Druid Surrender (A Druid Quest Novel Book 1)

by Stacey Brutger

  Wyatt leaned forward, having somehow closed the gap between them when she wasn’t looking. Her traitorous heart fluttered at his nearness, the daft thing.

  Surprise lit his features. “Then you heard no rumors about trouble in the area before you settled here?”

  Small tendrils of fear wove around her chest, and she feared Wyatt had discovered the truth about her past, then she quickly banished the thought. No, they were fishing for something else.

  Determined to find out what, she kept her answers vague. “I didn’t say that. Just ask me what you really want to know, and I’ll do my best to answer.” Tension made her testy. If they were going to accuse her of something, why didn’t they just come right out and say it? The wait was going to drive her batty if she had to dance around for answers.

  Wyatt heaved a sigh, finally relenting. “We need your help. Someone is terrorizing the factory workers. Aaron and I are trying to figure out why.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “As of yet, we can’t find any solid evidence who’s behind the attacks, nor any reason why it’s happening. I believe you were targeted, not because of some silly charge of being a witch, but because someone believes you’re a threat.”

  Brighid silently snorted when both men stared at her with identical looks of expectation, as if she’d have all the answers because she was targeted, especially when they knew the real reason the villagers wanted her gone. “Maybe you’re approaching the problem from the wrong angle.”

  “What do you mean?” Wyatt cocked his head and studied her with those gray-green eyes of his, peering into her very soul.

  She fought a blush at the thought of him reading her mind, especially since he happened to be the focus of so many of her fantasies. “The villagers were convinced I was a witch. Have you tried to find the person who started the rumors?”

  “Giselle as much as admitted it the night I rescued you from the fire.”

  “For what reason?”

  Wyatt didn’t hesitate. “Because she feared being replaced at the factory. She likes her power, and was jealous of you.”

  The news left Brighid flabbergasted, and she shook her head as a more likely scenario occurred to her. “Maybe, but that means it would have been easier for someone to target her as well. Any hint of vulnerability would make it easier for someone to manipulate her. Have you talked to her?”

  From their thunderstruck expressions, she guessed not. She fidgeted under their regard, uncertain if they were more surprised by her answer or that she thought of it. Women weren’t supposed to be smart and definitely not smarter than men.

  She waited for their reprimand for interfering in their business.

  “She’s right.”

  “I know.” Wyatt didn’t sound pleased about it.

  Brighid blinked, shocked, though maybe she shouldn’t have been. Wyatt surprised her at every turn. He trusted and believed in her without hesitation, even when she told him about Druids.

  He had opened his mouth to pepper her with more questions when the other women entered, effectively ending the discussion.

  Beth and Lydia immediately sat and began chatting with Aaron, the perfect hostesses. Angelica stood in the doorway, her elaborate dress putting everyone else’s to shame. The beautifully crafted fabric draped her body to perfection. It must have taken her hours to prepare for this grand entrance.

  Once she was sure she had everyone’s attention, she sailed into the room, oblivious to everyone but Wyatt, as if the rest of them didn’t exist. For the next ten minutes, Angelica twittered every time Wyatt spoke, taking every opportunity to touch him. He cast Brighid a pointed look, pleading for rescue. Still smarting over his refusal to include her in the investigation, she gave him a pretty smile and then glanced away, as if suddenly fascinated with Lydia’s recounting of the day’s events.

  Two minutes passed before she began to fidget, uncomfortably aware that she was being watched. When she glanced up, her gaze locked with Wyatt’s.

  It was as if nothing existed in the world but the two of them.

  The intensity left her shifting uncomfortably.

  She felt hunted.

  Branded.

  When supper was announced, Brighid leapt from her seat, grateful for the reprieve. The dining room was as overwhelming as the night before. The long table sat fourteen, the golden-edged dishes gleaming under the gaslights.

  Wyatt held out a chair next to his and gave her a gentle smile. A blush heated her cheeks, but before she could gather her wits and move, Angelica elbowed her in the side and glided forward. It was everything Brighid could do not to laugh at Wyatt’s disgruntled expression. His hands tightened on the chair, and she half expected him to dump the haughty, self-absorbed princess on the floor.

  Politeness won.

  Brighid smiled at Aaron when he held out the chair next to him, the one intended for Angelica—the one farthest from Wyatt.

  Brighid noted two exits, the double door where they entered, and a servant’s door at the opposite end of the room. Two servants stood stationary, ready to ensure no one’s glass remained empty, while others came and went with the dishes. Two large bay windows reflected back the room, the darkness outside impenetrable. She let Angelica dominate the conversation, glad she didn’t have to participate much beyond an occasional nod.

  Wyatt sat at the head of the table, and she became fascinated by the effortless way in which he moved, so smooth and precise she felt clumsy by comparison.

  This was not the same man she’d met at the cottage.

  He was used to commanding people.

  Comfortable with being in charge.

  More at home interrogating her than pursuing the idle life of the gentry.

  It made him more dangerous, and, goddess help her, more attractive as well.

  He wasn’t conventionally handsome, but he exuded power, causing others to take a second look. He didn’t have the pale complexion popular with most nobles, and it only served to make him more interesting. Tiny lines radiated from the corners of his eyes, revealing not age but a man who lived fully for the sheer thrill of being alive.

  To Wyatt’s credit, he did his best to include everyone in conversation. Angelica would huff and glare at Brighid, becoming more annoyed every time Wyatt so much as looked at her. Then a certain gleam entered Angelica’s eyes, and Brighid braced herself.

  “What do you think of London, Brighid?” She took a delicate bite of food, then set down her fork while she chewed as if she were some dainty miss who couldn’t eat more than a few morsels.

  Possibly her corset was too tight, and Brighid immediately winced at the uncharitable thought. “I have no interest London.”

  Angelica nodded and smirked. “Yes, only the upper crust really takes any interest in the center of society. For anyone to pretend otherwise would be gauche and reaching above their station.”

  Brighid resisted rolling her eyes at the haughty attitude and smiled faintly when the conversation in the room stopped dead. “I couldn’t agree with you more.”

  Unfortunately, the insult sailed right over Angelica’s head.

  Wyatt snorted, and Aaron coughed, reaching for his wine glass.

  After a few stilted minutes while several dinner guest struggled not to laugh aloud, the conversation resumed as normal. Aaron tried to engage Angelica, but it was clear she was having none of it, and he eventually conceded defeat. He gave Brighid an amused grin that made her feel less of an outsider, and she couldn’t help like him despite her earlier misgivings.

  When Wyatt spoke to Aaron, her eyes were drawn to his lips, then lower, to the intricately tied neck cloth. His broad shoulders filled out his blue jacket, and she shivered at the hidden strength she recalled so vividly when he lifted her down from her horse. Brighid followed the cut of the jacket to his starched pressed shirt, and watched in fascination the way his chest expanded and contracted with each breath. Her fingers twitched, wanting to explore the power with her own hands.

  A sudden burst of hea
t flared along her runes. Her toes curled in reaction. She’d been so distracted studying him, it took her precious seconds to realize what was happening.

  Much too late to stop anything.

  Ping!

  Even as she watched, a button from Wyatt’s vest dropped to the table and rolled until it plopped to the floor.

  Damnation!

  Brighid stifled her horrified gasp, unable to stop staring at the missing button. How could she be so careless as to allow her powers to escape?

  Though she probably should be grateful he’d only lost a button.

  She glanced surreptitiously around the table, surprised when the others continued talking, as if nothing had happened. That’s when she realized no one else had noticed her gaffe. Hoping against hope that her vision was playing tricks on her, Brighid closed her eyes to steady herself, then looked at Wyatt again, or more precisely, his chest.

  But no, the missing button remained glaringly obvious.

  It also offered an enticing temptation, almost an invitation to explore further.

  To her horror, a second button shot low across the table and dinged against a serving tray.

  All the blood left her head until she feared she would keel over. The only saving grace was that no one knew she had done it. Heat crept up her chest and spread across her face. She’d been practically undressing the man in front of everyone!

  She shifted in her chair, ready to bolt at the least provocation. The room grew overly warm and she gulped her wine, desperate to moisten her dry throat. The fruity taste passed over her tongue, leaving her mouth with a bitter aftertaste. Her food lay in cold and unpalatable lumps on the china, the once-wonderful smell of roasted fowl in herb sauce causing what little she had eaten to clump in her stomach.

  With shaky hands, Brighid tilted her glass and the remaining wine trickled out, landing on her parched tongue. A footman stepped forward to refill, and she smiled gratefully. After her second glass, she relaxed enough to continue eating.

  Beth reached unobtrusively across the table, and Brighid watched wide-eyed as the hand retreated, as if it were a snake slithering toward her. Beth gently set the button near Brighid’s silverware.

  The incriminating button sat accusingly on the white tablecloth. Brighid snatched it up, shoving it inside her glove with shaky fingers. It took a full minute before she could work up the nerve to glance up from her plate.

  Beth cocked a brow and winked at her.

  The countess knew.

  She grabbed the wine glass and gulped the contents. Her chest felt hollow at the devastating loss, and she waited for Beth to call her out. People changed when they were confronted with the unknown, often turning deadly, as demonstrated by the villagers.

  The meal ended in a blur. She rose with the others, just inches from escape, when Beth spoke.

  “Brighid, would you please escort me to my room?”

  Angelica sashayed to Wyatt’s side and smirked in triumph at the opportunity to have him all to herself.

  “Of course.” Brighid cast one last wistful look at Wyatt, and her throat ached at his gentle smile.

  Brighid followed Beth up the stairs, feeling as if she was being led to the gallows. Then she slowly straightened her spine. Maybe what happened was for the best. Despite her intention to take an uncompromising stand and remain detached, she’d allowed herself to get too close to these people. She needed to focus on saving her cousins.

  The door shut loudly behind her, and Brighid stood rigid, waiting for the polite excuse as to why she must leave.

  “Sit before you fall over.” Brighid found herself shoved into a seat, and a snifter of brandy was pressed into her hand. “Drink this.”

  Brighid obeyed the command without question, choking on the first fiery swallow.

  “I normally don’t indulge in such drink, but you looked like you could use the courage.”

  With a shaking hand, Brighid raised the glass to take a second, more cautious sip, and shrugged. After a meal like that, who was she to argue? She raised the glass and gulped the remaining brandy in one swallow. The harsh liquid burned down her throat.

  The liquor spread like a warm glow through her system, and her lips tingled pleasantly, allowing her to finally speak. “I can be gone by morning.”

  Beth patted her arm and chuckled. “You will do no such thing. Anyway, we have a deal.”

  “What?” Brighid tipped her hand and peered into the now-empty glass in her hand, wondering if the brandy had affected her hearing as well.

  “What I witnessed was the poor quality of clothing my son wore. It was practically falling apart at the table.”

  “Poor quality.” Brighid repeated in disbelief.

  The countess couldn’t have missed what happened, so why was she being so nice?

  “Yes.” Humor tinged the word. “Why don’t you get some sleep? We’ll have a full day of fittings tomorrow when your new clothes arrive.”

  Brighid stood, swayed, and allowed Beth to escort her to the door. It amazed her that someone outside her small group of friends, a handful of people she’d adopted as her cousins, knew the truth and didn’t flinch away from her. Her life was cursed, full of superstitions and distrust. Brighid stopped and leaned against the doorjamb for support. “Why?”

  Beth understood the unspoken question. “It’s only a small part of who you are, dear. It just adds a little spice.” Beth touched her arm and Brighid went motionless, afraid any sudden move would scare her away. “Let me tell you a little story while I walk you to your room.”

  Beth retrieved her cane and shut the door behind them. “When I was a little girl, I was very close to my grandmother. She was a special woman, a lot like you.” Beth hugged Brighid’s waist and squeezed.

  “Me?” Brighid’s knees wobbled precariously…or was it the walls? She couldn’t tell.

  “Oh, yes. She had a subtle gift, an ability to locate things, such as objects and even secrets. I’m sure you can imagine the trouble she found.” Beth gave a misty laugh, as if recalling fond memories. They stopped outside Brighid’s door, and Beth kissed her forehead. “You are not as alone as you believe.”

  Brighid’s vision blurred as she watched Beth walk back toward her rooms. Once inside her own chamber, Brighid leaned back against the door and squinted, trying to bring the room into focus. The evening left her with mixed feelings. Logic urged her to leave. It wouldn’t do to become more involved. She had her own responsibilities to her cousins, but she couldn’t make herself go, not if it left Wyatt and his family in danger.

  Her mother told her their gifts were supposed to help people.

  If anyone deserved her protection, Wyatt did.

  Too exhausted to sort out her emotions, she walked to the bed, shedding her clothes as she went. Warmth invaded her limbs when she snuggled under the covers, her staff clutched in her hands. It only occurred to her moments before sleep claimed her, that Beth had purposely given her the drink to inebriate her, just enough to prevent her from leaving.

  Sneaky.

  She couldn’t help admire her.

  She fell asleep with a smile on her face.

  Wyatt sat in the study with Aaron, having immediately excused themselves after the meal, barely managing to escape Angelica’s clutches. Wyatt ruthlessly fobbed the clinging creature off on his sister. She deserved the misery for inflicting the pest on them in the first place.

  He poured two large snifters of brandy and handed one to Aaron before claiming his own. He turned toward his desk and was about to sit when he noticed something slightly off about the placement of his papers. They appeared less random than when he left, although nothing seemed to be out of place or missing.

  Brighid.

  Wyatt suppressed a chuckle. Instead of feeling betrayed, he had to admire her ingenuity and pluck. He couldn’t wait to see her again and find out what she would get up to next. He’d admit, if only to himself, that her rejection earlier in the study still stung. Seating himself, Wyatt relaxed back
into his chair, feeling content. “What do you make of her?”

  Aaron didn’t ask of whom he spoke. “She was very quiet at dinner…distracted, perhaps?” He smiled at Wyatt, raising a brow. He rolled the snifter between his hands, absorbed in watching the amber liquid shimmer through the glass. “She did bring up some interesting points, but I agree with what you said earlier, she knows something. Or may be hiding something?”

  “Yes.” Wyatt stared glumly at his boots. He’d hoped she was an innocent bystander. Everything inside him rebelled at the thought of her being involved. He invited her into his home. He refused to believe she would hurt his family.

  What should have disturbed him more was that knowing she was hiding something didn’t change the way he felt about her one bit.

  He still wanted her.

  “I noticed your attachment to Miss Legend has not deterred Angelica’s pursuit? In fact, she seems more determined than ever.”

  Wyatt pinched the bridge of his nose when his head began to pound. “Every time I turn around, she’s lying in wait for me. Like she’s stalking me.”

  “I don’t doubt it.”

  Wyatt glanced up and cast Aaron a speculative look as an idea began to form.

  “Don’t even think about it.” Aaron stood and backed away, already shaking his head.

  “Think what?” Wyatt kept his voice innocent, but couldn’t banish his grin.

  “No. I won’t do it.” Aaron raised his hands as if to fend off Wyatt’s next words.

  Wyatt laughed at his friend’s obvious discomfort, delighted to feel the noose around his neck loosening. “But it would be perfect. She is an attractive young lady, rich and very agreeable.” He stood, becoming more invested in the idea. “Just keep her distracted.”

  “Wyatt—”

  “You wanted to help, and this is the only way I can move about freely.”

  “But—”

  “You said it yourself, the villagers don’t trust you.” Wyatt relished the opportunity to trade places and watch his friend being hunted for a change.

  “Satan’s balls,” Aaron uttered in resignation.