“What?” She nearly choked on the one word. Her throat tightened in disbelief, and she stared at him, aghast. When he met her gaze squarely, her own skittered to Beth, waiting for her to refute his absurd claim.
“It’s true.” Her white head bobbed in confirmation.
Brighid opened her mouth, then closed it when she couldn’t think of anything to say. A second of pure joy shot through her…then a cloud of dread consumed everything. The people who were hunting her had finally tracked her down. If they discovered her marriage, they wouldn’t hesitate to kill him. Accidents happened all the time. It had happened to the last two people who’d tried to help her. She went lightheaded at the thought of Wyatt suffering a similar fate.
Determined to find a way out, she racked her brain to think of some way to save him. And smiled. “Your ceremony must be consensual. Since I was unconscious at the time, we cannot be married.”
Her relief shriveled when they continued to stare, and a deep foreboding took root in her soul. “What?”
“You gave your consent.”
“Impossible. I would never have agreed to marry you.”
A muscle ticked in Wyatt’s jaw, and his face settled into a stony wall. “You spoke the vows. Whether you like it or not, we are legally wed.”
Brighid flinched at the change in him. Gone was the charming man. In his place stood the imperial lord of the manor. Fear and indignation thumped in her chest.
This was only supposed to be a ruse.
Betrayal shattered the fragile trust between them, quick and brutal, and she scrambled to think of a solution that would get her out of this mess with her heart at least partially intact.
The drug in her system made her vulnerable, made her long to have a life that included something more than just being a leader like her mother, but she couldn’t have both. She couldn’t be selfish and abandon her cousins over a silly emotion, no matter how much her heart cried out for his love.
Mother said if you don’t feed the emotions, they would fade with time. Brighid very much feared that it was much too late. She would never forget him. Her heart cracked as she looked at the hope in Wyatt’s eyes, the plea to give them a chance.
As she gazed up at his handsome face, she knew her mother had been right. She’d become too involved. If she had to choose between him and her cousins, she wasn’t sure whom she would save. Losing either would destroy her.
“I can’t.” Her words were hoarse, torn from her. She flinched as the painful hope in his eyes flickered, and she turned away, not wanting to see it die. It would be unbearable. “You cannot want this marriage any more than I. Fix it.”
“Brighid—”
“Please leave. I’m not feeling well and need to rest.” She was barely able to speak past the ache in her throat. She couldn’t allow herself to be influenced by his pleas. She wasn’t strong enough to resist.
The slam of the solid, heavy door reverberated in the room singled his departure.
Brighid felt like her chest had been carved open.
“Give it time. Things have a way of working out the way they should.” Beth touched her shoulder, then unstoppered the bottle from the nightstand and mixed a few drops in a glass of water. “Drink this. Everything will look better when you wake.”
Brighid grimaced at the pungent smell of medicine, forcing herself to choke down the caustic brew. She grabbed Beth’s arm before she could turn away. “You need to talk sense into him. He’ll listen to you.”
“I can’t. You’re the best thing that could ever happen to him.” She patted her hand. “And if you look deep enough, I think you want to stay, too.”
Brighid’s hand fell to her side at the truth of the accusation.
Too bad it didn’t matter what she wanted.
She opened her mouth to protest when a yawn overtook her.
“Rest, dear. We’ll talk later.”
Brighid struggled to keep her eyes open, but her body seemed to melt into the bed, and she lost her battle to stay conscious.
Wyatt stormed into the study, more disturbed by the confrontation with Brighid than he wanted to admit. He clenched his fist, offended that she thought marriage to him was so abhorrent. By God, most of London considered him a catch!
“Trouble?” Aaron sat in a chair in front of the window, calmly reading a book.
Wyatt didn’t spare him a glance as he headed straight for the sideboards and poured two generous drinks. He handed one to Aaron, then sat behind the desk and drummed his fingers on the surface.
“Brighid?” Aaron lifted the brandy snifter and took a sip.
At the mention of her name, Wyatt swallowed the contents of his glass in one gulp. A grimace twisted his face at the harsh taste, and he welcomed the burn as it slid down his throat. He rose to pour another, then hesitated and grabbed the whole decanter before carrying it back to the desk. “When she learned we were married, she told me no and that I needed to fix it.”
Aaron winced in sympathy. “It could be the drug speaking.”
A bark of laughter scraped his throat, and set his glass down with a soft click. “No, she stated her opinion very clearly.”
“Just no?” Aaron crossed his legs and leaned back. “Without any reason? That doesn’t sound like her.”
Wyatt lifted his glass to take a sip, then carefully set it back down when he remembered a slight distinction. A small ember of hope flared painfully to life from the ashes of his heart. “Actually, she said she couldn’t.”
He recalled the stark fear in her green eyes, and his brain gradually began to function past the festering anger that had taken root at her rejection. “It was more than displeasure. She was terrified of something. I thought it was me, but now I’m not so sure.”
“Something from her past?”
“Possible.” He set the stopper back in the decanter, replaying every moment they had spent together in detail, searching for any clues, willing to fight for a chance at a future with her.
And his mind kept coming back to one thing that stuck out as odd. “What do you know about Druids?”
“Druidism?” Surprise had Aaron’s brows winging upward. “Only the history lessons we took years ago while at school. The true religion was wiped out centuries ago. Faux cults have sprung up but they’re a mockery of the former practice.”
“Are you saying she could have been brainwashed?” Wyatt clenched his fists. If someone tried to take her from him, they would rue the day they were ever born.
Aaron rubbed his jaw, contemplating his answer. “Not necessarily. Druids were systematically hunted until they were either converted or slaughtered.”
“But that ended hundreds of years ago, long before she was born. Why would anyone be after her now?”
“History shows Druids were a powerful people, with remarkable intuition, and possibly mystical gifts. Many craved that power for their own. They’re said to have counseled kings for centuries, even ruled hundreds of years over a warrior class. What they created out of the brutal land was amazing really. Then the Romans invaded. Within a few decades, they were destroyed to clear the way for a new religion.”
“Wouldn’t they fight back?” Brighid was a fighter. He couldn’t imagine her giving up meekly, nor would her ancestors. That someone wanted to enslave and use her for their own ends chilled him to the bone.
“Druids were actually rare. They didn’t run in packs. One against thousands is no battle. Some did fight and their entire tribe was slaughtered for it. You either conformed, died or…” he spread his arms “…hid.”
Wyatt was flabbergasted. “You can’t believe that they had managed to survive all this time?”
“Doubtful, but maybe the bigger question would be, why would they come out of hiding? What has this world to offer but imprisonment or death?” Aaron set his empty glass on the sideboard. “We learned a few nights ago that death by burning isn’t as far in the past as we would like to think.”
“I need to find out more.” Wyatt leane
d forward, eager to do something. If there was a threat, he needed to learn more to counter it. There was no way he would allow someone to take Brighid without a fight.
“You won’t find the information in books.” Aaron raised a brow, a small smile playing about his mouth. “But you have someone you could ask.”
Finally, straight answers. Relief made his muscles relax for the first time since he spoke to Brighid. “Who?”
Aaron sighed in exasperation. “Your wife.”
That would be impossible, since she wasn’t speaking to him at the moment. Needing to keep busy, he rode to the factory, hoping physical labor would exhaust him enough that he could forget her devastated expression when she learned of their marriage.
The rest of the day passed in a blur, and Wyatt worked well into the night, determined to stay away from the house, hoping that it would give Brighid time to cool off. Morning came too early. His first impulse was to seek out his wife and ensure she had everything she needed.
Something a husband would do for his wife.
He wasn’t pressuring her.
He hovered outside her room for a full five minutes, his hand gripping the knob tightly, imagining her wild mass of red hair spread out across the bed while she slept. Just a quick peek to see for himself that she was safe.
That she was real and not a dream.
He’d only known her five days.
He shouldn’t miss her so much.
He reluctantly released the knob and wiped his sweaty palms down his trousers, more nervous now than when he had a gun pointed at his head during one of his jobs.
His whole future rested beyond that door.
He couldn’t mess this up by being impatient.
He needed to devise a plan of attack first.
Give her time to miss him.
He headed back toward his study, craving answers or even the smallest bit of information about her past. He perused his bookshelves, selecting any volume that dealt with ancient history. In half an hour, more than thirty books lay opened and scattered around his study.
And not one blasted word about Druids.
Aaron was right.
The lack of information frustrated him, and his curiosity about her was more rampant than ever. One thing was certain—he wouldn’t allow her to leave him, not without a fight. He would conquer her fears and show her they were meant to be together.
“Well?” Brighid gazed at the door as if staring at it long enough would allow her to see through to the other side.
Trudy pressed her face against the keyhole. She straightened and gave her a disapproving look. “He’s gone.”
Brighid inhaled sharply, then deflated.
It was a sigh of relief, not disappointment she assured herself.
“You’ll have to talk to him eventually. Your husband’s becoming more persistent. He won’t let you hide forever.”
She flinched at the word husband and studiously smoothed out the coverlet, not wanting to examine her emotions too closely for fear she’d waver from her decision. She desperately wanted to see his face, know what he had been doing, and how the investigation was faring.
She missed the pompous arse.
She spoke before she gave into the yearning to see him. “I know, but not today.”
Not until she could work out the tangled mess of her life and come up with a solid plan.
“He announced your wedding to the villagers yesterday. He’s planning a ball for you.” Trudy’s eyes shone with excitement.
A pang shot through her at the romantic gesture. It was almost like he was trying to woo her. He had no right to ignore her wishes, no right to act as if he cared, but she found herself charmed despite herself.
Brighid should have turned tail and run at the first glimpse of his flirtatious smile. Wyatt was weaving himself into the threads of her life, appointing himself her protector when he didn’t know that she was the source of the real danger. As much as she wanted to follow her mother’s orders to run, she couldn’t bear to leave him vulnerable. Not only was someone trying to destroy the factory he built, they were determined to kill anyone who got in their way.
Wyatt wasn’t even aware he had a Watcher living right under his nose.
They were skilled hunters, trained killers who pursued their quarry to ground even if it took years.
The man would have learned about their marriage by now.
Making Wyatt a target.
And thanks to the explosion at the factory, she couldn’t remember what he looked like beyond a blurred image of a large man. She couldn’t hunt him down. She’d have to wait for him to make a move first.
It no longer mattered how she felt about the situation or Wyatt. Her feelings would only make things between them awkward and complicated. She needed to bury her emotions, lock them away where they couldn’t do any harm. She would not return his kindness by bringing more trouble to his doorstep.
It was time to stop hiding.
Casting aside the blanket, Brighid stood, determined to be strong enough to protect both of them when the time came.
“Where are you going?” Trudy straightened and crossed her arms.
Brighid lifted her chin, refusing to spend another second wallowing in self-pity. “I need to regain my strength.”
“You can’t go outside. The doctor said you needed rest.”
“I don’t need a chaperone.”
Instead of backing down, Trudy walked toward the door. “Why don’t I fetch Wyatt and find out what he thinks?”
“That’s dirty.” Brighid sighed, not wanting Wyatt to see her when she was so vulnerable. “How about a compromise? You can stay here and tidy the room, and I’ll remain in the hall.”
Trudy pursed her lips, then nodded grudgingly. “I guess that’s agreeable.”
In five minutes, Brighid was walking back and forth in the deserted hall, her lorg firmly in her grasp, each step shaky but determined. After an hour, a light sheen of sweat coated her skin, and Brighid paused to catch her breath, more exhausted than the small task warranted.
A wave of dizziness took her by surprise, and she reached out to use the wall for support—only to encounter a porcelain object. The priceless vase wobbled, then slowly tipped backwards off the pedestal. She watched in horror as it landed with a loud crack and shattered. Shards littered the floor, scattered at her feet like the aftermath of a rampage. Brighid winced, closing her eyes in resignation and waited for someone to investigate the sound.
To her surprise, no one appeared.
Thank the goddess.
She could fix it.
Her powers had come to her rescue at the factory.
Surely she shouldn’t have a problem putting together a simple vase?
She touched the lorg, a hint of trepidation shivering down her spine when her powers rose at her call. Warmth gathered at her feet, and the heat coursing through the runes on her skin quickly became searing. The scattered pieces of porcelain rattled against each other, the vase crackling as it re-assembled.
Faint voices echoed up from the stairs, and her heart thundered in her chest at the fear of discovery. As the voices drew closer, she jolted in recognition—Angelica and Wyatt.
Together.
At the sound of Angelica’s annoying giggle, jealousy took a vicious bite out of her, and her mental image of the completed vase wavered.
When the power calmed, it stole every bit of warmth with a suddenness that left her shivering. The voices grew louder. Without bothering to assess the vase, she plucked it off the floor, set it on the pedestal and hurried down the hall as fast as her legs would allow. Dizziness assailed her after expelling so much energy, and the hall dipped and swayed, slanting like a boat on water. Everything appeared double as she struggled to close the distance to her room.
She groped for the knob, practically falling inside when it opened. Trudy clucked her tongue and tucked her back into bed. “You did too much.”
“Maybe a little.” Brighid agreed, gratef
ul to be prone. Even the thought of moving made her stomach pitch in protest.
“Next time I’ll go with you.”
Brighid was too tired to object, and she swallowed the bitter concoction Trudy pressed to her lips without complaint.
She’d gotten careless in the hall. She couldn’t use her powers again for any reason, especially now she was married to Wyatt. If she were caught, it would be more than her life that hung in the balance.
Chapter 15
After three hours trapped in the study, Wyatt was ready to bellow in frustration. He peered out the window and watched Angelica wander around the garden in search of him. “She’s never going to give up.”
“You can’t hide in here forever.” Aaron’s singsong voice came from behind him.
“Watch me.” When she turned, he jerked back and hid behind the curtain like a child caught stealing sweets from the cook. “You’re supposed to keep her away from me. I swear she’s stalking me.”
“She is.” Aaron answered lazily, flipping the pages of his book.
“What?” Wyatt turned away from the window.
Aaron closed the book with a snap. “She doesn’t talk to Lydia. Your mother, the wise woman, takes refuge in her room. Not to mention the doors to Brighid’s room are guarded so fiercely that not even you would dare enter to visit your lovely wife.”
Wyatt heard both the laughter and reprimand in his friend’s voice. “I’m giving her time to rest. She’s been through a rough time in the past few days. I don’t want to overwhelm her more than I already have.”
Even he heard the lie.
She’d refused to see him.
He still saw the stark fear on her face the moment she learned that they were married. Coward that he was, he wasn’t ready to see her again, not if she was determined to leave him even before their marriage had a chance to begin. He needed a plan to convince her to stay, and so far he had come up with nothing.
Aaron nodded sagely. “Don’t wait too long, or she’ll build up her defenses and become entrenched.”
“I know.” Wyatt grimaced and ducked away from the window again, keeping his back against the wall when Angelica peered over the windowsill. “Hell and damnation! How do I get rid of the chit?”
Druid Surrender (A Druid Quest Novel Book 1) Page 15
