Druid Surrender (A Druid Quest Novel Book 1)

by Stacey Brutger

  The girl cleared her throat and Wyatt whirled, his boots thudding on the floor as he hurried toward the bed. Brighid wore only her shift, looking terribly young and vulnerable. Wyatt glanced up to see the girl hovering in the corner, and used her as a distraction to keep from thinking about Brighid still form and why she hadn’t awakened up yet. “What’s your name?”

  “Trudy, my lord.”

  “I’m sure this is not how either of us expected our morning to turn out.” He ran a hand over his hair. “I understand if you decide not to stay, but I hope you’ll change your mind.”

  “What happened to her?” A quiver of fear tinged the question.

  “An accident at the mill. She rescued a boy and was injured in the process.” He trailed off. The image of her still, bloody body would haunt him for the rest of his life. Wyatt wet a cloth and gently cleaned the ghastly cut along her hairline. The bleeding slowed, turning sluggish. His finger hovered over the angry bruise on her temple, wishing he could brush it away.

  The girl inched closer to the bed. “She saved the boy?”

  A half-smile came to his face. “The doctor is with him right now.”

  He dabbed at a vicious cut on her arm, and Brighid moaned. Wyatt immediately dropped the cloth and lunged forward, gently cupping her chin. “Can you hear me?”

  “Wyatt?”

  His heart warmed that she asked for him.

  Her eyes fluttered open, and their deep green was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Wyatt smiled in relief, picked up her hand, and brought it to his lips, unable to resist the impulse to kiss her. “I’m here.”

  She struggled to sit, but fell back on the bed with a hiss.

  “Don’t move. You’re safe.” He straightened the bedcovers, fussing over her like an idiotic jackanapes when he should be out there hunting down the bastard.

  But he couldn’t make himself leave her side.

  He knew she remembered what happened when her panicked gaze flickered around the room as if expecting attack before focusing on the girl. “Trudy?”

  She nodded with a shy smile. “You remembered me.”

  “You helped your dad in the factory. You help set the patterns.” The small conversation seemed to exhaust Brighid, and her eyes slid shut.

  He was chilled to realize Brighid had once more slipped into unconsciousness. When a knock echoed in the room, he jumped to his feet, and yanked open the door. “Thank God. She’s over here.”

  He grabbed the doctor’s arm and dragged the man toward the bed when he didn’t move fast enough.

  The doctor gave her a cursory glance before facing Wyatt. “You’ll need to wait in the hall while I finish my examination.”

  “No.” Wyatt crossed his arms and widened his stance.

  He wasn’t budging.

  “You have two anxious women waiting in the hall for reassurance, not to mention two men pacing downstairs.” Even as he spoke, he guided Wyatt out the door. He gestured to the maid. “The girl and I will take care of her.”

  The door clicked shut even as he squeezed out the last word. Before Wyatt could force his way back inside, his mother latched onto his arm. “What happened?”

  “Brighid was injured in an explosion at the factory. The doctor is examining her as a precaution.” Not wanting to worry them unduly, he gave them an abbreviated version of what had transpired.

  “Then why is the vicar here? Don’t lie to me. How badly is she hurt?” Beth’s voice remained firm, but her chin quivered.

  Wyatt cursed himself for causing her worry. “She’ll be fine. I asked Aaron to bring the minister. When the doctor’s finished, Brighid and I shall be married.”

  Lydia overcame her shock first. “So soon?”

  “She will be my wife.” He nearly shouted the words, and Lydia reared back at his fierce tone. He angled his head toward his mother, his jaw squared for battle. “Do you have anything to say?”

  “Congratulations.” Beth’s face relaxed.

  That was the last thing he expected, and he studied her closer, suddenly suspicious of her capitulation. “And?”

  “You must have a care. She may seem capable, but she’s very fragile.”

  All his protective urges roared to life. “She won’t want for anything.”

  She patted his face. “Of course not, but mark what I said.”

  Without waiting, she turned and limped down the hall toward her room.

  “Wyatt,” Lydia touched his sleeve, concern written on her face, “you’re not thinking clearly. She’s safe. You have time to—”

  “My decision’s final.” He glared at the door that kept him separated from Brighid, wanting to beat it down. He crossed his arms to hold himself back while a thousand half-formed fears ate away at him.

  What was taking so long?

  He hadn’t been aware of moving until Lydia planted herself between him and the door. “And she’s agreed to this?”

  Wyatt’s mouth snapped shut, and he ran his fingers through his hair. “Not exactly.”

  “You’re moving too fast. I don’t want you to regret your decision. Are you sure this is what you want?” Concerned eyes so much like his own gazed up at him.

  “I’m thirty-six years old. London is full of giggling girls, promiscuous wives or morally righteous crusaders intent on bettering the world one male at a time. I don’t want that life.” He shuddered to think about being trapped in marriage to someone he couldn’t stand. Funny, but when he thought of Brighid, trapped was the last thing that came to mind. “I’m sure.”

  Lydia pointed a finger at him. “Then do me a favor. For her sake.”

  Wyatt nodded. “Anything.”

  “Brighid has to…initiate contact in the marriage bed.”

  Wyatt blinked when her meaning sank in, and his good cheer darkened. “She’s injured. I’m not an ass.”

  She shook her head, her face reddening at the discussion. “No, that’s not what I mean. You’re rushing her into marriage. You’re not giving her a choice. Don’t rush her into anything else. Give her time to settle into her new life.”

  He scowled at her meddling. It rankled that she didn’t trust him. He blatantly disregarded the fact that he was bending that trust by forcing Brighid into a commitment in the first place. “Agreed. Please sit with mother and make sure the excitement wasn’t too much for her. She shouldn’t have been walking on her injured ankle.”

  Voices rose as Aaron and the vicar made their way upstairs. Lydia reached up and kissed his cheek, then walked away when the vicar and Aaron appeared around the corner.

  “I won’t do it. The banns must be read for three weeks.”

  “But she could be dying. The doctor is with her now. Wyatt has a special license and wants to grant her last wish, hoping to give her a reason to live.”

  The vicar harrumphed. “She should receive her last rites, not a wedding ceremony.”

  “Gentlemen.” Wyatt spoke loud enough to be heard. Before he could continue, the door opened and the doctor stepped into the hall. Wyatt hurried forward, forgetting the others.

  Aaron took control of the situation. “I never thought of it that way. She’s in here.” He hustled the vicar into the room and pushed the door shut in the doctor’s face just as he opened his mouth to object.

  The doctor frowned at the closed door. “There’s no need for the vicar. She’s injured, but will make a complete recovery.”

  “Thank God.” Wyatt slumped against the wall. When he noticed the doctor’s disgruntled expression, he seamlessly continued the lie where Aaron left off. “My mother insisted. I tried to explain but she became so agitated, I gave into her pleas.”

  The doctor nodded sagely. “Understandable. Miss Legend will need to rest for the next couple of days. She’ll be sensitive to light, suffer some residual dizziness, and a lack of appetite. All that will pass by the end of the week. She may have some lingering headaches, but they should go away after a time. I gave her a dose of laudanum and left some on the nightstand
, with instructions to the maid about how to administer it.”

  Wyatt nodded, completing each word to memory. “May I see her now?”

  “Yes, but not for long. She needs her rest.”

  Wyatt grunted at the warning and shoved past the man. By the time he opened the door, the doctor was forgotten.

  Brighid lay deathly still on the bed. In the time he’d been gone, her bruises had deepened to a nasty green. If he hadn’t heard the doctor’s diagnosis, he would have assumed the worst. Trudy cowered wide-eyed in the corner of the room, the vicar stood at the end of the bed, while Aaron stared out the window.

  The vicar turned at his entrance. “We will begin when you’re ready, Lord Castelline.”

  Wyatt sat at Brighid’s side and cradled her hand, playing with her fingers. They felt small and vulnerable in his hold. As her husband, he’d be able to take measures to ensure that she’d be protected properly in the future.

  He narrowed his eyes at the vicar. “I want this union to be ironclad. If anyone inquires about the marriage, will it hold up under scrutiny?”

  “Yes, the special license you supplied will be sufficient. Does she have a legal guardian or parents we need permission from before we begin?”

  “No.”

  “Dowry?”

  “None.”

  “Any previous marriages or commitments?”

  Wyatt shook his head. “No.”

  “Very well.” The vicar licked his finger and paged through his prayer book until he found the correct page. “Since there are no objections, shall we begin?”

  Wyatt straightened and ran a shaky hand down the front of his waistcoat, ignoring the spots of her blood and the little tick of guilt at his underhanded actions.

  She would understand.

  He’d have a lifetime to convince her.

  The vicar shifted, his doubtful gaze landing on Brighid. “We will need her approval and signature.”

  “You’ll have them.” Wyatt tightened his grip on her hand. He refused to release her after all the trouble he’d gone through to make her his.

  The ceremony was short, over all too quickly. The laudanum left Brighid so malleable that it took little urging from him for her to give her consent and sign the contract.

  The vicar left with the assurance he would register and hand-deliver the certificate.

  Bone-deep satisfaction settled over Wyatt.

  Brighid was his.

  A knock interrupted his thoughts. Trudy opened the door, then hesitated when she found a groom waiting for her.

  Wyatt waved her away. “I’ll stay and keep watch tonight. Go home.”

  “I should be going, too.” Aaron walked toward the door, but stopped with his hand on the knob. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “I made the right decision.” He held still under Aaron’s scrutiny.

  “You love her.”

  He hesitated. “It’s possible. If not, I’m well on my way. I’ve never been around a woman with whom I could just be a man and not a title.” Just thinking about her made him smile. “We’ve scarcely had the opportunity to get to know each other, but she’s everything I’ve ever wanted. I’m attracted to her, but love…” Wyatt glanced down at his work-roughened hands. He wasn’t the normal lord. Would she be disappointed when she found out what he’d done? “I don’t think it would take much to love her.”

  That was if he hadn’t ruined their marriage before it had a chance to truly start. He just had to figure out a way to break the news to Brighid that they were married without her coming to hate him for it.

  Chapter 14

  “I’ve gathered you here today to discuss the recent troubles at the factory. Someone has taken extreme measures to harm me and mine, and I refuse to let them win without a fight.” Wyatt was surrounded by the troubled faces of the villagers. Most of them would lose their homes if the factory shut down. Many of them had nowhere else to go.

  He resented that he had to be here instead of at home with his wife, and he still hadn’t forgiven them for trying to burn Brighid at the stake. He struggled to remind himself that the killer was using them to get to him.

  And doing a fine damned job of it, too.

  “We’ll open the factory as normal tomorrow, but there will be a few changes. The women will be escorted home by sunset. The men will be given the option of picking up extra hours to help repair and rebuild the factory and the equipment.”

  One by one the people nodded. He exhaled, tension easing out of his shoulders. The pain and stiffness from sleeping all night in the chair next to Brighid gradually dissipated.

  “Then it’s settled. We’re going to post guards at the factory for your safety. I ask every one of you to be alert for anyone who doesn’t belong. If you find or even think you’ve noticed anything unusual, report to the guards immediately. Don’t try to confront any strangers, or even people you know who are behaving strangely. This is for both your protection and allow us to collect enough evidence to prosecute whoever is responsible. Someone in this village is helping them gain access to the mill. It will stop.”

  The plans were finalized in an hour. “Before you go, I would like to make a happy announcement. Miss Legend and I were married last evening.” There was a smattering of applause at first, but after a few well-placed nudges, everyone joined in the cheer. “We’ll be hosting a ball when she’s well, and we’d like to invite you to attend and welcome her as your new lady.”

  The invitation was couched as an order. He’d do whatever he must to ensure Brighid was happy. Wyatt accepted their well wishes. A few appeared torn about his announcement, but that would change once they got to know her. Brighid could have ran away more than once, left them to fend for themselves, but she stayed to help. He couldn’t have chosen a better bride.

  Wyatt didn’t linger, eager to return home…return to his wife. Pride and something else—something foreign and mysterious—filled him whenever he remembered she was officially his. He smiled and hastened home, hoping to be at her side when she woke.

  Brighid woke sluggishly, reluctant to stir. She shifted then groaned when her body screamed in protest. She held as still as possible until the agony faded.

  Then the events of yesterday seeped into her consciousness.

  The boy!

  She bolted upright, then clutched her head when it threatened to explode. Sweat prickled along her scalp as she concentrated on staying upright. She pushed aside the covers and dragged her legs to the edge of the bed. The small action made her head seem to swell to twice its normal size. Her breathing grew labored, the room dimming around the edges.

  “Get back in that bed.”

  Brighid jerked at Beth’s scolding tone, and her stomach lurched at the unexpected movement. Hands pushed her backward. She resisted, but had no more strength than a puppy.

  “The boy.” The demand came out slurred.

  “Is fine—resting, as you should be.”

  Her muscles melted at the news, and it took minutes for her head to stop throbbing enough to open her eyes. She must have dozed off, because when she looked around, she saw both Beth and Wyatt sitting in front of the fire, talking in whispers.

  “What happened?” Brighid touched her temple, tracing the large cut that ran along her hairline. When they turned to her in unison, their solemn faces made her stomach clench in apprehension.

  Beth spoke first. “Do you remember anything after Wyatt carried you home?”

  She cast her mind back, but everything seemed garbled and surreal. She touched her head, wincing when she encountered a nasty knot. “I remember Trudy.”

  “Yes, dear. What else?” Beth gave her an encouraging smile.

  “A man with a large mustache.” She tried to concentrate, but she couldn’t grasp much of anything out of the sea of darkness in her mind.

  “He’s the doctor who came to check on you.”

  Brighid bit her lip as she pieced the images of last night together. “He gave me something.”
r />   “Laudanum to help you rest.”

  “I had a strange dream about a priest.” Her smile dipped when Beth nodded.

  “Anything else?”

  Uneasy about the expectant glow on Beth’s face, Brighid fiddled with the covers. “A ceremony.”

  “Yes.” Beth stood and fussed with the blankets.

  “A burial, I think.”

  Beth’s shoulders deflated, her smile wilting as she gaped at Brighid. “No dear, nothing like that.”

  Beth swiveled, her eyes narrowed on her son. He squirmed in his seat, seemingly absorbed in straightening a wrinkle in his jacket. “Wyatt, maybe you should tell us what happened.”

  “After the doctor left, the vicar gave you the last rites.”

  “What?” Brighid yelped, then winced when her head rang in protest.

  “He thought you were near death.” Wyatt swallowed hard and studied every detail of her face, as if he’d been worried, too. “You were badly hurt. I was talking to the doctor when Aaron brought him into the room.”

  Brighid forced herself not to flinch from his much-too-observant gaze, and her brows furrowed as she struggled to recall her memories.

  “You’re upset at me for wandering off.” She braced herself for a lecture.

  He looked grim, but he shook his head. “No, I’m furious, but that discussion can wait until later.”

  Brighid tried not to flinch at the suppressed anger hovering around him like a living, breathing shadow. When his eyes darkened with some emotion she couldn’t name, her stomach dropped.

  He knew about her gifts.

  She eyed the door, wondering if she should make a break for it, struggling against the instinct to run that her mother had instilled into her since she was a child.

  Wyatt shifted in his chair as if he were sitting on a pincushion and couldn’t get comfortable. “We were married last night.”