by Lydia Dare
"I believe I can make you suffer much more in residence than I can if I'm away." And with that, she breezed past him into the corridor toward her guest quarters.
***
Will spent a torturous night in the dower house alone. He should have made his wife trek down the path to their little oasis, but he didn't want to press her ire. She'd agreed not to take off to her father's, and he didn't want to change her mind.
First thing in the morning, he made his way back to the manor house and sat in the breakfast room until his legs were numb. But he refused to leave. She'd have to show herself sometime. She'd have to eat.
He ignored the pitying glances from his brother and even from Oliver, for God's sake. He ignored the hushed whisperings of his sisters-in-law. And he ignored Caitrin Macleod's irritating little smirk, as though she knew how all of this would turn out. If he had a bit more confidence, he'd ask her to confirm it one way or the other.
Finally, he was alone in the breakfast room and Prisca still hadn't made an appearance. The footmen seemed anxious to clean off the sideboard but were waiting for Will to take his leave first. Thoroughly frustrated, he tossed his napkin to the middle of the table and stalked up the stairs to the room his wife occupied.
He knocked once on the door but didn't wait for her to answer before barging inside.
"William!" she gasped as she tugged the edges of her wrapper together.
It was too late. Wearing only a thin chemise and with the morning light at her back, she was the most beautiful sight in the world, Will thought as he caught a glimpse. His mouth fell open, and he had to work to keep himself from panting.
"For heaven's sake, shut the door!" she hissed.
He kicked it closed and then started toward her. No matter what sins she thought he'd committed or what transgressions she attributed to him, Will had to hold her again. To taste her. To make her forgive him.
Prisca's ebony curls cascaded over her shoulders, and Will ached to run his fingers through them, to lift her hair to his nose and inhale her lilac scent. Her eyes rounded in surprise when he stopped in front of her, and he tipped her chin up with his knuckle. Dear God, he loved her, every contrary bone in her body. "Are you still angry with me?"
She swallowed. He almost lost all conscious thought, watching the movement of her neck. He pulled his gaze back to meet hers and slid one arm around her waist.
"
Angry
isn't an appropriate word," she whispered.
A grin tugged at his lips. "Do you want to tear me limb from limb? Make me pay for my sins of the past? Tie me to the bedpost and torture me with your sweet scent? That last one sounds like it might be enjoyable. I vote for that one."
She punched his shoulder with the heel of her hand. "Stop teasing. You shouldn't even be here."
"Then where should I be? Being with you is the only place I've ever wanted to be, Priss."
"Don't say such things," she said and tried to step out of his embrace.
Will held her firmly against him, not giving her an inch to escape. "Why not?"
Tears welled up in her eyes, making his heart clench. "Because I'll foolishly believe you."
Perhaps it wasn't too late then. Perhaps she did love him. He thought he saw a glimmer of it in her eyes, and he couldn't help but smile at her. "Believe it, Prisca. You're the only woman I want. The only woman I've ever wanted."
She scoffed and pushed against his chest. "Indeed? Then I suppose all those stories I heard from Ben and my brothers and the society rags were all grandiose tales of fiction."
Ben? Will leaned away from her. She did seem sincere. "Apparently my little brother owes me an explanation." After he got his hands on Ben, his younger sibling would be lucky if Elspeth even recognized him.
"Oh, Ben's versions were always edited heavily. Besides, he'd have nothing to report at all if you were a paragon of virtue, which we both know you were not." Her voice cracked a bit, and Will winced.
He had no idea she'd kept up with his exploits over the years. "I tried to forget you, Prissy," he admitted. "I tried over and over. It was easier to live my life like what was between us was of no importance than to dwell on how much you hated me."
"I never hated you…"
He arched one brow at her. "I seem to recall you vowing that you did on more than one occasion."
A mischievous little smile lit her face. "Well, maybe I did." Then she shook her head. "That's not true, you know. I hated what we'd become to each other. I hated that you'd moved on and left me behind. I hate that you rejected me." A sad laugh escaped her, and she stared at his cravat to avoid his eyes. "You had a different woman in your bed every night. And…" her voice trailed off.
"I wanted you, Prisca," he said softly. "I burned for you. I always have."
Prisca shook her head. "Please let me go, Will."
He brushed his knuckles against her cheek. "Tell me you don't want me."
Slowly her gaze rose to meet his, and he saw such vulnerability in the violet depths that his heart clenched within his chest. "I didn't want you to
have
to
marry me, Will. I never wanted that. I…" She took a deep breath. "I wanted you to
want
to marry me."
"How could you doubt that I want you, Prissy?" He watched her face as he asked the question.
"I've no doubt that you
want
me, Will," she sighed. "But I also know that you want anyone who wears a skirt and has a beating heart."
Will nearly flinched at her words. But he deserved every one of them, truth be told.
She pushed against his chest, but he just tightened his arm around her. "No," he said softly. "Let's finish this before you pull away from me completely."
"We can talk just as well if we're several feet from one another, Will," she rationalized.
"I'll not let you go, Priss."
Thirty-Two
I'll not let you go, Priss.
Wasn't that what she'd hoped for?
Dreamed of? Wanted above all things?
She forced herself to relax against him. "I'm sorry you were forced to marry me," she said quietly.
"I wasn't forced to do anything, Prisca," he growled. He never called her Prisca unless he was angry.
"You had very little choice in the matter."
"Prisca, I had every choice in the world. If anyone
didn't
have a choice, it was
you
."
"I'm not sure I know what you mean."
Will's chest expanded as he took a deep breath. "I'm quite incapable of doing this well," he mumbled.
"Doing what?" Prisca felt a little dizzy, like they were walking in circles and not getting anywhere.
"Telling you how I feel."
"How
do
you feel?" she whispered.
"Oh, where to start," he groaned, scrubbing his face with his hand.
"The beginning?" she suggested.
Will stepped back from her and motioned to the bed. "Sit. Get comfortable. This may take a while."
He looked so pained that Prisca nearly felt sorry for him. Nearly, but not quite.
"Let me dress," she said as she suddenly realized she still stood in her chemise and wrapper and nothing else.
"Don't," he commanded her.
"But you're fully dressed," she complained.
Will quickly tugged his shirt from his trousers and over his head. "Is that enough?" His grin was teasing.
Her eyes roamed over his chest and shoulders and down to his flat stomach. He reached for the buttons of his trousers, which were already tented by his length.
"No!" she cried. "That's quite enough." He'd seen her in nothing, so she assumed sitting across from him in her chemise would be all right.
She sat down on the bed and scooted to the center. He followed and leaned against the headboard after he tugged his boots off and pulled his legs up onto
the bed.
"Come closer." He motioned for her to slide toward him.
"Why?" Her mind became a muddle when he was near.
"Never mind," he said, his eyebrows drawing together. "I'll come to you." He spun quickly in the bed and laid his head in her lap. "Is this all right?"
It was more than all right. But she just nodded and settled her hand upon his head. He nuzzled into it until she parted his hair with her fingertips and began to stroke him. A long sigh of contentment was her reward.
"You know what I am, Priss," he said quietly.
"I don't know anything. I read some books in your absence and that's all. I am grossly uneducated on the topic. All I know at this point is that you infuriate me." She lifted her hands from his head until he reached up, took her wrists in his, and pressed them back to his head.
"I love you and cannot live without you," Will said quickly, the words spilling from his mouth like water from a waterfall. She began to scoff and he said softly, "It's the truth."
"Oh, Will." She stopped stroking. "Please don't say the words just because you think it will make me happy."
"Brimsworth did push my hand. But it was a push I needed."
"What's this about Brimsworth?" she encouraged him.
"He's one of us. Well, not just like us. Brimsworth is wild. And dangerous. I refused to let you put yourself in a position where he could hurt you. And I
thought
you might still love me."
"You had doubts?"
"I had a lot of doubts," he grunted. "But then your body warmed when I touched you. And I knew I still had a chance."
"I seem to warm a lot when you're around," Prisca mumbled as heat crept up her face. She was rather warm at that moment. He turned his head and kissed her belly. "Stop that," she scolded. "We're supposed to be talking."
"I can't even talk when I'm around you. All I can think of is being inside you."
Prisca closed her eyes as his comment swept over her. She shook it off and went back to stroking his hair.
"Where were we?" he asked playfully. She tugged at his hair until he chuckled.
"You were jealous of Lord Brimsworth," she reminded him.
"Right. I was jealous, I suppose. So, I found you in the woods on that cold night, and I took you to Simon's cottage. I said I couldn't carry you home, but, in all honesty, I could have carried you to the moon and back, being what I am. But if I had, you wouldn't have been forced to marry me."
"Oh," she breathed.
"But you got foxed and fell asleep on my chest before I could make love to you. Call it divine intervention. But I had to make you think we'd been together when we weren't. So I had to let it look like I'd had you. It worked. I got to claim you as my bride. I trapped you."
"And that's why you let my brothers think we'd had relations."
A rueful smile settled on his lips. "I couldn't let there be any possible way Sir Herbert would refuse me."
***
Will lay with his head in her lap and listened to her breathe. She didn't utter a word, but her fingers continued to massage his head.
"I love you too much to let you marry another. Nor will I allow anyone to hurt you." He watched her face as her violet eyes flew to his.
"You truly love me?" she asked hesitantly.
"Always have."
"Then why did you wait so long?" Her eyebrows scrunched together.
"Because I'm a beast," he said. This time, he didn't want to look into her face. If he saw revulsion mirrored back at him, he would certainly die of misery.
"About that," she started, holding one finger in the air to stall his speech.
"Ask me anything," he offered. "I promise I will tell you the truth.
"You're what's called a Lycan?"
He nodded.
"In other words, a werewolf?"
"That's a slang term," Will said.
"Ben said something similar. I assumed it's derogatory."
"You would be correct."
"What does it mean to be Lycan?" she asked softly.
"It's hard to explain. For us, it seems so normal. We shift into wolf form when the moon is full. With it come some enhanced senses, like hearing. I can hear even the smallest things, like your heartbeat." He trailed a finger slowly down her chest and smiled when her nipples became small pebbles that pressed against her chemise. "I can smell small scents, like your desire. And that lilac perfume you wear drives me crazy. It has always been the first thing I sniff for when I walk into a room."
"Truly?"
"It drives me mad," he chuckled.
"Will," she scolded, pushing his hand away as he reached for her breast. "Who chained you to that bed?"
He probably should have explained that before now. "Brimsworth," he told her.
Prisca gasped. "What?"
He hated to see her shocked expression, and jealousy washed over him. "He knocked me out, and I woke up shackled to that iron bed."
"Why would he do such a thing?"
"I believe he's a little angry that I won you."
She shook her head. "But why?"
Did she really have to ask that? "Priss, don't you know how beautiful you are? How any man would be beside himself if he lost you?" He brushed his fingers over her rose-petal lips, wishing they were on him.
Prisca blushed. "You're not a man. You're a Lycan."
"Do I repulse you?" he asked, sitting up so he could face her.
She leaned over and kissed him softly, a smile upon her lips. But he could see the questions in her mind, or at least guess at them.
"We only shift into Lycan form when the moon is full. A few days before the moon, we get a little lusty."
She snorted. "You? A
little
lusty?" She laughed out loud.
"I'm lusting for you now," he whispered and then smiled when he smelled the scent of her desire. "You're not disgusted by me." It wasn't a question. It was a statement.
"How could I be? I love you."
Will closed his eyes as his heart thundered in his chest. "I knew it," he said triumphantly.
"Can we make this work?" she asked hesitantly. "I'll never forgive you if you take another woman."
"
I want no other women
," he growled. "You must believe that."
"It will take some time for me to get used to this. May I have some time to think?"
"How long?" Surely she didn't think he could wait much longer to take her as his wife.
"I don't know. This is just new to me. And I'd like to have some time to get used to it."
"You may have all the time you need. But do know that I'll do my best to sway you."
"And just how will you do that?" Her violet eyes twinkled.
"I plan to show you how much I love you," he said quietly as he pushed her back on the bed.
"Will," she complained. "Stop it."
"Some men are talented poets, Priss. They might write a sonnet to your beauty. But all I can offer you is me." He ran his thumbs over her nipples. She gasped and closed her eyes as her jaw dropped.
"I'd love to hear you try to write a poem." She giggled.
"Laughter is not an aphrodisiac," he warned.
She giggled more.
"God, I love you." He couldn't prevent himself from saying it. His heart was nearly flooded with it. Simon's advice had been to court her. And she deserved it.
"You just want to sleep with me," she said, or at least that's what he thought she said over her laughter.
"Well, that, too," he agreed before he captured her lips with his.
Thirty-Three
Prisca stepped into the kitchen at Westfield Hall and stopped to inhale deeply. The smell was heavenly, just as it had been the last time she visited. As it was, though, she wasn't in search of food; she was in search of Lily and Elspeth, and Billings had said she could find them in the kitchen.
The butler had frowned a bit when he said it, apparently thinking the room beneath the
duchess' station. Prisca couldn't help but grin. The man had served two generations of Lycans without complaint. A duchess spending time in the kitchens was nothing compared to that.
She discovered quickly that Billings was correct. As she looked around the room, she found Lily, Elspeth, and that other witch seated at a kitchen table. Lily sipped from her teacup while Elspeth and Caitrin Macleod finished their morning porridge.