Druid Surrender (A Druid Quest Novel Book 1) (32 page)

He wouldn’t let Michael get away a second time.

“Now, my dear—” Michael shoved Brighid, sending her stumbling “—tie him tight. You may be sure I’ll check. If it’s not satisfactory, I’ll shoot him in the leg.”

Wyatt clenched his fists to keep from reaching out to catch her. The killing edge eased a fraction now the man was no longer touching her. Rebellion was a fire in Brighid’s eyes, and dread thickened the air in his lungs. “Do what he says.”

Still she hesitated. Only when she circled the chair did he dare breathe again. Frozen fingers touched his skin, and he grabbed them, willing his warmth into her. They trembled so badly, it was all he could do not to take her in his arms.

“Do it.” It was the only thing he could to do protect her. Her hands slipped free of his, replaced by ropes. It didn’t matter what happened to him, but he’d be damned if Brighid would die with him. Fear of reprisals for her made his voice gruff. “Tighter.”

Twine bit into his flesh, chafing his skin.

“Done.” Brighid stood with her head high and proud despite her injuries.

Michael frowned, clearly not pleased with her restored composure and used the gun to wave her closer to the furnace. Wyatt followed her every move, saw her grope for the shovel behind her back, and his heart stopped dead with dread.

Cold metal pressed to his temple. “I wouldn’t do that, my dear. Not unless you want to see his insides up close and personal.”

Brighid reluctantly dropped the shovel, and it landed with a heavy clank. Michael reached back and yanked on the ropes to check her handiwork.

“Good job.” Michael gave one last tug, and Wyatt grunted when the bindings cut into his skin.

“You understand I had to be sure.” Michael straightened, speaking pleasantly, as if they were on a summer outing. When she remained silent, Wyatt jerked his head in Michael’s direction, wordlessly urging her to play along. They needed to buy time for help to arrive.

“Of course.” Her voice emerged as a husky croak.

“Why?” Wyatt tore his gaze away from Brighid, willing Michael’s attention to remain focused on him.

“You took everything from me.” His mouth twisted in a parody of a smile. “Now it’s your turn to know what it is like to lose what you hold most dear. I thought it would be the factory. Imagine my surprise when it turned out to be your wife.”

Michael tapped the gage, mildly watching the needle jump, as if he were taking tea instead of talking murder. “On the eve of celebrating your marriage, you and your wife will be tragically killed in an accident.”

He shoved Brighid violently, sending her crashing to the floor. Wyatt cursed and struggled against the ropes to no avail. She shoved her hair out of her face and stilled, her focus on the gun lying just inches away from where she’d landed. She clawed forward, arm outstretched when Michael slammed his boot into Brighid’s ribs hard enough to flip her onto her back. “You bitch.”

“Leave her alone.” Blood dripped from Wyatt’s hands as he wrestled with the ropes. He had yet to feel even a thread loosen. Brighid lay deathly still, and a crushing weight landed on his chest as he waited for some sign that she was still alive.

If anything happened to her, nothing else mattered.

Her shoulders heaved, and he heard air wheeze into her lungs.

Michael laughed. “Did it kill you to know they thought her a witch? Your little wife was too close to finding out my plan. Giselle was supposed to have taken care of her. I watched from the sidelines, laughing while they prepared to burn her.” He glared at Wyatt, his face twisted into a snarl. “Until you came along and rescued her. Giselle failed. She had to die.”

“You have me.” Wyatt blinked sweat from his eyes. “Release her. She has nothing to do with this.”

“Ah, but she does. She’s your most prized possession.”

It took everything inside Brighid to remain still. She watched Michael raise the gun to Wyatt’s head, and her heart plunged to her knees.

She refused to lose him.

As if in agreement, her powers swelled in the air around her. She stood carefully, clutching her ribs and focused on Michael.

Wyatt signaled for her to run.

But she refused to leave.

Not without him.

Michael whirled and raised the gun. Wyatt bent forward, putting all his weight on his feet and charged Michael with a chair strapped to his back. She staggered out of the way as they crashed to the floor.

Even with his hands tied, Wyatt was a trained fighter. He used his feet, knees and shoulders to land blows. Michael couldn’t compete, and he knew it. Panic widened his eyes, and he fumbled and nearly dropped the gun. He swung it like a club and cracked Wyatt across the temple.

Wyatt fell on his side, leaving him virtually helpless to get back on his feet, blood steadily trickling down his face. When Michael raised his gun again, the world around her slowed to a crawl. She raised her arm, anger and fear twisting inside her until something broke free.

The wind responded with a violent gust, ripping the gun from his grasp. “You should have known better then to try and kill a Druid’s mate.”

Michael gawked at her and scrambled to his feet. “You’re a witch.”

“No. A Druid.”

She lifted her hand and the boiler fire roared, the flames billowing out through the grates. Intense heat threatened to ignite everything in the small room. Michael’s beady eyes swiveled around the confined space, resembling a rat ready to claw its way up the wall to escape.

Dangerous.

She needed to get him away from Wyatt.

A gust of wind howled outside, the door rattled violently before it was ripped off its hinges with a hollowed thud. “You should run now.”

He skirted the room and sprinted out the door.

She wanted to follow, but refused to leave Wyatt vulnerable.

She reined in her power, but it fought her control, demanding vengeance.

When she heard Michael scream, she shuddered at the sound of pure terror.

Horror held her rigid.

“Brighid?”

“I didn’t kill him. Whatever you believe—”

“Stop.” He ruthlessly cut her off. “He deserves whatever happened. Are you all right?” She took a hesitant step toward Wyatt, resisting the urge to throw herself in his arms.

She nodded, struggling against tears.

“Untie me.”

She flinched at the harsh command, uncertain where she stood with him. It was one thing to know about her gifts, another to actually witness the full destructive force.

Then she lifted her chin.

She wouldn’t change a thing, not if it meant saving his life. She limped forward. “Of course.”

Her fingers lingered against his skin, stealing a last touch. He jumped to his feet as the last of the ropes untangled…and turned his back on her.

Her chest felt hollow, and her heart shattered at her feet as he moved away from her.

Wyatt lunged toward the water tank, hissing in pain when he touched the release valve. Using the tails of his shirt, he turned the knob. Steam whistled and filled the room as the pipes released the pressure, shrouding him in fog.

Then he was striding toward her out of the billowing clouds. In seconds, she was in his arms, his mouth ravished hers before she had time to react.

His kiss was desperate and needy and felt so damned good that she never wanted it to stop.

After a minute, he reluctantly pulled back and inspected the bruises along her face. “I love you.”

When she reached for him, he grabbed her hand, kissed the tips of her fingers, and pressed her palm to his chest. “I will love you for as long as this heart of mine beats. Not even your powers are strong enough to change that.”

For the first time, she allowed herself to believe down to her bones.

Wyatt cupped her chin. “Say it.”

She blinked innocently up at him. “Say what?”

All the humor left his face, and he rested his forehead against hers. “Say it.”

The vulnerability from this invincible man made her breath catch, and she took a leap of faith, knowing he would catch her. “I love you.”

Wyatt threaded their fingers together and tugged her close. When he wrapped her in the safety of his arms she smiled up at him. “Let’s go home.”

He stilled, understanding the importance of her words. He tightened his hold and grinned devilishly. “That sounds like heaven.”

Before they could move, Aaron staggered through the doorway, bruised and battered but alive.

“Aaron!”

“I am all right. A knock on the head, nothing more.” The injury looked much worse. Blood still flowed down his face, evading the handkerchief he held there.

“Michael?”

“Dead.” Aaron’s face hardened. “What the hell happened?”

“Justice.” Wyatt clutched Brighid tighter before he reluctantly released her. “I should see to him.”

“No need. His neck is very definitely broken.” Aaron nodded to Brighid, frowning as he studied her injuries. “I’ll take care of it. You have more important things to do.”

Wyatt allowed himself to be persuaded. He pulled Brighid closer, savoring her jasmine scent, and allowed himself to relax.

B
righid paced
the confines of the bedroom, her skirts snapping around her ankles with each turn, fighting the way the walls closed in on her. If they refused to allow her to leave for even one more day, the boredom would kill her. Every time she’d tried to leave the bedroom in the past month, someone conveniently stopped by to visit. With every passing day, the dark suspicion grew that Wyatt had a hand in her predicament.

The first week after their ordeal she understood. The last three weeks, not so much.

She only had herself to blame.

She should have kept the news of her pregnancy to herself.

The worst part was Wyatt only appeared when she had company or was asleep, leaving her unable to vent her anger. If he continued to push her, she won’t hesitate to hunt him down and give him a piece of her mind. And maybe a sound thrashing. She knew he had to sort the details of the mess Michael had left behind.

She understood.

Up to a point.

But she missed his touch, his smell. She missed his warmth, and the twinkle of mischief in his eyes. She no longer doubted his love, but the longer he avoided her, the more she was convinced he was keeping something important from her.

Clenching and unclenching her fingers, her pacing sped up.

Footsteps echoed in the hall, and the familiar thump of boots sent her scrambling toward the bed. She dove under the covers, smoothing out the blanket before the door opened. She plastered a bright smile of her face when she noticed a hint of her skirt peeking out from under the covers. As inconspicuously as possible, she shifted her leg, dragging the fabric out of sight.

If she was caught out of bed again, she’d have to sit through another lecture on the dangers of pregnancy and overexerting herself. Though she argued she was pregnant, not dying, the reminder only caused Wyatt to pale and spout his litany of the many risks of pregnancy he’d memorized from those damn medical books downstairs. The first item on her list of things to do when she left this room was burn those
diabal
books.

The instant Wyatt entered she knew something had gone terribly wrong. Dark shadows lay under his eyes, but what worried her more was the exhausted slump of his shoulders. He rubbed his chin, avoiding looking at her and sat on the chair near the bed.

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Will you marry me?”

She smiled but her amusement quickly faded when he failed to return it. A stab of unease twisted through her. She unconsciously touched her stomach. “But we are married…are we not?”

“I want you fully conscious for these vows. I know I haven’t been an easy man to live with.” He smiled slightly and looked at her for the first time. “I doubt that will change.”

He leaned forward, his elbow on his knees, and picked up her hand to play with her fingers. “Since you’ve met me, I have put your life in danger time and again. My ineptitude when trying to protect you has led to you being kidnapped and nearly killed.” The last words ended in a whisper.

He cleared his throat, his eyes a frosty green as he continued. “I fell in love with you the first day. You literally knocked me off my feet, and I haven’t regretted a moment since.” He took a deep breath and tightened his fingers. “You mean everything to me. I want you to marry me by choice this time. I want it binding in both our worlds.”

Tears flooded her eyes. “You would do this for me?”

“No.” He cupped her hand in both of his, the comforting warmth of him seeping into her as he leaned forward. “I want this for us. Are you well enough?”

Brighid jerked in surprise, and her jaw dropped. “You mean now?”

Wyatt stood and rubbed his brow, talking faster, as if he felt the need to convince her. “Everything is set. I want to marry you in front of our family in the chapel of my ancestors. There’s a legend that all Castelline men who wed their true loves in the chapel will find happiness for the rest of their lives.”

Her throat ached at the mention of the legend—and the fact that he’d chosen her. “Even after all the trouble? I’m not like other woman. My powers are something that I can’t pretend don’t exist. Nor can I always control them.”

He stood at the end of her bed, lifted his chin and faced her. “I’ve never been afraid of your past or your powers. I’m aware of the consequences, and accept them gladly. I’ve waited years to marry. You’re the one woman meant for me, and I don’t intend to let you slip through my fingers without a fight.”

She never imagined marrying, especially to a man like Wyatt—a man who understood what she could do and loved her anyway.

Wyatt shifted, looking uncomfortable, his lips white with strain. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Brighid closed her eyes and silently thanked
bandia
for her good fortune. “It would be my greatest honor.”

Before she could open her eyes, his lips were on hers, demanding and possessive, heating her blood. Brighid wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close, intending to show him what he meant to her.

With a groan, he tore himself away. “As much as I want to stay, the women are in the hall waiting to help you dress.”

Warmth bloomed in her face at the thought of asking him to stay anyway. As if reading her thoughts, he growled and gave her a hard kiss before striding toward the door. “Soon.”

Even as he turned the knob, the door burst open and the room filled with women. He slipped out with a pleased smile. Time passed swiftly. All too soon it was time to head to the chapel.

* * *

“
I
have a gift for you
.” Beth patted her arm, smiling at her over her shoulder.

Brighid could barely tear her gaze away from the fairytale image in the mirror. Yards of white satin clung to her curves like a dream. Beads wound up the skirts like vines, shimmering with every move, reminding her of the runes on her feet. No doubt Wyatt had a hand in that. “You’ve already given me everything I could have ever hoped. I couldn’t ask for more.”

“Bah. Come.”

Brighid followed Beth down the hall, pausing at the reassembled suit of arms and smiled. She reached out, hesitant, and cold metal greeted her fingertips, but she could have sworn it warmed under her touch. “Thank you for your help, good friend.”

“Brighid?” Beth called her from the gallery doorway.

She couldn’t make her feet move. She hadn’t been back since the night she’d been taken. Lingering fear twisted her stomach into knots. It didn’t matter that the man was dead.

She didn’t want to see the lifeless canvas that was all that remained of her small painted rescuer. She’d come to care for the annoying little bugger.

With a sore heart, she entered to find Beth waiting patiently at the end of the chamber. A glaring space on the wall remained blank, a harsh reminder of his death…and how close she had come to losing the real version as well. She clenched and unclenched her fingers, trying to deal with the fear. She turned to face Beth and reminded herself that she had survived because of his sacrifice.

“Watch.” Beth pulled at a cloth covering a large frame, revealing a life-size painting underneath.

Tears pricked her eyes at the intricate details. In the background stood Graystone manor, the morning light making it appear to glow, reminding her of the first time she saw it. On the front lawn stood a miniature of her and Wyatt, his arm around her waist. The man in the picture winked roguishly, then turned and kissed the daylights out of her image. Magic seeped from the painting, forever immortalizing them in a passionate embrace, as if he willingly chose to be wrapped in her arms for eternity.

“But how?”

“I played a small hunch and painted you into the picture.” She shrugged it away as unimportant, but the slight blush belied her pleasure. “He did all the rest.”

Brighid turned and hugged Beth hard, unable to voice what it meant to be accepted so freely. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Beth pulled back and scowled. “Enough of that, or you’ll make me cry. Now let us get you married to my son.”

Brighid couldn’t hold back her laugh. She wiped away her tears and followed Beth to the chapel. The scent of wildflowers trailed out into the hallway. When she peeked into the chapel, her breath caught. Every available surface was lit by candles and decorated with flowers.

In awe, Brighid moved further into the room and spotted Wyatt by the altar. His shoulders appeared broader, his body larger, and he looked so dapper dressed in his formals that she couldn’t tear her gaze away. He smiled and held out his hand. Brighid shivered…a man should never be so handsome.

She didn’t remember the walk down the aisle, and feared she might have actually sprinted. She reached for his hand, almost afraid she’d wake up and learn this was all a dream.

Then he was there and wrapped her in his arms.

The minister began the ceremony. Wyatt spoke his vows in a low, vibrant voice, his eyes never once leaving hers. Brighid returned the ceremonial words, her voice hitching when Wyatt gave her an intimate smile.

“I now pronounce you man and wife.”

Brighid held out her hands to Wyatt, waiting for him accept and complete the circle. “My people create their own vows.” When she hesitated, Wyatt squeezed her fingers encouragingly, and she realized how much this meant to him as well.

“You are mine to love, mine to protect and cherish. You’re the other half of my soul. I’ll stand by your side in all things, support you, and comfort you in the times to come. Our love was written before we were born, and I have waited for you ever since. Our love will span our lives, our children’s lives, and beyond.”

He repeated her vows back to her, his eyes darkening with the same emotions that filled her soul to bursting. Then he tipped her back and kissed her until she forgot her own name.

Only when his family cheered did he finally relent and lift his head. He gave them a roguish smile and tucked her close. As they filed out of the chapel, a burst of sunlight lit the last window, and the colored panes glittered down on them.

Brighid froze, remembering the broken glass.

She had to know.

She looked up and the world tilted.

Wyatt hugged her against his chest, cradling her like something precious. “Is it the baby?”

“No, we’re fine. Perfect.” Brighid nestled closer, grateful for his support. She touched his face, knowing how anxious he was over the pending birth of their son. He was terrified of losing them both. She wasn’t going to let it happen. She pointed to the window. “I broke that window. I tried to fix it, but it was too dark to see how it turned out.”

“It’s a cross.”

Brighid shook her head. “It’s a Celtic cross, something my mother always wore. I think she’s letting us know she approves.”

Wyatt kissed her forehead, his hand reverently touching her stomach, the awe in his eyes making her feel cherished. “I promise you, our child will get to know your family. After the baby is born, we’ll find them, together.”

She marveled that he knew her so well. “I love you. You won’t regret marrying me and giving up your other life.”

“I don’t need it anymore.” Wyatt grinned wickedly and kissed the tip of her nose. “You’re the greatest adventure of my life.”