The extent of her injuries appalled him, but he couldn’t tell how bad they actually were under the caked mixture of dirt and blood. He stood back and held the door open for her. “Come, your bath awaits.”
After only a second hesitation, she entered the room ahead of him, and he found himself mesmerized by the bewitching sway of her hips. When she stopped next to the tub, he nearly plowed into her.
The large tub sat in front of the roaring fire. Instead of stripping down and getting in the tub, Brighid whirled and clutched the dress to her breasts. “I can manage from here.”
Wyatt didn’t respond, instead he pried the dress out of her fists. If he enjoyed himself, he deserved it after the night of hell she’d put him through. “Keep the shift on if you must, but you’re getting in that tub either on your own or with help. The choice is yours.”
It wasn’t for propriety’s sake, but rather for his own sanity that he allowed her to keep the shift.
To give her some privacy, he turned and placed her dress across the back of the chair. By the time he turned around, he nearly swallowed his tongue.
He had seriously misjudged the situation and the extent of his self-restraint.
The wet shift molded to her every curve, the material turning transparent where it clung to her breasts. She’d submerged herself up to her neck, huddled under the water. Unfortunately, the few suds did little to cover her curves. As if noticing where his attention had landed, she brought her knees to her chest. She picked up a cloth and scrubbed, studiously pretending that he wasn’t there. But the way she seemed determined to scrub off her skin revealed her true state of mind.
He strode toward her, shrugging out of his jacket as he went.
Her head popped up like an animal sensing a predator, and she stopped moving. “What are you doing?”
He rolled up his sleeves and knelt at her side. Water sloshed when she scooted over to put more distance between them, and the washcloth plopped into the tub.
Wyatt plucked it out of the water, working it with a sliver of soap. He needed to see how badly she was injured. He wanted the dirt gone, the proof of his inability to protect her.
Again.
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
Before she could leap out of the tub, he captured her ankle and lifted her foot out of the water. She didn’t seem to know how to react. She clutched the sides of the tub, ready to bolt, but the position didn’t give her much traction. Finally, she leaned back, crossing her arms to hide those beautiful breasts that begged for his touch.
He ran the cloth over her, enjoying the novelty of touching her, fascinated by the tattoos wrapped around her feet and up her legs, secretly fantasizing about tracing the lines with his lips.
He needed a distraction before he followed through with his thought. “Where did you get this tattoo? The detail is amazing.”
Then he noticed something odd.
The pattern had changed since the glimpse he stole at the cottage.
He was sure of it.
When he leaned closer for a better view, Brighid cleared her throat. Her toes curled, and she tugged on her leg, trying to remove temptation from his clutches. Wyatt held firm, refusing to allow her to retreat. “Fine, you don’t have to answer. Then why don’t we discuss why you broke your promise?”
“I might have bent the promise, but I didn’t break it.” Brighid refused to lower her eyes at his accusation and sank further under the water to hide from his probing gaze. A pang of regret ate away at her conscience, and she brushed the thought out of her mind with all the consideration it deserved. “People saw me leave.”
“Not good enough.”
“Now, wait a minute.” She shook her head, narrowing her eyes. “That wasn’t our agreement. You can’t be with me every second of the day, and I can’t be expected to tell you every detail. We have to trust each other.”
“Why did he run?”
It took her a second to catch up with the quick change of subject. “I don’t have the foggiest notion. He hasn’t spoken.” Her skin tingled everywhere he dragged that itty-bitty piece of cloth, and she frantically wished he’d stop touching her so she could think straight. She tugged on her leg again, but he refused to release his claim. “Something frightened him.”
“You should have sent one of the servants to fetch him.”
“Yes, because that’s what you would have done.” Unfaded by her sarcastic tone, he gently washed a particularly nasty cut on her knee. Brighid sucked in a sharp breath, and he winced in sympathy, instantly gentling his hold.
“That’s different.”
“No, it’s not.” Brighid lowered her hands to plant them on her hips, then quickly crossed her arms over her breasts again. The damned shift concealed nothing. She smiled, playing her trump card. “Anyway, if he left, how would you get the information you needed from him?”
Wyatt straightened and eyed her peculiarly. “What information?”
But she was distracted by his shirt…or more precisely, the way his wet shirt clung to him. “You’re getting wet.”
“You’re right.” Wyatt raised a brow at her soft tone. He didn’t give a damn, but he was fascinated by her reaction.
Distracted.
Riveted.
He leaned back, set the washcloth on the rim of the tub, and pulled the shirt over his head, tossing it over his shoulders. “Better?”
Instead of answering, she stared at his chest.
“Brighid?”
“Hmm?”
And Wyatt found himself charmed out of his anger, at least for now.
Since she was no longer trying to escape, he went back to work until the water turned murky. He paid specific attention to her knees, her arms and face, glad she’d stopped protesting and allowed him to take care of her. If his touched lingered at times, neither of them complained.
Once finished, he released the breath he’d been holding. Her injuries were bruises and minor cuts. She’d be fine. He refused to believe otherwise.
“You have a little something…” Brighid pointed to his collarbone.
Wyatt didn’t see anything and scrubbed the spot, then tipped his head to give her a better view. “Did I get it?”
Brighid shook her head. “No, you smeared it. Here, let me.”
She snatched the cloth from his hand and dabbed the area.
Wyatt leaned forward, conscious of being only inches away from her tempting mouth. Her breath fanned his collarbone, and goose bumps raced across his skin. His trousers did nothing to hide his blatant arousal. When he looked down at her, all he saw was her flushed face and beautiful lips. Steam dampened her hair, turning the curls wild. If she didn’t stop, he’d spill himself in his trousers like some gangly youth seeing his first naked woman.
“There. I think I got it.” Brighid looked up and froze.
He leaned closer, almost able to taste her lips. “Tell me to stop.”
It was supposed to be a threat.
A warning.
Not a plea.
“Why?” Her gaze dropped to his lips as if she wanted his kiss just as badly.
His heart hiccupped in his chest at her innocence. “Because one kiss won’t be enough.”
Chapter 20
Wyatt gripped the edges of the tub to keep from grabbing her and stealing what he wanted. He wouldn’t be responsible for taking advantage of an injured woman, but, bastard that he was, he couldn’t make himself leave, either.
She solved the problem by pressing her lips to his.
Wyatt cupped her chin and took control. He craved her for too long, and his patience scattered to the four winds. He deepened the kiss, and groaned when she hesitantly placed her hands on his arms.
He gazed into her eyes. “Yes, touch me.”
Not waiting for her response, he nibbled at her lips, learning their shape, what made her moan and seek more. When he knew what drove her crazy, he did it again and again, wanting her to get lost in the lust with him.
; Her hands skated up his arms, stroked over his shoulders, then her fingers sank into his hair and laid claim. He shivered under the light caress, the barely-there scrape of her fingernails, and something inside him snapped.
He wrapped his arms around her and hauled her out of the tub. In seconds, they were both sopping wet. Wanting to touch all of her, he reached up and scattered the pins that kept her hair from him. Fiery locks spilled over them, surrounding them in a curtain of desire.
She gasped in protest, and he took ruthless advantage and thrust his tongue in her mouth. As if emboldened, she mimicked his move while he tightened his fingers in her hair to keep himself from laying her on the floor and showing her more.
She shivered, and he pulled back, barely holding himself in check. She blinked up at him, her eyes dazed with passion, and he nearly succumbed to temptation.
The doctor would be arriving soon. He had to let her go or risk being caught in a compromising position.
With his wife.
He would never have imagined being in this situation even a week ago.
Wyatt kissed the top of her head, all he could allow himself, and drew away. Water shimmered on her skin in the firelight, displaying her like an ancient goddess. When she shivered again, this time from the cold, it took a physical effort to get his head out of his trousers.
He scooped her up in his arms, his resolve wavering when she curled against him. He lowered her next to the bed, her body brushing against his until her feet touched the ground. Her breasts rested lightly against his chest, each breath a caress. His hands flexed on her hips as he tried to force himself to let her go. He swallowed hard, struggling to collect his thoughts enough to speak coherently. “We need to remove your shift. You’re wet.”
He nearly choked at his choice of words, and his cock throbbed at the mental image.
Only when she retreated was he able to drop his hands. She touched the hem of her shift, and he stood riveted while the fabric slowly rose, revealing her secrets an inch at a time. Wyatt squeezed his eyes shut and turned away, but too late. The luscious contours of her body were forever etched on his mind. He was afraid if he saw more, he would take her then and there, like some randy rakehell with a doxy.
“Here.” He winced at the rough tone of his voice, bending to snatch up her nightgown his mother had set out, and thrust it behind him, unable to stop imagining her wearing nothing but a smile.
Soon, he promised himself.
“But the sun only rose a few hours ago.”
“Please.” His fingers trembled with restraint. “You can change after the doctor has given his opinion.”
“Fine.” Only when she jerked the nightgown from his grip did he breathe easier.
“You can turn around now. Your virtue is safe.”
He whirled at her wry tone, and watched her climb into bed. Instead of a modest gown, the front of the nightdress dipped low and displayed her breasts like an offering. His eyes nearly crossed, because her every move made them jiggle. The hem of her nightgown slowly rose over her ass when she crawled across the bed, and he was spellbound by the exposed skin.
Only to have it disappear when she slipped under the covers.
He was afraid he might have whimpered.
He knew he had his mother to thank for bedeviling him. The devious woman wanted grandbabies and would do whatever it took to ensure she got them as soon as possible.
It took a physical effort to find his tongue. “You’re playing with fire, little girl. Be very sure this is what you want. The next time I touch you, I won’t stop.”
A beautiful blush painted her cheeks.
Though he knew he had been right to stop, his body throbbed in protest.
She wasn’t ready. She wanted him, but it was no longer enough. He wanted her for more than a night, and he’d use any means necessary to achieve his goal. He pulled up the blanket, tucking it firmly under her chin, hiding away all that loveliness.
He grabbed a towel and patted her hair dry, marveling the way it curled so wildly around her.
Wild, like her.
And he realized he liked her that way. He didn’t want to take the wildness away from her, he just wanted to be a part of it.
“I can do that.” She grabbed for the towel.
“So you can.” Wyatt tugged back, not willing to let her hide so easily. “But allow me to take care of you. It’s one of the privileges of being a husband.”
It wasn’t a request.
She rolled her eyes but subsided with a grumble. “Shouldn’t you put some clothes on or something?”
Wyatt gave a cocky grin. “Not when it keeps you distracted and docile.”
She snorted, and Wyatt couldn’t help but smile at the way she colored so prettily.
He plucked a stray pin from her hair, tucking the small piece of metal in his boot for a keepsake, a small reminder of this evening.
When he heard a knock, he shrugged on his dressing robe before answering. “Enter.”
The doctor strode into the room, and Wyatt shook his hand. “It’s good to see you.” Instead of releasing his hold, he dragged the man toward the bed. “She’s over here.”
The exam took close to an hour, the silence wracking his nerves. When the doctor probed the nasty injury on her head, Brighid hissed in complaint, and Wyatt crossed his arms to keep from shoving the man against the wall and beating the daylights out of him. When the doctor straightened, Wyatt immediately joined him beside the bed. “Well?”
“Her arm will need stitches.” He opened the satchel, retrieving a needle and some string. “Let me finish first. Then we’ll talk.”
Brighid flinched with each pass of the needle, but didn’t make a sound. His gut tightened every time the needle pierced her flesh. Unable to help himself, he walked to the other side of the bed, and held her hand. Much to his surprise, she squeezed back.
He wanted to take down the bastard who’d hurt her.
No more playing by his enemy’s rules.
It was time to plan for war.
The doctor wiped the blood from his hands, and Wyatt’s anger hardened.
“You’re suffering from exhaustion,” he told Brighid. “You’re banged up some, and will wake tomorrow morning wishing you’d never been born. Maybe next time you’ll try harder to stay out of trouble?” The doctor gave her a pointed look and began packing his case.
“I can try.” Brighid answered with a wiry grin.
“I did my best, but you’ll have a scar on your upper arm, and possibly a small one over your eye. With time, they might fade.”
“Thank you for taking the time to come see me. Now, maybe you will tell his lordship that he can stop worrying.”
For the first time, the doctor smiled. “This must be payback for the countless times I had to patch him up when he was a youngster. He worried his mother to death with his antics. Take care, my lady.”
When Brighid turned to study him, Wyatt just raised a brow. “I was a perfect angel.”
Though he expected the diagnosis, the confirmation that she would be all right dissolved the soul-wrenching terror that had taken root in his chest at the thought of losing her. He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand, stealing the small comfort she wouldn’t willingly give any other time.
Every incident had become steadily more severe.
He couldn’t allow there to be a next time, or she might not survive.
When the doctor walked toward the door, Wyatt reluctantly released her and followed.
“Can you tell me anything about the man who did this?” He’d trade his fortune for even the smallest clue at this point.
The doctor paused and rubbed his jaw. “The blow to her temple was dealt by someone not much taller than herself.”
Wyatt’s jaw dropped. “A woman?”
“I should think not. The strike was too forceful.” The doctor turned the knob but paused. “Whoever did this had the strength of a man.”
“Thank you for your help.” The docto
r waved him off as he walked away. Wyatt spied Trudy and the boy anxiously waiting, and he opened the door wider to admit them. They’d make perfect chaperones, forcing him to keep his hands to himself. She needed time to heal, and come to terms with what had happened. The boy rushed forward and launched himself onto the bed. Wyatt snagged the child by the back of his pants in the nick of time.
“Careful not to jostle her. You can visit for a little bit, but she needs to rest.” The boy nodded, his gaze locked on her face as if he would be content to stand guard for the rest of the day. Wyatt liked the kid even more. Deciding he could use all the help he could get, Wyatt lifted him up onto the bed. The boy tensed then crawled slowly forward and snuggled at her side.
He wished he could follow the kid’s example. He also wished he didn’t feel insanely jealous of his trusting relationship with Brighid.
Feeling like a cad, Wyatt walked out into the hall. “Trudy, order a tray of food for Lady Castelline.
She bobbed a curtsy and scrambled down the hall. When he turned, it was to find Aaron leaning against the wall. “You should rest with your wife.”
“I doubt I’d be able to find room in her bed.” His humor faded, and Wyatt shrugged away the temptation and headed toward his room to dress. “I have a killer to catch before he succeeds in murdering my wife.”
Aaron stepped in front of him when he tried to walk past. “When did you last manage to catch a few hours of sleep?”
“I—”
Aaron reached past him and opened Brighid’s door. “The best thing you can do for your own peace of mind is be there when she wakes.”
Wyatt’s sluggish mind couldn’t work fast enough to argue, not when he wanted to remain with her so badly in the first place. A shove between his shoulder blades sent him stumbling into the room. He stood there a moment longer, then yawned and slipped under the covers. In deference to the child, he kept on his robe and damp trousers.
Druid Surrender (A Druid Quest Novel Book 1) Page 21
