Druid Surrender (A Druid Quest Novel Book 1) (24 page)

Wyatt took advantage of her capitulation and moved to nibble at her neck, sending shivers down her spine. “Oh, yes, we should.”

She didn’t realize he was lowering her until it was too late. Soft cushions cradled, trapping her beneath him when he covered her body with his own, the weight delicious. He continued to kiss his way down her neck, those clever fingers of his deftly unbuttoned her gown.

“Stop.” She slapped at his hands. “Someone might see.”

“As you notice, the door is quite conveniently closed.”

Temptation to give into her desire and succumb to his charms wrapped around her, but he was asking for more than just sex, and she wasn’t sure she could allow anyone else into her heart, especially with the secrets still between them.

Swallowing hard, Brighid forced the words out of her tight throat. “I can’t.”

“Brighid—”

“It’s not you.” She curled her fingers into fists to stop herself from reaching out to smooth away the disappointed frown. “You make me want more, make me want to take a chance, but I’m not sure that I’ll ever be ready…for anyone.”

That stopped Wyatt cold, and she nearly whimpered, hating herself for calling a halt. She bit her lip hard to keep from begging him to be patient and give her time, but she couldn’t ask him to put his life on hold when she might not be allowed to stay. Her future had never been her own.

“You want me as much as I want you. Your body craves mine. If you are honest with yourself, you’ll admit it.”

She flushed, unable to deny it, and lifted her chin. “That may be true, but
I’m
not ready for what you want.”

He gazed into her eyes for what seemed like eternity until he finally inhaled heavily through his nose. “That you’ve admitted you want me will suffice for now. But be warned, we’re not finished. Your life is not the only one that has changed.”

He pulled away and stood, tugging his jacket down. He stared out the window, his back to her, his shoulders impossibly tight. “I don’t want to take away your dreams, I just want to be a part of them.”

Brighid rose hastily, buttoning her dress. She gave a cursory glance at the painting. Little Wyatt had disappeared, the scamp. But he had the right idea. Taking the coward’s way out, she snatched up her wrap and fled.

The door shut with a silent snick, and Wyatt unclenched his fists. He should have more control, but when he’d seen her sleeping so peacefully, he lost it. He thought he could carry her to her room without her waking, but one touch was all it took for his mind to shut down and his cock to twitch to life.

The dress she wore was built to seduce. It outlined her attributes in exquisite relief. No doubt he had his mother to thank for such favors.

He looked at the couch on the way out and closed his eyes, praying for patience.

For the next three days, he felt like he had the plague, unable to even track down his own wife. The only time he saw her alone was when he sneaked in her room at night to watch over her.

The temptation to slip beneath the covers grew each day. The only thing holding him back was her plea for time. The confusion in her eyes twisted him in knots. Every morning he disappeared through the connecting door before she woke. He couldn’t afford to be discovered and risk scaring her away permanently.

By midday, he sat down to yet another meal without his wife. He lifted his fork, but found he no longer had an appetite, and shoved the plate away in disgust. The drone of Aaron and Lydia’s talk pierced his skull like nails.

Determined to end this nonsense now, he headed toward the study. Between Aaron and himself, they should be able to devise a trap, and the fair would be the perfect opportunity.

He had no doubt the bastard was making similar plans, and Wyatt needed to strike first.

This madness had to come to an end soon.

If the stress of worrying about Brighid didn’t kill him, unrequited lust for her would.

E
very morning Brighid
woke to see Wyatt slipping out of her room. Her stomach lurched, knowing he kept watch over her every night. She wanted to call out to him, had even raced after him once, but couldn’t force herself to cross over the threshold to his room.

He would see it as an invitation, and she didn’t have the will to protest his advances anymore.

Not when she was beginning to crave him and everything he had to offer.

But it made her more determined than ever to find out who wanted to destroy him.

She had used the last three days to draw out the killer, had purposely left herself vulnerable, but he had failed to take the bait.

Whoever was after Wyatt was biding his time. The next attack would be more direct, and the thought scared the bejesus out of her.

She stared blindly out the window of her room and knew with a certainty that the next attack would be successful. She wanted to scream with frustration.

“You’re thinking about your friends.” Wyatt leaned against the door, his arms crossed.

Brighid grabbed the change of conversation with both hands. “Yes.”

“And you’re worried.”

She had to make a choice. She either had to let him into her world…or leave. She couldn’t keep stringing them both along. She wasn’t fragile, and needed to stop acting like she might break. With her heart in her throat, she debated the wisdom of what she was about to do. “Ask your questions.”

“Tell me about them.” Wyatt entered the room hesitantly, as if he expected to be thrown out.

“You know most of it. We’re not related, but I think of them as my cousins. They’re much like me, and are all that remain of my clan. We were chased from our homes over a year ago. We knew that as a group we wouldn’t escape. We’re too distinctive. Separate, we had a better chance of survival, so we divvied up the money and headed in different directions.”

Wyatt strode forward and casually leaned his shoulder against the wall next to the window, so close they almost touched. She eyed the muscles she knew rested beneath his shirt, her fingers curling into fists as she remembered caressing them. She knew he couldn’t have earned them by being the lord of the manor. He had his own secrets. She should be furious that he demanded answers when he gave none of his own, but the mystery only intrigued her. Brighid turned away before she gave into the urge to lean over and kiss him senseless.

“How will you find each other again?” Wyatt’s brows were furrowed, his brilliant mind quickly homing in on the central problem.

“When it’s safe, we’re to place an ad in the paper.”

“And when will it be safe?” His voice was coaxing, and she realized she did trust him, more than anyone else since her mother had died.

She gave Wyatt a crooked smile. “When they stop hunting us. When they forget we exist.”

“Why are they hunting you?” The careful mask he wore cracked. His mouth turned grim, and vengeance darkened his eyes to a wintery green.

Brighid clenched her firsts as the horrors of the past came rushing back.

“Do they want the staff?” Wyatt eyed the cane, wanting to rip it from her grasp and destroy it if it meant keeping her safe and in his arms where she belonged.

“No, the staff is just a piece of wood. An heirloom. The Watchers will stop at nothing to find us and force us to work for them.”

They intended to enslave her, force her to use her almost mystical skillset for them.

She didn’t say it, but Wyatt didn’t find her unique skills so unbelievable anymore.

He wanted to gather her close, but knew that one touch, and getting answers would be the last thing on his mind. “Could these Watchers hunting you be causing the trouble at the factory?”

But even as he asked, he realized the facts didn’t line up.

She shook her head. “It’s not their style. They’d want to take me as quietly as possible. They can’t leave witnesses. They are to observe until an opportunity presents itself. Harming others would cause an incident, and attract the kind of attention they can’t afford.”

“Have you seen them before?”

Her throat moved as she swallowed hard. “Every few months.”

“And you run.” Wyatt’s voice was gruff as his temper swelled with the need to pound them into a pulp for terrorizing her for so long. “Have you ever tried to fight back?”

Brighid swept her arm out. “How?”

“Strike first.”

“It will do no good.” She sounded so resigned his chest ached with the need to comfort her.

“Why the hell not?” His voice thundered back to him in the silence.

“The Watchers are just following orders. They’ll only send someone else. Also, if they begin to perceive us as a threat, they might kill us outright.”

Wyatt rubbed his chin. There had to be something he could do to protect her, and he froze when something she said sparked an idea that could be the answer to her problems. “Have you ever thought, now that you are married to me, you’re permanently in the public eye?”

“It wouldn’t work.” She shook her head, but her breathing hitched as if she wasn’t certain.

“As long as you’re married to me, you’re safe.” Wyatt covered her hand on the staff. Her fingers were ice cold, and he rubbed them gently. Excitement made him speak faster. “They only observe if you’re in the public eye. You said it yourself, they can’t touch you now. You’re the wife of a peer of the realm and member of the House of Lords.”

Her mouth opened then closed without making a sound. Such painful hope shone in her eyes that Wyatt couldn’t keep his distance any longer and gathered her into his arms. He curled his fingers into her hair, luxuriating in the feel of her. “I have you. You’re safe.”

And he’d do anything to keep that promise.

Brighid struggled to put space between them, and Wyatt reluctantly released her. He loved that she allowed him to hold her, enjoyed offering her comfort, and his arms felt empty without her. He wanted her back. To protect. To hold. To love.

She paced the room, then straightened her shoulders before turning to face him. Her fierce expression turned her eyes a captivating dark green.

“I cannot give up on my family.”

“I would never ask that. Once things are more settled, we’ll search for them.” Wyatt hurried to continue when she opened her mouth. “I still have a lot of contacts from my job. We’ll find them and help them if they need it.”

She stood so still, so pale, he feared that she would pitch over. “Tracking them down could place you in danger. I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t ask.” He shrugged off her cautious reply. “If they’re your family, then they’re mine. We won’t abandon them.”

“I need to think.” As if distracted by his offer, Brighid walked out the door without another word.

She trusted him.

Wyatt leaned against the wall a moment longer, marveling at how much it meant to him. He wasn’t about to destroy that trust by pushing her too fast. He just had to be patient. She would come to him when she was ready.

He prayed it would be soon, though, because he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep his hands to himself. With a sigh, he made his way down the stairs, not even pretending he wasn’t hoping to catch sight of Brighid, tucking away his disappointment when he didn’t see her anywhere.

He turned the corner when a whisper caught his ear. He altered course, his steps quickening as his instincts flared.

Fear for Brighid had him grabbing the knife he’d kept sheathed in his boot, and he crept forward.

And was completely flummoxed to find his wife talking to a painting. “Brighid?”

She whirled, a hand clutching at her throat. “You scared me. What on earth are you doing sneaking up on people?”

“I was on my way to the study.” He quickly tucked the blade out of sight. Curiosity trickled through him when she kept glancing at the painting. “What are you doing?”

“Ah, I’m admiring this landscape.” She shuffled sideways as if to block his view. Only she was so short, it didn’t work. “Why don’t we find Aaron and see how work is going at the factory?”

Wyatt didn’t acknowledge her as he continued to study the canvas, his curiosity piqued by her odder than normal behavior, until he finally nudged her out of the way. “How strange. I could have sworn I wasn’t in this painting.”

“Maybe your mother had it created as a surprise for you.” Brighid blurted out the first thing that came to mind. She wanted it to sound like a statement, but feared it emerged as more of a question.

Wyatt raised a brow at the likelihood. “The exact same picture?”

Brighid shrugged, her body twitching like a child caught in a prank gone awry. “Why not ask her?”

“Good idea.”

Brighid nearly sagged in relief. She needed to get rid of the miniature Wyatt before he caused more trouble. She turned away when her husband snagged her hand and dragged her down the hall after him. Surprise nearly caused her to trip over her own feet. She dug in her heels, trying to tug her hand away. “What are you doing?”

Wyatt glanced over his shoulders but didn’t slow. “Just as you suggested. We’re going to talk to Mother.”

He knew she was lying.

Every day that passed, his suspicions grew. He might not know the whole truth, but he knew more than he should. More than she liked. Now wasn’t the right time for him to discover the truth. She needed to break it to him slowly…after she found a way to make him fall in love with her. “You don’t need me to do this.”

As if he hadn’t heard her, he continued to pull her along, his fingers playing with hers in a way that kept her distracted and off kilter. All too soon they stood in front of his mother’s door. It opened before he could knock.

“Wyatt, what are you doing?” Beth stood back, a hand against her chest. “You should know better than to startle an old woman.”

“You’re a spring chicken.” He winked and stepped aside, allowing her to precede him into the hall. “I want you to see something.”

“Wyatt—”

“Shhh.”

Brighid bit her lip and followed Wyatt down the corridor. She caught Beth’s eyes and widened her own, gesturing down the hall with a small movement of her chin. Beth gave a small nod in understanding, and Brighid sighed in relief.

They all stopped, and Wyatt pointed to the incriminating painting. “Mother, when did you have this painting done?”

Beth looked to Brighid but answered. “I would guess twenty years ago.” She shrugged and stared at him as if he’d lost his wits.

“Then how did I get in the picture?”

Beth’s brow wrinkled. “What are you talking about?”

Wyatt turned. “Right here…” His voice stopped suddenly. “But I…” He touched the frame, pulling it away from the wall. “Brighid, you saw it.”

All innocent, Brighid raised her eyebrows. “Saw what?”

Wyatt narrowed his eyes on her, turned on his heel and stalked off.

“What happened?” Beth sounded bemused.

Brighid debated what to say.

As if reading her mind, Beth rapped her knuckles with the cane. “The truth, if you please.”

Brighid shoulders slumped, and she swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Remember his portrait in the gallery? It seems the Wyatt in the portrait has escaped.” Brighid cleared her throat, staring at the ceiling to avoid Beth’s probing gaze.

“I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”

“It might be better if I show you.” Brighid sighed and led the way the portrait gallery, Beth’s cane tapping on the floor behind her. Though she dreaded the upcoming confrontation, she stopped in front of the painting and pointed at her mistake.

“Oh, my.”

A bit at a loss, Brighid could only grumble. “Wyatt escaped.”

“Where? Why? How? But…” She stuttered, reached out to touch the painting, then drew her hand back.

“He’s able to jump through any of the paintings in the house. I have to catch him before he causes more mischief.”

“But surely the others wouldn’t notice.” Beth’s voice shook with uncertainty.

“Wyatt already did. And if someone spots him moving, how am I to explain it?”

“Moving?” Her voice quivered.

Shame heated her face. “The painting in the parlor…he waved to me. In the hall just now, he was riding one of the horses like a little boy on a stick pony. Thank the goddess he remained still when Wyatt studied the picture.”

Beth snickered, then gave a full out whoop of laughter. Brighid’s head snapped up, and she stared at Beth in shock. The old woman was chuckling so hard, she leaned against the wall, too weak to stand.

“It’s not funny.” Brighid forced the words past stiff lips.

Beth laughed even harder, and Brighid couldn’t help it, her lips twitched.

Beth shook her head, mirth still dancing in her eyes, and gave a warning. “You need to tell Wyatt. He’ll find out soon enough. I didn’t raise a dullard.”

Panic clawed up her throat. Not yet. It was too soon. “Maybe after I find that
draiodoir mna
.

“What?”

“Ahhh, rogue. How do you say…a trickster.” Brighid pursed her lips. “Sly, crafty—”

“I understand. Come, we’ll split up, and I’ll help you search.” Beth stared after the girl as she left, a miserable slump to child’s shoulders as she studied every painting she passed.

Beth knew she shouldn’t meddle, but it was time for her son to open his eyes and observe the magic happening around him.

He just needed a nudge in the right direction.

After an hour of staring at paintings with no luck, Beth entered the study without knocking.

Aaron and Wyatt were poring over the papers on the desk, both deep into their tasks. Beth couldn’t help giving an involuntary glance at the painting, and her lips twitched. “Wyatt, I believe your wife is looking for you.”