The door slammed shut, and he heard the very distinct sound of a key turning the lock. Wyatt sagged against the wall, resisting the urge to barge back into the room and shake sense into her.
Being a spymaster only worked when no one knew you were a spy. He had given an oath to take the secret to his grave. He had no idea what gave him away, but if the news ever slipped out, his family would be ruined. The people he had hunted would come after him, and everything he held dear would be placed in danger, including her.
No, he made the right choice.
In time, she’d come to her senses.
As the day of the fair approached, Wyatt wasn’t able to come within ten feet of Brighid without her disappearing on him. She became so adept at evading him, he’d swear the smell of her scent lingered in the hall to taunt him.
It drove him insane.
She was being unreasonable.
His frustration bubbled over the day before the fair, and he couldn’t hold his silence any longer. Damn it, he wanted to talk to his wife, but he had no idea how to get her to listen. “Mother, have you noticed anything…wrong with Brighid?”
“Yes.” She snapped and turned her back, acting as if he didn’t exist.
“Not you, too.” Wyatt ran a hand over his hair, then rubbed his temple, trying to relieve the pressure.
The countess glared and picked up a book, clearly dismissing him.
Wyatt spread his hands in exasperation. “This is me asking you for help.”
“You have made a complete mess of everything.” Her eyes narrowed on him, and he held back the instinctive urge to squirm. “You lost, and you didn’t even realize what a treasure you had in your grasp.”
A terrible fear gripped him. “I didn’t lose anything.”
“You crushed something precious with your carelessness.” She picked up her cane as if to thump it on the floor, but seemed to lose the heart for it and set it aside instead. “How long do you think it will be before she disappears?”
Over his dead body. “You don’t understand.”
“She told you about her gifts, and you retreated like a dog with its tail between your legs.”
“You knew?” A pit opened up in his gut.
“Of course. Your great-grandmother had something similar. I recognized it the first day.”
“But—”
“What did you do?”
Wyatt spread his hands. “Nothing. Honest.”
“Ahh.”
“What?” He barked, his frustration threatening to choke him. Who would have thought being a spy was easier than living in a household full of women?
“She told you something so private that it put what remains of her family at risk, and you—” She mimicked him and spread her hands, “—did nothing.”
Wyatt felt his soul shrivel as the implications becoming horrifyingly clear. Hell and damnation…she didn’t understand, and there was nothing he could do to defend himself. “I only meant—”
“To destroy her? To drive her away? To treat her like an abomination? Like—”
“Enough.” He roared out the demand.
“No, it’s not. The child was falling in love with you. From where I am sitting, I cannot see why.”
Wyatt stilled, his world narrowing down to the one word. “Love?”
He ducked when the cane swung toward his head.
“Get out.”
Wyatt left in a daze, a strange lightness to his steps. Brighid loved him. He wanted to find her and kiss her, then spank her for not telling him.
He wanted to confront Brighid, but he needed to do it right.
He couldn’t screw up again.
Exiting out of the back of the house, he saw Aaron by the stables and gratefully crossed the distance. He scowled when he recognized Brin, and picked up his pace. Before he reached them, the man disappeared behind the barn.
“What did he want?” Wyatt stared after Brin.
Aaron wiped down the horse. “He’s running errands for the fair.”
Wyatt grunted. “Please keep him away from Brighid. I don’t want her harassed by anyone who might seek to harm her.”
“Better a quick death.” Aaron mumbled under his breath.
Wyatt’s hackles rose at the comment, and he faced his friend. “What did you say?”
Aaron straightened, his blue eyes frosting over. “You heard me.”
“Satan’s balls. This whole place has gone mad. What’s gotten into you?”
Aaron grabbed the reigns and began leading the horse back into the stables. “You figure it out.”
“Don’t turn away from me.” Wyatt grabbed his arm, raring for a fight. They were evenly matched, both well trained in the tricks of the trade. He wasn’t letting the man go until he explained. A weight settled on his chest, a deep foreboding about how this conversation would end.
“Do you know your wife came down this morning to look over the horses?” He sighed when Wyatt stared at him blankly. “Have you ever seen Brighid ride?”
Only on his mount—with him.
Wyatt stiffened and panic began clawing up his throat.
She loved him. Why would she leave?
Aaron jerked away and guided the horse into the stables. “If you don’t change your ways, you’ll lose the best thing that has ever happened to you.”
Wyatt’s stride hitched when he went to follow, but he stopped short. Determined to find Brighid and clear up this mess, he whirled and headed back toward the house. He took the stairs two at a time, determined to prove Aaron wrong.
Prove everyone wrong.
He tossed open his door and strode toward the connecting room.
Only to find the door locked against him.
His temper began a slow simmer, and a healthy dose of fear bubbled up in his chest.
He contemplated picking the lock for all of a second. Then he leaned back and kicked the door open with a satisfied crack of wood.
He burst into her room only to deflate when he found it empty. As he walked around the space, something odd nagged at the back of his mind.
He stopped dead when he realized what bothered him.
The room was devoid of any personal effects.
No brushes or perfumes lay out.
No books or knickknacks were left abandoned.
Nothing of Brighid remained, as if she’d never existed.
She was leaving him.
He sank down at the edge of the bed, the devastating loss nearly crippling him.
He lifted his head and narrowed his eyes to scan the room again. She was mistaken if she thought he’d allow her to leave without a fight. He yanked open the wardrobe, surveying the contents, but her satchel and cane were nowhere to be found.
A rush of panic reduced his thoughts to a garbled mess.
He couldn’t catch his breath.
He refused to believe she could already be gone.
He would know if she’d left.
It was time to stop thinking like a husband and more like a spy. He searched every inch of her room, a little befuddled to pull out over five paintings stashed under the bed and behind the curtains. In twenty minutes, he was hot and sweaty and empty-handed.
Rage sank its claws into his flesh, and he ripped off the covers from her bed.
He stood there, shoulders heaving, and froze.
Behind her pillows, between the headboard and the bed, were her satchel and cane.
It felt like someone had taken a knife and carved open his chest.
Proof that she really was going to leave.
Like hell.
He snatched up the items and strode through the connecting doors. It took him two seconds to tuck away her belongings where she’d never find them. Then he relaxed for the first time in hours, and headed down to his study.
A tremor shook his hand at the near miss.
He needed a drink while he planned his next stage of attack…because this was one battle he couldn’t lose.
Chapter 26
&nbs
p; Brighid woke the day of the fair and huddled under the covers.
Just one more day.
One more day to forget another family.
One more day of unbearable pain and bittersweet memories.
If she stayed, it would eventually break her spirit.
But, oh, how she longed to stay.
After another minute, the cold side of the bed seemed to mock her. Wyatt’s absence only dragged her further into misery, and she forced herself to crawl out of bed. The halls remained silent, the buzz of servants downstairs muted. She dressed in a simple gown of light blue. In the process of tying her slippers, she spied the painting of the cottage she’d stashed away.
Wyatt sat on the front stoop, his hands hanging between his splayed knees.
Brighid smiled, allowing herself to feel all the emotions she couldn’t show the real one. “You have one more day before you become lost in the paintings.”
His solemn face lowered, and he shrugged a shoulder.
“You should go back to where you belong. We both need to go back.”
Her smile faded when the miniature Wyatt stood and opened the cabin door. A discarded bouquet remained behind on the stoop.
“For me?”
He nodded despondently, then shut the door. Brighid touched the painting, wishing she could feel the silky petals or even smell the beautiful wildflowers, but like everything else in her life, it remained beyond her grasp.
A sharp knock sounded on the door.
She tucked the painting behind the curtain and hurried to answer it.
Beth stood waiting. “The fair will begin early for the villagers. You should go downstairs and eat before we need to ready ourselves.”
She shrugged, not hungry. “No, I think—”
“Then come, keep an old woman company.”
Those faded blue eyes saw too much. Beth knew she was leaving. Her throat tightened painfully. “One last time.”
Beth’s smile wobbled then firmed. “We’ll eat in my room.”
Arm in arm, they made their way down the hall, giving Brighid time to compose herself. She sat when Beth held out a reticule.
“The purse, as promised.”
Brighid recoiled. “I cannot.”
“You will take it. For my peace of mind. I need to know you’ll at least have money to survive.” Beth grabbed her wrist and forced her fingers around the bag.
The purse felt heavy, weighing down her conscience. “I’ll miss you, too.”
Beth took a sip of tea before setting her cup down in a precise way. A nervous habit more than anything. “I wish you’d reconsider. If you give him more time…”
Brighid shook her head even as her stomach churned. “He doesn’t trust me. I can’t be married to a man who doesn’t want to be a full partner. It would destroy me. Anyway, I need to locate my cousins. We’ve been separated too long.”
“So wise. I don’t think I would have the courage to do what needed to be done if our situations were reversed.”
“Wise or foolish?” Brighid tried to smile but failed. “Only a thin line separates the two.”
They ate in silence, each reluctant for the meal to end.
“When will you leave?”
“Immediately after Wyatt catches the man intent on destroying him. As soon as I know he’s safe.” She couldn’t bear to see him harmed. She would be his bait, and then use everything in her power to ensure the man never hurt Wyatt again.
“And Wyatt?”
“I won’t leave without saying goodbye.” After she had a chance to shore up her own courage. Doubts prickled throughout her mind, and she shoved them away. She closed her eyes, telling herself she was doing the right thing. Their marriage was rocky at best. Distrust would destroy it. She simply couldn’t stay.
She stopped her thoughts there for fear her resolve would weaken.
A knock sounded on the door, and Trudy entered, an excited gleam in her eyes. “It’s time to get ready.”
Brighid followed Trudy and discovered a bath awaited. She remained silent under Trudy’s enthusiasm, cold dread building at the coming confrontation.
After two hours, dressed and coiffured, she was ready. Brighid avoided the mirror, feeling like a fraud. “Trudy, you must leave now and ready yourself for the festivities.”
“But I—”
“Hush.” Brighid stood and hugged her. “You’ve done all you can. Today is for all of us, and I want you to enjoy yourself.”
“It’s been my pleasure.” Trudy smiled, casting a critical eye over her final creation with a nod. With one last tweak of the skirt, she straightened. “You look beautiful.”
The awed expression on Trudy’s face made Brighid shift uncomfortably. “Go.” She chided, and gave her a playful push.
Loneliness crept over her the instant the door shut, and her eyes stung. With a deep breath that strained her corset strings, Brighid moved to the bed to perform one last check on the provisions she’d stashed away. She hated goodbyes, had lived through too many of them. It would be better for everyone if she left without a fuss.
The feather covers sank under her hand. She reached out further, expecting to find her bundle, but came up empty. A twist of panic sank into her gut. With her heart ready to thump out of her chest, she ripped back the coverlet and tossed the pillows and bedding on the floor.
Nothing.
Her possessions, her only link to her family, were gone.
Indignation shot through her like wildfire.
She knew who’d stolen them.
Only one person knew how much they meant to her.
“Wyatt.”
Her power thrummed as she marched to the connecting door.
A gust of wind swirled around her as her anger swelled. The door slammed open, then canted unevenly on the hinges. Uncaring of the damage, she stalked forward.
Until she spied Wyatt in his bath.
Her feet stumbled over themselves, and she drew to a halt a safe distance from the tub. She struggled to hold his gaze and not run her eyes over every exquisite detail of him on display.
And spectacularly lost the battle when her eyes dipped.
He lay sprawled in the tub, his tan skin gleaming in the candlelight, begging for her touch. Her eyes flickered to his chest, tracing every inch, memorizing the chiseled muscles. The room grew warm as she continued her perusal, and she fisted her hands in her skirts to keep from reaching out for him. The scent of sandalwood drifted around her, beckoning her closer and give into temptation.
Oinseach! She cursed silently. She was the queen of fools. So naïve. She’d thought her wrath would shield her.
How dare he taunt her with something she couldn’t have!
Fill her with longing when it was too late.
Brighid adverted her eyes, furious at being forced to feel anything at all, but the damage had been done.
“Where are my possessions?” Her lips felt stiff as she choked out the words.
Wyatt watched her, unable to speak for a moment. He’d never seen her so polished and beautiful…or so damned furious. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Her dark red hair was piled high in a mass of curls on the top of her head, revealing the elegant arch of her neck. A few strands trailed to her shoulders, drawing attention to the low-cut dress. Her pale skin glowed in the firelight, and his mouth watered as his gaze wandered lower. Her breasts filled the bodice to overflowing, the sight heating his blood.
Air stirred in the room, and Wyatt jerked his head up to find her studying him. Her eyes darkened to a stunning emerald green that matched her gown. He didn’t have to look at her tattoos to know her gifts had awakened.
“Brighid.” He gripped the sides of the tub to rise, but he was stopped by his own nakedness. He had to find a way to keep her from running now she was so breathtakingly near.
“Where are my possessions?”
The demand hit him in the gut like a blow, cooling his desire. How dare she try to leave without telling him? “You were going to
sneak away like a coward.”
“Where are my things?”
To hell with sensibilities. Wyatt stood. “When were you going to tell me?”
When he reached out to snatch her close, the water began to churn in the tub. Though he knew she wouldn’t hurt him, the sight gave him pause.
Then he met her gaze. Undaunted by her show of power, he lifted his leg to step out when the water shot into the air, forming a liquid curtain. He touched the seething water in awe, noting the bottom of the tub was completely dry. Her shape was a distorted blur as she turned away and began ripping apart his room.
She found her bag in less than a minute, but not the staff. She would never find her staff. Taking a deep breath, Wyatt closed his eyes and stepped through the water. “Not very effective.”
She glanced at him, and the water fell back into the tub. A splash hit him from behind. Her eyes widened then wandered down his body. His cock jerked to attention, and he smiled ruefully. “You always have this effect on me.”
She straightened from her crouch, but didn’t return the smile. His own faded when he noticed small details about her that he found disturbing.
He had always enjoyed watching her, but she’d lost weight, now almost gaunt compared to her earlier lush form. The enchanting sparkle in her eyes had been dimmed. Her dark red hair was tamed, as though her inner fire had been extinguished.
He flinched, devastated to know he’d done that to her with his carelessness.
He would fix this. “You’re going to have to try harder if you think that will stop me from coming after you.”
“If I wanted to harm you, I would have.” Brighid lifted her chin in defiance.
Wyatt snorted. “I don’t believe you.”
“Have you ever seen a person drown?” She continued without waiting for an answer. “It’s not a pleasant experience. Water fills your stomach, then your lungs. You cough but never get enough air. Your lungs can’t expel the water fast enough. After only a few minutes, you stop struggling.
“You can still see and hear, but you’re too lethargic to move, helpless to prevent your own death. Your vision dulls until you see only darkness. You’re left with only your hearing.” She strode forward, her eyes blazing with some horrible memory. “Water gurgles inside you, and you’re forced to listen while it slowly kills you.”
Druid Surrender (A Druid Quest Novel Book 1) Page 28
