“What are you going to do?”
Brighid hesitated only a second. “I’ll keep your secret, but you will halt your pursuit of Wyatt immediately. The moment you try to harm me again, our deal is off.”
Before Angelica had a chance to respond, Wyatt entered the room, all dominating male and devastating handsome. “Trouble?”
He didn’t even acknowledge Angelica, his attention only for her, and her heart fluttered in her chest. Brighid tore her gaze away from him to stare at Angelica. The chit heaved a dramatic sigh, then gave a tiny nod. Brighid repressed the urge to cheer. “No, Angelica was just leaving.”
With one last glare, Angelica whirled and left. For the first time since she’d arrived, she didn’t brush against Wyatt or even glance at him on her way out the door.
Wishing to avoid the coming confrontation, Brighid peered around the room, suddenly very aware that she was completely alone with Wyatt.
In his room.
Brighid fought a blush at the embarrassing memory of how she’d cuddled close while he carried her from the chapel. Feeling self-conscious, she smoothed back her hair and straightened the coverlet, grimacing at her own foolishness for getting locked in a room and needing to be rescued.
Again.
Wyatt must think her some helpless ninnyhammer who needed a keeper. That he might think less of her only added to her wretchedness.
“Do you know who locked you in the church?”
Brighid refused to lie. “It has nothing to do with the people after either of us. I took care of the problem.”
Wyatt narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms, widening his stance, as if preparing for a prolonged siege. “They put you in danger.”
Brighid scoffed. “What danger? I spend an uncomfortable few hours. No harm.”
The muscles of his arms flexed, and she imagined she was holding himself back from strangling her with his bare hands. “This matter isn’t settled,” he snarled.
Brighid turned away, studying the room, disturbed that she felt absurdly pleased by his anger.
The room was twice the size of her own spacious one, but decorated with a masculine overtone. The rich shades of green and a dark mahogany wood delighted her.
Windows bracketed the headboard, and the curtains were swept back, allowing in the feeble light of early dawn. Two chairs sat facing each other in front of the fireplace, and a dresser stood against one wall, while two doors led out of the room.
To the left, she saw another window with the drapes closed. Under it sat a large chair and a desk with papers scattered haphazardly across the surface. On closer inspection, there was a pattern to the chaos.
“This is your room.”
“Yes.” He circled the bed like an animal closing in on its prey.
The instinctive urge to run swept through her, but then her natural curiosity took hold. She scanned the room with more interest, hoping to learn more about him. The first thing she saw was a vase on the floor.
How odd.
She blinked and peered closer.
Uh-oh.
Brighid found herself suddenly fascinated in smoothing the wrinkles from the coverlet, hoping to conceal the pinch of guilt.
“I thought it strange, also.” His broad shoulders blocked the exit as he leaned casually against the wall and observed her.
He was far too observant, the dratted man, and his nearness sent her pulse skittering. “Yes, it seems very odd to collect a vase that has no function.”
His lips twitched in a faint smile, clearly not fooled even a little. “I can’t figure out what happened. At first I thought someone was playing a trick. But it is the same vase…only different. You wouldn’t know anything about it, would you?”
Abaduna! Good heavens, what did he know? She cursed the blush that heated her cheeks and blinked up at him with all the innocence she could muster. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. I haven’t even been here a week.”
“Hmmm.” He didn’t ask anything else. Instead, he picked up the waiting tray and set it across her lap.
He sat on the edge of the bed, much too close for her peace of mind. She tried to inch away, but the blankets effectively held her trapped. If she wiggled any farther in the other direction, she’d risk falling out of bed. She narrowed her eyes. He was up to something, and like a spider, he carefully wove his web, determined to trap her.
But instead of probing her for answers, he lifted a cup to her lips, forcing her to drink or risk spilling the contents down the front of her gown. The rich flavor and fragrance of chocolate seduced her. She watched him over the rim, unable to help noticing he was even more handsome up close. He took the cup away and smiled.
The smile made her even more suspicious.
She licked her bottom lip clean and was startled when his eyes dropped to stare hungrily at her mouth.
“Good morning, wife.”
Before she could phrase a reply, he leaned over and gave her a lingering kiss. The touch of his lips was a silken caress. He took his time, kept things light, never deepening the innocent touch, as if learning what pleased her. A hum of pleasure caught in her throat, the taste of him richer than any chocolate, and more tempting.
An intimacy she could not allow.
She pulled back from the pleasurable haze, devastated by the simple kiss, and how easily she’d succumbed to it.
He retreated an inch.
He was not smiling now.
The hunger in his eyes was banked, ready to ignite at the smallest invitation. Unnerved at how much she wanted to accept that promise, she ducked her head.
He cupped her jaw, forcing her to meet his gaze. “This is where you say ‘good morning, husband’ and kiss me back.”
He sat still, waiting expectantly.
Disbelief caused her jaw to drop, and she retreated as far back as the headboard would allow—which gained her only a paltry few inches.
He followed, not granting her any more reprieves, and ended up almost lying on her.
“Say it.” A single finger brushed her jaw in a lazy caress.
He smelled of coffee and him, the combination so tempting she felt herself caving. “Wyatt…”
“Good morning, husband.”
With each word his lips brushed ever so lightly against hers. Exasperated by his insistence, she gave a huff of annoyance. “Why is it so important to you?” She tried to sound firm but failed miserably, ending up sounding like a breathless debutante.
Wyatt ducked until their noses touched, one hand held the tray steady while the other supported his weight. “You almost died last night.”
She flinched at his stark tone. “Nonsense, I—”
“No one visits that wing of the house. It might have been days before you were found. That’s the third time in less than a week that someone has tried to murder you.”
She watched as his eyes darkened to a predatory green. “Wyatt—”
“Say it…for me.”
Brighid crossed her arms, gaining precious room between their bodies, enough to allow her to think straight. His nearness had a way of scattering her wits. She heaved a sigh, her attention dropping to his mouth so temptingly close, then gave in to his demand and mumbled it under her breath.
“What?” Humor tinged his voice and glinted in his eyes, the odious man.
She grudgingly admitted defeat, knowing he wouldn’t relent. “Good morning.”
He still did not move, staring at her with maddening calm.
She spoke through clenched teeth, desperate to do anything to get him to back away before she did something stupid…like lean forward and kiss him. “Husband.”
“Now, that wasn’t so hard.” Not waiting for her to speak, he kissed her forehead and straightened.
Then why couldn’t she seem to catch her breath? When her eyes flickered to his, she hurriedly turned away and watched the flames lick at the wood in the fireplace until she had the wild impulse under control.
Wyatt repositioned the tray on her
lap, fussing over her. “Eat. You’ll need your strength.”
Brighid took a bite before her mind processed the innuendo, and promptly choked when the food went down wrong. Brighid wheezed, waving Wyatt off when he bent near. “I’m fine.” Snatching up the cup, she took a gulp of chocolate, not giving him the chance to touch her again.
She wasn’t sure she’d survive.
He nudged a plate of toast closer to her hand. “Trudy will be relieved to know you’re awake. She felt awful about what happened.”
“It wasn’t her fault.” Brighid spoke earnestly, unwilling for Trudy to receive any blame for her foolishness.
His lips firmed, and his tone held a hint of censure. “I know that, but she’ll need more assurance then I can give.”
Brighid lowered her eyes as guilt grabbed her by the throat. She’d sneaked away without giving the girl a second thought. Brighid shook her head and focused on the food she had no appetite for.
“Hey,” Wyatt captured her hand, his fingers strong and sure on her own as he played with them. “You’re not a prisoner.”
Her head jerked up that he could so easily guess where her thoughts had wandered.
“You’re in danger. As soon as the threat has passed, you’ll have all the freedom you could ever want.”
His expression was so earnest she felt herself softening. She opened her mouth when he continued.
“On one condition.”
Brighid rolled her eyes. Of course there was a condition. She crossed her arms and waited.
“Let me know where you go. It’s a reasonable request.” He picked up the cup from the tray and finished the chocolate in one swallow, then licked his lips, savoring the flavor, as if he could taste her on the cup.
Nearly distracting her into agreeing to anything he said.
The conniving, sneaky man.
For fifteen months she’d reported to no one. It had been safer that way. She couldn’t afford a keeper, not if she wanted to maintain her secrets and find the killer before he did. He must have seen the refusal in her eyes.
“This is not one-sided. I’ll give you the same courtesy. Most husbands do not concede this to their wives.”
An idea formed and a slow smile crept over her face. He just trapped himself. He retreated a little at her expression, and she relished that she had the power to make him nervous. “Starting today?”
“Yes.” He agreed immediately.
“Good, then you will have to share every minute of your investigation.” She saw his mouth slacken and pushed her point. “Why don’t you tell me about what you’ve done and what you plan to do next?”
A muscle along his jaw jumped as he clenched his teeth. “The point goes to you. We’ll both share information.” His eyes hardened. “Do we have a deal?”
She hesitated, searching for a trap, before reluctantly nodding agreement. His sudden smile unnerved her.
“Good. Tell me about your past.” It was not a request.
The transition left her floundering. Brighid shrugged and avoided his eyes. Many of the secrets weren’t hers alone to share. “There is not much to tell that you don’t already know. I grew up in a tiny village before moving to the school and starting my training.”
“Where?” He held up a hand. “Remember your promise.” He sat back, his arms crossed like hers, a satisfied expression on his face.
Brighid’s eyes rounded. “My promise?”
“You just promised to share information with me.” He raised a brow all but begging her to argue with him.
“About the investigation.” She almost shouted but managed to contain herself to a hiss.
“I beg to differ. I agreed to that, you just agreed to tell me everything I wanted to know.”
“You tricked me.” Her body stiffened. “I would never have agreed otherwise.”
“But you did.” His smile came slowly, his expression smug. “I have nothing to hide, since I’m sure my mother and sister have already regaled you with stories of my youth.”
Brighid closed her mouth, too furious to speak.
“Come, it is an easy question to answer.” He uncrossed his arms, his voice cajoling.
“You have no right—”
All amusement left his face. “I’m your husband.”
“Not by choice.” His mouth tightened at her sharp comeback. She should have been pleased at the hit, but the unexpected flash of pain in his eyes unsettled her. He hid it so quickly, she wondered if it had been a figment of her imagination.
“You’re right. I thought I was helping you.” He regarded her with sad eyes, making her feel inadequate, like she’d disappointed him in some way. “But that’s the problem, isn’t it? You don’t want anyone’s help, not even mine. Is it so wrong for a husband to be curious about his wife?”
Brighid debated the wisdom of answering his question and conceded his point. “No, but the story is not mine alone. I won’t put my cousins in danger to appease your curiosity. You may ask whatever you wish if you promise not to force the issue when I tell you I can’t answer.”
He rubbed his jaw, ever calculating. “I will agree for now. It’s all I can promise.”
“I suppose I’ll have to accept your word.” A knock interrupted them, and Brighid said a quick prayer of thanks for the reprieve from his interrogation. She had to be careful what she said. He couldn’t learn the truth about her past…not yet. She needed more time.
“Eat.” Wyatt admonished and stood to answer the door. After a minute, he turned back to her. “I will be heading to the village to ask questions.”
He looked at her expectantly, and Brighid cursed the promise she made in haste. “Take me with you.”
His open expression hardened. “You need to rest. It’s not safe.”
“I’ll be safer with you.” Brighid quickly countered, shamelessly choosing words to appeal to his male pride.
She didn’t want to stay behind, cooped up. She needed to help with the case and guard Wyatt’s back against the Watcher. “You’re going to confront Giselle. Taking me with you could push her to reveal clues that she might not otherwise. You said it yourself, she hates me.”
To her surprise, Wyatt didn’t immediately deny her request. He walked over and opened the door to the right. “I had you moved into the adjoining suite, but feel free to continue to make use of this one for as long as you’d like.” He smiled a bit devilishly. “If you want to come along, be ready in an hour. I want that plate cleaned first.”
He vanished out the door without waiting for her reply. She sputtered a protest at his high-handedness in moving her to a different room without conferring with her first, and it only served to irritate her more when he disappeared without giving her a chance to argue with him.
Then what he said registered.
He was taking her with him.
She was scarfing down the meal as fast as she could when Trudy silently entered the room. Brighid saw the girl’s pale face and felt a stab of remorse for deceiving her. They were two outsiders in the house of gentry. She hoped her foolishness hadn’t ruined their friendship. “Trudy…”
“Lady Castelline.” She bobbed a curtsy.
Brighid sighed at the lack of warmth. “I am sorry. I lost track of time. When I tried to leave, I couldn’t manage the door.”
“Someone locked it on you.” She turned away, fussing with the room.
An instant denial sprang to Brighid’s lips, and she cursed her promise to keep Angelica’s involvement secret. “I’m sure it was an accident.”
“His lordship disagrees.” Trudy straightened and stared at her in suspicion. “How can you be so calm when you know someone is trying to kill you? Aren’t you scared he’ll try again?”
“Yes, and I just have to be smarter and find whomever this is first.” Brighid fiddled with the food, mangling the eggs into an unappealing yellow mess. She stopped when Trudy continued to bustle around the room, adroitly avoiding meeting her gaze. “Why don’t you help me dress for the day
?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Trudy.” She waited for the girl to face her. “Please call me Brighid. We both know I am no lady.”
“You were always a lady. Now that you’re married to his lordship, everyone else will know it, too.” The vehement response startled both of them.
“We both know that I’ll never be what he needs.” Brighid entered the adjoining room and stopped short, unnerved by the luxury. “Just look at this room. It’s too grand for the likes of me.”
“But you will be the perfect lady.” Trudy stepped forward, her face emphatic. “My mother said being a lady isn’t an accident of birth, but how one conducts oneself. You might not have been born a lady, but you are one through and through and everyone knows it. Thanks to the marriage, they will have to treat you like one now, too.”
She was so adamant, Brighid blinked. “But you must have guessed the marriage is a sham.”
Trudy studied the room and the bed…or more precisely, the one she woke up in that morning. “It looks real enough to me.”
Brighid raised a hand in protest. “But you were there.”
Trudy pulled out one of the beautiful dresses Brighid had managed not to destroy…only because she hadn’t worn it yet. The skirt was black and would help hide the consequences of any trouble that she might find. The red jacket molded to her form, and she marveled at the smart outfit.
“I know what I saw,” Trudy persisted
A spark of hope lifted her spirits at Trudy’s denial. She bit her lip, waving a hand to encompass the room. “My life is so different from this.”
“What was it like?” Trudy paused slightly while trying to brush Brighid’s hair into some semblance of order.
Something in her tone said they were no longer discussing the same thing.
“You wanted to know why I’m so calm, even knowing someone wants to kill me. It’s because this isn’t the first time someone has tried.”
“What?” Trudy’s eyes widened. “How did you survive?”
“I ran. There are some fights you can’t win on your own.”
“But…he’s still out there.” Trudy sniffled. “How can you live like that? Never knowing when—”
“I didn’t mean to upset you.” Brighid reached out, awkwardly patting Trudy’s hand, unsure how to offer comfort. “Everything will be fine.”
Druid Surrender (A Druid Quest Novel Book 1) Page 18
