Druid Surrender (A Druid Quest Novel Book 1) (11 page)

She glanced surreptitiously around the table, surprised when the others continued talking, as if nothing had happened. That’s when she realized no one else had noticed her gaffe. Hoping against hope that her vision was playing tricks on her, Brighid closed her eyes to steady herself, then looked at Wyatt again, or more precisely, his chest.

But no, the missing button remained glaringly obvious.

It also offered an enticing temptation, almost an invitation to explore further.

To her horror, a second button shot low across the table and dinged against a serving tray.

All the blood left her head until she feared she would keel over. The only saving grace was that no one knew she had done it. Heat crept up her chest and spread across her face. She’d been practically undressing the man in front of everyone!

She shifted in her chair, ready to bolt at the least provocation. The room grew overly warm and she gulped her wine, desperate to moisten her dry throat. The fruity taste passed over her tongue, leaving her mouth with a bitter aftertaste. Her food lay in cold and unpalatable lumps on the china, the once-wonderful smell of roasted fowl in herb sauce causing what little she had eaten to clump in her stomach.

With shaky hands, Brighid tilted her glass and the remaining wine trickled out, landing on her parched tongue. A footman stepped forward to refill, and she smiled gratefully. After her second glass, she relaxed enough to continue eating.

Beth reached unobtrusively across the table, and Brighid watched wide-eyed as the hand retreated, as if it were a snake slithering toward her. Beth gently set the button near Brighid’s silverware.

The incriminating button sat accusingly on the white tablecloth. Brighid snatched it up, shoving it inside her glove with shaky fingers. It took a full minute before she could work up the nerve to glance up from her plate.

Beth cocked a brow and winked at her.

The countess knew.

She grabbed the wine glass and gulped the contents. Her chest felt hollow at the devastating loss, and she waited for Beth to call her out. People changed when they were confronted with the unknown, often turning deadly, as demonstrated by the villagers.

The meal ended in a blur. She rose with the others, just inches from escape, when Beth spoke.

“Brighid, would you please escort me to my room?”

Angelica sashayed to Wyatt’s side and smirked in triumph at the opportunity to have him all to herself.

“Of course.” Brighid cast one last wistful look at Wyatt, and her throat ached at his gentle smile.

Brighid followed Beth up the stairs, feeling as if she was being led to the gallows. Then she slowly straightened her spine. Maybe what happened was for the best. Despite her intention to take an uncompromising stand and remain detached, she’d allowed herself to get too close to these people. She needed to focus on saving her cousins.

The door shut loudly behind her, and Brighid stood rigid, waiting for the polite excuse as to why she must leave.

“Sit before you fall over.” Brighid found herself shoved into a seat, and a snifter of brandy was pressed into her hand. “Drink this.”

Brighid obeyed the command without question, choking on the first fiery swallow.

“I normally don’t indulge in such drink, but you looked like you could use the courage.”

With a shaking hand, Brighid raised the glass to take a second, more cautious sip, and shrugged. After a meal like that, who was she to argue? She raised the glass and gulped the remaining brandy in one swallow. The harsh liquid burned down her throat.

The liquor spread like a warm glow through her system, and her lips tingled pleasantly, allowing her to finally speak. “I can be gone by morning.”

Beth patted her arm and chuckled. “You will do no such thing. Anyway, we have a deal.”

“What?” Brighid tipped her hand and peered into the now-empty glass in her hand, wondering if the brandy had affected her hearing as well.

“What I witnessed was the poor quality of clothing my son wore. It was practically falling apart at the table.”

“Poor quality.” Brighid repeated in disbelief.

The countess couldn’t have missed what happened, so why was she being so nice?

“Yes.” Humor tinged the word. “Why don’t you get some sleep? We’ll have a full day of fittings tomorrow when your new clothes arrive.”

Brighid stood, swayed, and allowed Beth to escort her to the door. It amazed her that someone outside her small group of friends, a handful of people she’d adopted as her cousins, knew the truth and didn’t flinch away from her. Her life was cursed, full of superstitions and distrust. Brighid stopped and leaned against the doorjamb for support. “Why?”

Beth understood the unspoken question. “It’s only a small part of who you are, dear. It just adds a little spice.” Beth touched her arm and Brighid went motionless, afraid any sudden move would scare her away. “Let me tell you a little story while I walk you to your room.”

Beth retrieved her cane and shut the door behind them. “When I was a little girl, I was very close to my grandmother. She was a special woman, a lot like you.” Beth hugged Brighid’s waist and squeezed.

“Me?” Brighid’s knees wobbled precariously…or was it the walls? She couldn’t tell.

“Oh, yes. She had a subtle gift, an ability to locate things, such as objects and even secrets. I’m sure you can imagine the trouble she found.” Beth gave a misty laugh, as if recalling fond memories. They stopped outside Brighid’s door, and Beth kissed her forehead. “You are not as alone as you believe.”

Brighid’s vision blurred as she watched Beth walk back toward her rooms. Once inside her own chamber, Brighid leaned back against the door and squinted, trying to bring the room into focus. The evening left her with mixed feelings. Logic urged her to leave. It wouldn’t do to become more involved. She had her own responsibilities to her cousins, but she couldn’t make herself go, not if it left Wyatt and his family in danger.

Her mother told her their gifts were supposed to help people.

If anyone deserved her protection, Wyatt did.

Too exhausted to sort out her emotions, she walked to the bed, shedding her clothes as she went. Warmth invaded her limbs when she snuggled under the covers, her staff clutched in her hands. It only occurred to her moments before sleep claimed her, that Beth had purposely given her the drink to inebriate her, just enough to prevent her from leaving.

Sneaky.

She couldn’t help admire her.

She fell asleep with a smile on her face.

* * *

W
yatt sat
in the study with Aaron, having immediately excused themselves after the meal, barely managing to escape Angelica’s clutches. Wyatt ruthlessly fobbed the clinging creature off on his sister. She deserved the misery for inflicting the pest on them in the first place.

He poured two large snifters of brandy and handed one to Aaron before claiming his own. He turned toward his desk and was about to sit when he noticed something slightly off about the placement of his papers. They appeared less random than when he left, although nothing seemed to be out of place or missing.

Brighid.

Wyatt suppressed a chuckle. Instead of feeling betrayed, he had to admire her ingenuity and pluck. He couldn’t wait to see her again and find out what she would get up to next. He’d admit, if only to himself, that her rejection earlier in the study still stung. Seating himself, Wyatt relaxed back into his chair, feeling content. “What do you make of her?”

Aaron didn’t ask of whom he spoke. “She was very quiet at dinner…distracted, perhaps?” He smiled at Wyatt, raising a brow. He rolled the snifter between his hands, absorbed in watching the amber liquid shimmer through the glass. “She did bring up some interesting points, but I agree with what you said earlier, she knows something. Or may be hiding something?”

“Yes.” Wyatt stared glumly at his boots. He’d hoped she was an innocent bystander. Everything inside him rebelled at the thought of her being involved. He invited her into his home. He refused to believe she would hurt his family.

What should have disturbed him more was that knowing she was hiding something didn’t change the way he felt about her one bit.

He still wanted her.

“I noticed your attachment to Miss Legend has not deterred Angelica’s pursuit? In fact, she seems more determined than ever.”

Wyatt pinched the bridge of his nose when his head began to pound. “Every time I turn around, she’s lying in wait for me. Like she’s stalking me.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

Wyatt glanced up and cast Aaron a speculative look as an idea began to form.

“Don’t even think about it.” Aaron stood and backed away, already shaking his head.

“Think what?” Wyatt kept his voice innocent, but couldn’t banish his grin.

“No. I won’t do it.” Aaron raised his hands as if to fend off Wyatt’s next words.

Wyatt laughed at his friend’s obvious discomfort, delighted to feel the noose around his neck loosening. “But it would be perfect. She is an attractive young lady, rich and very agreeable.” He stood, becoming more invested in the idea. “Just keep her distracted.”

“Wyatt—”

“You wanted to help, and this is the only way I can move about freely.”

“But—”

“You said it yourself, the villagers don’t trust you.” Wyatt relished the opportunity to trade places and watch his friend being hunted for a change.

“Satan’s balls,” Aaron uttered in resignation.

Wyatt leaned over and slapped his friend on the back. “Then you’ll do it?”

Aaron raised his brows. “Very well. But you will owe me a boon.”

Wyatt’s smiled fell away. “If you are truly opposed to the idea, I won’t force you.”

Aaron tipped his head back and sighed in resignation. “No, I owe it to you to see this through.”

“You owe me nothing.” Wyatt turned away, his movements just short of violent. He’d saved Aaron from a beating when they were in school, and they’d been inseparable ever since. They had repeatedly saved each other’s lives throughout the years. Any imaginary debt had long since been repaid by years of friendship. Their friendship meant more to him than any imagined debts. Taking a deep breath, he shrugged off the mood. “It’s getting late. Why not stay for the night?”

“No, but thank you for the offer. I’ll return in the morning to start the… er, project.” With a nod, he ambled out the door. Wyatt stood for a moment alone, watching the flames.

Images of a similar fire caused a sweat to break out on his forehead. If he had arrived even a moment later…

He stopped his thought there, unwilling to contemplate it further, and decided to retire for the evening.

Wyatt walked to his room, glass in hand, and finished it in one swallow. As he undressed, he fingered the missing buttons on his vest and wondered where he could have lost them. He’d make it a point to speak to his valet in the morning about the condition of his clothing.

His first order of business tomorrow was to get Brighid alone so they could have a frank discussion. How he could get her to answer his questions, he wasn’t sure, but he would find a way, even if he had to charm the answers out of her. Just the thought of being alone with her heated his blood, but he forced those deliciously sinful thoughts away. She was his guest. That meant keeping his hands to himself. Until he could find out who was trying to ruin him, he needed to keep his distance.

Afterward, all bets were off.

B
righid slept fitfully
, her mind running in circles around the fact that she’d nearly been exposed. She didn’t have long before the truth would get out. She needed answers.

Unwilling to wait for dawn, Brighid rose and dressed. Her head pounded relentlessly, while her mouth felt like a small, furry animal had died on her tongue, and she cursed herself for overindulging. She cracked open her door and discovered the house silent. Feeling confident she could finish her search without getting caught, she stepped out into the hall when a whisper of sound reached her ears.

Rushing down the corridor, she ducked around the corner just in time. Seconds later Wyatt passed by and headed toward his study.

Triumph tumbled through her.

The perfect time to search his room.

She hurried down the hall, only to discover the bedroom full of servants putting the room to rights. Brighid carefully backed away, cursing her luck. Not willing to be idle, Brighid searched the rest of the house. It seemed that every few minutes she would stumbled across Wyatt…could almost swear he was searching for her.

Which was pure foolishness.

Determined to escape her guard, Brighid placed her hand against the wall and called upon her powers. Warmth gathered in her palms until they tingled, and the heat began to sink into the house. When she closed her eyes and concentrated, she could sense movement.

Wyatt was the easiest to recognize, his stride sure and brisk.

And heading straight for her.

On and off for the rest of the early morning, she did her best to dodge him while searching the house for more information on the case…and whatever she could dig up on Wyatt.

When the sun began to rise, Brighid conceded defeat and trudged back to her room. Her pace slowed outside of Angelica’s door, and Brighid was shocked by a sting of jealousy that the chit had been able to spend the evening talking with Wyatt.

Shaken by her emotions and what it revealed, Brighid scurried to her room. She had her hand on the knob when Beth’s door opened.

“Brighid, I was just about to wake you.” Beth smiled and waved her closer. “You must come have tea with me.”

When Brighid realized the countess had no way of knowing she’d been searching the house all night, she plastered a smile on her face, turned and did as bidden. A glimpse into Beth’s room revealed clothes covering every surface.

“Here she is.” Beth latched onto her arm and dragged her forward while three women advanced on her. She hadn’t even been aware of backing away until Beth’s grip tightened. “No need to be shy.”

Drat.

Brighid was well and truly trapped.

“We’ll try a few of the unfinished pieces first and then move on to the more fitted dresses. Once we have the finer measurements, I can finish the rest.” Dress after dress was pressed on Brighid until hours later, when the last one was finally settled on her. The lack of bustle made the dresses look sleek, the material loose enough to allow her to move without taking mincing steps.

“Well, girl, what do you think?”

Brighid ran her hand down the dress, touched by Beth’s generosity, unsure how to react to such kindness.

“They’re truly beautiful.” The green gown she wore made her feel like a princess. She stuck out her foot, admiring the dainty, totally impractical slippers on her feet, then stared at the array of dresses and shook her head. “But…so many. What will I do with all of them?”

Startled laughter burst from the women. “Why, wear them, dear.”

“I cannot afford the expense, and you know I won’t be here long.” It came out a question more than the firm statement she’d intended.

“No matter. They’re yours to keep, regardless.”

Brighid felt her eyes burn with suppressed tears, but suspicions darkened the back of her mind. “They must cost a fortune. Why are you being so nice?”

“Why shouldn’t I? Consider it payment for assisting Wyatt in his little…project.”

Brighid would have laughed if it weren’t so sad. She couldn’t allow herself to become used to other people’s kindness. It hurt to have someone care. Hurt to remember the consequences that followed—for they would invariably suffer. First her father, then her mother, then dozens of people at the school. She couldn’t bear to lose more. Something inside her would break.

Mrs. Larue clapped her hands briskly, and her minions scurried around collecting the rest of the dresses. “We’re all set. I’ll leave you with the three dresses for now. The rest will be delivered in a few days.” Mrs. Larue said goodbye to Beth, summoned her servants and departed.

“Now let’s go down for a late breakfast.” Beth linked her arm with Brighid’s and, cane in hand, led the way out the door. The room was empty when they arrived. Beth sat, and a servant brought her a plate. Brighid loaded hers at the sideboard, selecting mostly bland items like toast and eggs.

They ate in silence until a noise in the hall captured their attention.

“What on earth?” Beth grumbled, but the glint in her eyes betrayed her curiosity. They regarded each other, then rose as one to investigate.

Brighid smoothed the fabric of her dress, touching Wyatt’s missing button that she’d slipped inside the pocket like a talisman.

“Mother, do you know of Miss Legend’s whereabouts?” They’d been playing cat and mouse all morning. Just when he swore he was closing in on her, she would vanish, leaving only her tantalizing fragrance behind. It was enough to drive a man to distraction. “I wanted to let her know the worker was here to…” Wyatt caught sight of his houseguest and forgot what he was going to say. He clenched his jaw to keep his mouth from dropping open. “Brighid?”

The dress she wore changed her appearance from a pretty maiden to an enchanted princess. The shimmering green fabric invited his touch, whispered to him of endless temptation and pleasure.

Though the dress was not quite fashionable, it suited her petite form, the lack of bustle only making it more alluring. Curves only hinted at previously were now displayed in mouthwatering detail.

Her dress rested low on her collarbone, revealing a hint of cleavage, and he slipped a finger under his neckcloth and tugged, desperate for air. As he scanned lower, his blood rose, and he quickly jerked his attention to her face. Her red hair seemed to glow with the morning light, and his fingers twitched to reach out to touch it. He swayed closer as her unique smell of jasmine made his gut clench in primal need.

“Wyatt! Are you all right?”

His mother’s voice broke into his fantasy, and he straightened abruptly. Uncomfortable being caught gawking, and he wondered how many times she’d spoken his name before he heard. “I’m fine.” He cleared his throat when his voice dropped an octave. “Perfectly fine.” He tugged at his collar, and his neckcloth came away in his hands.

He frowned down at it in confusion.

Beth smiled in delight at her son’s reaction. “Brighid, do you know anything about the worker?”

“I asked Wyatt to have a lock installed on my door.” A light blush tinged her cheeks.

“Yes, you did,” Wyatt nodded like a speechless idiot.

“Wyatt, why not show the man what needs to be done? Brighid and I are going for a little walk.”

Wyatt’s concerned gaze landed on his mother. “Why don’t you rest? I can—”

“Nonsense. I am not a delicate flower to be coddled. Now go.” She lifted her cane and swung it toward the stairs. The worker jumped back while Wyatt ducked adroitly.

Beth smiled, watching her son disappear up the steps, only to have him glance back, his eyes seeking out Brighid.

While Brighid did her best to ignore it.

Now that won’t do at all.

She would have to do something about that. She liked it better when the girl worked her magic on her son.

Brighid just needed a little nudge.

“Come, walk me to the gardens.” Without waiting for a reply, Beth hooked her arm with Brighid’s and led her across the hall to the second parlor, where they exited through the side door. Once out of view, Beth followed the path some distance, surveying the area to ensure they were alone.

“Sit.” She patted the seat next to her and waited for the girl to do as instructed before springing her trap.

“Now. Show me your gifts.” Beth slapped her cane across Brighid’s lap, the tip banging against the granite seat, preventing her from rising. “Don’t go off in a tizzy, prove your mettle.”

Beth waited until she was confident Brighid wouldn’t bolt before removing the restraint. “Come now, it’s not a secret between us. I am an old woman, and no threat to you. I thought you could use a confidante.”

“You don’t understand. Whenever I use my gifts, things always go awry. My staff helps me to focus.”

“Bah!” Beth waved her hand as if to brush away the words. “You just need practice. Now show me.”

Excitement brightened Beth’s eyes, making her appear ten years younger. After all the kindness she’d shown her, Brighid couldn’t refuse her request, although her stomach clutched in dread.

She took off her shoes in order to connect more easily to the elements, then slowed her breathing, but it took longer to clear her mind. Her feet twitched and warmed, and she flexed her toes, letting the cool grass ease some of the discomfort.

Restless energy swirled inside her, seeking an outlet.

Fire would be easiest to conjure, but she didn’t dare. She’d probably end up burning the manor down around them.

Something simple would be best.

Less dangerous.

A series of pebbles lining the walkway gave her an idea.

“Watch those rocks.”

Brighid dismissed using wind, fearing she would uproot the whole garden in the process. That left her with only one option. She sank the energy into the earth, searching for her target, allowing the power to wrap around the small pebbles.

One by one they rocked before slowly rolling across the smooth path. Brighid sorted them by color and size, moving and organizing them until a mosaic formed in the shape of a rose.

“Oh my word. That is amazing.” Beth stared at the display with delight.

Pleasure soared through Brighid at the success. She called back the power and it surged through the ground, eager to return.

Only it never made it that far.

Energy collected in the bench beneath them. No matter how she tried to coax it back, the magic stubbornly continued to pool there.

A large crack rent the air.

She was pitched backward with a suddenness that tore a startled yelp out of her, and the ground rushed up to smack her. She landed with a surprised grunt.

Beth cried out beside her.

Brighid cursed herself for giving into the pleadings, terrified to learn what new disaster her magic had wrought. She pushed herself up onto her hands and knees and found Beth sprawled across the grass.

“Are you all right?” Brighid crawled forward, the heavy skirts slowing her progress. She tentatively touched Beth’s hand, afraid to hurt her worse.

“I’m fine, but I am afraid my foot struck the bench when I fell.” A flick of her hand settled her skirts to rights. “Are you injured?”

“I’m so very sorry. I never meant to hurt you.” Remorse curdled through Brighid, guilt thickening until her stomach churned. She knew better than to use her gifts, but foolishly allowed herself to be convinced because she wanted to please Beth.

Beth grabbed her wrist in a crushing grip when Brighid moved to retreat. “Nonsense. Now I have a legitimate excuse to use my cane.” Her lips twitched, and a small smile came and went. “But I believe I will need Wyatt’s help to return to the house if you would be good enough to retrieve him.” She gave Brighid a comforting pat, then waved her off with a shooing motion.

Brighid shot to her feet.

Beth’s gaze slid beyond her. “Oh my goodness.”

At the exclamation, Brighid spun. The granite bench, at least four inches thick, lay split in half like a discarded toy. Granite powder dusted the area.

“That was thrilling, but next time we shall have to try something a little smaller.” Beth looked delighted at the prospect.

“Next time?” Brighid’s mouth gaped, but her heart thumped painfully against her ribs. “How could you even think—”

“Fiddlesticks.” The countess wove her fingers together and set them into her lap. “It’s been ages since I had so much fun.”

“Fun?” The question came out a strangled whisper.

A delighted smile tugged at Beth’s lips. “You just need practice. You cannot think to give up so easily. Go. Find Wyatt. I am fine, dear. We’ll talk more later.”

Brighid swallowed painfully past the lump in her throat and left as instructed. Beth might not blame her, but she blamed herself enough for the both of them.

She gathered up her skirts and ran up the steps to the house. Beth put a brave face on it, but if she requested Wyatt’s help, she was more hurt than she wanted to admit. By the time Brighid reached her room, she could barely catch her breath. Not bothering to knock, she threw open the door and rushed inside. “Wyatt!”

Both men turned at her entrance. Her appearance must have alarmed them. The worker dropped his tool and stared, while Wyatt lunged forward and grasped her upper arms.

“Are you hurt?” His gaze swept over her, not missing a detail. He rubbed his thumb across the backs of her hands in a soothing caress as if to calm himself more than her.

“An accident.” Brighid struggled to catch her breath, not all of it caused by the short run. “Your mother is injured.” His grip tightened, and she winced.

“Where?” The strain in his voice twisted the guilt further.

“The garden…” She started to say more, but he’d already disappeared out the door. Brighid turned and followed at a slower pace. Through the window in the parlor, she saw Wyatt cradle his mother in his arms and carry her back to the house. The genuine affection between them hurt to watch. Brighid felt lower than a snake, knowing it was her fault. Turning away, she stared down at her feet, wishing she could disappear.

It would only take her seconds to collect her belongings and depart before she ended up endangering them further.

She could be gone before anyone even noticed.