Wolf Next Door

by Lydia Dare

  Only of losing my heart

  to you.

  "Perhaps you should be," he replied enigmatically. Then he released her hands and leaned back against the squabs. "Lily has been droning on and on about the Yule Ball for days. I suppose tomorrow night will be as good a time as any to announce our nuptials to the village."

  "Whatever you wish, my lord," she replied in the most obedient voice she could muster. It sounded hollow to her ears and must have to him as well, because Will regarded her with suspicious eyes.

  ***

  Prisca was quiet. Too quiet, Will decided as the coach rambled to a stop in front of the dower house. He was almost certain she had some devious plan up her scratchy, bombazine sleeve. How long before she unveiled it?

  He knew the idea of staying here had been his mother's in order to give them privacy, and Will couldn't have been more grateful for the decision. With his hearing, he couldn't be in the same house with Simon and Lily or Ben and Elspeth and not hear their intimate encounters. He wasn't at all anxious for his brothers to catch an earful of his and Prissy's lovemaking, or of whatever else she had in store for him.

  "We're here," he said, opening the coach door and offering her his hand.

  Prisca placed her black glove in his grasp and swallowed. Will could hear the thump, thump, thump of her heart, and he squeezed her fingers. "I won't hurt you, sweetheart."

  "Hmm," she replied with an arrogant tilt of her head. "That's what you keep saying."

  As they approached the stone steps, Will scooped Prisca up in his arms and marched toward the front door.

  "William! Put me down this instant."

  He chuckled, enjoying the feel of her curves in his arms and the pretty blush on her cheeks. "I will carry you over the threshold, Prissy. All traditions will be followed."

  The front door opened, thanks to a borrowed footman from the main house. Will didn't know the fellow's name, though he nodded his thanks. "Please make certain a hearty repast is waiting in the kitchen and then you are excused."

  The footman smiled. "Of course, my lord."

  Prisca squirmed in his arms, and Will tightened his hold to keep her from falling as he started for the stairs. He'd been waiting years for this moment, but she was rigid as a board and he was well aware that softening her up might take a little doing.

  Then he looked back at the amused footman. "Oh, and brandy. Make sure there is a bottle with the food."

  At the footman's nod, Will climbed the stairs, two at a time, anxious to have his wife all to himself.

  "Brandy?" Prisca's soft voice reached his ears.

  "I seem to recall your preference for it over whisky," he replied as he ambled down the corridor and stopped in front of the large master's chamber. "I thought it might give you a bit of courage."

  "Courage?" Her brow furrowed. "I'm not afraid of you, Will."

  An idea flashed in his mind, and Will couldn't hold back his smile. Her bravado would be her undoing. "Is that so?" he asked as he pushed open the door and placed her back on her feet. "You seem like a terrified little girl to me."

  Prisca's back stiffened, and her chin rose stubbornly. "How dare you?"

  Will forced a serious look to his face. "It's all right, Prissy. I'll never tell a soul."

  She poked his chest with her finger. "I'm

  not

  afraid of you or anyone else, William Westfield."

  He raised his brow in disbelief. "Well, then, do you need help getting out of your dress?"

  Prisca sucked in a breath and took a step away from him. "I think you misunderstood me. Just because I'm not afraid of you doesn't mean I'm going to climb into your bed."

  Will scratched his chin. "Whatever you say, Priss."

  "I think most of the women who land in your bed make the task much too easy for you."

  "And you plan to be different?" he goaded her.

  Her face darkened a shade before she put her hands on her hips and said, "I don't plan to land in your bed at all."

  Will shrugged, trying to look unconcerned. But, in reality, his gut twisted at the thought that she might not let him make love to her that night or ever. "We don't have to land in bed." His voice lowered as he walked closer to her. She took another step back. And another until a chair blocked her retreat. "I can ravish you on the chair." He touched his lips to hers. "Or on a table, if you prefer." He palmed her hips and drew her to him until their bodies touched. "We can do it anywhere you please."

  "I don't plan to make this easy for you," she said as he began to unpin her veil from her hair and proceeded to remove her hair combs, one by one. When her hair fell over her shoulders, his hands massaged her scalp gently. "I plan to make it very hard." She gulped.

  "You already make me very hard," he replied as he ground his hips against hers.

  Prisca's brows drew together in confusion. "May I ask you a question?"

  "You may ask anything you like," he assured her while his hands skimmed her sides.

  "What is it that you carry in your pocket?"

  His pocket? Will stood up tall and looked down at her. "Pardon?"

  She pointed down to where their bodies touched. "Your pocket," she said again. "There's always something in your pocket."

  Will took his hands from her hips and filled his pockets with them. "Nothing there, love."

  Prisca reached down between their bodies so she could feel for the object she'd just mentioned a moment before. When her hand approached his waistband and then went farther to touch his manhood, he groaned and pulled her hands away from him. Her innocent probing could be the end of their wedding day, as he'd been hard for hours. Days. He brought her hands to his lips and kissed the backs of her fingers. Her brow rose in confusion.

  He chuckled softly. "I'll show you later, love."

  "Are you laughing at me?" She swatted his chest.

  "Definitely not," he said, though he was sure a grin tilted the corners of his mouth just a bit.

  Prisca narrowed her eyes at him.

  "So, what shall we do now, Priss, since you are too afraid to let me make love to you?"

  "I'm not afraid," she quipped, spinning away from him to glance about the room.

  "Good. Then we can dispense with the seduction and go straight to bed." He started to loosen his cravat.

  "It's not even dark out yet," she protested, dancing farther away from him.

  "Prisca," he intoned slowly, stalking toward her.

  "William," she said, mocking his tone with false bravado, drawing her eyebrows together like his.

  "I bought you a gift," Will said as he turned from her and reached into the wardrobe.

  "A gift?" Her eyes sparkled as she stepped closer to him, warming to him just a bit. "Oh, but I've nothing for you," she began, clapping her fingertips over her lips.

  "But you will," he whispered softly as his bent finger stroked her cheek. "Open this." He placed the gaily wrapped package in her hands.

  Prisca dropped her angst for a moment, like one might drop a robe, and immediately tore into her present. She never could resist them, which he well knew. He may have to buy her an entire room full of baubles if this didn't work.

  As soon as she untied the ribbons and lifted the lid, she gasped. Her eyes rose to meet his in surprise.

  Inside the box lay a sheer garment, edged in lace. Prisca pulled it from the box and turned toward the mirror, where she held it in front of her body. The soft silkiness of the lavender garment was in stark contrast to her black dress. He immediately wanted to see the fabric drape her alabaster skin.

  "This would be horribly indecent," she whispered, turning to look at him shyly. She obviously liked it but was concerned about him seeing her in it.

  He would see her in less. Every day from now on. "Indecent?" he asked as he slowly approached her. "There's nothing indecent about seeing my wife's perfect body." Taking the peignoir from her, he draped it over a nearby chair. Then he very slowly walked around to stand at her back, where he could untie
the laces of her gown. The bombazine crinkled as he unlaced the dress and pulled one shoulder down. He replaced it with his lips, letting them slide slowly over her skin. He had to hold back a smile when she shivered. Perhaps this would go better than planned.

  "W-what are you doing?" she asked.

  "You've no maid. So, I thought I'd help you undress." He caught her earlobe between his teeth and gently tugged before he kissed down the side of her neck.

  Prisca willingly leaned her head to the other side as he tugged her gown from the opposite shoulder. She smelled of lilacs, and the scent of her grew stronger and stronger as her body warmed beneath his touch.

  When he'd freed both of her arms, she still clutched the scratchy black dress to her breasts, refusing to let it fall. He came to stand before her and tugged it gently. She held tightly to the fabric. She even shook her head in denial. There was still work to be done.

  Will's fingers threaded into the hair at the nape of her neck, and he tilted her head so he could take her mouth as he pleased. The first touch of his lips was gentle. But then she stood up on her tiptoes and pressed back against him. All thought of gentleness left his mind. He devoured her with a single-minded purpose—to pleasure her. When he was finally convinced that his mouth held all her attention, he lifted her arms to bring them up around his neck.

  The dress made a crinkling sound as it fell. She didn't notice. He must have been doing something right. But this was not the time to gloat.

  Without lifting his mouth, he took a tentative step toward the bed. She stepped with him. He took another. And another, until she could step no farther. Then he picked her up gently and laid her down.

  Will climbed over her, now kissing across her collarbone as she held tightly to his arms. Her beautiful violet eyes stayed closed, her mouth hung slightly open.

  She opened her eyes only for a moment when she heard the delicate fabric of her chemise tear.

  "I'll buy you another," he mouthed against her skin, where he kissed the plump skin of her breast. She didn't protest. But just ran her fingers into his hair, holding him directly over her breast.

  "What do you want, Priss?" he asked. He very lazily traced a finger around her nipple but refused to touch it.

  She tugged his head and arched her back, bringing her quivering flesh within a breath of his lips. He wanted to tease her, to make her ask him. But the beat of her heart flooded the room and the scent of her desire nearly toppled him to the floor.

  He took her nipple into his mouth, tonguing the turgid peak until she sighed with pleasure. He cupped her breasts, which would have overflowed a normal man's hands but fit his just perfectly. As his mouth devoured her flesh, the fingers of his other hand rolled the opposite peak between his fingers, tugging gently in time with his tongue.

  Her legs opened finally, and he wanted nothing more than to surge between them and find her heat, making them one. But this was about more than pleasure. It was about mastery. In one thing, he could master her. If that one place was the bedroom, he'd take it.

  He sat up until he rested on his knees between her parted legs, the sight of her damp curls and the scent of her nearly more than he could stand. Her drawers went the same way as her chemise, but she simply smiled when he tore them, too far gone with desire to care.

  He placed a delicate kiss above her navel and then kissed his way down to the warmest, most tender part of her. His thumbs held her open as he licked across her heat. Her hand threaded into his hair and tugged. But not to pull him away from her. To push him to where she ached for him.

  He devoured her flesh with soft nibbles, intrusive thrusts of his tongue, and then, when she was close to going wild with pleasure, he slid one finger into her. She arched against his tiny thrust.

  "Will!" she called loudly.

  He merely purred against her skin and then dragged her aching flesh into his mouth with one final suck. And that's when she erupted. Her wetness clung to his finger, her body arching for him. He slowly and masterfully showed her all the pleasure she could possibly desire in that moment. When she stilled and her heart began to slow, he moved up her body.

  But the sensation he experienced when he looked into her passion-filled gaze was more than he could stand. She looked as though she adored him, all of her protective walls having fallen with her pleasure. Guilt ate at his soul. It was time to be honest with her.

  Will rolled to his back, not touching her. Just lying beside her as she came down from her high. She rolled toward him, and he moved away from her. He was still fully clothed, while she was naked. "I need to tell you something," he said slowly as he rolled over to face her.

  "What is it, Will?" she asked softly, her hand raising to gently brush his hair from his forehead. He had to do it now. She would find out as soon as he got inside her. So, he'd better inform her before that happened.

  Will groaned. "You still don't remember the night in the cottage?"

  Prisca sat up and rolled the edge of the counterpane over to cover her nakedness. He wanted more than anything to peel it back off her. "I remember some of it," she said as her eyebrows drew together.

  "I wasn't completely truthful," he said in one explosive breath.

  She scooted even farther back from him. "About?"

  "About taking your innocence," he finally admitted.

  "I don't understand," she said as she shook her head.

  "What we just did a moment ago?" he prompted. She nodded. "We did that at the cottage."

  A rosy blush stained her cheeks. "I do remember that."

  "But nothing else." He released a sigh. His stomach clenched, and his mind shouted for him to stop, not to say another word; but his heart ached to tell her the truth.

  She shook her head.

  "Priss, that's all you remember because it's all that happened that night. You fell asleep on my chest."

  "We didn't…"

  "No," he said to stop her.

  Her face paled. "But you let them all think…" she began, looking everywhere but at him. "You told Papa…"

  "I'm sorry, Priss."

  "You let them all think I'd willingly given myself to you."

  He looked at her, his heart breaking at the look on her face.

  "You let them think I'd lost my innocence, the very thing women hold most dear."

  He reached for her, but she pulled back. If she went any farther, she'd fall right off the bed.

  "I'd like to be alone for a moment," she finally whispered, staring at the ceiling above them.

  "Priss," he groaned. If he could just make her understand…

  "Only a moment, Will. I need to think a bit. Why don't you go and find that brandy?"

  Perhaps brandy would help.

  "I'll be right back," he sighed as he left the room.

  ***

  He'd lied. The blackguard had lied. He'd allowed her family to think the worst of her. How could he?

  Without giving herself time to think twice, Prisca slid from the bed, walked slowly to the bedroom door, and pushed it closed with a soft click. He'd be back soon. Too soon. Her gaze shot around the room. She spotted the chair draped with her peignoir set and considered moving it against the door to keep him out. That wouldn't work. He'd pulled her door off its hinges at Langley Downs. There was nothing to keep him from doing the same thing here. Then he'd be furious.

  The purple gown across the room called to her. It probably wasn't the best thing to wear, given her circumstances, but her chemise was torn in two and she couldn't find her bombazine anywhere. The blackguard must have absconded with it when he went to retrieve the brandy.

  She studied herself in the full-length mirror. Her breasts were a little too large to be fashionable, her hips a bit too wide. The side of her breast had been abraded by Will's beard stubble. And there was a small mark on her chest where he'd suckled her.

  She didn't have many choices. Quickly, she tugged the peignoir from the back of the chair and lifted the silky nightgown over her head. She let it drop, w
here it fell like the gentlest touch she'd ever received. She turned to see the full effect in the mirror and frowned when she saw that the slit up the side went all the way up to her hip. It didn't cover much. Of course, he'd seen all of her and tasted nearly as much.

  She jumped when she heard someone ascend the steps down the corridor.

  ***

  Will stood outside the door and took a deep breath, trying to control the beat of his heart. What if she never looked at him the same way again? What if she never forgave him?