Druid Surrender (A Druid Quest Novel Book 1) (15 page)

Wyatt nodded, completing each word to memory. “May I see her now?”

“Yes, but not for long. She needs her rest.”

Wyatt grunted at the warning and shoved past the man. By the time he opened the door, the doctor was forgotten.

Brighid lay deathly still on the bed. In the time he’d been gone, her bruises had deepened to a nasty green. If he hadn’t heard the doctor’s diagnosis, he would have assumed the worst. Trudy cowered wide-eyed in the corner of the room, the vicar stood at the end of the bed, while Aaron stared out the window.

The vicar turned at his entrance. “We will begin when you’re ready, Lord Castelline.”

Wyatt sat at Brighid’s side and cradled her hand, playing with her fingers. They felt small and vulnerable in his hold. As her husband, he’d be able to take measures to ensure that she’d be protected properly in the future.

He narrowed his eyes at the vicar. “I want this union to be ironclad. If anyone inquires about the marriage, will it hold up under scrutiny?”

“Yes, the special license you supplied will be sufficient. Does she have a legal guardian or parents we need permission from before we begin?”

“No.”

“Dowry?”

“None.”

“Any previous marriages or commitments?”

Wyatt shook his head. “No.”

“Very well.” The vicar licked his finger and paged through his prayer book until he found the correct page. “Since there are no objections, shall we begin?”

Wyatt straightened and ran a shaky hand down the front of his waistcoat, ignoring the spots of her blood and the little tick of guilt at his underhanded actions.

She would understand.

He’d have a lifetime to convince her.

The vicar shifted, his doubtful gaze landing on Brighid. “We will need her approval and signature.”

“You’ll have them.” Wyatt tightened his grip on her hand. He refused to release her after all the trouble he’d gone through to make her his.

The ceremony was short, over all too quickly. The laudanum left Brighid so malleable that it took little urging from him for her to give her consent and sign the contract.

The vicar left with the assurance he would register and hand-deliver the certificate.

Bone-deep satisfaction settled over Wyatt.

Brighid was his.

A knock interrupted his thoughts. Trudy opened the door, then hesitated when she found a groom waiting for her.

Wyatt waved her away. “I’ll stay and keep watch tonight. Go home.”

“I should be going, too.” Aaron walked toward the door, but stopped with his hand on the knob. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I made the right decision.” He held still under Aaron’s scrutiny.

“You love her.”

He hesitated. “It’s possible. If not, I’m well on my way. I’ve never been around a woman with whom I could just be a man and not a title.” Just thinking about her made him smile. “We’ve scarcely had the opportunity to get to know each other, but she’s everything I’ve ever wanted. I’m attracted to her, but love…” Wyatt glanced down at his work-roughened hands. He wasn’t the normal lord. Would she be disappointed when she found out what he’d done? “I don’t think it would take much to love her.”

That was if he hadn’t ruined their marriage before it had a chance to truly start. He just had to figure out a way to break the news to Brighid that they were married without her coming to hate him for it.

“
I
’ve gathered
you here today to discuss the recent troubles at the factory. Someone has taken extreme measures to harm me and mine, and I refuse to let them win without a fight.” Wyatt was surrounded by the troubled faces of the villagers. Most of them would lose their homes if the factory shut down. Many of them had nowhere else to go.

He resented that he had to be here instead of at home with his wife, and he still hadn’t forgiven them for trying to burn Brighid at the stake. He struggled to remind himself that the killer was using them to get to him.

And doing a fine damned job of it, too.

“We’ll open the factory as normal tomorrow, but there will be a few changes. The women will be escorted home by sunset. The men will be given the option of picking up extra hours to help repair and rebuild the factory and the equipment.”

One by one the people nodded. He exhaled, tension easing out of his shoulders. The pain and stiffness from sleeping all night in the chair next to Brighid gradually dissipated.

“Then it’s settled. We’re going to post guards at the factory for your safety. I ask every one of you to be alert for anyone who doesn’t belong. If you find or even think you’ve noticed anything unusual, report to the guards immediately. Don’t try to confront any strangers, or even people you know who are behaving strangely. This is for both your protection and allow us to collect enough evidence to prosecute whoever is responsible. Someone in this village is helping them gain access to the mill. It will stop.”

The plans were finalized in an hour. “Before you go, I would like to make a happy announcement. Miss Legend and I were married last evening.” There was a smattering of applause at first, but after a few well-placed nudges, everyone joined in the cheer. “We’ll be hosting a ball when she’s well, and we’d like to invite you to attend and welcome her as your new lady.”

The invitation was couched as an order. He’d do whatever he must to ensure Brighid was happy. Wyatt accepted their well wishes. A few appeared torn about his announcement, but that would change once they got to know her. Brighid could have ran away more than once, left them to fend for themselves, but she stayed to help. He couldn’t have chosen a better bride.

Wyatt didn’t linger, eager to return home…return to his wife. Pride and something else—something foreign and mysterious—filled him whenever he remembered she was officially his. He smiled and hastened home, hoping to be at her side when she woke.

* * *

B
righid woke sluggishly
, reluctant to stir. She shifted then groaned when her body screamed in protest. She held as still as possible until the agony faded.

Then the events of yesterday seeped into her consciousness.

The boy!

She bolted upright, then clutched her head when it threatened to explode. Sweat prickled along her scalp as she concentrated on staying upright. She pushed aside the covers and dragged her legs to the edge of the bed. The small action made her head seem to swell to twice its normal size. Her breathing grew labored, the room dimming around the edges.

“Get back in that bed.”

Brighid jerked at Beth’s scolding tone, and her stomach lurched at the unexpected movement. Hands pushed her backward. She resisted, but had no more strength than a puppy.

“The boy.” The demand came out slurred.

“Is fine—resting, as you should be.”

Her muscles melted at the news, and it took minutes for her head to stop throbbing enough to open her eyes. She must have dozed off, because when she looked around, she saw both Beth and Wyatt sitting in front of the fire, talking in whispers.

“What happened?” Brighid touched her temple, tracing the large cut that ran along her hairline. When they turned to her in unison, their solemn faces made her stomach clench in apprehension.

Beth spoke first. “Do you remember anything after Wyatt carried you home?”

She cast her mind back, but everything seemed garbled and surreal. She touched her head, wincing when she encountered a nasty knot. “I remember Trudy.”

“Yes, dear. What else?” Beth gave her an encouraging smile.

“A man with a large mustache.” She tried to concentrate, but she couldn’t grasp much of anything out of the sea of darkness in her mind.

“He’s the doctor who came to check on you.”

Brighid bit her lip as she pieced the images of last night together. “He gave me something.”

“Laudanum to help you rest.”

“I had a strange dream about a priest.” Her smile dipped when Beth nodded.

“Anything else?”

Uneasy about the expectant glow on Beth’s face, Brighid fiddled with the covers. “A ceremony.”

“Yes.” Beth stood and fussed with the blankets.

“A burial, I think.”

Beth’s shoulders deflated, her smile wilting as she gaped at Brighid. “No dear, nothing like that.”

Beth swiveled, her eyes narrowed on her son. He squirmed in his seat, seemingly absorbed in straightening a wrinkle in his jacket. “Wyatt, maybe you should tell us what happened.”

“After the doctor left, the vicar gave you the last rites.”

“What?” Brighid yelped, then winced when her head rang in protest.

“He thought you were near death.” Wyatt swallowed hard and studied every detail of her face, as if he’d been worried, too. “You were badly hurt. I was talking to the doctor when Aaron brought him into the room.”

Brighid forced herself not to flinch from his much-too-observant gaze, and her brows furrowed as she struggled to recall her memories.

“You’re upset at me for wandering off.” She braced herself for a lecture.

He looked grim, but he shook his head. “No, I’m furious, but that discussion can wait until later.”

Brighid tried not to flinch at the suppressed anger hovering around him like a living, breathing shadow. When his eyes darkened with some emotion she couldn’t name, her stomach dropped.

He knew about her gifts.

She eyed the door, wondering if she should make a break for it, struggling against the instinct to run that her mother had instilled into her since she was a child.

Wyatt shifted in his chair as if he were sitting on a pincushion and couldn’t get comfortable. “We were married last night.”

“What?” She nearly choked on the one word. Her throat tightened in disbelief, and she stared at him, aghast. When he met her gaze squarely, her own skittered to Beth, waiting for her to refute his absurd claim.

“It’s true.” Her white head bobbed in confirmation.

Brighid opened her mouth, then closed it when she couldn’t think of anything to say. A second of pure joy shot through her…then a cloud of dread consumed everything. The people who were hunting her had finally tracked her down. If they discovered her marriage, they wouldn’t hesitate to kill him. Accidents happened all the time. It had happened to the last two people who’d tried to help her. She went lightheaded at the thought of Wyatt suffering a similar fate.

Determined to find a way out, she racked her brain to think of some way to save him. And smiled. “Your ceremony must be consensual. Since I was unconscious at the time, we cannot be married.”

Her relief shriveled when they continued to stare, and a deep foreboding took root in her soul. “What?”

“You gave your consent.”

“Impossible. I would never have agreed to marry you.”

A muscle ticked in Wyatt’s jaw, and his face settled into a stony wall. “You spoke the vows. Whether you like it or not, we are legally wed.”

Brighid flinched at the change in him. Gone was the charming man. In his place stood the imperial lord of the manor. Fear and indignation thumped in her chest.

This was only supposed to be a ruse.

Betrayal shattered the fragile trust between them, quick and brutal, and she scrambled to think of a solution that would get her out of this mess with her heart at least partially intact.

The drug in her system made her vulnerable, made her long to have a life that included something more than just being a leader like her mother, but she couldn’t have both. She couldn’t be selfish and abandon her cousins over a silly emotion, no matter how much her heart cried out for his love.

Mother said if you don’t feed the emotions, they would fade with time. Brighid very much feared that it was much too late. She would never forget him. Her heart cracked as she looked at the hope in Wyatt’s eyes, the plea to give them a chance.

As she gazed up at his handsome face, she knew her mother had been right. She’d become too involved. If she had to choose between him and her cousins, she wasn’t sure whom she would save. Losing either would destroy her.

“I can’t.” Her words were hoarse, torn from her. She flinched as the painful hope in his eyes flickered, and she turned away, not wanting to see it die. It would be unbearable. “You cannot want this marriage any more than I. Fix it.”

“Brighid—”

“Please leave. I’m not feeling well and need to rest.” She was barely able to speak past the ache in her throat. She couldn’t allow herself to be influenced by his pleas. She wasn’t strong enough to resist.

The slam of the solid, heavy door reverberated in the room singled his departure.

Brighid felt like her chest had been carved open.

“Give it time. Things have a way of working out the way they should.” Beth touched her shoulder, then unstoppered the bottle from the nightstand and mixed a few drops in a glass of water. “Drink this. Everything will look better when you wake.”

Brighid grimaced at the pungent smell of medicine, forcing herself to choke down the caustic brew. She grabbed Beth’s arm before she could turn away. “You need to talk sense into him. He’ll listen to you.”

“I can’t. You’re the best thing that could ever happen to him.” She patted her hand. “And if you look deep enough, I think you want to stay, too.”

Brighid’s hand fell to her side at the truth of the accusation.

Too bad it didn’t matter what she wanted.

She opened her mouth to protest when a yawn overtook her.

“Rest, dear. We’ll talk later.”

Brighid struggled to keep her eyes open, but her body seemed to melt into the bed, and she lost her battle to stay conscious.

* * *

W
yatt stormed into the study
, more disturbed by the confrontation with Brighid than he wanted to admit. He clenched his fist, offended that she thought marriage to him was so abhorrent. By God, most of London considered him a catch!

“Trouble?” Aaron sat in a chair in front of the window, calmly reading a book.

Wyatt didn’t spare him a glance as he headed straight for the sideboards and poured two generous drinks. He handed one to Aaron, then sat behind the desk and drummed his fingers on the surface.

“Brighid?” Aaron lifted the brandy snifter and took a sip.

At the mention of her name, Wyatt swallowed the contents of his glass in one gulp. A grimace twisted his face at the harsh taste, and he welcomed the burn as it slid down his throat. He rose to pour another, then hesitated and grabbed the whole decanter before carrying it back to the desk. “When she learned we were married, she told me no and that I needed to
fix it
.”

Aaron winced in sympathy. “It could be the drug speaking.”

A bark of laughter scraped his throat, and set his glass down with a soft click. “No, she stated her opinion very clearly.”

“Just no?” Aaron crossed his legs and leaned back. “Without any reason? That doesn’t sound like her.”

Wyatt lifted his glass to take a sip, then carefully set it back down when he remembered a slight distinction. A small ember of hope flared painfully to life from the ashes of his heart. “Actually, she said she
couldn’t
.”

He recalled the stark fear in her green eyes, and his brain gradually began to function past the festering anger that had taken root at her rejection. “It was more than displeasure. She was terrified of something. I thought it was me, but now I’m not so sure.”

“Something from her past?”

“Possible.” He set the stopper back in the decanter, replaying every moment they had spent together in detail, searching for any clues, willing to fight for a chance at a future with her.