Druid Surrender (A Druid Quest Novel Book 1) (9 page)

After the first few attempts, she stopped trying to suppress her yawns. She’d never realized a person could die of boredom.

“That’s enough, girls.” Mrs. Larue clapped her hands and smiled. “We’ll have the first dresses sent around tomorrow. The others will need to be fitted, tucked, and will be delivered at a later date.”

Brighid re-dressed while they packed, anxious to escape before Beth found some other torture to put her through, then immediately scolded herself for being an ungrateful wretch.

Beth waved her away as if she saw her twitching to escape. “Why not go to your room and rest before dinner?”

“Of course.” Brighid bolted out the door before Beth could change her mind. Instead of heading toward her room, though, she hurried down stairs. She needed to ask Wyatt to place a lock on her door.

Her stomach fluttered at the thought of confronting him again, and though she knew it was best to keep out of his way, she couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement.

In her eagerness, she nearly plowed into Angelica when she rounded the corner.

Angelica straightened, almost as if she’d been waiting for her, and Brighid’s spine stiffened.

“You will never be one of us, no matter how prettily you wrap the package.” Angelica circled, carefully pulling her fine dress away Brighid’s torn, filthy one, as if afraid to be sullied. Then the shrewish woman leaned closer, her noise crinkling as if she’d smelled something rotten. “Wyatt is no fool. Your lack of breeding will show through your flimsy disguise.”

With a swish of skirts and a gleam of triumph, Angelica stuck her nose in the air and sailed down the hall as if she owned it.

Brighid brushed away the small twinge of self-doubt, refusing to be intimidated by the shrewish chit, and nearly snorted at the absurdity of the entire situation. Wyatt’s brilliant plan had backfired. Instead of diverting Angelica’s attention, he’d made himself a more tempting target.

W
yatt sat
at the breakfast table, waiting for Brighid. He drummed his fingers on his thigh, trying not to appear anxious for her company. He barely resisted the urge to grab his pocket watch for the third time in ten minutes. He sipped the sixth cup of coffee he didn’t particularly want and promptly burned his tongue.

“Damn.” He set the cup down with a clatter and glared at the breakfast room door. Their unusual first meeting had created a lasting impression, one guaranteed he wouldn’t soon forget. He felt responsible for the chit, but his preoccupation with her went deeper. The attraction between them wouldn’t allow him to dismiss her as just part of the job. She was gorgeous in an unconventional way, but it was more than her beauty that captivated him.

The fire in her eyes when she argued with him created a visceral resolve to possess her that he couldn’t banish.

It brought out the instinctive urge to stake his claim and protect her at all costs.

A little disturbed by the direction of his musings, he rose and strode toward the door. He was getting as bad as a schoolboy mooning over his first girl. He needed to work and put her out of his mind. He refused to have his life dictated by the whims of a woman and her moods. Though he hated to admit it, he was disappointed to be the only one affected by the connection between them.

“Inform me when Miss Legend awakens.” He spoke tersely when he passed Johnson, interrupting the man, who was overseeing the breakfast cleanup.

Johnson, the butler, cleared his throat. “I believe she’s with your mother, my lord.”

Wyatt paused, his smile slow in coming. The feeling of being abandoned left him abruptly and he stood straighter. “Getting on well, are they?”

“So I believe, my lord.” A hint of a small smile played around the butler’s mouth.

“Very good.” Wyatt walked away, then hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, curious to see if his fascination with his new houseguest had faded now the immediate danger was gone.

At the sound of Angelica’s voice, he released the railing and turned tail, practically scurrying toward the safety of his office. Once there, he worked to clear off his desk, but the distracting image of Brighid kept intruding, urging him to go find her and whisk her away so he could have her to himself.

After re-reading the document for the third time and not really seeing it, he tossed it aside. As if he conjured her with his thoughts, the object of his obsession burst into the room without knocking.

“Brighid!” Completely caught off guard, he shot to his feet and tugged at his jacket.

He’d spent the morning struggling not to imagine her. A troop of women had arrived hours ago with familiar trunks. It had required all his willpower to remain seated and continue working, knowing she was upstairs, stripped down to her shift, being fitted and measured for new clothing. The image of her pale skin and red hair stretched across his bed was seared into his brain. Heat rose under his skin, and a primitive urge to be the person she modeled her clothing for had only increased the desire to hunt her down.

She was his guest.

Off limits.

His body didn’t care for the logic.

Now that she was standing in his office, he made no effort to block the inclination to study her, and moved behind his desk, gripping the back of his chair hard when his cock hardened at her nearness. Much to his surprise, he was thrilled to discover that his attraction to her wasn’t a fluke. He couldn’t help smiling at the enchanting sight of her toes peeking out below the hem of her dress.

“I need your help.”

Finally! “Sit down and tell me everything.”

Wyatt walked around the desk, oblivious to her startled expression, and sat next to her. Any information about the factory and the recent attacks would help his investigation. So far they had no leads.

The smell of jasmine filled his nose, distracting him, inviting his mind to wander to dark nights and passionate embraces. He gripped his knees to keep from touching her.

“I want to know if it would be possible to have a lock placed on my door.” Brighid tapped her heel on the floor as she waited for his answer, the first hint of nerves she’d ever displayed in his presence.

Rage roared through him that someone would dare break into his house and threaten to harm her while under his protection. “Has something happened?”

“It’s nothing like that. I’m not comfortable with other people having access to my room when I’m not there. It won’t be a problem, will it?”

“Of course not.” His primitive side eased back enough for him to function past his immediate, fiercely protective reaction, and he guided the conversation back on track. “But we should discuss what happened to you at the factory.”

“What about it?” Confusion colored her voice. Her head tilted in inquiry. “I would be more than willing to work with you to find the culprit. I’m not used to being cooped up in a house with nothing to occupy my mind, and I do have some investigative training that could be invaluable.”

His arousal quickly wilted at the thought of further involving her what was clearly a dangerous situation. He refused to put her at greater risk. “No, that won’t be necessary.”

She deflated at his reply, her animation slowly icing over. Wyatt leaned back, baffled by the way she dismissed her near death. She was a complete enigma. While he could understand her eagerness to find the perpetrator, the way she wanted to insinuate herself into the case and throw herself into danger disturbed him.

The small hope that she would have the answers to break the case slowly unraveled, but he wasn’t giving up. He could be just as stubborn. If she had some insights, she could damned well share them with him.

Wyatt captured her hand, noticing how small it felt within his grasp. She needed his protection, she just did not acknowledge it yet. “Brighid, we need to talk about the night of the fire. About what the villagers—”

“I am fine. No harm done. I mean, you don’t want to involve me further, right?” Brighid squeezed his fingers before wiggling loose, laying her hand on his arm. She was gaming him in some way, but the single caress effectively cut off his train of thought while the warmth of her hand seeped through his jacket, and he swore he felt her touch against his skin.

Like some callow youth, his cock came to attention once more at the innocent gesture and refused to be dismissed.

Curiosity lit her eyes, as if she felt the same spark of attraction, before she lowered her lashes and blocked the beguiling view.

Though she might have been trying to derail him, she had felt something, too, and his heart lurched at the unexpected revelation.

When she withdrew her hand, he recaptured it, anything to prolong the contact. “I’ll have the lock installed tomorrow.”

She flashed him a smile, and he leaned closer, lured by those lips, the thought of stealing a kiss at the forefront of his mind.

“That would be perfect.” She somehow eluded his hold, a light blush on her cheeks distracting him. As she put distance between them, harsh reality returned—she wasn’t just any woman to be seduced in his office for an afternoon tryst.

“When did you arrive at the factory?” Wyatt shook away his lust. The sooner he solved the problems plaguing the village, the sooner he could go back to the normal life he’d dreamed of the last few years. In the meantime, if he could seduce her into wanting him, all the better.

“I’ll leave you to your work. I’ve intruded on enough of your time.” She stood and eased closer to the door, smiling as if she hadn’t heard his question. A sneaking suspicion that she was avoiding his inquires trickled through him, but he could not detect any artifice. If he didn’t know better, he would think she was going to investigate on her own. “You’re not going to—”

“You’ve been wonderful. I really appreciate everything you’ve done.”

Wyatt heaved a sigh as he watched her disappear out the door and resumed his seat behind the desk. He and Aaron had been together when he learned of the first series of accidents. Intrigued by the mystery, Aaron had volunteered his assistance, preferring the immediate danger over returning to his family of vipers.

Both men were eminently suited to getting to the bottom of the problem, since they’d worked the past few years as clandestine investigators for the Crown. No matter how prettily she begged, Brighid was safer away from any type of involvement in this case.

His lips tightened in frustration that she wouldn’t share what she knew. It had to be something important to cause someone to go to the trouble of arranging to kill her—rather gruesomely—in order to silence her. The quill in his hand snapped, and he was more determined than ever to do whatever was necessary to ensure that no one ever touched her again.

Wyatt stood to pace, struggling to hold back a frustrated curse. He’d spent all day waiting to be with her, wanting to know everything about her. The quick visit was like a tiny sip of wine, tantalizing, mysterious…and leaving him craving more.

Every question he wanted to ask remained unanswered. So far, his investigation was a dismal failure.

Hell and damnation! She had him so rattled that he’d forgotten to ask most of them.

Knowing he would get nothing more done in the office, Wyatt left in search of Aaron. Hopefully, his compatriot had more luck in unearthing the information they needed.

The ride to the factory took less than twenty minutes, doing little to ease his frustration at the lack of progress. When he opened the door, the vibrations of machines rumbled throughout the interior. He mounted the stairs to the office, conscious of being observed. Despite the recent trouble, everything ran smoothly…except for the way people looked ready to jump out of their skins.

With a growl of displeasure, Wyatt let himself into the office without knocking, and poured himself a glass of brandy. He sat, relishing the small moment of silence. With a household of women, it was a rare occurrence.

Aaron slammed shut the book he’d been reading and stood to pour his own drink.

“Did you find anything?” Wyatt did his best to curb his impatience.

“Very little. The books appear to be in order.” Aaron finished the drink in one swallow and stretched his arms over his head, his late night written on his face. “Something is definitely happening, but no one is willing to talk.”

“Any word on Brighid?” Wyatt kept his voice bland, his eyes on the now-empty brandy glass, trying not to show just how interested he was in the answer.

Aaron rubbed his jaw as if reluctant to speak. “Nothing solid. The matron, Giselle, has done a good job of spreading her vitriol. She clearly targeted Brighid for some reason. Giselle’s been here for years, and the workers are looking for someone to blame. She’s given them a target for their ire.”

“Jealousy?” Wyatt carefully set his glass on the table before he smashed it against the wall. He needed to discover who wanted Brighid dead and why. The only explanation he could come up with was that she’d been trying to help the villagers and someone didn’t like it.

“Absolutely, but people have known the old woman all their lives. That didn’t mean they liked her. Brighid stirred up trouble when she arrived. The matron was cutting corners. My guess is Brighid knew it, too, and the woman resented her for it. I saw a note in your files that the steward was going to have Giselle replaced. I think she knew and was using fear to control people.”

“And Brighid wouldn’t be controlled.” Wyatt snorted at the very thought, remembering how deftly she’d maneuvered him less than an hour ago. He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair, itching for answers. Something…anything to work with. “What else have you discovered?”

“Surprisingly little.” Aaron poured another drink. “But something, or should I say someone, is making things happen. Whoever is behind this attack is either lucky or has planned this for a long time.”

Wyatt stood and stared through the bay windows overlooking the factory floor when a motion at the far side of the factory caught his attention.

Something about the factory worker’s movements appeared furtive, like he didn’t want to be noticed. “Have you questioned everyone?”

Aaron joined him by the window, immediately centering in on the same thing that had caught his attention. “No, not everyone.”

Without waiting for more, Wyatt exited and headed down the stairs with Aaron on his heels. It took a good twenty minutes to track the man down to his lair in the boiler room. “Havler?”

The big man straightened, wiping his massive hands on a greasy rag as he bobbed his head. “My lord.”

Wyatt went on alert at the tension vibrating off him. The man was honest as the day was long, and Wyatt had hired him more than two years ago to manage the machinery. “What’s happened?”

He rubbed his jaw as if debating what to say. “A month ago I was approached by a man and offered a bribe to rig the machines to malfunction. I turned him down, but the next day, my daughter went missing.

Wyatt clenched his hands into fists. “Who?”

Havler shook his short-cropped head. “No clue. He approached me on my way home. It was too dark to make out anything.” He gripped his rag in his hands and twisted it, as if imagining it was the man’s neck. “A toff. His voice was too polished to be anythin’ else, but other than that, I couldn’t say. My daughter was returned a few hours later, but with a warning that next time he won’t ask nicely.”

He shoved his rag into his back pocket and shook his head. “You pay me good money, but I can’t risk my family over my job, even if I have to leave without references.”

Everything inside Wyatt rebelled against letting Havler go. “What if I can guarantee your family’s safety until I can catch the man responsible? You’re too important to the factory, too good a worker to lose. Why not move your family to the gatehouse? You can send your daughter up to the house to work as a maid. No one will bother her there.”

The big man stilled and met Wyatt’s gaze squarely. “You’ll vow on your life that you’ll keep her safe?”

Wyatt nodded. Any vague plan to use Havler as bait dissolved at his obvious fear for his family. “You have my word. Why not come up to see the house tomorrow? You can install a lock on one of the doors while you’re there, see the house for yourself, and decide.”