The rest of the day passed in the similar vein. Wyatt remained close all day, kissing her at odd times, touching her whenever it pleased him.
It left her on edge and wanting more.
As night fell, a great bonfire was lit with a cheer.
Memories rose from the last fire, and Brighid kept her distance. A slight tug on her gown caught her attention, and she turned to find Paul at her side, his mouth open in a wide yawn.
She smiled. Poor mite was exhausted. “Wyatt, I am going to put Paul to bed.”
He cast a quick look at the fire and nodded as if he understood her need for escape. “Trudy?”
She pointed behind him. “Is visiting with her family.”
Wyatt smiled and gave her a quick kiss. “I’ll be right behind you.”
She gripped Paul’s hand and entered the house. “Did you have a good evening?”
Paul smiled, then yawned again. Brighid laughed and ran a hand over his hair.
So distracted, she didn’t see the man step into the hall until too late. She smacked into a hard body and rebounded. She struggled to gain her footing and glanced up.
And came face-to-face with the last man she wanted to see. “Mr. Bennigan. I’m sorry.”
A stain spread over the front of his jacket, and he thrust a glass of wine at her. “Hold this, please.”
Every swipe spread the stain more, and Brighid grimaced. “I didn’t see you standing there.”
Paul tugged on her arm, and she patted his hand. “It will be just a moment.”
Michael stopped fussing with his jacket and gave her a crooked smile that looked odd on his face. “I came to wish you well on your marriage.”
Something wild in his eyes urged her to retreat, the greater the distance between them, the better. There was a sharp edge to him that threatened danger, and she wanted him gone. Paul tugged at her dress. Glad for a reason to escape, she smiled. “I must put the child to bed.”
“I only meant to toast to your future.” Michael raised his glass, his brow lifting in challenge. When his gaze slid past her to rest on Paul, she stepped protectively in front of him. “Still not speaking?”
“No.” She lifted her glass and took a shallow sip, anything to get him to leave. The bitter taste washed over her tongue. She swallowed with difficulty, determined not to be bullied into drinking more.
“I wish you and your husband everything that you deserve.” The smile did not reach his eyes. He accepted her glass and continued down the hall. Paul tugged harder on Brighid’s arm. “Yes, let’s go.”
She’d taken only a few steps when a cheerful whistle floated on the air, and her grip on Paul’s hand turned brutal.
She heard that whistle once before—when they were being chased in the forest.
“That’s why you ran, isn’t it?” She whispered. “It’s him.”
The boy nodded, his eyes wide with terror.
She dragged Paul down the hall, almost reached her door when her vision began to blur.
The drink.
She wanted to curse herself for giving into good manners and taking a sip. She groped for the knob, but couldn’t seem to get her fingers to work.
Paul came to her rescue, and they piled into the room. She staggered toward the bed, barely making it before her legs folded out from under her.
“Lock the door.” She struggled to pull out the key, fumbled and watched helplessly as it fell to the floor. Paul dropped to his knees and snatched it up in his little fist.
The door slammed open.
Brighid struggled to stand, but she couldn’t seem to feel her legs anymore. She focused on the shape that filled the doorway. “You.”
Michael sauntered into the room, menace oozing from him as he strode toward her. “What gave me away?”
He asked as if he were talking of the weather and not about killing her.
Then he gave a negligible shrug. “Never mind. Now that I have you, it no longer matters.”
Paul charged forward to defend her, and her heart lodged in her throat. “No!”
Michael gave a careless shove, and Paul skidded across the room and smashed into the wall with a sickening thud. His small body crumpled, and he slid down the wall to lie sprawled across the floor like a broken toy.
“Stupid brat. No matter how many beatings I gave him, he never learned his lesson. I finally broke him when you had to go and rescue him.” Michael turned to her and smiled. Pure madness leered back at her. “It’s time to tie up loose ends.”
When he nudged Paul with his boot, Brighid seized her chance. With a silent prayer, she dashed for the door, hoping to lure him away from the boy. Her legs felt like stilts. She stumbled, cursing the time it took to find her footing.
The hall was dark, since the staff had chosen to attend the festival. She could only see a few feet in front of her before the walls and floors would start to waver around her.
Boots thundered behind her.
Gaining.
As she passed the suit of arms, she cursed.
She’d gone in the wrong direction.
The only thing that lay in this wing was a dead end.
With a sharp right, she slipped into the gallery. Her only hope lay in the possibility that if he saw an empty room he might move on.
She sprinted to the far end, then whirled and glanced around the narrow chamber.
There was just a small problem with her plan.
There was no place to hide.
Slow and steady footsteps drew ever closer.
Panic fluttered in her chest as she backed away from the door. Her skin grew clammy, and her stomach churned, her limbs leaden from the drug he’d slipped in her drink. She ducked behind the heavy velvet curtain, struggling to steady her ragged breathing. She peered out the window, but the grounds were too far away to get anyone’s attention.
A clanking noise echoed from the hall…then another, and she tensed. Her tongue felt thick, her mouth dry from the drug. No doubt if she’d taken more than a sip, she’d already be unconscious.
There would be no rescue.
She needed to stay alive long enough for Wyatt to come for her, and he would come for her. She refused to be taken quietly, refused to be used as bait and put Wyatt’s life at risk.
Rubbing her clammy hands against her skirt, Brighid concentrated on calling her powers.
They sputtered for a few seconds, then fizzled into nothing, as if unable to respond to her command.
A kick of panic licked through her veins at being completely helpless.
Like hell!
She would not go meekly.
She fisted her hands and tried again. The magic rested just beyond her reach, blocked by the drug, and desperation clawed at her. She might not be able to gather enough to cast, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t observe.
She closed her eyes and threw her power out, watching it splash through the room like a wave before it spilled down the hall.
Metal clanked on the floor, one foot after another, when understanding dawned.
The suit of armor was moving.
A loud crash gave her a start. Michael’s curses echoed in the large room, and a bitter smile twisted her lips when she realized the armor had tried to protect her.
“Brighid!”
Wyatt!
She opened her mouth to answer, only to bite her lip. If she called out, she’d be putting Wyatt in greater danger. There was no way he’d be able to reach her before Michael.
“Good God, man, did you have a fight with my suit of armor?” Wyatt laughed, and her throat ached at the sound.
Run!
She silently chanted the command over and over, willing him to go.
“Never mind, I’ll have the servants clean it up in the morning. Have you seen Brighid?”
She shuffled a few inches over, tempted to leave her hiding spot, then halted. Anything she did at this point would make him vulnerable. If Wyatt saw her, he would know something was wrong and die trying to save her.
Michael would use her as a distraction. Wyatt trusted him and would never expect an attack. She couldn’t take the chance.
She bowed her head, willing him to leave, while desperately wanting to crawl into his arms.
“Last I saw her she was with Paul.” Michael’s voice sounded baffled, a bit concerned. “Everything all right?”
“Yes. Well, I will leave you to it.”
“I’ll keep an eye out for her. If I find her, I’ll let her know you were searching for her.”
No matter how she angled to hear more, the voices faded. Silence enveloped the room, and her breathing sounded loud to her own ears.
Boots slapped against the polished floor. “Bri—ghiiiid.”
He drew out her name in a singsong voice. She cringed, her body trembling as she struggled to wrestle her senses away from the drug’s influence.
“No one is here to rescue you this time. You might as well save yourself the trouble and come out.”
His footsteps stopped and everything stilled.
All she heard was her blood roaring in her ears.
Until metal scraped against metal when the curtains on the first window were thrown wide.
She peeked out from her hiding place. The bonfire outside cast a weak light into the room. His silhouette appeared large and menacing before he moved, his body swallowed by the darkness. Then the next set of curtains were flung open. The malicious smile on his face caused the muscles in her stomach to turn liquid.
When he didn’t find her, his smile turned into a scowl.
“Brighid.” All his amusement vanished, his movements became more violent, and he ripped down the next curtains, the rods falling to the floor with a clank. “If you continue to hide, I’ll have to punish you. Don’t make me punish you. You won’t like it.”
Only two more windows.
She had to go now or he’d find her.
She crouched, her body trembling as terror grabbed her tight in its cruel grip.
She scurried out from her spot, keeping to the cover of darkness.
The next curtain fell under his assault, emitting more light.
One window remained.
Once it was opened, there would be no place left to hide. Firelight gleamed off something shiny he held in his hand.
It took seconds for her brain to catch up with what she was seeing.
A knife.
It was one thing to know he wanted her dead, it was another thing to see the weapon.
Urgency tugged at her to get moving!
Shadows by the wall shifted, nearly startling a scream out of her, when she realized it was just a painting.
Then she blinked, belatedly recognizing the two-dimensional Wyatt in a full-length painting.
He gestured toward the door, his movements urgent. Brighid struggled to obey, but the drug had slowed everything to a crawl.
She was halfway across the room when Michael gave a yelp of fear, then a roar of rage.
Twenty feet to freedom.
A loud ripping sound filled the room as he shredded the canvas, and her heart broke at the thought of Wyatt being destroyed.
Ten feet.
When the last curtain was yanked down, light flooded the rest of the room. She flung up her arm to cover her eyes, but the damage had been done. Vertigo twisted the room into a strange, dizzying shape. The drug had her firmly under its command.
Six feet.
She stumbled and fell to her knees, the floor rushing up to greet her.
“It’s a shame. You shouldn’t have hidden from me. Now you have to suffer for your disobedience.” Like an animal stalking its prey, he closed the distance between them. The hairs on her arms rose in warning.
She refused to give up.
She crawled toward the door. She reached for her gifts, but couldn’t lift her hand much less raise her power.
Three feet.
A shiny pair of hessians appeared, and her spirit plummeted.
She’d never expected to have a future before Wyatt, but he’d made her believe.
Now her worst fear was coming true…she’d failed him. He was going to die because of her, and there was nothing she could do to protect him.
Michael planted a boot against her side, and a rough shove to her ribs send her sprawling. His laughter rang in her head. The last thing she saw was his face hovering over hers, a vicious smile twisting his lips as he drew back his fist and hit her.
Wyatt searched the nursery for any sign of Brighid or Paul, his good cheer fading as he found it empty.
She had to be here.
She’d only been gone for a minute.
He clenched and unclenched his fists, struggling to remain calm as he sprinted out of the room. He stopped suddenly, skidding to a halt as old insecurities rose.
“Damn you.” He ran into his room, tearing open the door with enough force that it slammed against the wall. He raced across the room and tore down the window dressings.
The staff tumbled toward him, and he caught it instinctively.
He stared at it in disbelief.
She wouldn’t have gone anywhere without her staff.
She hadn’t left him.
Relief weakened his legs, and he hurried toward her room, hoping to find her waiting.
Only to be confronted by another empty room.
His heartbeat kicked up its frantic pace, and his hand tightened around the staff as the truth became horrifyingly clear.
He hadn’t secured the house. He’d assumed she would have been safe for a few minutes.
He’d been wrong, and the bastard had taken her.
She hadn’t been gone long.
They couldn’t have gone far.
He carefully set her staff on her bed as rage thickened his blood. His muscles trembled with the need for action. He shoved away the terror that tried to suffocate him and bolted for the stairs.
He couldn’t be too late.
He found Aaron talking to Brin near the entrance. “The bastard has her.”
“How? When?”
“She went to put Paul to bed. She was only out of my sight for a few minutes.” Wyatt raked his fingers through his hair, unable to believe he’d been so careless. “I left her alone.”
Aaron grabbed his arm, ushering them back to the house. “Where’s Paul?”
Hope pierced his chest. There would be no reason to take the child. If Brighid was gone, Paul had to have seen where they went. His anger solidified into determination. “We need to find Trudy. She’d know where to search for him.”
Wyatt found the maid with her family. He nodded to her parents and pulled her aside. “We need your help to find Paul.”
“Paul? Brighid put him to bed a few minutes ago.”
Wyatt shook his head and hauled her toward the house. “They’re gone.”
“What?” She immediately understood the implications and took off running. Despite being in good shape, he had to push himself to catch up with her.
She stopped in the nursery. Aaron and Brin had torn it apart, leaving nothing unturned. “He’s not here.”
Conscious of time slipping away from him, he grabbed Trudy by the arms and bent until his face was only inches from hers. “Where?”
Trudy spun and didn’t stop until she reached Brighid’s room. “If he’s not in the nursery, he’ll be in here.”
“The staff.” Wyatt walked to the bed, reaching out to touch the covers. “I left her staff on the bed.”
It had vanished.
Trudy dropped to her knees and scooted under the bed. Half her body disappeared before she stilled. She backed up and stood, then lifted her hand. Blood coated her palm. “I can’t reach him. He’s huddled underneath with the staff.”
With a nod of silent agreement, each man took a side of the bed and shifted it away from the wall. Trudy slipped past them and gathered Paul in her arms.
“The killer must have left him for dead.”
Wyatt shook his head. “The bastard’s main goal was Brighid.
He either hit Paul so he couldn’t go for help, or Paul was in his way.”
Crouching down, he touched Paul’s hand. “Did you see who took Brighid?”
Paul curled himself tighter into Trudy’s hold. Wyatt did his best to curb his urgency and tried a different tact. “Brighid’s gone. We need your help to find her. Did you see what happened?”
Paul stopped moving, didn’t even breathe. As if coming to a decision, he straightened. “Bad man.”
A dark suspicion dug its claws in his chest. “He was here the day you ran away, wasn’t he?”
Paul nodded, and Wyatt touched his hand. “Stay with Trudy. She’ll fix you up. We’ll find Brighid and bring her back.”
Wyatt stood, shaking under the force of his fury. He strode to the study and calmly unlocked the bottom drawer of his desk. Weapons gleamed under the light. He removed a selection of knives, efficiently hiding them on his body. He lifted out two guns next and systematically loaded them.
“You know who has her.” Aaron followed him into the room, sheathing one of the knives and selecting a firearm for himself as well.
“Michael.” Wyatt shoved his gun in his waistband and headed up the stairs where he’d last seen him.
“What?” Aaron stride hitched, and he hurried to catch up.
“Michael was here earlier. I was in such a hurry to find Brighid that I didn’t question his presence.”
“But he left with Angelica.” Aaron shook his head. “Damn it. He should be in London.”
Wyatt kicked the armor that littered the floor. Light from the gallery spilled into the hall, and he lifted his head as if scenting his quarry. He signaled for silence and drew his gun. Keeping his back to the wall and slipped into the room. A cursory glance revealed the space was empty. Curtains were partially torn down, the rods canted wildly from their moorings.
Brighid had put up a fight.
His stomach dropped to his feet as he imagined the terror she had endured.
He prowled the confines of the room, his hold tightening on the gun. He’d been only a few feet away, and he hadn’t even known she was in trouble. “I should have known something was amiss.”
“None of that matters anymore. What matters is getting her back. You know this area better than anyone.” Aaron stepped into his path, forcing him to a halt. “Where would he take her?”
Druid Surrender (A Druid Quest Novel Book 1) Page 30
