Druid Surrender (A Druid Quest Novel Book 1)

by Stacey Brutger

Wyatt reached over and plucked it from her arms, tossing it from one hand to the next as if testing the weight. He shook his head. “This isn’t a proper staff. The proportions are wrong for someone your size.”

  The chiding tone grated on her nerves. “Hand it back.”

  “It’s hardly better than a branch.” He gave her a roguish smile that she imagined many women found charming. “I’ll purchase one more suited to you.”

  Brighid snarled at his condescension. She wasn’t one of his girls to swoon over a smile from him. She snatched the Lorg out of his hands. “These are my possessions. I ask you to treat them with respect. They might appear worthless to you, but they’re all I have left.”

  He stilled at her rebuke, the humor stripped away to reveal a man who looked genuinely contrite. “My apologies.” He tipped his head in a short bow, all signs of flirtation gone. “You’re correct. That was inexcusable. I only wished to make you smile and grant you a small gift after your terrible experience.”

  He led her to the horse and lifted her into the saddle with a gentleness that made her stomach flip-flop. Wyatt touched the Lorg, then squinted. “What are these markings?” His finger swept over the carved symbols, sending a shiver down her spine, as if he’d touched her instead.

  “None of your concern.” She wrenched the staff back and kicked the horse into motion. The animal bolted, and she tightened her hold in expectation.

  Wait, she chanted silently.

  They gained seven feet.

  Wait.

  Fifteen feet.

  Brighid tensed in preparation. When the whistle split the air, the horse jerked to an abrupt stop and pranced under her weight. She wanted to cheer that she had managed to keep her seat. Instead, she slid off the horse and dove headfirst into the undergrowth, wiggling through a too-narrow gap.

  With her hands still tied, she did her best to ignore the branches that scratched her skin like claws. She had only moments before he followed. A heartbeat later, she heard the horses move past her hiding spot. Although she mourned the loss of her bag, she sacrificed it gladly in exchange for her freedom.

  The world quieted.

  No pounding footsteps, no shouts of warning.

  Her muscles tensed with awareness, knowing he remained nearby. The man was too smart for his own good. Stubborn. He wouldn’t let her go easily. She tugged at the bindings with her teeth, but the confounded ropes were too tight to undo.

  Two options presented themselves.

  Either run or stay and risk recapture.

  With a snap decision, she wiggled out of her hiding place and ran. She managed to reach a small clearing before stumbling to a halt.

  Brin stood in the center, covered in sweat, his legs spread wide with an axe balanced in his hands. A strangled sound of dismay caught in her throat.

  He turned, and the axe fell to the ground with a hollow thud. Those big hands of his clenched at his sides, his open expression turning hostile.

  Fickle lady luck seemed to have abandoned her.

  “Brin.” Brighid smiled and glanced over her shoulder, cursing herself for not taking the other fork in the path.

  “You shouldn’t have come back.” Their eyes locked as he bent to retrieve his axe.

  Fear rippled through her, and Brighid raised her arms in protest, the staff awkwardly clutched in her hands. A searing burn sizzled along the runes on her feet as her powers flared to life.

  A loud crack echoed in the glen.

  In slow motion, the tree he’d been chopping toppled to the ground with a thud that vibrated up her legs.

  The big bear of the man disappeared when the branches engulfed him.

  “Brin!” Her heart stalled in her chest. She rushed forward to help when his hand shot out through the branches. Precious few inches were all that had saved him from certain death. He untangled himself with grim determination.

  He rose empty-handed, covered with small scratches, those large paws of his once more clenched into fists. Never once did he take his accusing gaze from her, and she edged backwards as if faced with a wild animal.

  “There you are.” Wyatt’s familiar voice called out.

  Brighid whirled, never so glad to see anyone in her life, barely resisting the urge to throw herself at him.

  “Is there a problem?” Wyatt’s voice lowered in challenge when he halted the horses and surveyed the scene. His attention settled on Brin, and he smiled even as his eyes bled to gray.

  Brin retrieved the axe, never allowing his attention waver from Brighid. “She tried to kill me.”

  “What?” Wyatt looked incredulous. “Her hands are tied, she’s unarmed, and twenty feet away from you.” Wyatt gave the big man a once-over, raising a brow. “You’re the one hefting the axe.”

  “I know what happened.” Brin straightened to his full height, his voice uncompromising.

  Wyatt paused, his eyes sweeping the scene again. “Exactly how did she try to murder you?”

  “She made the tree topple, almost crushing me under its weight.” Brin’s expression never wavered.

  “The tree you’ve been chopping fell, and you blame her?” With a snort of disbelief, Wyatt dismounted and approached Brighid, escorting her to his horse. “Come.”

  “I made only a handful of swings, not enough to bring it down,” Brin protested, aiming the axe at Brighid. “The witch waved her arms and it collapsed.”

  Wyatt sighed in exasperation. He marched over to the splintered tree and reached down into the trunk. With one touch, the brittle trunk crumbled like dust. “The wood is rotten. Isn’t that why you decided to chop it down in the first place?”

  Brin was slow to reply, contemplating the question as if expecting a trap. “Aye.”

  “Those swings weakened it. The weight of the tree alone was enough to topple it.” Wyatt made it all sound so logical. He winked as he strode toward her, the action so quick and out of place that she thought she might have imagined it. His continual defense baffled her, and she stared at him in complete bemusement.

  Until she saw Brin.

  She stiffened, uncomfortable under his intense regard. The two of them knew what really happened, even if it had been an accident. Nothing Wyatt could say would alter the truth.

  “You should have let her die at the stake. Mark my words, she’ll bring you nothing but trouble.” The big man turned and disappeared into the trees without waiting for a reply.

  “Superstitious fool.” Wyatt shook his head ruefully, dismissing the incident.

  Brighid swallowed hard, not expecting the casual dismissal. The weight of her secret pressed down on her and with it, the shame of her inability to control her gifts. She traced the symbols on her staff, avoiding his gaze.

  “He’s right. You should release me before anyone else gets hurt.” Her heart wrenched at the thought of Wyatt being harmed.

  Wyatt laughed and tossed her into the saddle. “You’re no witch.”

  She took a deep breath and blurted out the truth. “Not a witch, a Druid.”

  His laughter turned into a cough when he saw she was serious. “A what?”

  Brighid refused to wilt under his regard, pride forcing her shoulders back. “I was raised as a Druid.”

  “Raised?” He stretched out the word, as if unsure he wanted to hear the reply.

  She nodded at the fallen tree. “I did that.”

  Wyatt laughed in genuine amusement, and she wanted to smack him.

  “The tree was rotten. It would have fallen on its own.”

  “You—”

  “Enough.” He stalked to the waiting horse, settling himself in the saddle. With one hand, Wyatt gathered their reins and led the horses through the trees on a path only he could discern.

  “But—”

  “We’ll discuss it further when we reach the house. Our main priority is to get you somewhere safe. This incident is just further proof that it’s not safe for you to be on your own.” He set the horses into a fast trot, effectively ending the conversation.
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  After months of secrecy, she’d finally worked up the courage to confess her deepest secret, and he didn’t believe her. She didn’t know if she should laugh or be offended. Back straight, he rode without a care in the world. She could almost believe him when he said he would protect her.

  May the goddess save them both.

  Chapter 4

  Brighid’s first view of Wyatt’s house threatened to send her heart thumping out of her chest like a scared rabbit. The urge to run was nearly overwhelming. She’d expected a normal house, not a huge, three-story manor comprised of large gray stones that only the gods could have created. Every window shimmered like crystal as the panes captured the early morning light.

  “You live here?”

  Wyatt glanced at Brighid, the cynical side of him expecting to see calculation tarnish the innocence in her lovely green eyes. When he saw the pure dread, he bit back his initial sharp reply and simply nodded.

  “Who are you?” Her voice trailed off into a strangled whisper.

  Raw terror darkened her eyes, and the expressive face he found so enchanting vanished behind the polite society mask he detested, stealing the sparkling life he found so fascinating. He tightened his hold on the ropes connecting them, as if to prevent her from shutting him out, too.

  As if sensing the tension, her horse sidled. When he nudged his mount forward to rescue her, he watched in admiration as she brought the animal under control in a smooth move only duplicated by the most skilled riders. The doubts he harbored about her increased. Though this girl might not be dressed to London’s high standards, she sure as hell wasn’t the commoner she pretended. What was she doing hiding in his village?

  “Wyatt Graystone, Fifth Earl of Castelline at your service, my lady.” He spoke in a fake, highbrow voice, hoping to lighten her mood and break through the barrier she’d just erected between them.

  She shot him a suspicious look, and he couldn’t help but give her a devilish smile. Maybe if he could keep her off balance, she’d trip up and reveal more about herself.

  “This is my estate, Graystone Manor.” His spread his arms to encompass the land, pride filling him. After years of hard work, he’d finally been able to put the estate back to rights, though it had taken more money than he’d believed possible.

  Just when he had everything within his grasp, trouble tainted the peaceful homecoming he’d been craving for so long.

  He had to discover who wanted to destroy his factory, and remove any danger that threatened Ms. Legend, before he could settle into the peaceful existence he’d spent most of his life working toward.

  He’d been consumed with recouping his dwindling fortune, submerged himself in a dangerous world of espionage to get it, but that life had palled. He wanted a new future. The marriage certificate burned in his pocket, but the thought of being tied to the husband-hunting young misses of his class chilled him to the bone. He touched his pocket reassuringly, and his eyes wandered to his companion, easily able to envision himself spending time arguing and laughing with this waif of a girl.

  She was the first woman in years who gave him hope of more than a sterile union. Like a compulsion, he wanted to discover everything about the mysterious goddess who had so suddenly appeared in his life. Something about her ignited all his protective instincts.

  Despite practically kidnapping the girl, he couldn’t legally lock her away. It was imperative that he find a way to ensure she stayed of her own volition. He couldn’t bring himself to set her free before ensuring her safety. If that meant keeping her near, that was fine with him.

  In spite of the exhaustion that carved dark circles under her eyes, she was a gorgeous creature. He felt like a cad for delaying their travel just so he could spend more time with her. “Come, let’s get you settled.”

  They only covered a few lengths when a carriage rolled to a stop in front of the manor.

  One he easily recognized.

  “Hell and damnation.”

  Brighid heard him swear under his breath as he drew them to a stop, and found herself curious what had rattled his normal unflappable disposition despite knowing she should mind her own business. “Who are they?”

  Only when the couple disappeared inside did he speak, his voice devoid of emotion. “The neighbors.”

  With a click of his tongue, he urged the mounts forward. The nearer they came to the house, the more he became the lord of the manor, and every bit of his devil-may-care warmth drained away.

  Curiosity drew her closer until she rode alongside him. “And that is bad?”

  “It is when the marriageable daughter has set her sights on you.” His voice dropped to a low rumble, and she didn’t think she was supposed to hear what he said next. “Maybe if we’re really quiet, we can sneak past them.”

  He appeared hunted.

  Trapped.

  She took wicked pleasure in seeing the boot on the other foot.

  Wyatt was well aware of Brighid’s amusement at his predicament, but at least she was no longer plotting to escape. Deciding to take advantage of her compliance, he kicked the horses into a canter and headed up the drive. When they reached the entrance, he tossed the reins to the grooms and dismounted.

  He strode toward Brighid, looping the rope around his hands. Her eyes widened at whatever she saw on his face. Before she could react, Wyatt grabbed her waist and lifted her down, delighted to feel those luscious curves brush against his body. Only after her feet touched the ground did he reluctantly release her. Long after she pulled away, the feel of her in his arms persisted.

  Like she belonged there.

  Brighid twitched under Wyatt’s much-too-intense regard, uncertain if he wanted to kiss her or set her back on the horse and out of his life. She was trouble, and they both knew it. She ignored his silent invitation to move closer, and, even more difficult, the way her own body tingled from his all-too-brief touch. The heavy door to his ancestral home opened on silent hinges, dragging her back to reality before she did something stupid…like touch him back.

  Cold stone burned the soles of her feet as she walked into a vast gray and white marble hallway. Beautifully carved wainscoting decorated the lower portions of the walls, while a wooden staircase rose majestically at the far end of the hall. A beautiful chandelier dangled from the vaulted ceiling, where it caught the sunlight, and sent shards of color splashing across the foyer.

  The butler, an imposing older man dressed in black, stepped forward and stood at attention.

  “This is Miss Legend, an honored guest of mine.” Brighid bit back her protest when Wyatt handed over her possessions, and she watched them disappear into the cavernous house. The playfulness of the last few minutes vanished as the harsh truth struck home.

  She was a prisoner.

  Well…until she could slip her captor’s leash.

  The door to their right opened, and a slender woman shot out of the parlor, quickly closing the door behind her as if chased by the hounds of hell. She crushed her skirts in her fists, perhaps imagining her fingers wrapped around someone’s throat. When she spied them, she straightened abruptly from her slouch and cleared her throat, brushing the wrinkles from her skirts. Though the burgundy dress suited her smooth, ivory skin, the large bustle popular with current fashion left Brighid with the impression of a dressed-up doll she once saw in a shop window. It looked not only uncomfortable, but impractical. If she needed to move, she would be trapped by yards of material and easy prey. Brighid shuddered.

  The woman glided forward to greet them, an amused tilt to her lips, which was so much like Wyatt’s own that they had to be siblings. Her light brown hair was tied up in an intricate knot, her face delicate and serene—beneath the slightly harried expression. “Wyatt! It’s so good to see you.”

  She came forward and kissed him on the cheek before pulling away, a frown wrinkling her nose. “We have visitors.”

  Wyatt just grunted. “Lydia, I want to introduce you…to my guest. Brighid Legend. Brighid, my sister Lydia
.”

  Wyatt hardly paused when he told his sister the boldfaced lie, and Brighid barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. “A pleasure to meet you.”

  “You as well.” Her gaze flickered over Brighid’s face before settling on the ropes wrapped in Wyatt’s fist. A twinkle brightened her eyes. “Wyatt, when we said you needed to catch a bride, we didn’t intend for you to take it so literally.”

  “Minx.” He tugged on one of Lydia’s curls. “Wait for me in the study, and I’ll explain.”

  Lydia cocked her eyebrows, the stiff upper-crust woman melting into a younger sibling intent on tweaking her older brother. “Well, at least this should be interesting. I’ve never known you to act without weighing all the consequences.”

  While Wyatt strolled after his sister, the playful man who kept her off kilter was swallowed up by the imposing ass who refused to release her.

  Him, the man behind the charm, she could deal easily without being the least bit disarmed.

  Brighid trailed behind them, conscious of the ropes dangling from his fists. Lydia sat while he shut the door, the thud echoing in the sudden silence like a cage slamming shut.

  Brighid ignored the chair Wyatt indicated. She didn’t want to be comfortable. She wanted to leave. After a moment’s pause and a nod to her silent defiance, he dropped the ropes and strode around the desk, but remained standing. Windows framed him on either side, hiding him in shadows.

  He did it on purpose, and a dark suspicion brewed in the back of her mind.

  Everything inside her stilled.

  He was more than just a lord of the manor.

  “What’s wrong?” Lydia straightened, her attention shifting from one to the other.

  “She ran into a bit of trouble last night.”

  “Trouble?”

  “They tried to burn her at the stake. Until I can ensure her safety, she’ll remain here as our guest.”

  Lydia gasped in horror, and gave Brighid a sympathetic look. “That’s awful. I’ll have a room prepared immediately.”

  Brighid stepped between them and stood in front of his desk. “That won’t be necessary. Drop me off at the nearest train station, and your problems will disappear.”