Druid Surrender (A Druid Quest Novel Book 1) (10 page)

Havler said nothing for a moment, then thrust out his hand. “You have a deal.”

With a nod of good-bye, Wyatt headed outside.

Aaron easily kept pace and finally broke his silence. “Do you have any clue who would do such a thing?”

Wyatt shook his head. “No. I haven’t been home long enough in the last few years to make any enemies.”

“A rival factory owner?” Aaron raised a brow in question.

“We manufacture customized rugs, and our contracts have been in place for years.” Mounting frustration threatened to choke him. “We need to keep watch for strangers. The village is small even with the influx of factory workers. Outsiders should be easy to identify.”

“Except that no one but Havler has ever seen him. If he’s as refined as Havler said, he would have been noticed in seconds.”

Wyatt ignored his comment and grabbed Crusader’s reins. “Why not join us for supper?”

Aaron flashed him a broad grin. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. From the sounds of it, your witch has everyone at the house turned on their ears.”

Wyatt took Aaron’s teasing in stride.

He liked the sound of it.

His witch.

“You don’t know the half of it. Lydia is trying to mold her into a lady, but my sister doesn’t quite know how to respond to Brighid’s…unique outlook on life.” He snorted just thinking about it. “And of course Mother is never this happy unless she’s scheming. The two of them have become thick as thieves. You’ll see what I mean at dinner.”

Wyatt mounted and headed toward the main house, unable to stop going over and over what he’d learned. “Damn it, we have to do something.”

“We are.” Aaron gave him a sympathetic glance, then went back to surveying their surroundings.

Wyatt clenched his teeth in frustration. “Not nearly fast enough.”

It was only a matter of time before they struck again.

They went after Brighid once.

They’ll go after her again if he didn’t stop them.

A
fter her confrontation with Wyatt
, Brighid struggled to remember why she’d been so sure getting close to him was a bad idea. She watched him leave the house, disappointed that he refused to include her in the investigation.

That didn’t mean she couldn’t conduct her own.

Determined to find out what he knew, Brighid sneaked down the stairs and slipped into his office. She had an hour at most before someone came looking for her, so she had to move fast. As part of her training to take over her mother’s duties at the school, she was taught how to do a rudimentary search without making it obvious. It took longer, but the last thing she wanted was for Wyatt to realize she was snooping. She started with the desk first.

She carefully riffled through the papers on top, trying not to allow herself to be distracted by the faint remnants of his unique scent. Memories of his touch came back to taunt her, and an ache tightened the back of her throat at what she could never have. Mother warned her that love would compromise her duty to her cousins. She didn’t speak about it often, but her eyes would dull with memories of her husband. She had chosen to protect the school, and it had cost her husband his life. It was a harsh reminder that Brighid had never forgotten.

Despite the ruse of their engagement, a relationship with Wyatt would be impossible.

Shaking her head at her own foolishness, she searched the drawers next.

And came up with nothing.

No case files at all.

She straightened and planted her hands on her hips. He must be keeping the information elsewhere.

Somewhere no one would dare intrude.

His room.

Her stomach danced with nerves, giddy at the thought of invading his territory. She felt a smidge of guilty for betraying his trust, but he only had himself to blame. He’d given her no choice when he told her to stay out of his investigation.

She couldn’t, not when she was a target.

She hadn’t relied on anyone else for a long time, and she wasn’t going to start now when it was her life at stake.

The clock chimed, and she gave a guilty start when she noticed the time. She dashed toward the door, lucky she hadn’t been caught. If she didn’t hurry, she was going to be late for dinner.

Her luck held. The halls remained empty. By the time she entered her room, her nerves were a wreck. After splashing water on her face, she stared at herself in the mirror. Her hair was a fright. She quickly ran a brush through it, which only made her look like she’d been struck by lightning. Grabbing a ribbon, she wound it through her hair. Although it wasn’t exactly proper to leave her hair down, there was no way she could tame her wild mane. She’d only end up looking frumpy.

Brighid shook out her skirts in a vain attempt to banish the wrinkles, self-conscious of her appearance for the first time.

It was all thanks to him.

Wyatt.

And she mentally cursed herself.

She shouldn’t care what he thought. In a few days, she and Wyatt would discover who was trying to destroy the factory, and their charade would be over.

Chased by that sad thought, Brighid wandered downstairs for supper.

Male laughter spilled out of the parlor, and she paused outside the door. Not wanting to interrupt, she tried to enter unnoticed.

The men stopped speaking the moment they spotted her and rose to their feet.

“Brighid, I don’t know if you remember,” Wyatt gestured to his friend, “this is Aaron, Viscount Cartridge. The two of you met the other night.”

Aaron picked up the hand she did not offer. “It’s a pleasure to meet you again,” he kissed her fingertips, peering up at her from lowered lids, “and to find you well.”

“Thank you, Lord Cartridge.”

“Please, call me Aaron.”

Brighid smiled to cover her sudden unease at the courtly gesture. She removed her hand from his as soon as it was seemly and scooted closer to Wyatt, uncomfortable under the man’s attention. As if he’d been trying to flirt with her. She scanned the room. “Did I arrive too early?” She asked, switching her attention to Wyatt.

“No, not at all. The other ladies should be down in a moment.” He indicated a chair. “Please make yourself comfortable while we wait.”

Brighid nearly tripped over her own feet at his charming smile.

Something about their antics put her on alert.

Did Wyatt suspect she had searched his study? She was good, and she had been very careful to leave everything the way she found it. Dismissing her disquiet, she carefully sat as far away from Wyatt as possible.

The last thing she needed was to spend more time in his company. She couldn’t risk falling further under his spell. If they planned to question her, she needed to keep her wits about her, which she couldn’t do sitting next to Wyatt.

Aaron spoke first, breaking the silence. “Miss Legend, when did you first arrive in the village?”

She cocked her head to the side, hearing more than natural curiosity in his voice, and countered with a question of her own. “Why do you want to know?”

Aaron exchanged another glance with Wyatt that only increased her suspicions. “Just curious. Small talk. One usually tries to get to know the other guests when they sit down to dine together.”

They were up to something.

After careful consideration, she decided to play along, curious to know where he would lead the conversation. “I arrived nine weeks ago.”

“And you lived in the village?”

The inquiry seemed innocent enough. “I leased a small cottage at the edge of town.”

Wyatt leaned forward, having somehow closed the gap between them when she wasn’t looking. Her traitorous heart fluttered at his nearness, the daft thing.

Surprise lit his features. “Then you heard no rumors about trouble in the area before you settled here?”

Small tendrils of fear wove around her chest, and she feared Wyatt had discovered the truth about her past, then she quickly banished the thought. No, they were fishing for something else.

Determined to find out what, she kept her answers vague. “I didn’t say that. Just ask me what you really want to know, and I’ll do my best to answer.” Tension made her testy. If they were going to accuse her of something, why didn’t they just come right out and say it? The wait was going to drive her batty if she had to dance around for answers.

Wyatt heaved a sigh, finally relenting. “We need your help. Someone is terrorizing the factory workers. Aaron and I are trying to figure out why.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “As of yet, we can’t find any solid evidence who’s behind the attacks, nor any reason why it’s happening. I believe you were targeted, not because of some silly charge of being a witch, but because someone believes you’re a threat.”

Brighid silently snorted when both men stared at her with identical looks of expectation, as if she’d have all the answers because she was targeted, especially when they knew the real reason the villagers wanted her gone. “Maybe you’re approaching the problem from the wrong angle.”

“What do you mean?” Wyatt cocked his head and studied her with those gray-green eyes of his, peering into her very soul.

She fought a blush at the thought of him reading her mind, especially since he happened to be the focus of so many of her fantasies. “The villagers were convinced I was a witch. Have you tried to find the person who started the rumors?”

“Giselle as much as admitted it the night I rescued you from the fire.”

“For what reason?”

Wyatt didn’t hesitate. “Because she feared being replaced at the factory. She likes her power, and was jealous of you.”

The news left Brighid flabbergasted, and she shook her head as a more likely scenario occurred to her. “Maybe, but that means it would have been easier for someone to target her as well. Any hint of vulnerability would make it easier for someone to manipulate her. Have you talked to her?”

From their thunderstruck expressions, she guessed not. She fidgeted under their regard, uncertain if they were more surprised by her answer or that she thought of it. Women weren’t supposed to be smart and definitely not smarter than men.

She waited for their reprimand for interfering in their business.

“She’s right.”

“I know.” Wyatt didn’t sound pleased about it.

Brighid blinked, shocked, though maybe she shouldn’t have been. Wyatt surprised her at every turn. He trusted and believed in her without hesitation, even when she told him about Druids.

He had opened his mouth to pepper her with more questions when the other women entered, effectively ending the discussion.

Beth and Lydia immediately sat and began chatting with Aaron, the perfect hostesses. Angelica stood in the doorway, her elaborate dress putting everyone else’s to shame. The beautifully crafted fabric draped her body to perfection. It must have taken her hours to prepare for this grand entrance.

Once she was sure she had everyone’s attention, she sailed into the room, oblivious to everyone but Wyatt, as if the rest of them didn’t exist. For the next ten minutes, Angelica twittered every time Wyatt spoke, taking every opportunity to touch him. He cast Brighid a pointed look, pleading for rescue. Still smarting over his refusal to include her in the investigation, she gave him a pretty smile and then glanced away, as if suddenly fascinated with Lydia’s recounting of the day’s events.

Two minutes passed before she began to fidget, uncomfortably aware that she was being watched. When she glanced up, her gaze locked with Wyatt’s.

It was as if nothing existed in the world but the two of them.

The intensity left her shifting uncomfortably.

She felt hunted.

Branded.

When supper was announced, Brighid leapt from her seat, grateful for the reprieve. The dining room was as overwhelming as the night before. The long table sat fourteen, the golden-edged dishes gleaming under the gaslights.

Wyatt held out a chair next to his and gave her a gentle smile. A blush heated her cheeks, but before she could gather her wits and move, Angelica elbowed her in the side and glided forward. It was everything Brighid could do not to laugh at Wyatt’s disgruntled expression. His hands tightened on the chair, and she half expected him to dump the haughty, self-absorbed princess on the floor.

Politeness won.

Brighid smiled at Aaron when he held out the chair next to him, the one intended for Angelica—the one farthest from Wyatt.

Brighid noted two exits, the double door where they entered, and a servant’s door at the opposite end of the room. Two servants stood stationary, ready to ensure no one’s glass remained empty, while others came and went with the dishes. Two large bay windows reflected back the room, the darkness outside impenetrable. She let Angelica dominate the conversation, glad she didn’t have to participate much beyond an occasional nod.

Wyatt sat at the head of the table, and she became fascinated by the effortless way in which he moved, so smooth and precise she felt clumsy by comparison.

This was not the same man she’d met at the cottage.

He was used to commanding people.

Comfortable with being in charge.

More at home interrogating her than pursuing the idle life of the gentry.

It made him more dangerous, and, goddess help her, more attractive as well.

He wasn’t conventionally handsome, but he exuded power, causing others to take a second look. He didn’t have the pale complexion popular with most nobles, and it only served to make him more interesting. Tiny lines radiated from the corners of his eyes, revealing not age but a man who lived fully for the sheer thrill of being alive.

To Wyatt’s credit, he did his best to include everyone in conversation. Angelica would huff and glare at Brighid, becoming more annoyed every time Wyatt so much as looked at her. Then a certain gleam entered Angelica’s eyes, and Brighid braced herself.

“What do you think of London, Brighid?” She took a delicate bite of food, then set down her fork while she chewed as if she were some dainty miss who couldn’t eat more than a few morsels.

Possibly her corset was too tight, and Brighid immediately winced at the uncharitable thought. “I have no interest London.”

Angelica nodded and smirked. “Yes, only the upper crust really takes any interest in the center of society. For anyone to pretend otherwise would be gauche and reaching above their station.”

Brighid resisted rolling her eyes at the haughty attitude and smiled faintly when the conversation in the room stopped dead. “I couldn’t agree with you more.”

Unfortunately, the insult sailed right over Angelica’s head.

Wyatt snorted, and Aaron coughed, reaching for his wine glass.

After a few stilted minutes while several dinner guest struggled not to laugh aloud, the conversation resumed as normal. Aaron tried to engage Angelica, but it was clear she was having none of it, and he eventually conceded defeat. He gave Brighid an amused grin that made her feel less of an outsider, and she couldn’t help like him despite her earlier misgivings.

When Wyatt spoke to Aaron, her eyes were drawn to his lips, then lower, to the intricately tied neck cloth. His broad shoulders filled out his blue jacket, and she shivered at the hidden strength she recalled so vividly when he lifted her down from her horse. Brighid followed the cut of the jacket to his starched pressed shirt, and watched in fascination the way his chest expanded and contracted with each breath. Her fingers twitched, wanting to explore the power with her own hands.

A sudden burst of heat flared along her runes. Her toes curled in reaction. She’d been so distracted studying him, it took her precious seconds to realize what was happening.

Much too late to stop anything.

Ping!

Even as she watched, a button from Wyatt’s vest dropped to the table and rolled until it plopped to the floor.

Damnation!

Brighid stifled her horrified gasp, unable to stop staring at the missing button. How could she be so careless as to allow her powers to escape?

Though she probably should be grateful he’d only lost a button.