Druid Surrender (A Druid Quest Novel Book 1) (16 page)

And his mind kept coming back to one thing that stuck out as odd. “What do you know about Druids?”

“Druidism?” Surprise had Aaron’s brows winging upward. “Only the history lessons we took years ago while at school. The true religion was wiped out centuries ago. Faux cults have sprung up but they’re a mockery of the former practice.”

“Are you saying she could have been brainwashed?” Wyatt clenched his fists. If someone tried to take her from him, they would rue the day they were ever born.

Aaron rubbed his jaw, contemplating his answer. “Not necessarily. Druids were systematically hunted until they were either converted or slaughtered.”

“But that ended hundreds of years ago, long before she was born. Why would anyone be after her now?”

“History shows Druids were a powerful people, with remarkable intuition, and possibly mystical gifts. Many craved that power for their own. They’re said to have counseled kings for centuries, even ruled hundreds of years over a warrior class. What they created out of the brutal land was amazing really. Then the Romans invaded. Within a few decades, they were destroyed to clear the way for a new religion.”

“Wouldn’t they fight back?” Brighid was a fighter. He couldn’t imagine her giving up meekly, nor would her ancestors. That someone wanted to enslave and use her for their own ends chilled him to the bone.

“Druids were actually rare. They didn’t run in packs. One against thousands is no battle. Some did fight and their entire tribe was slaughtered for it. You either conformed, died or…” he spread his arms “…hid.”

Wyatt was flabbergasted. “You can’t believe that they had managed to survive all this time?”

“Doubtful, but maybe the bigger question would be, why would they come out of hiding? What has this world to offer but imprisonment or death?” Aaron set his empty glass on the sideboard. “We learned a few nights ago that death by burning isn’t as far in the past as we would like to think.”

“I need to find out more.” Wyatt leaned forward, eager to do something. If there was a threat, he needed to learn more to counter it. There was no way he would allow someone to take Brighid without a fight.

“You won’t find the information in books.” Aaron raised a brow, a small smile playing about his mouth. “But you have someone you could ask.”

Finally, straight answers. Relief made his muscles relax for the first time since he spoke to Brighid. “Who?”

Aaron sighed in exasperation. “Your wife.”

That would be impossible, since she wasn’t speaking to him at the moment. Needing to keep busy, he rode to the factory, hoping physical labor would exhaust him enough that he could forget her devastated expression when she learned of their marriage.

The rest of the day passed in a blur, and Wyatt worked well into the night, determined to stay away from the house, hoping that it would give Brighid time to cool off. Morning came too early. His first impulse was to seek out his wife and ensure she had everything she needed.

Something a husband would do for his wife.

He wasn’t pressuring her.

He hovered outside her room for a full five minutes, his hand gripping the knob tightly, imagining her wild mass of red hair spread out across the bed while she slept. Just a quick peek to see for himself that she was safe.

That she was real and not a dream.

He’d only known her five days.

He shouldn’t miss her so much.

He reluctantly released the knob and wiped his sweaty palms down his trousers, more nervous now than when he had a gun pointed at his head during one of his jobs.

His whole future rested beyond that door.

He couldn’t mess this up by being impatient.

He needed to devise a plan of attack first.

Give her time to miss him.

He headed back toward his study, craving answers or even the smallest bit of information about her past. He perused his bookshelves, selecting any volume that dealt with ancient history. In half an hour, more than thirty books lay opened and scattered around his study.

And not one blasted word about Druids.

Aaron was right.

The lack of information frustrated him, and his curiosity about her was more rampant than ever. One thing was certain—he wouldn’t allow her to leave him, not without a fight. He would conquer her fears and show her they were meant to be together.

* * *

“
W
ell
?” Brighid gazed at the door as if staring at it long enough would allow her to see through to the other side.

Trudy pressed her face against the keyhole. She straightened and gave her a disapproving look. “He’s gone.”

Brighid inhaled sharply, then deflated.

It was a sigh of relief, not disappointment she assured herself.

“You’ll have to talk to him eventually. Your husband’s becoming more persistent. He won’t let you hide forever.”

She flinched at the word
husband
and studiously smoothed out the coverlet, not wanting to examine her emotions too closely for fear she’d waver from her decision. She desperately wanted to see his face, know what he had been doing, and how the investigation was faring.

She missed the pompous arse.

She spoke before she gave into the yearning to see him. “I know, but not today.”

Not until she could work out the tangled mess of her life and come up with a solid plan.

“He announced your wedding to the villagers yesterday. He’s planning a ball for you.” Trudy’s eyes shone with excitement.

A pang shot through her at the romantic gesture. It was almost like he was trying to woo her. He had no right to ignore her wishes, no right to act as if he cared, but she found herself charmed despite herself.

Brighid should have turned tail and run at the first glimpse of his flirtatious smile. Wyatt was weaving himself into the threads of her life, appointing himself her protector when he didn’t know that
she
was the source of the real danger. As much as she wanted to follow her mother’s orders to run, she couldn’t bear to leave him vulnerable. Not only was someone trying to destroy the factory he built, they were determined to kill anyone who got in their way.

Wyatt wasn’t even aware he had a Watcher living right under his nose.

They were skilled hunters, trained killers who pursued their quarry to ground even if it took years.

The man would have learned about their marriage by now.

Making Wyatt a target.

And thanks to the explosion at the factory, she couldn’t remember what he looked like beyond a blurred image of a large man. She couldn’t hunt him down. She’d have to wait for him to make a move first.

It no longer mattered how she felt about the situation or Wyatt. Her feelings would only make things between them awkward and complicated. She needed to bury her emotions, lock them away where they couldn’t do any harm. She would not return his kindness by bringing more trouble to his doorstep.

It was time to stop hiding.

Casting aside the blanket, Brighid stood, determined to be strong enough to protect both of them when the time came.

“Where are you going?” Trudy straightened and crossed her arms.

Brighid lifted her chin, refusing to spend another second wallowing in self-pity. “I need to regain my strength.”

“You can’t go outside. The doctor said you needed rest.”

“I don’t need a chaperone.”

Instead of backing down, Trudy walked toward the door. “Why don’t I fetch Wyatt and find out what he thinks?”

“That’s dirty.” Brighid sighed, not wanting Wyatt to see her when she was so vulnerable. “How about a compromise? You can stay here and tidy the room, and I’ll remain in the hall.”

Trudy pursed her lips, then nodded grudgingly. “I guess that’s agreeable.”

In five minutes, Brighid was walking back and forth in the deserted hall, her
lorg
firmly in her grasp, each step shaky but determined. After an hour, a light sheen of sweat coated her skin, and Brighid paused to catch her breath, more exhausted than the small task warranted.

A wave of dizziness took her by surprise, and she reached out to use the wall for support—only to encounter a porcelain object. The priceless vase wobbled, then slowly tipped backwards off the pedestal. She watched in horror as it landed with a loud crack and shattered. Shards littered the floor, scattered at her feet like the aftermath of a rampage. Brighid winced, closing her eyes in resignation and waited for someone to investigate the sound.

To her surprise, no one appeared.

Thank the goddess.

She could fix it.

Her powers had come to her rescue at the factory.

Surely she shouldn’t have a problem putting together a simple vase?

She touched the
lorg
, a hint of trepidation shivering down her spine when her powers rose at her call. Warmth gathered at her feet, and the heat coursing through the runes on her skin quickly became searing. The scattered pieces of porcelain rattled against each other, the vase crackling as it re-assembled.

Faint voices echoed up from the stairs, and her heart thundered in her chest at the fear of discovery. As the voices drew closer, she jolted in recognition—Angelica and Wyatt.

Together.

At the sound of Angelica’s annoying giggle, jealousy took a vicious bite out of her, and her mental image of the completed vase wavered.

When the power calmed, it stole every bit of warmth with a suddenness that left her shivering. The voices grew louder. Without bothering to assess the vase, she plucked it off the floor, set it on the pedestal and hurried down the hall as fast as her legs would allow. Dizziness assailed her after expelling so much energy, and the hall dipped and swayed, slanting like a boat on water. Everything appeared double as she struggled to close the distance to her room.

She groped for the knob, practically falling inside when it opened. Trudy clucked her tongue and tucked her back into bed. “You did too much.”

“Maybe a little.” Brighid agreed, grateful to be prone. Even the thought of moving made her stomach pitch in protest.

“Next time I’ll go with you.”

Brighid was too tired to object, and she swallowed the bitter concoction Trudy pressed to her lips without complaint.

She’d gotten careless in the hall. She couldn’t use her powers again for any reason, especially now she was married to Wyatt. If she were caught, it would be more than her life that hung in the balance.

A
fter three hours
trapped in the study, Wyatt was ready to bellow in frustration. He peered out the window and watched Angelica wander around the garden in search of him. “She’s never going to give up.”

“You can’t hide in here forever.” Aaron’s singsong voice came from behind him.

“Watch me.” When she turned, he jerked back and hid behind the curtain like a child caught stealing sweets from the cook. “You’re supposed to keep her away from me. I swear she’s stalking me.”

“She is.” Aaron answered lazily, flipping the pages of his book.

“What?” Wyatt turned away from the window.

Aaron closed the book with a snap. “She doesn’t talk to Lydia. Your mother, the wise woman, takes refuge in her room. Not to mention the doors to Brighid’s room are guarded so fiercely that not even you would dare enter to visit your lovely wife.”

Wyatt heard both the laughter and reprimand in his friend’s voice. “I’m giving her time to rest. She’s been through a rough time in the past few days. I don’t want to overwhelm her more than I already have.”

Even he heard the lie.

She’d refused to see him.

He still saw the stark fear on her face the moment she learned that they were married. Coward that he was, he wasn’t ready to see her again, not if she was determined to leave him even before their marriage had a chance to begin. He needed a plan to convince her to stay, and so far he had come up with nothing.

Aaron nodded sagely. “Don’t wait too long, or she’ll build up her defenses and become entrenched.”

“I know.” Wyatt grimaced and ducked away from the window again, keeping his back against the wall when Angelica peered over the windowsill. “Hell and damnation! How do I get rid of the chit?”

Aaron smothered a smile. “Angelica’s not husband-hunting, she’s found her stag. She’s tracking him, waiting for the opportunity to bring him down.”

It was enough to strike terror in any bachelor’s heart. “But I’m married.” It should absolve him from her machinations.

“To an outsider. A nobody.” A brow rose. “How secure is your marriage?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw as he wrestled to control the sudden murdering rage that flooded him. “The marriage is indissoluble.”

“Yet you already have a wedge between you.” He set the book aside and leaned forward. “How much harder would Angelica have to push to break it?”

“I will never set Brighid aside.” Wyatt stiffened, his fist clenched as if he would physically hold her to him if he had to. If Aaron hadn’t been such a close friend, he’d rip the man’s head off for even suggesting it.

“I know it. You know it. But neither of the women do. Neither took the news of the marriage well. If I were you, I’d watch your back.”

Wyatt grunted. “That’s your job.”

“I’m trying, but I swear Angelica has the ears of a bat. Every time she hears my footsteps, she turns tail and runs.” His brows furrowed, his voice a tad bewildered.

“She probably does. What are our options?” Not yet defeated, Wyatt sat at his desk, drumming his fingers as he studied the problem.

“Nothing.” Aaron shrugged. “Not as long as she’s your guest.”

“Mother.” Relief had him sitting back in his seat.

“What?”

“Mother can manipulate anyone. She’s had years of practice.” He rubbed his hands together, relishing the upcoming battle. “Once she’s on the job, it will give us a bit of breathing room.”

Wyatt did not wait for a reply, nearly yanking the door off its hinges in his rush. He took the stairs two at a time, stopping only long enough to catch his breath before knocking on the door to freedom.

* * *

A
fter few hours
of doing nothing but staring at the ceiling, Brighid couldn’t stand it anymore. She waited for Trudy to return the tray to the kitchen. The instant the door closed, she jumped out of bed and quickly dressed.

She studied the room. It represented safety, something she hadn’t had in so long it felt foreign not be looking over her shoulder and measuring everyone as a potential threat.

Wyatt did that for her.

And that scared her more than the people chasing her.

It made her weak.

Dulled her reflexes.

The need to escape the room and think clearly crawled over her skin. She snatched up her
lorg
and headed toward the door. With a quick glance down the hall, she slipped out. She half expected Wyatt to pop around the corner at any moment and catch her.

Her husband.

She brutally cut off the yearning. She was too vulnerable to deal with him yet. If she allowed Wyatt close, he would steal her determination to keep her distance with that mischievous smile of his. Or the way his eyes turned a light green, not with just desire, but with a longing to have someone to call his own, so similar to her own dreams, it was painful to witness.

Trudy did her best to keep him at bay, but Wyatt was persistent. She wouldn’t be able to hold him off much longer. Her reprieve was at an end. She needed a place where she could plan her next line of defense.

Brighid refused to call it hiding, considering it more of a strategy. Once she entered Wyatt’s orbit, her analytical process slowed to a snail’s pace. Neither of them could afford the lapse in judgment.

Laughter echoed down the hall, and she hurried in the opposite direction, her limp almost gone. It was such a large house, it should be impossible for people to find one another, yet the voices pursued her relentlessly.

She increased her pace, skidding to a halt in front of a set of double doors. A dead end. She tugged on the handles, but they stubbornly refused to budge. She jiggled the handles, muscles straining as she continued to yank, when the door finally gave. A terrible creak from the wood must have alerted everyone in the vicinity.

Fearful of discovery, she darted through the tiny opening, barely able to wedge herself inside. She heard Wyatt and Angelica’s muffled voices through the heavy oak doors.

The latch turned.

She whirled and cast a hurried glance around the cavernous room and discovered she was in a fifteenth century chapel. Colored sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows, providing the only illumination. When the doors screeched open, Brighid dashed behind the large stone statue of some long-dead saint and tucked her skirts close so not to give away her location.

The moment she heard Wyatt’s voice, she crammed herself further back into the small space.

Then she heard tinkling laughter ring in the chapel.

Angelica—the woman Wyatt claimed he needed to be protected from.

Her fingers curled into fists as a burn of jealousy surged through her. Unable to suppress her curiosity, Brighid twisted until the couple came into view. Angelica clung to his arm, her side pressed so close that not even a sliver of light could pass between their bodies. Wyatt smiled down at the petite blond, patting her hand possessively.

Brighid’s mouth tightened at the way he didn’t seem to want any
protection
right now.

A moment of inattention was all that took for her powers to break free. Strips of fire wound around her legs so sudden that a hiss of pain escaped from behind her clenched teeth.

“Did you hear something?”

Brighid jerked back behind the statue.

Damn Wyatt and his sixth sense when it came to her.

As if noticing she’d lost his interest, Angelica giggled in a way that men found captivating. Brighid flinched, really beginning to dislike the twit. Thankfully, the ninny turned the conversation.

“This is a beautiful chapel. Is it true that all your ancestors who married in this chapel had long and happy marriage?”

Brighid couldn’t stop herself from peering at Wyatt, intent to know the answer as well.

Wyatt nodded. “Every Castelline man for centuries has chosen to marry the one they love in this chapel.”

Something fragile shattered in her chest.

Wyatt hadn’t married her in the chapel.

Angelica’s smirk caught her attention, and a dark suspicion formed.

The trollop knew she was listening.

But the sad truth was that it changed nothing.

Love would only complicate things.

So why did she feel such devastation to learn he didn’t love her?

Her power swelled in denial, seeking escape from the truth. She gritted her teeth, her jaw aching as she struggled to contain its destructive force.

Sunlight touched her face almost like a loving caress, and her eyes sprang open. A stained glass window filled her vision. But as she watched, the sun heated the panes until the colored glass began to melt like wax.

She gasped, then quickly slapped a hand over her mouth, her breathing stalled as she waited for Wyatt to investigate.

Silence echoed in the space.

Working up her courage, she peeked out from her hiding spot.

Only to be confronted by an empty chapel.

Wanting nothing more than to leave this wretched place and the painful truth behind, she headed for the door.

She glanced around the chapel and realized each of the windows told an episode in the story of the Castelline family through the eras as they conquered the land and claimed it for their own. Some showed the family crest, others displayed fierce fighting men, while a few pictured the women they’d chosen for their own.

Every women was unique in some way, not the proper English
ladies she expected to find.

Women like her.

Brutal hope surged to life before she could crush it. The room darkened as the afternoon sun began to fade. Without the sun, the stone walls gradually stole the warmth from the room, dropping the temperature in minutes. The windows dimmed, lost their vibrant color and she remembered the one she’d destroyed. She scrambled back to her hidden spot, the cold stone stinging as she rushed toward the last window.

There had been a garden with a bench in the window, but no matter how hard she tried to recall the rest of the image, it remained elusive.

She couldn’t leave the mutilated window behind without trying to correct her mistake. She couldn’t afford to have people ask questions. Though she hadn’t intended to use her powers, they had escaped her control, proof that no matter how much she wanted it, she would never be able to live a normal life.

Swallowing past the ache in her throat, Brighid lifted her chin, determined to fix the damage she’d inflicted. She planted the staff, gave a silent prayer, and summoned her gifts.

They answered reluctantly, as if protesting the idea of leaving. “
Banida
, please help me fix the mess I’ve made of things.”

Power surged at her plea, and she relished the first touch of warmth. The heat soon became blistering, reminding her of the flames that had so greedily nipped at her flesh less than a week ago. She bit back a groan of pain, struggling to take back control and not let her fear win. The heat tempered, then turned malleable to her will, and she pushed the inferno toward the globs of glass, painstakingly melting the pieces back together into a flat surface, shaping the molten glass back into its original form and hoped no one would notice any slight variations.

It felt like hours had passed by the time she finished, and she released the energy with a grateful sigh. With the sun only a glimmer through the windows, the stained glass remained dark, giving her no clue at how the finished product looked. Steam rose from the glass while it cooled, and she staggered, her legs shaking under the strain of channeling such power. She leaned against the wall for support, needing a second to gather herself.

The stones were much colder than earlier, the air searing her lungs with each breath, and the staff blazed to life like a live ember. The influx of energy hurt like the dickens as it settled just under the surface of her skin like a thousand spider bites, slowly spreading their poison through her body, urging her to move before she collapsed.

Brighid scurried toward the impressive double doors, more than ready to leave.

She grasped the handle and pulled.

Nothing.

She used both hands and hauled back with all her might.

The door was locked tight.