by Lydia Dare
Nineteen
Will watched Prisca from across the room as she spoke with Lily and Elspeth. She looked utterly ridiculous in her black gown and black veil, but she certainly knew how to get her point across.
She caught his gaze and her eyes narrowed with suspicion, as though she wondered what was on his mind. If she only knew, she would hide her face in embarrassment. All that Will could think of was removing her ridiculous clothing piece by piece, until all of her silky skin was exposed. He wondered if she wore black garters beneath that dress. Very soon, he would find out.
"If you keep looking at her like that, she's likely to melt into one big puddle on the floor before you even get through your wedding night," Ben said quietly from where he stood by Will's side.
"I've no idea what you're talking about." Will tried to look shocked. Ben's chuckle told him he had failed miserably. "Did you know the Duke of Blackmoor couldn't even sit through his wedding breakfast without picking up his new wife and carrying her upstairs to start their honeymoon early?" It was always best to shift the attention to another brother when one wanted to avoid a particular topic.
Ben coughed into his hand. "
Our
brother did that?"
"He most certainly did." Will nodded. He was happy to have the attention back on Simon. "In front of everyone. He marched over and scooped her out of her chair. Then carried her up the stairs two at a time."
Ben sighed. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Will, but I rushed Elspeth away myself. So, I'd not hold it against you if you wanted to sneak away with your new wife."
"Something tells me, dear brother, that Prisca is not going to be quite as willing to be carried away as Lily and Elspeth were."
"I don't see why not," Ben replied. "She's a little angry about how all of this occurred. Beautiful gown, by the way. But since you were successful in bedding her once, I don't think it will be difficult now that she's your wife. She's probably waiting for you to scoop her up in your arms."
Will winced, and it did not go unnoticed by his younger brother.
"What is that look for?"
Will growled. "Leave it alone, Benjamin."
Understanding dawned in Ben's eyes, and his mouth fell open. "You
didn't
," he rasped.
Good God! Was his duplicity written across his brow? "I don't know what you're talking about."
Ben grabbed Will's jacket and tugged him to the far corner of the room. "But you told me you were going to… I mean, Emory and the others found you…" He raked a hand through his light brown hair. "Damn it, Will, you
told
Sir Herbert she could be with child," he hissed.
Will looked over his shoulder. No one appeared interested in their conversation. Thank God. Then he turned his glare back on his ever-seeing younger brother. "Keep your voice down. Do you want Simon to overhear you?"
Ben scoffed. "Simon is the least of your problems, William." But he lowered his voice anyway. "Does Prissy know? I mean that would account for the dress. But why wouldn't she tell Sir Herbert?"
"Because she was so foxed that she passed out, and the next morning I told her we'd consummated the relationship. If she'd known the truth, she would have batted her eyes at her father and limped on that ankle of hers, and he'd have swept it under the rug."
Ben's mouth dropped open wider than Will had ever seen it, and that was saying something.
"Don't stare at me like that. You look like a fish. Close your bloody mouth. Everyone will know something is wrong."
"Wrong?" Ben echoed. "Aren't you always the one who says I don't think things through clearly? I'd love to hear, dear brother, how you plan to tell your new wife that she is more innocent than she believes herself to be."
Uneasiness settled in Will's stomach. "Very carefully?" he suggested.
Ben exhaled slowly. "You'd best make sure there isn't any weaponry in the dower house. I don't think it'll be your shoulder she aims for next time."
No, knowing Prisca, she'd aim for his favorite appendage a bit lower. "I said I'll go about it carefully, Benjamin," he growled.
"As carefully as you've done everything else?" Ben rolled his eyes. "God help you with that then. And what will happen tomorrow when she tells her brothers how you've manipulated them?"
"And just who manipulated whom?" Simon asked from behind them.
"Oh, it's nothing," Will said as he waved his hand nonchalantly. He shot Ben a look.
"It's not
nothing
," Ben protested.
"Ben, if you will come down off your pedestal, you will realize that this was the right thing to do."
"And completely self-serving," Ben said, nodding his head. "I thought you'd finally won her over. God, Will, your honeymoon is doomed before it starts."
"Don't you wish you had a magical faerie that could make Prisca tolerate you?" Simon laughed. "Otherwise, she'll have you sleeping in the guest quarters."
"Or worse," Ben grumbled under his breath.
Will scratched his chin. He didn't have a faerie. But he did have a witch. Or at least Ben did. And who would be better at performing magical miracles? "Do excuse me." He left his brothers and hastened across the room to find Elspeth.
By the time he'd maneuvered himself though the throng of Hawthorne men to where the ladies stood huddled together, Will felt terribly awkward tapping Elspeth on the shoulder. She turned toward him, a question in her green eyes.
"May I speak with you a moment?" he asked quietly.
Her eyebrows drew together. "Of course. Is somethin' wrong, Will?"
"I need to ask you a question," he mumbled to her quietly as he led her away from the others. He glanced back at them and scowled when Lily giggled. What could she possibly find amusing at the moment?
"Is somethin' wrong with ye, Will?" Elspeth reached to touch the side of his face, as though feeling for a fever. He tugged her hand down.
"I'm fine, Elspeth, but I need some… advice?"
"Are ye asking me if ye need advice? Or telling me ye do need it?" When he scowled, she mumbled, "I'll go with the former."
"It's about the wedding night," he began.
Elspeth rolled her eyes. No wonder she and Ben got along so well. "If that's what ye want ta discuss, ye'll have better luck talkin' with yer brothers."
Will shook his head, wondering if he would ever understand the female mind. "Never mind that. May I ask my question now?"
Elspeth nodded.
"Do you have any of that Lady's Man-man-man… What is it called?"
Elspeth gaped at him. "
Lady's Mantle
?"
That was it. Will nodded. How could he have forgotten? One of her coven sisters had wanted to use it on him this past autumn. "Yes. Do you have any with you?"
"I doona carry it around on me, no. It's very powerful and…" Her eyes narrowed on him. "I doona make love potions anyway, Will."
Frustrated, he shook his head. "It doesn't have to be a love potion, Ellie. Do you have anything that would make a
like
potion? I'd take that."
"I canna believe ye'd ask me that." Elspeth's green eyes flashed with anger.
Why not? He was in need, and she was family. "Come on, lass. I just need a little help persuading her to have a bit of affection for me."
"Ye want me ta drug my new sister-in-law on her weddin' day, without her knowing it." Her glower deepened.
"Oh, no." He held up two hands as though surrendering. "I'd never ask that of you."
Elspeth tapped her foot against the floor in irritation.
"A potion isn't drugging her," he protested. "Not really." He held up his thumb and forefinger, and pointed out the space between. "I just need a little help."
"Will, I have always adored ye, but I'm goin' ta pretend ye dinna ask me that."
Defeated, Will sighed. What was he going to do now?
"But I may be able ta help ye without that." She
glanced furtively around the room, as though gauging who was listening. "My suggestion for ye is that ye do the opposite of what ye normally do when ye're in her presence."
This time, Will rolled
his
eyes. "Thanks for the advice."
Elspeth giggled. "Please accept my condolences on yer marriage." She giggled again.
"That is
not
humorous. How did Ben find such a
? You're beautiful,
and
you have wit." He tried not to make it sound like a compliment. But he smiled despite himself.
"I'm glad ye can see the humor in the situation," she laughed again.
"I believe you're seeing enough humor in my situation for the both of us." He walked away from Elspeth to go stand by the window alone and think over his dilemma.
The night at the cottage in the woods, Prisca had been amazingly responsive to him. Of course, she'd been foxed at the time, but she still received his advances well. Will remembered the little noises she'd made as he took her over the top. He'd been hard ever since. If he took care with her, made her respond to him again…
He looked over his shoulder, across the room at her, where she smiled as she talked to Lily. She must have felt his perusal because her gaze settled on him. Her smile turned upside down. Quickly. How could he convince her that he was worthy of the same consideration as Lily? As anyone else in the room?
He let his gaze linger on her hair, still covered in back by the black veil. He couldn't wait to take down the silky locks and run his fingers through them. He wanted to see her heavy mane spread out across the bedclothes as he looked upon her naked body.
His gaze moved down to her face. A pretty blush crept up her cheeks. Obviously, she was aware of his heated stare. He slowly inhaled. Oh, yes. She was quite aware. As a Lycan, one developed a certain awareness of one's mate's physical signs of attraction. If they were fated to be together, the male Lycan would share this bond with her always. Just as Simon could sense Lily's desire. And Ben could smell Elspeth.
It was time to fan the flames of Prisca's desire. And there was no better time to start than now.
***
Prisca fanned herself with her hand as she tried to ignore Will's appraisal of her body. She was sure that's what it was, as his eyes moved across her breasts and down her torso. Her nipples hardened, and her breasts grew heavy.
Will stalked across the room, moving slowly in her direction. His gaze was predatory. Her heart skipped a beat, and he smiled as though he knew. One corner of his mouth lifted in silent amusement.
"How are you, wife?" he asked as he came to stand behind her. His words brushed across the shell of her ear like a warm caress.
"Perfectly well, husband."
"I have it on good authority that all the Westfield men abscond with their wives before the wedding celebration is even over."
"Is that so?" she asked, covering her neck with a cupped hand to keep him from blowing across her tender skin.
"Family tradition." A corner of his mouth lifted. "I do wonder if you would go willingly if I tried to spirit you away."
"That would make it much too easy for you, Will." She smiled in return. "You knew when you married me that it would be hard."
"Hard. That's me," he murmured as he bumped into her bottom with his lower body. "Pardon me," he said, his voice growing softer and deeper. "I didn't mean to do that."
A likely story. What on earth did the man carry around in his trouser pockets anyway? Perhaps she'd sneak a peek if he ever took them off.
You're foolish,
Prisca.
Of course, he'll take his trousers off. He couldn't possibly sleep in them. She fanned herself again as she thought of him naked. She'd only spied his backside in the cottage, but it was impressive.
Will reached around her to take a fresh glass of whisky from a footman. His arm brushed the side of her breast. Without even thinking, she gasped. Her breasts were already full and heavy. When he brought his arm back to his chest, he let his inner arm slide down her side again.
"Pardon, my dear. I didn't mean to do that, either." He smiled at her.
Her belly did a little flip. She'd so hoped to stay composed until their wedding night. Then she could tell him she had no plans to begin their marital relations. After all, he'd already taken her innocence, hadn't he?
But every time he touched her with his eyes, his hands, his body, she warmed like a candle set ablaze. And then she smoldered.
Will drew her away from the people milling about the room. He leaned casually against the wall, a small smile hidden in his serious expression. He toyed with a lock of hair that hung down over her shoulder. "I want to make love to you," he said quietly.
Prisca felt an immediate flood of warmth as her belly clenched. She took a sip of her drink and swallowed hard. She squeaked a little when she said, "I thought you'd already done that, though I don't quite remember the event."
Will put one arm around her waist and drew her so close their bodies brushed one another. He leaned over to say quietly in her ear, "The next time, there will be no doubt in your mind about it having happened, Prissy."
Prissy?
Would she never outgrow the moniker? Not as long as she lived. "My name is Pris
ca
," she said, sounding out the last syllable slowly. "Do
not
mistake me for one of your whores with whom you can use a term of endearment and have her fall at your feet."
"I never expected you to fall at my feet. Nor would I want you there." He stood a bit taller.
She nodded and rolled her eyes. "For you, I am nothing more than another woman to lie in your bed."
Will's eyes flashed with something at her statement. Anger? Lust? She wasn't sure which. But then Will growled at her. "If that's what you are to me, then why are we standing here? You should
be
in my bed."
Prisca could do no more than squeal as Will bent at the waist, threw her over his shoulder, and stalked toward the exit. "Put me down," she cried, pounding at his back.
Not even one of her traitorous brothers came to her rescue. Emory actually had a smile on his face. Her father looked… satisfied.
Before Will walked through the doorway, he said, "Duck, wife."
She did, and only a moment soon enough. Had she not dipped her head, he'd have knocked it clean from her shoulders. "I hate you," she said loudly once they were outside.
"Tell me something I don't know, will you?" he asked, a chuckle in his voice as he started for one of the Westfield coaches.
Twenty
Prisca glared at Will as the coach lurched forward, with him stealing her away from her family and the only home she'd ever known like a medieval barbarian. "I cannot believe you did that!" How dare he toss her over his shoulder and throw her into his carriage? Arrogant beast!
"Believe it, my lady. And I have much more in store for you."
She folded her arms across her chest. "Go to the devil!"
"I probably will," he grumbled. "Sooner than later, I'm sure."
There wasn't much she could say to that, so she simply glowered at him instead. "Well, I hope you're satisfied, William. You've ruined my whole life."
Will leaned against the squabs, and his light blue eyes darkened. "I'd say that's a bit of an exaggeration, Prisca."
"Well, you've certainly ruined Christmas for me in any event. And it has always been my favorite holiday." She turned and looked out the window, watching the Hawthorne land slip away.
"I'll make it all up to you," he promised. "I even have a Christmas present for you."
Prisca scoffed. "Oh? Are you leaving already then? Will I have the entire Westfield dower house all to
?" She hoped he would leave while she was still furious. She couldn't lose her heart to him all over again. She'd never survive it a second time. And the more time she spent in his company, the more she longed for things that c
ould never be. Therefore, ending this farce before it started was her only hope.
"Prisca," Will growled, "I am trying to be pleasant. I know you're angry about the situation, but I
am
your husband now and you will show me the respect due me."
Her eyes darted back to his and she lifted her chin defiantly. "Or what?"
He leaned forward and clasped her hands in his. "For once, don't make this more difficult than it has to be."
"I'm not afraid of you, Will."