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 ha
s 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.”
Havler said nothing for a moment, then thrust out his hand. “You have a deal.”
With a nod of good-bye, Wyatt headed outside.
Aaron easily kept pace and finally broke his silence. “Do you have any clue who would do such a thing?”
Wyatt shook his head. “No. I haven’t been home long enough in the last few years to make any enemies.”
“A rival factory owner?” Aaron raised a brow in question.
“We manufacture customized rugs, and our contracts have been in place for years.” Mounting frustration threatened to choke him. “We need to keep watch for strangers. The village is small even with the influx of factory workers. Outsiders should be easy to identify.”
“Except that no one but Havler has ever seen him. If he’s as refined as Havler said, he would have been noticed in seconds.”
Wyatt ignored his comment and grabbed Crusader’s reins. “Why not join us for supper?”
Aaron flashed him a broad grin. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. From the sounds of it, your witch has everyone at the house turned on their ears.”
Wyatt took Aaron’s teasing in stride.
He liked the sound of it.
His witch.
“You don’t know the half of it. Lydia is trying to mold her into a lady, but my sister doesn’t quite know how to respond to Brighid’s…unique outlook on life.” He snorted just thinking about it. “And of course Mother is never this happy unless she’s scheming. The two of them have become thick as thieves. You’ll see what I mean at dinner.”
Wyatt mounted and headed toward the main house, unable to stop going over and over what he’d learned. “Damn it, we have to do something.”
“We are.” Aaron gave him a sympathetic glance, then went back to surveying their surroundings.
Wyatt clenched his teeth in frustration. “Not nearly fast enough.”
It was only a matter of time before they struck again.
They went after Brighid once.
They’ll go after her again if he didn’t stop them.
Chapter 9
After her confrontation with Wyatt, Brighid struggled to remember why she’d been so sure getting close to him was a bad idea. She watched him leave the house, disappointed that he refused to include her in the investigation.
That didn’t mean she couldn’t conduct her own.
Determined to find out what he knew, Brighid sneaked down the stairs and slipped into his office. She had an hour at most before someone came looking for her, so she had to move fast. As part of her training to take over her mother’s duties at the school, she was taught how to do a rudimentary search without making it obvious. It took longer, but the last thing she wanted was for Wyatt to realize she was snooping. She started with the desk first.
She carefully riffled through the papers on top, trying not to allow herself to be distracted by the faint remnants of his unique scent. Memories of his touch came back to taunt her, and an ache tightened the back of her throat at what she could never have. Mother warned her that love would compromise her duty to her cousins. She didn’t speak about it often, but her eyes would dull with memories of her husband. She had chosen to protect the school, and it had cost her husband his life. It was a harsh reminder that Brighid had never forgotten.
Despite the ruse of their engagement, a relationship with Wyatt would be impossible.
Shaking her head at her own foolishness, she searched the drawers next.
And came up with nothing.
No case files at all.
She straightened and planted her hands on her hips. He must be keeping the information elsewhere.
Somewhere no one would dare intrude.
His room.
Her stomach danced with nerves, giddy at the thought of invading his territory. She felt a smidge of guilty for betraying his trust, but he only had himself to blame. He’d given her no choice when he told her to stay out of his investigation.
She couldn’t, not when she was a target.
She hadn’t relied on anyone else for a long time, and she wasn’t going to start now when it was her life at stake.
The clock chimed, and she gave a guilty start when she noticed the time. She dashed toward the door, lucky she hadn’t been caught. If she didn’t hurry, she was going to be late for dinner.
Her luck held. The halls remained empty. By the time she entered her room, her nerves were a wreck. After splashing water on her face, she stared at herself in the mirror. Her hair was a fright. She quickly ran a brush through it, which only made her look like she’d been struck by lightning. Grabbing a ribbon, she wound it through her hair. Although it wasn’t exactly proper to leave her hair down, there was no way she could tame her wild mane. She’d only end up looking frumpy.
Brighid shook out her skirts in a vain attempt to banish the wrinkles, self-conscious of her appearance for the first time.
It was all thanks to him.
Wyatt.
And she mentally cursed herself.
She shouldn’t care what he thought. In a few days, she and Wyatt would discover who was trying to destroy the factory, and their charade would be over.
Chased by that sad thought, Brighid wandered downstairs for supper.
Male laughter spilled out of the parlor, and she paused outside the door. Not wanting to interrupt, she tried to enter unnoticed.
The men stopped speaking the moment they spotted her and rose to their feet.
“Brighid, I don’t know if you remember,” Wyatt gestured to his friend, “t
his is Aaron, Viscount Cartridge. The two of you met the other night.”
Aaron picked up the hand she did not offer. “It’s a pleasure to meet you again,” he kissed her fingertips, peering up at her from lowered lids, “and to find you well.”
“Thank you, Lord Cartridge.”
“Please, call me Aaron.”
Brighid smiled to cover her sudden unease at the courtly gesture. She removed her hand from his as soon as it was seemly and scooted closer to Wyatt, uncomfortable under the man’s attention. As if he’d been trying to flirt with her. She scanned the room. “Did I arrive too early?” She asked, switching her attention to Wyatt.
“No, not at all. The other ladies should be down in a moment.” He indicated a chair. “Please make yourself comfortable while we wait.”
Brighid nearly tripped over her own feet at his charming smile.
Something about their antics put her on alert.
Did Wyatt suspect she had searched his study? She was good, and she had been very careful to leave everything the way she found it. Dismissing her disquiet, she carefully sat as far away from Wyatt as possible.
The last thing she needed was to spend more time in his company. She couldn’t risk falling further under his spell. If they planned to question her, she needed to keep her wits about her, which she couldn’t do sitting next to Wyatt.
Aaron spoke first, breaking the silence. “Miss Legend, when did you first arrive in the village?”
She cocked her head to the side, hearing more than natural curiosity in his voice, and countered with a question of her own. “Why do you want to know?”
Aaron exchanged another glance with Wyatt that only increased her suspicions. “Just curious. Small talk. One usually tries to get to know the other guests when they sit down to dine together.”
They were up to something.
After careful consideration, she decided to play along, curious to know where he would lead the conversation. “I arrived nine weeks ago.”
“And you lived in the village?”
The inquiry seemed innocent enough. “I leased a small cottage at the edge of town.”
Druid Surrender (A Druid Quest Novel Book 1) Page 9
