Druid Surrender (A Druid Quest Novel Book 1) (12 page)

“Get that thought out of your head. This was not your fault. And
you
are
not
going anywhere.”

Wyatt’s gruff voice startled her, and she flinched at his vehemence. She’d been so lost in her thoughts, she hadn’t even been aware of them entering the house until he spoke.

It felt like she’d been running her whole life. She had wanted to stay and fight when they murdered her mother, but her cousins had dragged her away. They probably saved her life.

Though misguided, Wyatt and his family were trying to keep her safe as well.

He made her feel alive for the first time, and she craved more.

She fought the training her mother instilled into her—to run at the first signs of discovery. She wanted to stay. At least for a little while longer. Until Wyatt was out of danger. But it was hard to dismiss years of discipline, hard to tell right from wrong anymore. “I—”

“Dear, listen to Wyatt. Why don’t you clean up and come visit me in my room. I could use the company.” Her suggestion sounded more like a command than a request.

Wyatt closed the distance between them in two steps. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

His eyes swept over her again, as if not convinced, looking ready to search her himself just to be sure. The chill that filled her only a moment ago turned scorching, and she shook her head, unable to speak. She trudged up the stairs after them, then headed toward her room. Hot water sat in a pitcher waiting for her, and Brighid decided to take careful inventory of herself in the mirror.

A startled laugh burst past her lips. She looked like a snowman. So much dust coated her hair that it was almost white. Amusement quickly drained away. Compelled to get rid of any evidence of this afternoon, she vigorously shook her skirts. A plume of dust rose, clouding the air, and she coughed.

The stains remained.

Frantic, she swiped at the material, her motions erratic. Minutes passed before Brighid stopped to inspect the results.

Damnation.

She’d only managed to create a bigger mess, and probably destroyed the expensive fabric in the process. With a dejected sigh, she gave up and washed the grime out of her hair.

One last peek in the mirror revealed a scared girl. Disobeying her mother’s edict would be dangerous and stupid and could possibly get her killed, but pure instinct insisted that she needed to stay. Disgusted with her indecision, she left her hair hanging like wet ropes down her back and went in search of Beth.

She’d wasted enough time.

Giving the door a perfunctory knock, Brighid barged inside, worried that Beth had been more injured then she’d let on. Beth lay in the middle of the bed like a reigning queen. Wyatt, who sat in the waiting chair, stood at her entrance. A maid fussed around the room.

Everything seemed so normal that Brighid was taken aback. She didn’t know what she’d expected—a doctor at least—but everything appeared like any typical afternoon.

“As you can see, I am fine, barely even a sprain. I’ll be on my feet tomorrow.” Beth smiled in satisfaction as she watched her son. He couldn’t take his eyes off the girl. “I’m going to rest for a bit.” She affected a yawn. “Wyatt, why not show Brighid the house while I rest?” So saying, she promptly closed her eyes. Once the door snicked shut, she cracked open one eye, then opened them both and smiled. Things were progressing wonderfully.

A
bsorbed in watching Brighid
, concerned about her reaction…or lack of reaction to be more precise…Wyatt barely heard his mother. When Brighid turned to leave, he scrambled to attention and opened the door.

“Mother will be fine. A small bruise, nothing more.” Brighid’s distress had the power to bring him to his knees. He cleared his throat, wishing he knew a way to soothe her discomfort, and scrambled to come up with some way to distract her.

“I almost forgot to tell you. I hired a girl from the village to be your maid.” Wyatt held up a hand when she opened her mouth. “She recently went through a rough time, and her family needs the extra income. I thought the two of you might get along. Since you need a maid, this is an to opportunity solve both problems.” He smiled, hoping to cajole one out of her in return.

No such luck.

He wanted to please her and ended up babbling like a fool.

Never in his life had a woman’s mere presence made him fumble to carry a conversation like a halfwit.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine.” Brighid nodded, but he doubted she heard a thing he said, and it frustrated him to no end that he couldn’t hold her attention.

Her voice was so subdued that he slipped his hands behind his back, clasping his fingers together to keep from gathering her into his arms. The silence stretched, and Wyatt cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. His jacket felt like it had shrunk two sizes, and he flexed his shoulders to stretch the material.

A dull refrain started in his mind…she is your guest…a gentleman does not go about seducing his guests.

To his everlasting chagrin, two words echoed back to him…why not?

“Let me show you the rest of the house,” he invited, gesturing down the hall.

She walked ahead, and the temptation to touch her beckoned, damn the proprieties. Wet hair hung loose down her back, the curls like ropes, weaving back and forth with every step in silent invitation. Unable to resist, he reached out, letting her hair glide over his palm, then rubbed the silken strands between his fingers. Unwilling to give up the forbidden touch, he placed his hand low on her back in the guise of guiding her. With each caress, the silken feel of her hair drew him further into madness.

Well, what had he expected? That touching her would halt his growing arousal? He shook his head ruefully.

Sunlight filled the hall from a nearby window. The instant she passed underneath, fire shot through the strands of her hair.

And he admitted, if only to himself, he wanted to get burned.

Brighid sensed Wyatt by her side, following only a pace behind. Too close. The strands of her hair moved. Before she could turn, the warmth of his hand penetrated the small of her back. Heat spread deep into her belly, and his sandalwood scent urged her to ease closer.

Warmth filled her cheeks at the forbidden emotions. Wishing to outrun what he made her feel, she hurried forward, but the smug bastard relentlessly kept pace. The new dress, once comfortable, now felt restricting, choking the air out of her lungs. She needed to escape and headed toward her room. “All the excitement has exhausted me. I should rest.”

“Coward.”

His soft taunt stopped her dead just feet from her door. Brighid whirled and narrowed her eyes on him. “You seem to have forgotten that this is a ruse. There is no one here to convince, so why are you following me?”

The reminder had a sobering effect on both of them.

Neither said a word as they stared at each other.

Neither wanted to leave.

At a noise behind her, Brighid turned, and only then realized that they had stopped outside of Angelica’s room. Brighid backed away, nearly bumping into Wyatt. They stood side by side and stared at the door, their argument forgotten.

“Maybe if we don’t make a sound, she won’t come out.”

Brighid snorted. “I wouldn’t hold your breath. She’s probably caught your scent. You should start running.”

“You’re right. She’s like a bloody hound.” Wyatt scowled down at her. “I seem to remember that you promised to protect me. You can’t leave me alone with her.”

His voice was playful, but there was a genuine plea in his eyes when he stared at her.

Brighid was tempted to leave him to his fate, when a spark of genius struck. “I guess we could be smart and head toward the factory and check on the investigation.”

When he didn’t say anything for the longest moment, Brighid turned away, trying to smother her disappointment that he’d continue to shut her out.

Another sound came from behind Angelica’s door, and it spurred Wyatt into action. “That sounds like a perfect idea.”

He swept his arm around her, practically shoving her toward the stairs, giving in to her blatant blackmail.

They were in front of the stables in a manner of minutes, and Brighid watched one of the magnificent horses being groomed. Wyatt leaned closer, his face next to hers, his body crowding temptingly close. “Stunning, is she not?”

Brighid looked up at him, dumbfounded to discover him staring directly at her when he spoke, and her breath caught. Awareness tingled along her spine. She glanced away and kept perfectly still, struggling to find her voice. “Yes.”

Wyatt wandered away to gather their horses, but Brighid lingered a moment longer to banish her foolish thoughts. When she finally turned, she smacked right into Wyatt.

The impact knocked her back a step.

“You’re not wearing any shoes.” He bent, and scooped her up in his arms.

She gave a pathetic squeak and clutched at his shoulders. “You’re going to drop me.”

Wyatt laughed and hoisted her higher.

“Nonsense, I would never let you fall.” To prove his point, he turned on his heel and carried her to the horse as if she weighed nothing at all.

She’d been mostly unconscious the last time he held her, but she could still remember the tantalizing feel of his arms around her. His nearness left her senses reeling. Brighid fought a blush and gave into craving to touch him back. She nestled her face into the crook of his neck, relishing his delicious scent, and then inhaled deeply, unable to get enough.

His stride hitched.

“Did you just…” His grip tightened, almost as if he were encouraging her to explore further, “…sniff me?”

She froze in mortification, then pulled back to deny it when his expression turned positively wolfish.

“I believe turnabout is fair play.” He smiled wickedly. “My turn.”

He bent and buried his face in her hair. Brighid sucked in a sharp breath then held it, uncertain what to expect next. He inhaled deeply, and her body tingled all over, the same way it did when she used her powers, only…his attention left her craving more.

Gooseflesh erupted over every inch of her skin. Heat sank its claws into her, the burn gentler than when she used her gifts, but more consuming.

She never allowed herself so close to anyone, and she didn’t know how to react. She couldn’t move, didn’t have the will. When he finally drew back, she bit back a groan of protest. The sight of him enthralled her. His gray-green eyes changed, appearing a pure, inviting green. The message in them made her feel as if she stood too close to a fire. And, like a moth, even though she knew she’d eventually get burned, the flame was irresistible.

His face moved closer, very slowly, giving her time to protest. His arms pulled her tighter, and her eyes slid shut as his lips brushed hers.

Gentle.

Barely a caress.

Then he retreated.

Curious about her first kiss, she licked her tingling lips.

Her eyelids snapped open when a pain-wracked moan rumbled in his chest. Before she could speak, his lips captured hers for another kiss.

Steel arms banded around her, but Brighid no longer cared. She wanted to be closer, needed to be closer. When he deepened the kiss, Brighid hesitated then met his passion with her own. Sensations swept through her from head to toe, and she lost all sense of their surroundings.

She no longer cared that they were different.

The only thing she knew was Wyatt.

The feel of him.

The taste of him.

When his mouth left hers, she groaned in complaint until his lips came back to trace her face, skimming over her cheek, down her neck. Unable to resist, she tilted her head, granting him permission for more.

Then he just stopped.

She scraped her nails along his neck, slipped her fingers into his hair, urging him to continue.

“Brighid.” Her murmured name rumbled in his chest and broke the spell.

Prickles ran along her scalp as she became aware of being outside where anyone could see them. Embarrassment extinguished the fire his kiss had created. She avoided his eyes lest he see that his touch had the power to devastate her. “Put me down.”

His arms tightened, and she thought he would refuse. Then, ever so slowly, he lowered her slowly until her body was flush against his. Her feet dangled a few inches off the ground when he crushed her against him, almost as if he resented the separation as well. A second later, he set her down and put distance between them.

To her shame, she immediately missed his touch.

Brighid presented him with her back, doing her best not to whirl and throw herself at him like a hussy.

“We’re not done.”

Upon hearing his softly spoken words, Brighid stiffened. She didn’t know if she was relieved or terrified. Her mother’s people, her Celtic heritage, told her there was nothing wrong in sharing her body, but she wanted something more than a fleeting romance.

Wyatt made her rethink denying herself.

He awakened a longing in her for something she could never have—a family—a future—and couldn’t help but resent him a little bit just then.

When he finished saddling the horse, he reached for her.

“Don’t.” Touching him only led to trouble. But her protest went unheeded. He caught her around the waist and placed her in the saddle.

He carefully settled her skirts, fussing about as if he couldn’t resist touching her. Her stomach flip-flopped, and she lost a little bit of her heart to him, forbidden pleasure curling through her at knowing she had the same effect on him as he did on her.

When he mounted behind her, Brighid stiffened. “Get your own horse.”

“I like this one.” His arm snaked around her waist, gathering her close. Knowing she shouldn’t, she allowed herself to relax into him, the delicious warmth too much to resist.

They took a circular route to the factory, and she couldn’t stop obsessing over their kiss. Needing to get her mind off it, she blurted the first thing that came to her mind. “Why are you running?”

“What?”

She regretted asking when his arms clamped down around her midriff with a suddenness that cut off her air. She tried to pry him away, unnerved at his nearness and how quickly events were progressing, but his hold only tightened.

“I’m doing no such thing.”

Brighid wanted to smack him. Instead, she moderated her voice to mask her frustration, wondering if he regretted choosing her. “Angelica appears to be a perfect wife for a man of your position.”

“You’re smart. You noticed something wrong within five minutes of conversation with her. Most people don’t. Now, imagine spending the rest of your life being manipulated that way, day after day for the rest of your life. She wants the power of being my wife, what my title can do for her. Any man of my position would do. They call it husband-hunting for a reason.” He shuddered, distaste twisting his mouth.

He was completely oblivious to the fact that Angelica was infatuated with him.

“I don’t understand. Isn’t that a normal marriage for the gentry?” She studied the path they travelled, not wanting him to see how important the answer was to her.

“Usually, but my family has a tradition of marrying for love. She knows this, and does everything in her power to make me notice her. Whipping her horse into a frenzy so it would take off with her. Manipulating people to catch us alone and force an offer.” He raked his fingers through his hair.

“Have you ever sat her down and actually talked to her?” The blank expression on his face said it all.

“Talked to her about what?” He nudged the horse into a canter, his spine rigid.

The rhetorical question didn’t deserve an answer. She mashed her lips together to stifle a sharp retort.

After a minute, he sighed. “You might as well tell me.”

He sounded so disgruntled Brighid had to suppress a smile. “You were her hero, her savior when things were bad. She’s idolized you her entire life. From her stories, it sounds like you led her to expect more.” She was proud her voice remained steady and disinterested as possible.

He stopped the horse and glared at her. “I did no such thing. I was being neighborly. A gentleman doesn’t leave a woman in distress.”

Brighid shook her head in frustration. “Don’t you understand? She might have manipulated you, but time and again you rescued her. She interpreted that as your interest.” His blank look exasperated her. “Your
romantic
interest.”

“But I have none…for her.”

Brighid blinked, reading more into his words like some silly debutante. “You need to explain that to her.”

“I will do no such thing. Not only would it be improper, it would embarrass us both.” Then he gave her a smile that had her leaning so far away that she nearly tumbled off the horse.

“When I leave, you’ll be back where you started.” She reminded him that her stay was not permanent. Reminded herself.

She needed to keep her distance, keep her heart whole.

He was getting too close, muddling her mind, making her want things that were impossible.