Druid Surrender (A Druid Quest Novel Book 1)

by Stacey Brutger

  “Ah.” Brighid blinked uncomfortably. Only moments before she had been the woman on the horse. Wyatt was the picture of a dashing hero and had the power to turn any woman’s head.

  She caught Wyatt staring at her from across the room, ready to charge to her rescue at the smallest sign of distress. She smiled reassuringly but wondered at his concern. She was more than able to take care of herself.

  Angelica blushed and leaned forward as if to impart a secret. “It started as a crush, but I knew it was more when he came to my rescue again the night of my come-out ball. I was on the verge of becoming a wallflower, but then he came to town. He asked me to dance at every ball, and introduced me to those in his circle.”

  Brighid wasn’t surprised the little brat had no friends, thanks to that viper tongue of hers. She was fortunate Wyatt had saved her.

  “Wyatt has been away for a while.” Frustration darkened her face before she came to herself. “Now he’s back, I’m sure we’ll resume our close friendship.”

  The girl made the interactions between her and Wyatt sound intimate, that he’d left her with expectations. Brighid didn’t believe it for a second. The frank assessment in the girl’s eyes added to her suspicions. Then understanding dawned. “Are you trying to warn me off?”

  “Of course not.” Angelica gave a tinkling laugh, and her smile melted away, leaving behind a vicious princess with sharp claws. “Wyatt is mine.” She scanned Brighid from head to toe. “I won’t allow a nobody like you to take him from me.” A cruel smile twisted her lips, and she flounced away, resuming her seat next to Lydia, and as close to Wyatt as possible without raising eyebrows.

  Some of her intention to follow and smack the girl must have shown on her face. Wyatt straightened abruptly, then strode toward her with pure devilment in his eyes that couldn’t bode well for her. Hypnotized by the mischief, she didn’t know whether to run toward him or away. Then it was too late. Her hand had somehow found its way into the crook of his arm.

  “Should we tell them, darling?”

  She stiffened at the endearment, knowing his attentions were not because of any genuine concern. It was an act, and she couldn’t allow herself to forget that for a moment. Then her brows furrowed. The way he smiled, directed all his attention to her, caused her stomach to dip. “Announcement?”

  “Announcement?” Angelica parroted, her tone sharp.

  “Brighid has done me the honor of agreeing to become my wife.”

  Brighid went lightheaded, unable to stop staring at the naked yearning in Wyatt’s gaze. Her protest was drowned out by Angelica’s shout. “What?”

  “You’re the first to know.”

  “This is not what we agreed.” The words were whispered behind her fake smile, her teeth clenched against the need to yell. Brighid tried to yank her hand from his, but he refused to relinquish his hold.

  He leaned forward to kiss her cheek and whispered into her ear. “Play along.”

  She had no idea what to feel. The initial rush of excitement that a man like him wanted her quickly faded when she remembered it was a ruse. He had well and truly trapped her, and she had no doubt that he’d done it on purpose, probably even had it planned before he entered the room, the meddlesome man.

  She’d been bamboozled by a professional.

  And what was worse, she’d fallen for it.

  It only served to annoy her more.

  “Congratulations!” Lydia beamed and immediately hugged them. “Mother will be so thrilled.”

  Hatred darkened Angelica’s eyes for the barest of seconds, but her smile was firmly back in place when Wyatt straightened.

  “Felicitations.” Angelica came forward to kiss his cheek, lingering a moment too long. “So sudden, Wyatt?”

  Her honeyed tones didn’t suppress the implication of impropriety.

  Wyatt deftly deflected her question, as well as the implication that Brighid must have trapped him in some way. “It seemed like I’ve waited forever to find her.”

  Brighid blushed, unable to look away from the intensity of his gaze.

  He was a skilled liar.

  If she didn’t know better, she would almost believe he spoke the truth.

  Desperate to get away from him and the way he made her feel alive for the first time since she’d lost everything, she snagged Lydia’s arm and pulled away from his too-tantalizing touch. “If you’ll excuse me, I believe Lydia was going to show me to my room.”

  The loss of contact broke whatever connection that bound them. Wyatt rocked back on his heels, his eyes devouring her despite the distance. “Until later.”

  Brighid flushed at the delicious promise that throbbed in his voice, embarrassed by the way her body so blatantly responded to him. If she didn’t watch herself, he’d seduce her into revealing all her secrets.

  Chapter 5

  “I think I’ll accompany you.” Angelica didn’t wait for an invitation, gliding forward until Brighid quickly shuffled to the side to avoid being plowed over. Angelica purposefully walked between her and Wyatt, as if determined to put a wedge between them. Lydia’s eyes widened in apology before following. Brighid shot a last, narrowed glare at Wyatt that promised retribution and trailed behind the duo.

  Angelica monopolized Lydia’s attention, obviously intending to show Brighid that she didn’t belong to their high society. Brighid was just glad for the reprieve.

  Lydia reached for the first door and smiled at Brighid. “I think you’ll like this room. We just had it decorated, and it’s right across from mine.”

  She pushed open the door, and Angelica sailed into the room without waiting for an invitation. “You’re right. I adore it. Please have the servants deliver my trucks posthaste. I can’t wait to get settled and ready myself for supper with Wyatt.”

  “A family supper.” Lydia stared into the room and frowned, clearly displeased. Angelica had removed her gloves, already laying claim to the room, treating Lydia more like a servant than a friend. Then added, “You must be aware that Wyatt is taken.”

  Those crystal blue eyes of Angelica’s narrowed like a giant cat on the hunt. “They’re not married yet.”

  She whirled and sat on the bed with a smug smile, surveying her new domain.

  The large room spoke of opulence and privilege that would have made Brighid uncomfortable and afraid to touch anything. Angelica was more than welcome to it. When Lydia opened her mouth to protest, Brighid touched her arm and shook her head. “It’s fine. Why don’t you show me the other room?”

  Lydia studied her for a moment, then nodded, and Brighid felt like she passed some test. “It’s just down the hall.”

  They only managed a few feet when Angelica swept after them. “Unfortunately, my lady’s maid wasn’t able to travel with me. I hope you don’t mind if I borrow yours, do you?”

  It wasn’t a question.

  Lydia gave a brittle smile. “Of course not. The three of us will simply have to make do with one maid.”

  Angelica’s lips tipped up into another smirk. “Wonderful. I would hate to show up in a shabby dress for my first night in the house.”

  Without waiting for a reply, Angelica disappeared back into her room. Lydia narrowed her eyes, preparing for battle, when Brighid grabbed her arm. “She’s not worth it.”

  Lydia turned, her face red. “She’s gone too far.”

  Brighid laughed. “She was trying to get a reaction. Don’t give her the satisfaction.” Brighid didn’t give a damn if Angelica thought her beneath her. Though her snide comments were annoying, Angelica didn’t pose a serious threat.

  Lydia released a heavy breath and smoothed out her skirts. “You’re right. Why don’t I show you where you will be staying?”

  The room she presented was small, more reserved, almost utilitarian compared to the other room. It reminded her of the dorms she lived in at the school, and a wave of homesickness threatened to crush her chest.

  “It’s not much, I’m afraid.”

  Brighid waved her aw
ay. “It’s perfect. Don’t trouble yourself about it at all.”

  Lydia lingered, randomly touching the dresser, checking for dust. “We have our work cut out for us. I hate to say it, but Angelica is correct. The first thing we must address is your clothes.” Lydia’s eyes flickered to her clothing, then dropped to Brighid’s chest and delicately cleared her throat. “You’re bigger in the bust than I, but shorter. With a few small alterations, I believe some of my dresses could fit.”

  “I’m sure they will be fine. Thank you.”

  Lydia blew out a heavy breath, as if resigning herself to an insurmountable task. “We have a bigger problem. My mother. She is shrewd, and will sniff out any hint of deception. For this to work, we’ll need to keep you out of her way as much as possible.”

  “That might be best.” Something inside Brighid rebelled at deceiving an old woman, and the siblings’ audacious plan set her temper to brewing once again. “I have no idea what Wyatt could have been thinking.”

  Lydia stiffened, as if fearing she might back out. “You agreed to help.”

  “To be a romantic interest, not his blasted fiancée.”

  Lydia plucked at the material of her skirt, her chin rising. “We’re simply trying to help.”

  “I never asked for any help.” If Brighid had any sense left, she would leave immediately.

  “You’re in danger.” Lydia’s brows knitted in annoyance. “What is so wrong with staying here for a week or two and allow Wyatt to protect you?”

  Brighid crossed her arms to shield herself against the thrill of spending more time with him, and part of her ire melted. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t take long for him to realize she was more trouble than she was worth. “The villagers tried to burn me at the stake for being a witch. That’s a little beyond something he can fix.”

  Interest lightened Lydia’s eyes at the prospect of juicy gossip. “Why would they think you’re a witch?”

  She nearly flinched at the question, barely covering the small tell. “Because of the frequent accidents at the mill, the villagers believe I placed a curse on the factory, and they’ll try to kill me again. My stay here will endanger everyone.”

  Lydia stubbornly shook her head. “Wyatt won’t allow that to happen.”

  Brighid conceded defeat. No matter how many protests she threw up, Lydia would remain staunch in her conviction that Wyatt would solve the problem. In some ways, it was sweet to be able to trust someone so much.

  But in her case, it would be foolhardy.

  Lydia hesitated by the door, her hand on the knob. “About my brother—”

  Brighid ducked her head, her insides turning to a block of ice. “You don’t have to worry, I have no designs on him.”

  Lydia lifted her chin, her face almost eager. “You could. Have designs on him I mean. Neither of you will have to put forth much effort to convince others of your interest in each other. I know we’re not typical society. Although he can be too clever for his own good at times, he is a good man. He sees the truth of people and that puts others off. He deserves better than Angelica. A woman like her won’t make him happy.”

  Brighid winced at being caught panting after him like a hussy. To make matters worse, Wyatt seemed to be just as interested in her, not giving fig about her gifts. She didn’t know how to react to that novelty or the way her body was beginning to awaken at his nearness, and she ruthlessly cut off that line of thought “So that’s why you wanted me to stay, why you suggested this scheme.”

  Lydia shrugged, and the stubbornness Brighid found so infuriating in Wyatt was mirrored in her eyes. “He would have found a way to get you to stay either way. Let him protect you.”

  Brighid suspected Lydia had never spoken truer words. “And who would protect him?”

  Lydia gave her a peculiar look. “You, of course. He might be a capable man, but he’s not invincible. He feels things too deeply. You can save him from himself.”

  Lydia’s protectiveness toward her brother was sweet. If only she knew just how unsuitable Brighid actually was for someone like him. “You have no idea what my life is like. I can’t make him happy. You would be better off choosing someone more appropriate.”

  “You don’t see it yet, but you’re his perfect match in every way. No one stands up to my brother. No one but you.” Lydia twisted the knob, but glanced at her over her shoulder. “Don’t break his heart. He deserves to be happy.”

  Brighid remained quiet, stunned silent at Lydia’s departing words.

  She wouldn’t break his heart, but feared he might very well break hers when he realized that she had been telling the truth about herself.

  Brighid shooed away her muddled thoughts, slowly becoming aware of her surroundings. Though years outdated, the simplicity of the room didn’t lessen its beauty. It was also a stark reminder of the differences in their stations. The bright green and blue decor soothed her frayed nerves. The natural grain of the wood gleamed with polish, the smell of beeswax and honey relaxing in other circumstances.

  Avoiding the bed that dominated the room, Brighid went to the window and pushed aside the curtains to check the security. Easy lock. No bars. She peered outside, keeping to the side lest someone spy her. Her room overlooked a garden so huge it must need to be groomed by a veritable army to keep from becoming overgrown.

  No easy way in or out unless she could scale down the wall. Where was a trellise when you needed one? Her plans to investigate on her own and protect Wyatt went up in smoke. She’d have to wait for darkness, when everyone fell asleep, before she could search the house for the real reason why someone might be after Wyatt.

  A sharp, persistent knock startled Brighid out of her plotting. Panic skittered up her spine at the possibility of being trapped in a small room with nowhere to run. Her powers seared up the lines on her feet before she remembered that she was safe. She hated the relief that swamped her. The heat that signaled the rise of her magic fizzled out, her gifts settled back under her skin with a small hum, as if not quite convinced there was no danger. “Enter.”

  A buttoned up, tight-laced maid of indeterminate age barged through the door, her arms laden with a gown and whatnot, her lips pursed in disapproval as she scanned Brighid from head to foot.

  “I am to assist you,” she barked. The distaste on the maid’s face made it clear she thought Brighid beneath her.

  She was not a lady’s maid, and Brighid knew exactly who’d sent her.

  Angelica.

  No doubt sent to sabotage her evening with Wyatt in order to monopolize him for herself.

  Brighid snorted but covered it with a cough when the maid glowered. “Thank you for the kind offer, but I can manage.” Though she struggled to contain it, sarcasm coated her words.

  The woman grunted, strode to the bed and tossed the gown and stockings down. Then she whirled and snatched at the front laces of Brighid’s gown. Unnerved at the almost violent attention, Brighid fell back a step under the onslaught.

  Instead of escape, the maid advanced with relentless determination and a ruthlessness that would do a general proud. “Stand still.”

  The harsh reprimand grated on Brighid’s nerves. She wouldn’t be surprised if the maid struck her if she dared even twitch. She captured the woman’s wandering hands and spoke slowly to ensure her point got across. “Your services are not needed.”

  “I was told to assist you.” Shaking off the restraining hold, the maid grabbed for the dress. “If you quit acting like a fractious child, we could be done much sooner.” She clicked her tongue. “As it is, we’ll barely have enough time to do something with that hair.” She sniffed as if affronted. “It’s too bad the unruly tresses had to be such an unfortunate shade of red—” she heaved a sigh “—but there is no help for it.”

  Anger lashed through Brighid, and the powers she fought so hard to suppress leapt forward in a bright burn before she could clamp a hold on them. Dear goddess, not now. Brighid bit her lip, afraid to witness what new catastrophe would befall.
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  When a second passed then two without mishap, she released a shaky breath of painful hope.

  A hairpin dropped from the maid and clinked to the floor, quickly followed by another. A heavy hank of unwashed hair spilled over the woman’s face.

  “Lord preserve me.” The woman groped for the bun at the back of her head. Her impossibly stiff posture became even more rigid.

  Remorse engulfed Brighid, and she bent to scoop up the scattered pins.

  Offended at the show of concern, the maid lifted her nose in the air. “That will not be necessary.” With a vicious twist, she knotted her unkempt hair in a few efficient moves.

  Images of her own hair tortured in such a way flashed in her mind, and they both stared at each other. Brighid shoved the rusted brown pins in the woman’s hand, curled the gnarled fingers around them, then took the maid by the arm and escorted her to the door.

  “Here, now! What on earth are you doing?”

  The maid’s screech of protest made her ears ring, and she was surprised no one came running to find out who was being murdered. Brighid gave her another shove. The woman’s half boots dug in, scraping across the floor. Gritting her teeth, Brighid used both hands to thrust the protesting woman into the hall and slammed the door behind her.

  Panting hard, Brighid pressed her back against the door. The barrage of heavy pounding stopped after a minute, the harpy’s voice fading as she clomped down the hallway.

  She’d landed in a madhouse.

  The mauve dress on the bed suited Lydia’s coloring to perfection, but the dress would be drab and ill-fitting on her more padded bosom and hips, not to mention clashing horribly with her hair. She much preferred her own, more comfortable clothing. Her voluminous skirts allowed her greater freedom in case she needed to move fast. She would not hobble herself in the other dress. Brighid also favored wearing a corset in place of the normal stiff-boned supporting stays, allowing herself the luxury of dressing without assistance.

  Doing her best to clean the dress she was wearing, Brighid wrestled with the dirt and a hint of smoke that clung to the fabric, a dark reminder of last evening. She shook her head to erase the memories, and noticed her toes peeking from beneath the hem. She hated the vulnerability and cast a coveted glance at the bed—or more precisely, the delicate slippers on top. Touching the fine material, she shook her head and scoffed. They would be worthless if she needed to run, yet she couldn’t resist trying on something so fine. She tugged one satin slipper over her foot, tying the laces despite the way they pinched her toes.