Her throat moved as she swallowed hard. “Every few months.”
“And you run.” Wyatt’s voice was gruff as his temper swelled with the need to pound them into a pulp for terrorizing her for so long. “Have you ever tried to fight back?”
Brighid swept her arm out. “How?”
“Strike first.”
“It will do no good.” She sounded so resigned his chest ached with the need to comfort her.
“Why the hell not?” His voice thundered back to him in the silence.
“The Watchers are just following orders. They’ll only send someone else. Also, if they begin to perceive us as a threat, they might kill us outright.”
Wyatt rubbed his chin. There had to be something he could do to protect her, and he froze when something she said sparked an idea that could be the answer to her problems. “Have you ever thought, now that you are married to me, you’re permanently in the public eye?”
“It wouldn’t work.” She shook her head, but her breathing hitched as if she wasn’t certain.
“As long as you’re married to me, you’re safe.” Wyatt covered her hand on the staff. Her fingers were ice cold, and he rubbed them gently. Excitement made him speak faster. “They only observe if you’re in the public eye. You said it yourself, they can’t touch you now. You’re the wife of a peer of the realm and member of the House of Lords.”
Her mouth opened then closed without making a sound. Such painful hope shone in her eyes that Wyatt couldn’t keep his distance any longer and gathered her into his arms. He curled his fingers into her hair, luxuriating in the feel of her. “I have you. You’re safe.”
And he’d do anything to keep that promise.
Brighid struggled to put space between them, and Wyatt reluctantly released her. He loved that she allowed him to hold her, enjoyed offering her comfort, and his arms felt empty without her. He wanted her back. To protect. To hold. To love.
She paced the room, then straightened her shoulders before turning to face him. Her fierce expression turned her eyes a captivating dark green.
“I cannot give up on my family.”
“I would never ask that. Once things are more settled, we’ll search for them.” Wyatt hurried to continue when she opened her mouth. “I still have a lot of contacts from my job. We’ll find them and help them if they need it.”
She stood so still, so pale, he feared that she would pitch over. “Tracking them down could place you in danger. I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t ask.” He shrugged off her cautious reply. “If they’re your family, then they’re mine. We won’t abandon them.”
“I need to think.” As if distracted by his offer, Brighid walked out the door without another word.
She trusted him.
Wyatt leaned against the wall a moment longer, marveling at how much it meant to him. He wasn’t about to destroy that trust by pushing her too fast. He just had to be patient. She would come to him when she was ready.
He prayed it would be soon, though, because he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep his hands to himself. With a sigh, he made his way down the stairs, not even pretending he wasn’t hoping to catch sight of Brighid, tucking away his disappointment when he didn’t see her anywhere.
He turned the corner when a whisper caught his ear. He altered course, his steps quickening as his instincts flared.
Fear for Brighid had him grabbing the knife he’d kept sheathed in his boot, and he crept forward.
And was completely flummoxed to find his wife talking to a painting. “Brighid?”
She whirled, a hand clutching at her throat. “You scared me. What on earth are you doing sneaking up on people?”
“I was on my way to the study.” He quickly tucked the blade out of sight. Curiosity trickled through him when she kept glancing at the painting. “What are you doing?”
“Ah, I’m admiring this landscape.” She shuffled sideways as if to block his view. Only she was so short, it didn’t work. “Why don’t we find Aaron and see how work is going at the factory?”
Wyatt didn’t acknowledge her as he continued to study the canvas, his curiosity piqued by her odder than normal behavior, until he finally nudged her out of the way. “How strange. I could have sworn I wasn’t in this painting.”
“Maybe your mother had it created as a surprise for you.” Brighid blurted out the first thing that came to mind. She wanted it to sound like a statement, but feared it emerged as more of a question.
Wyatt raised a brow at the likelihood. “The exact same picture?”
Brighid shrugged, her body twitching like a child caught in a prank gone awry. “Why not ask her?”
“Good idea.”
Brighid nearly sagged in relief. She needed to get rid of the miniature Wyatt before he caused more trouble. She turned away when her husband snagged her hand and dragged her down the hall after him. Surprise nearly caused her to trip over her own feet. She dug in her heels, trying to tug her hand away. “What are you doing?”
Wyatt glanced over his shoulders but didn’t slow. “Just as you suggested. We’re going to talk to Mother.”
He knew she was lying.
Every day that passed, his suspicions grew. He might not know the whole truth, but he knew more than he should. More than she liked. Now wasn’t the right time for him to discover the truth. She needed to break it to him slowly…after she found a way to make him fall in love with her. “You don’t need me to do this.”
As if he hadn’t heard her, he continued to pull her along, his fingers playing with hers in a way that kept her distracted and off kilter. All too soon they stood in front of his mother’s door. It opened before he could knock.
“Wyatt, what are you doing?” Beth stood back, a hand against her chest. “You should know better than to startle an old woman.”
“You’re a spring chicken.” He winked and stepped aside, allowing her to precede him into the hall. “I want you to see something.”
“Wyatt—”
“Shhh.”
Brighid bit her lip and followed Wyatt down the corridor. She caught Beth’s eyes and widened her own, gesturing down the hall with a small movement of her chin. Beth gave a small nod in understanding, and Brighid sighed in relief.
They all stopped, and Wyatt pointed to the incriminating painting. “Mother, when did you have this painting done?”
Beth looked to Brighid but answered. “I would guess twenty years ago.” She shrugged and stared at him as if he’d lost his wits.
“Then how did I get in the picture?”
Beth’s brow wrinkled. “What are you talking about?”
Wyatt turned. “Right here…” His voice stopped suddenly. “But I…” He touched the frame, pulling it away from the wall. “Brighid, you saw it.”
All innocent, Brighid raised her eyebrows. “Saw what?”
Wyatt narrowed his eyes on her, turned on his heel and stalked off.
“What happened?” Beth sounded bemused.
Brighid debated what to say.
As if reading her mind, Beth rapped her knuckles with the cane. “The truth, if you please.”
Brighid shoulders slumped, and she swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Remember his portrait in the gallery? It seems the Wyatt in the portrait has escaped.” Brighid cleared her throat, staring at the ceiling to avoid Beth’s probing gaze.
“I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”
“It might be better if I show you.” Brighid sighed and led the way the portrait gallery, Beth’s cane tapping on the floor behind her. Though she dreaded the upcoming confrontation, she stopped in front of the painting and pointed at her mistake.
“Oh, my.”
A bit at a loss, Brighid could only grumble. “Wyatt escaped.”
“Where? Why? How? But…” She stuttered, reached out to touch the painting, then drew her hand back.
“He’s able to jump through any of the paintings in the house. I have
to catch him before he causes more mischief.”
“But surely the others wouldn’t notice.” Beth’s voice shook with uncertainty.
“Wyatt already did. And if someone spots him moving, how am I to explain it?”
“Moving?” Her voice quivered.
Shame heated her face. “The painting in the parlor…he waved to me. In the hall just now, he was riding one of the horses like a little boy on a stick pony. Thank the goddess he remained still when Wyatt studied the picture.”
Beth snickered, then gave a full out whoop of laughter. Brighid’s head snapped up, and she stared at Beth in shock. The old woman was chuckling so hard, she leaned against the wall, too weak to stand.
“It’s not funny.” Brighid forced the words past stiff lips.
Beth laughed even harder, and Brighid couldn’t help it, her lips twitched.
Beth shook her head, mirth still dancing in her eyes, and gave a warning. “You need to tell Wyatt. He’ll find out soon enough. I didn’t raise a dullard.”
Panic clawed up her throat. Not yet. It was too soon. “Maybe after I find that draiodoir mna.
“What?”
“Ahhh, rogue. How do you say…a trickster.” Brighid pursed her lips. “Sly, crafty—”
“I understand. Come, we’ll split up, and I’ll help you search.” Beth stared after the girl as she left, a miserable slump to child’s shoulders as she studied every painting she passed.
Beth knew she shouldn’t meddle, but it was time for her son to open his eyes and observe the magic happening around him.
He just needed a nudge in the right direction.
After an hour of staring at paintings with no luck, Beth entered the study without knocking.
Aaron and Wyatt were poring over the papers on the desk, both deep into their tasks. Beth couldn’t help giving an involuntary glance at the painting, and her lips twitched. “Wyatt, I believe your wife is looking for you.”
Brighid pushed a sweaty strand of hair off her face and glared at the offending painting. After hours of search, she now knew the location of every painting, but no matter how fast she moved, she always remained one step behind the rascal.
Needing to get away from the insanity, she wandered out into the gardens.
She trailed her fingers over the leaves of a lilac bush and noticed a new bench in the place of the one she destroyed. Wyatt must have taken this seat from a different part of the garden. Brighid sat down gingerly, thankful when it didn’t fall prey to her rogue magic. She tilted her head back, lifted her face to the sun, and soaked up the heat. She allowed the smell of roses and lilacs to soothe her. Lost in thought, she heard no one approach until a light touch landed on her face.
Startled, she jumped and stood in surprise. Wyatt remained still, studying her from head to foot, as if he expected her to run. Uncomfortable under his intent stare, she backed away from him. “You surprised me.”
“I saw you from the study. You looked so beautiful, I had to come see if you were real.”
Her throat tightened at the blunt compliment. There was a hunger in his eyes that tempted her closer, telling her she could have anything she wanted if she but had the courage to reach out and take it. Only when a tree pressed against her spine did she became aware she’d been shuffling backwards. Her hair snagged on the bark, effectively trapping her in place.
Wyatt followed, not stopping until his body was flush against hers. He carefully untangled her hair, his concentration fully on his task. His muscles flexed and the heat of him encircled her, seeping through her clothes, invading her senses. She opened her mouth to speak when he traced her cheek with the back of his knuckle, following an invisible path down to her mouth. He ran his thumb back and forth across her bottom lip, hypnotizing her with the light seduction. He leaned in further, and Brighid inhaled his intoxicating sandalwood scent.
A small smile slanted across Wyatt’s mouth, as if he knew full well the effect he had on her. From under her lashes, she watched his lips part, and imagined his mouth on hers.
She shouldn’t want him, but her body rebelled at the thought of walking away again. She wanted the freedom to touch him, have him touch her without fear or doubt.
All thoughts stopped as his lips skimmed hers in a gentle caress.
Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, and she craved more.
More of his touch.
More of him.
She leaned forward to deepen the kiss when he pulled back.
Brighid groaned in complaint and opened her eyes.
He clasped his hands behind his back, giving her the opportunity to flee, but his warm green eyes begged her to stay. “Kiss me.”
She blinked at the husky invitation, his need echoing hers so perfectly she found herself swaying toward him. She closed her eyes and waited for him to take what she offered.
Nothing happened.
“Open your eyes.”
She obeyed the command immediately. He slipped a hand along her jaw, guiding her where she most wanted to be.
In his arms.
His mouth took hers softly at first, then with more insistence.
Hunger for more twined through her, and Brighid tipped her head back, inviting him to take more, enticing him closer. His musky scent sent a thrill of desire coursing along her skin.
She groaned when his lips trailed down to her throat. When her knees weakened at the sinful sensations, he caught her close, pinning her against the tree, every intimate detail of him pressed against her.
She allowed her hands to wander over his chest, thrilled when his muscles quivered under her bold touch. Kisses rained down on her, becoming more aggressive.
More addicting.
One hand trailed up from her side to cup her breast. Caught off guard, Brighid arched into him, desperate to ease the ache he built…and felt his arousal against her belly. One hand dropped to her hip, almost as if he was afraid she would escape, and a low growl rumbled in his chest. Her breasts tingled, her body aching for more, eager for his next move. When he retreated instead, the haze around her lifted.
A bitter chill snaked around her at his rejection.
He sat on the bench, dragging her to stand between his splayed knees. His eyes dropped to her bosom just inches from his face. Flustered by the attention, she crossed her arms. Instead of being deterred, he placed his hands on her hips, then slowly gathered the material of her skirts into his fists.
Her dress crept upwards, and he stared at her as if gauging how far he could push her. To his delight, Brighid lifted her brow as if daring him to go further. His hands skimmed down to cup the back of her knees, a thin stocking the only thing that separated his callused hands from her skin. A shiver went down her spine at the forbidden touch, and her hands dropped to his shoulders to brace herself.
Then he used those muscles she so admired by lifting and depositing her on his lap, her knees on either side of his hips, leaving her at his mercy.
“Wyatt?” The vulnerability of the position caused blood to rush to her face. “People will see.”
“The dress is draped over both of us. No one can see anything.” His hands slid farther up the outside of her legs, his fingers tracing the edge of her stockings lightly, trailing heat in a leisurely caress that bedeviled her thoughts.
She squirmed under his delicious touch, wanting more.
“Unbutton your dress.”
Brighid pulled back, and his hands tightened, preventing her from falling at his feet. “What?”
“Do you like having me touch you?”
She nodded.
“You’ll like this more. We can stop at any time. You’re in charge.”
She bit her lip, beguiled by his raspy voice and the heat in his eyes. Needing to please him, she tugged down the sleeves until her dress and chemise rested precariously low on her bosom.
He grunted as if she’d struck him. His hands slid around her bottom, and he pulled her closer, his face inches away from her breasts. He nibbled along h
er neck, slipping lower until his teeth nipped the sensitive crook of her shoulder that made her wiggle on his lap.
A groan tore from him, and he pulled her tight against him.
The hard ridge of his arousal pressed intimately against her, and they both froze.
She held her breath as pleasure swirled in her blood.
His mouth lowered, nudging aside the top of her dress until her breast slipped free. Before she could protest, he sucked the tip of it into his mouth.
It was her turn to groan as he ravished her. She cradled his head close, raking her nails through his hair.
It wasn’t enough.
Frustrated by the tangle of clothes, she wrestled with the buttons of her dress, nearly unseating herself. Wyatt pulled her flush against him, the surprising action nudging her intimately against his shaft. Lost in a haze of pleasure, needing more, she rocked her hips.
Wyatt lifted his head, his eyes drunk on pleasure. “Do that again.”
Brighid was helpless to disobey.
One of his hands molded her breast, while the other disappeared beneath her skirts. Her stomach clenched as his fingers feathered against the insides of her thighs, leaving behind a flurry of desperate need. He traced the edge of her stocking, then moved higher…and finally brushed against her bare skin.
Everywhere he touched became sensitive, and she had no voice to protest when his callused fingers moved between her thighs. She squirmed against him, trying to close her legs on instinct, but found herself trapped.
She grabbed his wrist when his fingers touched her intimately.
Shocked pleasure held her still. Then his fingers moved and her eyes slid shut, the outside world forgotten as he deepened the caress. She arched into his hand, and a gasp of surprise escaped when the pleasure increased.
She shifted her hips again, wanting more, whimpering when he removed his magical touch.
“Tell me to stop.” He rested his forehead against hers, his hands tightening on her hips as if to prevent her from leaving. The hunger in his expression shot a thrill down her spine.
She ran her hand down the nape of his neck, leaned forward and nuzzled the delicate skin under his ear. A shudder went through him, his hips flexing slightly before he took back control by pulling away. His chest heaved as he struggled for breath. Then she whispered in his ear the only answer she could give him. “Don’t you dare.”
Druid Surrender (A Druid Quest Novel Book 1) Page 24
