. James’ out-of-town brother-in-law who apparently picks pockets as well as locks. Don’t ask.”
“Truly?” Simon arched one black eyebrow.
Will held up his wrists for inspection. “I’m finally free, aren’t I?” He wasted no time getting to the point. “Have you seen Prisca?”
Simon heaved a sigh. “Forget your wife for just one minute, will you? I have news.”
“What news?”
“While Mr. James’ questionable relations were freeing you, Major Forster and I hunted down your abductor.”