by Lydia Dare
Prisca stopped as dread crept up her spine. She looked over her shoulder and found Lord Brimsworth regarding her from the edge of the woods. He looked as handsome as ever with the sun beaming down on his golden hair. “My lord, what a surprise. I thought you’d returned to London.”
He left his spot near the trees and closed the distance between them. “I wanted to ensure you were safe before I left these parts.”
“Safe?” she echoed with a shake of her head.
“Westfield doesn’t exactly have the most pristine of reputations, my dear. I wanted to make sure he didn’t run out on you at the last moment.” He moved to tuck a wayward curl behind her ear, but she dodged his hand.
The look on his face sent uneasy chills down her spine. “And if he had, what would you have done?” she asked tartly.
“I would have taken his place, as I originally intended.” He flashed a radiant smile. “My fondest wish is for your happiness, my lady.”
There was something in the way he spoke his words that made her shiver. Perhaps Will had been right about him all along. His eyes had a feral look to them, and she found herself quite uncomfortable in his presence. Ready to be rid of the earl, she resumed her walk to the dower house. “As all is fine, will you be returning to London now?”
He kept his steps even with hers. “In due time. So, if you have need of me, you have only to ask.”
“Thank you,” she replied, knowing full well she’d never ask him for a thing. She had the Westfields and her own idiotic brothers to go to, if she was of the mind. The Earl of Brimsworth should move on with his life. “Though I’m certain that’s not at all necessary.”
He grabbed her arm, halting her. “Don’t be so certain. As I said, Westfield’s reputation leaves much to be desired. Your brothers handed you over to him on a silver platter. You have only to ask for my assistance, and I will hasten to your side.”
Prisca wrenched her arm from him and pasted on a fraudulent smile. “I do appreciate that, my lord. Now if you’ll excuse me, I am awaiting my husband.”
“Heaven forbid I keep you then,” he replied with a charming smile.
Prisca said farewell and then briskly made her way to the dower house, her heart thumping loudly the entire way. Once she reached her destination, she threw open the door and tried to catch her breath. Something told her she’d narrowly made an escape.
———
Will followed Prisca’s scent back to the dower house, walking slowly, his hands in his pockets as he kicked a stone in his path. They had important things to discuss, and she couldn’t avoid him forever. She’d definitely been this way, because her scent was strong. But then another scent joined with hers. Will stopped in his tracks and sniffed the air.
Brimsworth!
Damn! He’d been certain the man had left the area. Will ran toward the dower house as fast as any Lycan possibly could. He barreled through the door without even waiting for the footman to open it.
“Prisca!” he called. There was no answer. But he could hear her humming from the master chambers. “Prisca!” he called again as he walked in that direction.
She met him in the hallway, her cheeks rosy red and her hair loose about her shoulders. He grimaced as he smelled the earl on her person.
“What were you doing with Brimsworth?” he barked.
Prisca took a step back and covered her chest with one hand. “I beg your pardon?”
“Brimsworth, Prisca.” His heart pounded impatiently. “Why were you with him?” Will caught her by the shoulders and pulled her to him. The wild Lycan’s scent was strongest on her forearm. “Did he touch you?”
She tugged her arm from his grasp. “How dare you ask me something like that?” she replied waspishly.
“I can smell him on you,” Will growled.
Her violet eyes grew round. “Oh, that’s ridiculous,” she said as she pranced around him. “You must have spotted him from the manor and decided to behave boorishly.”
“So you do admit to seeing him?”
Prisca folded her arms across her chest. “I didn’t realize I was on trial.”
She was driving him insane. “Prisca, what did he want?”
She lost some of her ire when she heard that question. Her eyebrows drew together. “It was terribly odd, Will.”
He held back the growl that lingered in his throat.
“He wanted to tell me he would be around if I ever needed him.”
“And do you?” Will asked sharply, realizing how it sounded as soon as the words fell from his mouth.
“Why on earth would I need Lord Brimsworth?” she countered, rolling her eyes. “Have you gone daft since we last talked? First witches and now you think you can smell a man on me?”
He probably did sound mad. Will shook his head. “His shaving lotion is an awful citrus concoction. I could smell him a mile away.” That wasn’t a complete lie.
Prisca wrinkled up her nose at him, as though trying to sort him out. She’d need more than luck for that. “What is wrong with you, William?”
“I just don’t want Brimsworth sniffing around your skirts. You’re my wife and I…”
“You’re still jealous.”
Will’s mouth fell open. He’d never been accused of such a thing before. “I am not. I’m worried about your safety.”
A knowing grin spread across her face as she brushed past him on her way to the stairs. “You’ll have to do better than that. I can take care of myself. I was doing so before you popped back into my life.”
Will followed her down the corridor. “No, Emory was looking out for you.”
Prisca whirled around to face him. “Don’t mention him or any of the others to me.”
Will frowned at her. Prisca had always been close to her family, tagging along after one brother or another for most of her life. “Why not?”
She tipped her head back to meet his eyes. “Because they plotted against me. They didn’t think I knew my own mind and decided you were the man for me, regardless of what I wanted.”
The air whooshed out of Will’s lungs. “Maybe I am the man for you.”
She snorted.
Not quite the answer he was hoping for. “They just wanted what was best for you, Priss.”
“Meaning you?”
He grinned despite himself. “I am highly thought of in most parts.”
She rolled her eyes and started back for her chambers, and Will followed in her wake.
“You can’t stay angry with them forever. You know they love you, and your father does, too.”
At that, she spun on her heel and folded her arms across her chest, glaring at him. “Yes, let’s not forget my father who thinks I’m a common trollop, thanks to you.”
Will almost swallowed his tongue. He didn’t know she even knew that word. “He does not think you’re a trollop.”
“He just handed me over to you without taking my wishes under consideration.”
“I’m certain he considered everything,” he said, gently touching her cheek.
“Yes, your lies.” She glowered at him. “What were you thinking, insinuating that I could be carrying your child?”
“Well, we could make that a reality,” he replied, unable to keep the grin from his face. “Tell me you’re not really unhappy that you’ve married me, Prisca? I think we fit together rather nicely.”
She turned her back on him and walked toward one of the windows. “I never wanted this, Will.”
His heart sank. “Well, I am sorry things didn’t turn out the way you wanted, then. I’ll leave you to your solitude so you can lick your wounds in peace. Perhaps someone else will enjoy my company.”
When she didn’t reply but simply leaned her head against the pane of glass, Will turned on his heel. He wasn’t going to stand around and watch her mope about being his wife. Perhaps they both needed a little time.
———
Prisca waited until Will was gone before she turned away from the window and swiped at the si
lent tears that streamed down her face. Men didn’t know how to handle tears. She’d learned that at an early age when all of her big, strong brothers would stand around gaping if she cried in front of them. They always had a helpless look about them, and she didn’t want to see that expression on Will’s face.
She didn’t want him to know she ever shed any tears over him. That would be terribly humiliating.
But the truth was she hadn’t wanted any of this, not the way it turned out anyhow. She’d always wanted Will to love her and to want her. She’d wanted him to court her and to go about things properly.
She wanted him to come willingly to her, to care for her enough to do so. She hated that their marriage was based on lies.
Twenty-Three
Prisca was fairly pleased with the appearance of her sisters-in-law. Lily, always so pretty and statuesque, was more radiant than ever in the new red-silk gown Prisca had helped her order from Madam Grenier earlier in the month. Her auburn locks were pulled back, and her hazel eyes sparkled.
And anyone would be hard pressed to find a lovelier matron than Elspeth, even with her rounded belly. Her dark emerald dress matched her eyes exactly, and her fiery curls framed her face and were adorned with tiny white flowers.
Prisca looked down at her own icy blue gown with a shimmery overdress and wondered if her husband planned on making an appearance that evening. He was the one who’d said they would announce their nuptials at the Yule Ball, but after he’d left her that afternoon, he hadn’t deigned to grace her again with his presence.
“I am surprised you didn’t wear your widow’s weeds again,” Lily said beneath her breath as they departed the duchess’ quarters.
Prisca grinned back at her. “I did consider it,” she confessed. “But I decided it was one thing to make a statement to Will and my family and quite another to society in general. Besides, I would never intentionally embarrass you or Elspeth.”
“It has been so long since I had a sister, Prisca. I am glad to call you one,” Lily replied and squeezed Prisca’s shoulder.
“I’ve never had a sister at all,” Elspeth chimed in. “No’ by blood anyway.”
What a strange thing to say. “What other way is there?” she asked the pretty Scot. Elspeth met her eyes briefly and then looked away. Her earlier conversation with Will echoed in her mind. “You’ll never believe the strange thing William said to me today.”
Elspeth tilted her head to one side. “He told ye I’m a witch.”
Prisca was certain the blood drained from her face. “I… umm… How did you know?” she sputtered, completely surprised that Elspeth would say those words aloud.
“Ben was furious with him. It’s a bit of a secret,” she explained with a sigh as they began to descend the stairs. “Though it’s no’ something I’m ashamed of. I come from a long line of witches, and over the centuries, we’ve helped a great many people.”
Prisca glanced to her side at Lily. When the duchess smiled with an acknowledging nod, Prisca found herself at a loss for words. A witch! Elspeth seemed so sweet. Did she have frogs’ legs and eyes of newt stashed in her chambers? The idea made her cringe.
As they reached the bottom of the staircase, Billings approached them with his usual somber expression. “Your Grace, Ladies, the gentlemen await you in the parlor.”
“Thank you, Billings,” Lily replied and then towed Prisca toward the appointed room. “Why are you dragging your feet?”
Prisca shrugged. “What if he’s not here? What if he’s taken off for London or parts unknown again?”
Lily shook her head. “You are being a ninny, Prisca. Of course he’s here.”
As soon as she stepped over the threshold, Prisca sucked in a startled breath. Will was there, dressed in his finest black evening-wear. The stark colors brought out the light blue of his eyes, which raked across her form. He nodded curtly and started toward her, just as the duke and Ben took their wives’ hands.
In a matter of seconds, Will towered over her, seeming larger and more formidable than normal. “My lady,” he said crisply.
The tone was one she couldn’t recall hearing in his voice before. It was cold and brusque. Prisca gulped. “I wasn’t sure if you would come.”
A shadow of a smile played about his lips. “And leave you to face the dogs all alone? For better or worse, Prissy, you are my wife.”
His words were like a cold dagger to her heart. For better or worse. He already regretted their union. “Well, you have no one but yourself to blame for that,” she replied tartly.
“Prisca,” Elspeth said from behind her, “we’re takin’ two carriages ta ye’re assembly room. Do ye and Will want ta travel with Ben and me?”
Prisca didn’t want to travel at all. She’d like to march back down to the dower house, lock the door, and hide from the rest of the world, including her husband. But she didn’t have a choice. “Thank you, Elspeth, that’s very kind of you.”
———
Will wasn’t certain who he was angrier with, himself or Prisca. She was infuriating at every level, from her sharp tongue to her unforgiving nature. And still, he loved every inch of her. He didn’t know why he’d thought she’d make this easy on him. She’d been saying for days that she would make him suffer. As always, she was true to her word.
Beside her in Ben’s coach, he couldn’t help but notice how the moonlight made her sheer overdress sparkle. He wanted nothing more than to throw his younger brother and Elspeth out into the cold December night and ravish Prisca in the middle of the carriage. Her ebony hair was knotted and draped over one alabaster shoulder, leaving the other one bare for his perusal.
On the other side of the coach, Elspeth cleared her throat, and Will managed to pull his gaze from what there was of Prisca’s décolletage. He found his brother regarding him with an amused twinkle in his hazel eyes. Will glowered at Ben.
“So,” Elspeth began, “I understand all of yer charmin’ brothers will be in attendance this evening, Prisca.”
Prisca shrugged and stared out the window. “Charming is subjective. And I haven’t decided if I’m speaking to any of them, so it’s of very little interest to me whether they attend or stay away.”
That little statement put a pall on the evening, and no one else spoke a word until half an hour later when they rambled up the lane toward the assembly room. However, throughout the ride, Ben shot Will more than one questioning glance, which Will promptly ignored.
When the coach thankfully came to a stop, Will could see from his window that people were already milling about the entrance. He chanced another glance at his blushing bride, who wasn’t blushing at all. Instead, Prisca’s beguiling face was chalky white, as though she was scared to death. He couldn’t keep himself from brushing his knuckles across her cheek. “Are you all right, love?”
“Splendid,” she quipped.
The coachman opened the door, and Ben barreled out first, followed by Will. As soon as his brother had helped Elspeth from the carriage, Will stuck his head back inside. “We’ll only stay as long as you want.”
She nodded curtly and took his offered hand.
———
Prisca shivered a bit as she stepped out into the chilly night air. She knew Will’s eyes were trained on her, but she chose not to look up at him. This night would be difficult enough without staring into those icy blue depths. As they walked up the stony path to the assembly room, Prisca smiled at other couples and families that crowded the path.
The mousy vicar, Mr. Bostic, and his harpy of a wife stepped aside, both of them with their eyes trained on Elspeth. “Who do you suppose that is?” the man whispered as they walked past.
“Most likely some lightskirt,” his wife replied with a scandalized tone. “You know how those Westfield men are.”
Prisca pulled her arm from Will’s and looked back over her shoulder at the couple. She pasted on a sickly sweet smile for the woman and stepped toward her. “Mrs. Bostic, I didn’t even notice you until yo
u opened your mouth.”
The older woman’s face went blank. “Miss Hawthorne, how wonderful to see you.”
Prisca shook her head. “Is it really?”
“I beg your pardon?” the vicar’s wife replied.
“Stop, Prissy,” Will’s deep voice whispered in her ear. “She’s not worth it.”
She’d spent years ignoring Will’s advice, and she wasn’t about to follow it now. Prisca gestured toward Elspeth’s disappearing form. “I believe I heard you make a disparaging remark about my sister-in-law, and I wanted to correct your misguided notion.”
Mrs. Bostic began to stutter, “Y-your sisterin-law?” A pained smile crossed the woman’s face. “I had no idea that one of your brothers had married, Miss Hawthorne. Please accept my best wishes.”
Prisca stood a little taller and tilted her head to one side. “You misunderstand me, ma’am. My brothers are all still bachelors, but I have married Lord William. The woman you maligned is Lord Benjamin’s wife of the last four months.”
Will placed his hand on her shoulder, but Prisca refused to look away from the nasty, old gossip. Mrs. Bostic was vicious and spiteful, and Prisca wasn’t about to let her cruel words go unanswered. She felt some satisfaction as the woman’s mouth fell open in surprise. Prisca couldn’t help from pressing on. “I do hope your high opinion of me has not faltered since I am now married to one of those Westfield men.”
Mrs. Bostic resembled a fish as she opened and closed her mouth, but no sound came out.
“Come along, my dear,” Will said loudly. “I do hate to keep His Grace waiting.” Then he nodded to the vicar and his wife. “Mr. Bostic, Mrs. Bostic.”
“My lord,” the vicar managed to say, his face blazing red with embarrassment.
Satisfied that she’d put Mrs. Bostic in her place, Prisca slid her hand into the crook of Will’s arm and let him lead her back toward the entrance of the assembly hall.
“You do make quite the impression, love,” Will said quietly as they pushed their way through the crowd.
Prisca tipped her nose in the air. “Please. I couldn’t let her say something unkind about Elspeth. It’s not her fault you and your brothers have been unable to keep your trousers on over the years.”