Wyatt shifted to get comfortable, trying not to disturb them, but he could have been lying on a bed of nails, unable to find a comfortable spot. He twisted to his side and found himself inches away from Brighid, her jasmine scent luring him closer. He froze a moment, then surrendered to the inevitable and gathered her close until she was draped over his chest, his mind locked on one thought.
No more just reacting. It was time to fight dirty and employ a few of the tricks he’d learned on the streets.
He’d do whatever it took to ensure her safety.
Brighid woke cocooned in a sinful warmth that made her want to linger, but it seemed she spent the whole time she’d been in this house in bed, and she was tired of it. It was time to stop being a victim and find out who was targeting her.
Paul had vanished, and she saw a tray of food on the table. Her stomach gave a rude rumble, but when she tried to shift away, a band tightened around her middle.
Someone was behind her.
Someone big.
She tensed, afraid to move and draw attention to herself. She scrambled to remember what happened after the doctor left.
And came up with nothing.
Despite all her protests, she’d fallen asleep like a weak, helpless female.
Taking her courage in hand, she glanced down.
Familiar arms were wrapped around her, as if unwilling to let her go even in sleep.
Wyatt.
One of his hands cupped her breast.
Much to her mortification, her nipples pebbled. It was everything she could do not to groan and arch into his touch. Then she remembered their kiss. Heat speared through her, and her lips tingled. She wanted more, and that frightened the daylights out of her. She needed to escape his hold before Wyatt discovered her weakness and used it against her.
“Brighid.” Wyatt mumbled her name and tucked her closer, pressing her back firmly into the solid wall of muscles of his chest. His fingers brushed against the tip of her breast, and she squirmed at the delicious sensations.
Then she went rigid, determined not to dissolve into a puddle of pure desire. When he didn’t move, she realized he was still asleep. Her belly flipped at the thought he would call out her name from his subconscious, and something dangerous curled around her heart.
She hated to admit it, but she was becoming used to his presence.
Actually craved it and took comfort just being near him.
All she’d ever wanted was to have her cousins back. When weeks passed into months without word, her hope had faded. Then she met Wyatt and knew he would change her future. She resisted his flirtation and charms, refusing to leave her people to their fate.
She didn’t even know if the others had survived.
She’d only escaped by pure chance.
Who was to say the others had been as lucky?
Wyatt had forced her to marry, claiming he would keep her safe. She’d never wanted his help, never thanked him for his care for fear that acknowledging it meant she might be in over her head. While she looked over her shoulder to study him lying next to her, she wondered if her dreams of the past were only that.
Maybe he not only saved her life, but also gave her the opportunity for a future she’d never imagined possible. She slowly turned in his arms to get a better look. Then smiled at his tousled hair. It made him look mischievous and approachable and so very delicious.
The rest of him, however, remained all powerful, arrogant and intimidating male.
And may the goddess help her, she liked that part, too.
Even in sleep, the lines around his face were scored deep. She traced them lightly, the rough skin prickling her fingertips, and she wondered if she’d caused the frown marks with her wild escapade. She had to admit, if only to herself, she was worried as well.
She racked her mind to recall the source of trouble in the area.
And every incident came back to one thing.
Wyatt.
Terror balled in her gut, and a shiver of alarm raced down her spine.
Whoever was behind the trouble wanted one thing…a way to hurt Wyatt.
Now they were married, the madman was determined to use her to get him…unless she could stop him first.
She wanted to touch Wyatt and assure herself that he was safe, but she curled her fingers into fists so she wouldn’t wake him.
The more she studied the problem, the more she was sure the culprit had to be someone people respected and trusted. Giselle wouldn’t have allowed herself to be used by anyone beneath her station, but Brighid needed more information to complete the picture.
And who better to give it than Wyatt? Who would want revenge against him badly enough to enact such an elaborate plot?
Lost in her train of thought, she studied the dark lashes resting against his face. She followed the line of his nose to his parted lips. The same lips that kissed her senseless. She squirmed at the memory and couldn’t help but wonder if she kissed him again, would she feel the same way, or if it had been a fluke?
She moistened her lips in anticipation.
“Brighid?”
She glanced up to find Wyatt watching her with hungry eyes.
Warmth stung her cheeks. How long had he been observing her? “You’re awake.”
“You’re thinking again.” He didn’t sound pleased.
Not wanting to admit she’d been fantasizing about him, she quickly changed the subject. “Did you get any further in the investigation while I was…gone?”
His brows lowered ominously as he stared down at her. “If you can’t keep your promise, it nulls mine.”
Brighid shoved away from his distracting touch and sat up. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“It’s too dangerous. I don’t want you mixed up in this mess.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t you think it’s a little late for that? I doubt that whoever is doing this will stop, even if you ask nicely. We need to work together to solve this.”
Wyatt got that stubborn look on his face that didn’t bode well for her and crossed his arms behind his head.
“Children, I could hear you down the hall.” Beth entered the room, her cane thumping on the floor. “Wyatt, you should be ashamed of yourself for badgering the poor child while she’s indisposed.”
Brighid crossed her arms, vindicated. She resisted smirking, but barely.
“And you. You had us all worried when you ran off like a hoyden. What were you thinking?”
Brighid opened her mouth to defend herself but never got the chance.
“The boy ran off. We could have gathered a search party and found him—”
“But not before the killer.”
Beth’s hands tightened on her cane, and she paled. “What?”
“Wyatt was just about to tell me about his investigations.” Brighid smiled, relieved to have Beth’s ire turned in another direction. “Why not join us? Then he only has to say it once.”
“Brighid.” He cast her a reproving look before turning to face his mother. “I am handling the situation. I don’t want you to worry about this nonsense.”
Beth snorted. “A murderer does not sound like nonsense. I am old, not senile. All I have left to occupy my time is to worry over my children. What kind of mother would I be if I did not?”
“Mother—”
“Enough! Tell me everything.”
Wyatt didn’t know who exasperated him more, Brighid or his mother.
Yes, he did.
Brighid.
He rubbed the back of his neck, took a few slow, steady breaths, and narrowed his eyes. The sneaky chit had tricked him, setting a neat little trap. She would pay for it later, and he repressed a wicked smile at the many ways he would enjoy tormenting her.
“Someone is terrorizing the people at the factory.” He nodded at his mother’s horrified gasp, rubbing a hand over his rumpled hair, then hesitated at how much to reveal. “At the moment, we’re searching for the man responsible, but coming up empty.”
“Wait.” Brighid lifted her hand, reaching out to touch him before carefully pulling it back, as if she thought better of it. “What were you going to say?”
“What do you mean?” Wyatt gave Brighid what he hoped was an innocent look. The woman saw far too much for his comfort.
“You were going to say something else.”
“No—”
“Wyatt.” His mother broke into their argument. “You might as well tell us. If you don’t, we’ll just have to find out for ourselves.”
Wyatt massaged his temples, and his gut clenched at the casual threat. Every way he studied it, they had him trapped. “We’ve only found three clues. The first one led us the mysterious boy you’ve been calling Paul, but he’s mute. The second was Giselle, and she’s now dead. The threats are escalating. The only other person who survived an attack was Brighid, and I believe he’s trying to rectify the problem.”
Wyatt turned to face Brighid, and could all but see the wheels turning. He should have known she wouldn’t cower like other women.
Not his wife.
She turned those pretty eyes on his, shooting his concentration to hell. “Do you have any local enemies?”
“Everyone has enemies.” His mind ran along similar lines, but he couldn’t recall anything that would cause someone to go to such lengths.
“No, you are not listening. Any local enemies? This person knows you. They’re close enough to watch us, and they’re familiar enough that they won’t upset the locals when they see him.”
He shook his head and narrowed his eyes on his wife, not liking her speculative look. “Aaron and I already discussed the very same thing. I’ve been away for a number of years. A few disputes come up now and then, but nothing out of the ordinary.”
“No angry husbands?”
“No.” He glared at her, speaking through clenched teeth. A knock rattled the door, and Wyatt stood stiffly, afraid he might say or do something he would later regret.
“Aaron, come in. You might as well join the conversation.” Wyatt all but jerked his friend into the room. He waited for Aaron to make himself comfortable in the last remaining chair in front of the fire before speaking. “What did you find?”
Aaron shot a cautious look at the women. At Wyatt’s nod, Aaron continued without batting an eye. “Nothing. No one saw anything.” Then he smiled. “A bit of good news. Angelica has successfully moved back in with her brother.”
A snort escaped Brighid, and she covered her mouth to smother her laughter.
“Brighid.” Wyatt’s temper broke.
“Sorry.” She smiled back at him, all innocent and unrepentant.
At the sight of her bruised face, his anger deflated. Her pale skin was like porcelain, making her look fragile. She had enough to deal with now, she didn’t need his anger as well. “I think it’s time we let Brighid rest.”
“Of course.” Beth stood and patted Brighid’s hand before exiting.
“You had us worried.” Aaron smiled, and Wyatt stiffened. Aaron might be his best friend, but Wyatt didn’t want the man anywhere near his wife. Aaron was a Casanova, drawing women to him with just a look. Since Brighid kept denying their marriage, he felt vulnerable…and hated it.
“I’m glad you’re back,” Aaron added.
“Me, too.” Brighid glanced at Wyatt, as if she doubted he felt the same way, which infuriated him more.
Not able to take it anymore, he grabbed Aaron’s arm and hauled him out the door. Only when the lock clicked into place did he relax. He faced his wife, determined that she understand some rules.
A knock interrupted them, and Brighid pursed her luscious mouth to cover her smirk, no doubt believing she’d won a reprieve. He cursed silently, whirling away from temptation. “You’re a popular woman.”
Trudy peered around the door, a smile on her face. She faltered when she caught sight of him. “I brought a new tray.”
“Leave it. I’ll make sure she eats.” Trudy set the tray on the side table and picked up the old one. She paused, giving Wyatt one last suspicious look before reluctantly leaving.
He walked to the table, lifted the cover, and the tempting smell of food filled the room. His own stomach grumbled. Ignoring it, he hefted the tray and set it on Brighid’s lap. Before she could grab the spoon, he snatched it up and dipped it into the broth.
She opened her mouth to protest, and he promptly slipped the broth between her lips. The instant her mouth closed around the spoon, his depraved mind landed in the gutter, and his cock hardened.
Oddly, the domestic task settled a new kind of peace into his soul. He watched her throat move and he shifted on the bed, imagining her lips on his, her tongue stroking his shaft.
The blanket slipped, and it was all he could do not to stare at her satin-covered breasts. He wrestled with his urges. He’d been too long without a woman.
And now he wanted only her.
Unfortunately, today was not the time.
But soon.
If he kept denying himself, he did not know how much longer he would remain sane.
He rubbed his jaw, his whiskers scraping loudly in the silence. After their explosive kiss, he knew she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
Blast his mother for putting the idea in his head, but he didn’t want to seduce his wife, he wanted to be her first and only choice.
He rubbed his chest, unintentionally trying to soothe the pain of her continual rejection. If she gave them a chance, they could have a good marriage.
He wouldn’t give her up without a fight. He would find a way to make Brighid his, make her accept them, if it was the last thing he did.
She was so self-assured, the bedchamber was the only place he could throw her off stride. He had a feeling it would also be the only way he could truly show he cared. She didn’t believe in his words, but he could show her by his actions.
Chapter 21
The dancing flames played shadows over Wyatt’s body, concealing half his face in the murky light. He sat in the chair next to the bed, watching her, unblinking.
“What are you doing?”
“Keeping an eye on you.”
“Well, stop it. You’ve been doing it all day.” Brighid ground her teeth, thumped her pillow with her fist, and turned her back on him. He hadn’t left the room since they woke together, not even when she needed to use the necessary. Insufferable man. She had never been so humiliated. If he didn’t leave soon, she would murder him herself.
How was she supposed to find answers if she couldn’t leave the blasted room?
Every time she so much as twitched, he practically threatened to sit on her to keep her in bed.
When someone knocked, they eyed each other suspiciously.
“Enter.” Brighid blurted out the command before Wyatt could send the person away.
Beth took the scene in at a glance. “Get dressed. I want to show you something.”
Her brisk voice brooked no argument.
Brighid didn’t even bother to glance at Wyatt as she scrambled out of the bed. She grabbed the last dress remaining in the wardrobe and darted into Wyatt’s room, slamming the door in his face when he moved to follow.
She heard them arguing, but didn’t care, not if it got her out of that room and away from him. She laced herself up in the last gown Beth had ordered for her, a pale green day dress with embroidered flowers decorating the hem. It molded to her bosom and flared at her hips before flowing to the floor. The elegant dress made her feel the part of lady of the house.
When she glanced in the mirror, she gasped in horror at the snarled mess of her hair.
She ran a brush through the hopeless tangles, then quickly knotted it back with a ribbon before Wyatt could bully Beth into changing her mind. When she entered the room, she saw Beth patiently waiting for her with a triumphant smile curling her lips.
She peered around the room, afraid to bring attention to herself, but Wyatt appeared to have vanished. Relief was instantaneous for all of two seconds
before paranoia began preying on her nerves. She eyed the door, wondering if she should make a break for it before he could return and called a halt.
“If you were looking for your husband, he went to his study.” Beth looped their arms together and led her down the hall. She gave her a sideways glance and smiled. “I’m supposed to tell you he will be there all day unless you need him.”
The niggling worry that he would do something drastic—like steal her plan to go after the killer by herself—eased a fraction, and she allowed herself to be escorted to a gallery of sorts.
The long, narrow room had floor to ceiling windows with yards of red curtains on either side, allowing sunlight to flood the chamber. Besides a few benches to decorate the space, the room was bare of furniture. Facing the windows were hundreds of gold frames of every shape and style, all crammed along the wall, leaving not even an inch of room to spare. These paintings, so similar to the windows in the church, stunned her. They weren’t stuffy portraits, but images captured from their lives.
“These are our ancestors.” Beth followed her at a distance, granting her the time to study them at her own pace.
The images were a revelation, a living history her ancestors didn’t dare possess. The lack of them prevented people from tracking her bloodlines. Druids were rare, practically hunted to extinction. Those who knew they’d survived through the centuries wanted to possess the few who remained. Though it was practical to keep her past hidden, Brighid regretted it.
No one would ever know what had become of her people.
Each portrait told a chapter in the history of the Castelline family. She recognized the men easily, the similarities to Wyatt astounding, but the women in the paintings captured her attention. Their outfits placed the women in different eras and different nationalities.
Brighid came to a stop in front of the portrait of a much younger Beth and her husband. And from the sparkle in her eye, Brighid knew where Wyatt got his mischievous streak.
Beth had given up her past and chose to create a new life with her husband. Women did it all the time. Brighid needed to decide which future she wanted but feared that leaving her past behind would mean abandoning her family to their fates. Five other people had fled with her, every one of them hunted. Since her mother’s murder, the duty to keep them safe had fallen to her.
Druid Surrender (A Druid Quest Novel Book 1) Page 22