Druid Surrender (A Druid Quest Novel Book 1)

by Stacey Brutger

  Grabbing her staff, she called on her magic.

  Not even a twinge responded, as if she’d used the last of her reserve fixing the stained glass.

  She walked back toward the door, knelt and studied the lock. The key was gone from the other side. It must have fallen out when the door was closed. It looked like she’d have to do it the old-fashioned way…by picking the lock.

  Carefully twisting her hairpin, she slipped the slender metal into the lock. When the tumblers slipped for the third time, she kicked the door in frustration. Pain shot up her leg, and she cursed loud and long, cradling her foot.

  “Hello?”

  “In here.” Brighid rushed forward, pounding on the wood. “I am in here.”

  She pressed her ear against the door and waited, fearful that she’d imagined the tiny voice.

  “This is Trudy, miss. I’ll go fetch help.”

  “No, just open the door. The key should be on the floor. It must have fallen out.” The last thing she wanted to do was draw Wyatt’s attention.

  Silence answered her on the other side of the door. Just when Brighid feared Trudy had left, she spoke. “There is no key. I cannot budge the door. It’s too heavy.”

  Disappointment slumped her shoulders. “Find Beth. She’ll know where the extra set of keys are stored.”

  After Trudy’s retreat, Brighid closed her eyes, allowing herself to relax. She sat on one of the benches, blew on her fingers, trying to work the stiffness out of them while she fought to stay awake.

  With the key mysteriously absent, Brighid had no doubt that Angelica locked her in here on purpose so she could spend an afternoon with Wyatt.

  The twit.

  But she’d also given Brighid just the ammunition she needed.

  Brighid had enough.

  No more standing back.

  Brighid tipped her head back against the bench and plotted ways to take Angelica down a peg or two.

  Wyatt paced the parlor, jumping at any sound from the hall. He was conscious of Mother and Aaron watching him, that he was making a fool of himself, but he didn’t give a damn. Brighid would be down for supper today for the first time since they’d become husband and wife. It has only been a few days, but he missed her. When the door burst open, Wyatt whirled and tugged on his jacket, suddenly anxious. His smile wilted when Trudy stumbled to an abrupt halt as if her feet had taken root. He peered behind her then sagging in disappointment.

  No Brighid.

  “Beth…Um…Lady Castelline, may I speak to you in private?”

  Trudy wrung her hands, a wild look in her eyes that had him straightening in alarm. When his mother rose, Wyatt grabbed her arm and detained her.

  “Is this about my wife?” He loomed over the girl, hoping to intimidate the maid into answering. The color left her so dramatically he feared she would keel over. When she swayed, he knew he’d guessed correctly. The feeling of something being wrong had plagued him all day. He’d thought it was because of Angelica. He should have known better. “Where is she?”

  “She’s stuck in the chapel, and I can’t get the door open.” The words left her in a jumbled rush.

  Wyatt froze for a second, sure he misunderstood. “Excuse me?”

  “Brighid—”

  That’s all he needed to hear. Wyatt dodged around the girl and raced out of the room, his boot heels ringing on the floor. He shoved past Lydia and Angelica, not even hearing their cries of outrage as he took the stairs three at a time.

  There were only two entrances to the chapel. One was sealed from outside, the other on the second level of the house.

  He bolted down the hall, barely hearing Aaron’s boots pounding behind him over the thud of his heart. At the chapel doors, he didn’t pause to catch his breath, but yanked on the heavily carved handles.

  The doors held firm.

  It made no sense. The chapel was always open. Glancing down, he saw the key was conspicuously absent. It had been rusted in place for years, meaning someone had deliberately trapped his wife. Rage erupted, and he used the force of his ire to slam his shoulder against the wood.

  The solid door held firm, as if taunting him, and he seethed at being denied. Brighid could be hurt or bleeding out while he stood dithering about like a fool.

  He whirled on the crowd that had gathered, his attention latching onto the housekeeper as she waddled down the hall. She groped for the belt at her waist, fumbling with the keys in search for the correct one.

  He lunged forward and seized the keys, snapping the cord with one hard yank. Metal jangled as he flipped through the massive set. Time slowed. It seemed to take forever to locate the correct one.

  His fingers shook as he jammed the key into the lock. With a vicious twist, he heard the tumblers fall. Thrusting his shoulder against the door, he forced his way into the chapel and froze mid-step when he saw Brighid’s huddled figure slumped on the unforgiving pews.

  He shrugged off his paralysis, his chest so tight he couldn’t get enough air. Dropping to his knees, he brushed his fingers along her jaw, exhaling loudly when he found her warm. The terror threatening to consume his soul eased back a fraction, enough to allow his brain to start functioning again—she had just fallen asleep and hadn’t been murdered as he’d imagined.

  “Wyatt?” Brighid blinked up at him and smiled, brushing her cheek against his hand before her eyes slid closed once again. He swallowed hard at the welcoming smile.

  It crushed him to realize that if she’d been awake, she would never have granted it to him.

  She had the power to addle him with just one look.

  He feared one touch would slay him.

  He craved the intimacy between man and wife, the same devotion his parents had shared. He’d messed up, but he would remedy that. But first, he needed to get her out of there and get her warm.

  “Wyatt?” Aaron placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “She’s fine, just exhausted.” With the utmost care, he gathered her in his arms and stood. “Grab her staff.”

  Wyatt marched out into the hall. Ignoring the questions pelting him, he hurried down the corridor and thrust open the door to his room.

  Lydia touched his arm and gave him a pointed look. “Her room is down the hall.”

  He halted with one foot over the threshold. “Mine is closer.”

  Making sure not to jostle Brighid, he gently placed her on the bed then bundled her under the covers. He wanted to crawl into bed with her, desperate to assure himself that she was all right. He turned to find Aaron on his knees in front of the fireplace, leaning over to light the kindling while half a dozen others just milled about doing nothing.

  “Everyone out.” The bustle inside the room stopped instantly, everyone turning to him in confusion.

  Someone had broken into his house.

  Brighid could have been taken from his life forever.

  They had been lucky.

  Again.

  What would happen when that luck ran out?

  “Get. Out.” His roar echoed in the spacious room and blasted out into the hall, and the servants quailed. Everyone in the room flinched, bumping into one another in their haste to escape.

  The last to leave, Aaron nodded and secured the door behind him.

  The near miss left Wyatt jittery, unable to sit still. The only thing that calmed him was finally having Brighid in his bed.

  It demolished what little control he managed to scrape together, and he found himself drawn closer. He inhaled deeply, and the light smell of jasmine filled his heart as he stared down at her. Even under the mound of covers, he could see her shivering. Unable to resist touching her, he reached over and rubbed a strand of her hair between his fingers, marveling at the silken texture. A single curl wrapped around his finger as if inviting him closer.

  An internal debate on propriety ensured, but he quickly dismissed it and stripped.

  The fire had warmed the room, but not fast enough. Of the many times he thought of getting into bed with his wife
for the first time over the past few days, this was not how he imagined it.

  He pulled back the covers and settled in beside her. The blankets became stifling in an instant. Pushing his dangerously tempting thoughts aside, he gathered Brighid into his arms. Chilled skin burned wherever they touched, and he inhaled sharply at the shock of it. His arms tightened while he waited for her to wake and demand that he leave.

  After a moment, she did the most amazing thing.

  She cuddled closer.

  For the first time in years, contentment settled over him, and he kissed the top of her head. Only then did the gut-wrenching fear dissipate. Leaving room for another emotion—a furious anger that wouldn’t be appeased.

  When he got his hands on the man who’d done this, he would choke the life out of him.

  Bile rose at the back of his throat at the thought that someone had walked into his house—all the way up to the second floor—undetected. What type of man could not protect his family in his own home?

  Brighid shifted, pressing her curves against him, until every inch of her was imprinted on his brain. Thoughts of vengeance vanished when his body hardened in response to her unconscious invitation. His hands clamped down on her hips, and he wasn’t convinced whether he was actually holding her in place or preventing her from moving again and driving him utterly insane.

  What was more frightening…she brought him to his knees without even being aware of it.

  Sweat broke out on his brow as he forced his hand away from temptation. His body cried out in protest, the separation a physical ache that gutted him. If he’d used a little forethought, he would never have removed his trousers. The last thing he needed was for Brighid to wake feeling his blatant arousal pressed against her backside.

  The shivers that raked her body had tapered off, and he vowed to leave when they stopped.

  The alluring scent of jasmine ensnared him.

  Urged him closer.

  It took all his willpower to shift onto his back. He lay rigid while struggling for control. When he would have left the bed, she rolled closer and nestled against his shoulder, and he had no more will left to move, his common sense completely demolished by the simple trust she granted him while she slept. He bowed his head, nuzzling the side of her neck, placing a reverent kiss on the exposed skin.

  Lightly.

  Barely a caress.

  He meant to pull back, but she tilted her head, encouraging him to explore further.

  His mind gave up the battle without a fight. The stifling heat in the room faded as a fire of a different sort curled through him, and he pulled Brighid closer so she would burn with him. He nibbled at her neck, slipping his arms around her waist.

  When her skin warmed under his lips, he didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of doing this much sooner. He skimmed his hands higher, his fingers brushing the undersides of her breasts, and she arched into his touch, begging for more. Against his will, his hips flexed into her luscious curves, and he silently cursed the clothing that still separated them.

  His questing fingers found no buttons or ribbons to undo, and a groan of frustration rasped against his throat. “Wyatt?”

  Her sleepy voice brought him to his senses.

  What the hell was he doing? She might be reacting to his touch, but he wanted their first time with her to be special—he wanted her to be awake and aware and know exactly what he was doing to her. Eager for his touch.

  He didn’t want to seduce her.

  He wanted her to choose him.

  “Go back to sleep.” His voice was gruff, and he tucked the covers tighter around her.

  She gave a sleepy nod and obediently relaxed back into slumber.

  It took a conscious effort to release her. He inched away, barely biting back a groan as his body throbbed in denial, and regretfully left the bed.

  She was warm enough. She needed food and water, not the pawing of a lustful husband. Wonder bloomed in his heart as he gazed down at the woman who so captivated him. He’d believed that after working in the war office, his life would be monotonous, that he’d be bored out of his mind with mundane life.

  He studied her in fascination, no longer worried about boredom with her in his life. As he watched, she gave a sigh and snuggled into the spot he just left…as if she missed him. He curled his hands into fists to curb the urge to crawl back into bed. She might not know it—refused to admit it—but she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

  But before they could settle down into wedded bliss, he had to find a killer.

  In the meantime, he would enlist his mother’s help to uncover why Brighid so diligently avoided him. If anyone could ferret out the truth, it would be that wily, manipulative old woman. His smile came and went at the thought. Dressed once again, he cast a last regretful glance at Brighid and eased open the door.

  And found Trudy pacing the hall. When she spotted him, she snapped to attention with the precision of a seasoned soldier. Wyatt smiled in appreciation, grateful to have someone he trusted to watch over Brighid. “Weren’t you supposed to go home?”

  She avoided his gaze, intent on studying the floor. “I sent word I’d be staying tonight.”

  “I am glad.” Wyatt nodded toward the door. “She’s resting for the moment. Please sit with her until I return, then run down to the kitchen and bring back something for her to eat.”

  A shy smile flashed, and she entered the room in a flurry of skirts. Wyatt rapped on his mother’s door and entered at her ready invitation.

  She listened to everything he said without commenting. When he was done, silence filled the room. He stood and began pacing with quick, long strides. “Do you have any suggestions?”

  “You already know what you need to do.”

  He threw up his hands in exasperation. “I wouldn’t have asked if I knew.”

  “Every generation of men in this family has found love with their wives, some before their marriage, some after. In every instance, the women gave up their old lives to begin new ones with their husbands.”

  “So I have to get her to forget the past.” He stopped when Beth’s face wrinkled with obvious disappointment and frustration.

  “No, you foolish boy. You’re listening but not hearing. The women in our family are smart and strong-minded. Only for love did we choose between the past and the future. Each of us brought our homes and traditions to this family. What do you have to offer Brighid?” She raised a brow at him.

  “A life of luxury. I can give her anything she could ever desire.” He winced at how pompous he sounded.

  “So she is to give up everything for mere possessions.”

  Wyatt grimaced at the chiding. “We would become her new family.”

  “That’s for her to decide.” She poked at him with her cane, her voice snapping with annoyance. “You have to make sure she chooses you. If she decides to pursue her past, you could lose her.”

  He slammed his fists on his hips. “I won’t allow her to leave.”

  “You might not have a choice. You can’t keep her prisoner. It would destroy you both. If you wanted easy, a girl who would worship at your feet, then you would have been better off marrying Angelica.” She thumped her cane on the floor to emphasize her point.

  “I don’t want any of those simpering fools.” For heaven’s sake, he sounded like a pouty child. He gripped his hair with both hands, ready to rip it out in frustration. “Brighid’s…different. If I compliment her, she takes it as an insult. If I ask her anything, she’s suspicious of my motives. She’s stubborn. I’m not even sure how to get her to stay in the same room with me for more than five minutes.”

  “I raised a dullard.” Beth grumbled. “If you want Brighid, you must win her. Woo her. Make her fall in love with you.”

  Wyatt smiled roguishly, and Beth clicked her tongue in disgust.

  “What?” He innocently raised a brow.

  “Keep your mind out of your trousers. That will only get you so far. She’ll come to resent you for
trapping her. I’d think you would know this, but—” She leaned for as if to impart a secret. “Women are different from men. You have to use more than your body. Each generation of Castelline men had to win the love of their lady. Why should you be any different?”

  “I can do that.”

  She shook her head in disbelief. “Conceited boy. Flowers and sweet talk won’t work. You must learn what really matters.”

  “You’re right.” Wyatt bent and kissed his mother’s cheek then left. Mother had just given him all the help she was going to offer. The rest was up to him.

  Not willing to leave Brighid alone lest she land in more trouble, or wake and try to lock him out again, he strode back to his room. The longer he went without seeing her, the bigger the ache grew in his chest. Like an addiction, he needed to touch her to make sure she was fine.

  After dismissing Trudy, he stared down at her while she slept and realized he knew virtually nothing about her. Part of him wondered if that wasn’t exactly the way she wanted it. Though he still liked the idea of seducing her into staying, a hunger to discover what secrets she possessed took hold, and he couldn’t wait to discover everything about her.

  Chapter 17

  The sound of the latch opening brought Brighid wide awake. She groped for the knife she kept hidden under her pillow, her brows furrowing when she came up empty. To her surprise, Angelica sauntered into the room, bold as you please, touching things at random as if she owned the place. A deep anger flared to life, igniting her temper, and Brighid sat up in bed. “Come to finish the job?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  The only thing that gave away the lie was a small, telltale hiccup in her movements. “Don’t you? You didn’t come here to gauge what I knew? Or did you expect me to believe you came out of concern for my health?”

  Angelica dropped all pretenses and glared at her. “You can’t prove a thing.”

  “You’re right, but that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You know if I say anything, he will believe me.” Brighid could practically see Angelica seethe, her hatred heating the air.