Druid Surrender (A Druid Quest Novel Book 1) (22 page)

Wyatt didn’t see anything and scrubbed the spot, then tipped his head to give her a better view. “Did I get it?”

Brighid shook her head. “No, you smeared it. Here, let me.”

She snatched the cloth from his hand and dabbed the area.

Wyatt leaned forward, conscious of being only inches away from her tempting mouth. Her breath fanned his collarbone, and goose bumps raced across his skin. His trousers did nothing to hide his blatant arousal. When he looked down at her, all he saw was her flushed face and beautiful lips. Steam dampened her hair, turning the curls wild. If she didn’t stop, he’d spill himself in his trousers like some gangly youth seeing his first naked woman.

“There. I think I got it.” Brighid looked up and froze.

He leaned closer, almost able to taste her lips. “Tell me to stop.”

It was supposed to be a threat.

A warning.

Not a plea.

“Why?” Her gaze dropped to his lips as if she wanted his kiss just as badly.

His heart hiccupped in his chest at her innocence. “Because one kiss won’t be enough.”

W
yatt gripped
the edges of the tub to keep from grabbing her and stealing what he wanted. He wouldn’t be responsible for taking advantage of an injured woman, but, bastard that he was, he couldn’t make himself leave, either.

She solved the problem by pressing her lips to his.

Wyatt cupped her chin and took control. He craved her for too long, and his patience scattered to the four winds. He deepened the kiss, and groaned when she hesitantly placed her hands on his arms.

He gazed into her eyes. “Yes, touch me.”

Not waiting for her response, he nibbled at her lips, learning their shape, what made her moan and seek more. When he knew what drove her crazy, he did it again and again, wanting her to get lost in the lust with him.

Her hands skated up his arms, stroked over his shoulders, then her fingers sank into his hair and laid claim. He shivered under the light caress, the barely-there scrape of her fingernails, and something inside him snapped.

He wrapped his arms around her and hauled her out of the tub. In seconds, they were both sopping wet. Wanting to touch all of her, he reached up and scattered the pins that kept her hair from him. Fiery locks spilled over them, surrounding them in a curtain of desire.

She gasped in protest, and he took ruthless advantage and thrust his tongue in her mouth. As if emboldened, she mimicked his move while he tightened his fingers in her hair to keep himself from laying her on the floor and showing her more.

She shivered, and he pulled back, barely holding himself in check. She blinked up at him, her eyes dazed with passion, and he nearly succumbed to temptation.

The doctor would be arriving soon. He had to let her go or risk being caught in a compromising position.

With his wife.

He would never have imagined being in this situation even a week ago.

Wyatt kissed the top of her head, all he could allow himself, and drew away. Water shimmered on her skin in the firelight, displaying her like an ancient goddess. When she shivered again, this time from the cold, it took a physical effort to get his head out of his trousers.

He scooped her up in his arms, his resolve wavering when she curled against him. He lowered her next to the bed, her body brushing against his until her feet touched the ground. Her breasts rested lightly against his chest, each breath a caress. His hands flexed on her hips as he tried to force himself to let her go. He swallowed hard, struggling to collect his thoughts enough to speak coherently. “We need to remove your shift. You’re wet.”

He nearly choked at his choice of words, and his cock throbbed at the mental image.

Only when she retreated was he able to drop his hands. She touched the hem of her shift, and he stood riveted while the fabric slowly rose, revealing her secrets an inch at a time. Wyatt squeezed his eyes shut and turned away, but too late. The luscious contours of her body were forever etched on his mind. He was afraid if he saw more, he would take her then and there, like some randy rakehell with a doxy.

“Here.” He winced at the rough tone of his voice, bending to snatch up her nightgown his mother had set out, and thrust it behind him, unable to stop imagining her wearing nothing but a smile.

Soon, he promised himself.

“But the sun only rose a few hours ago.”

“Please.” His fingers trembled with restraint. “You can change after the doctor has given his opinion.”

“Fine.” Only when she jerked the nightgown from his grip did he breathe easier.

“You can turn around now. Your virtue is safe.”

He whirled at her wry tone, and watched her climb into bed. Instead of a modest gown, the front of the nightdress dipped low and displayed her breasts like an offering. His eyes nearly crossed, because her every move made them jiggle. The hem of her nightgown slowly rose over her ass when she crawled across the bed, and he was spellbound by the exposed skin.

Only to have it disappear when she slipped under the covers.

He was afraid he might have whimpered.

He knew he had his mother to thank for bedeviling him. The devious woman wanted grandbabies and would do whatever it took to ensure she got them as soon as possible.

It took a physical effort to find his tongue. “You’re playing with fire, little girl. Be very sure this is what you want. The next time I touch you, I won’t stop.”

A beautiful blush painted her cheeks.

Though he knew he had been right to stop, his body throbbed in protest.

She wasn’t ready. She wanted him, but it was no longer enough. He wanted her for more than a night, and he’d use any means necessary to achieve his goal. He pulled up the blanket, tucking it firmly under her chin, hiding away all that loveliness.

He grabbed a towel and patted her hair dry, marveling the way it curled so wildly around her.

Wild, like her.

And he realized he liked her that way. He didn’t want to take the wildness away from her, he just wanted to be a part of it.

“I can do that.” She grabbed for the towel.

“So you can.” Wyatt tugged back, not willing to let her hide so easily. “But allow me to take care of you. It’s one of the privileges of being a husband.”

It wasn’t a request.

She rolled her eyes but subsided with a grumble. “Shouldn’t you put some clothes on or something?”

Wyatt gave a cocky grin. “Not when it keeps you distracted and docile.”

She snorted, and Wyatt couldn’t help but smile at the way she colored so prettily.

He plucked a stray pin from her hair, tucking the small piece of metal in his boot for a keepsake, a small reminder of this evening.

When he heard a knock, he shrugged on his dressing robe before answering. “Enter.”

The doctor strode into the room, and Wyatt shook his hand. “It’s good to see you.” Instead of releasing his hold, he dragged the man toward the bed. “She’s over here.”

The exam took close to an hour, the silence wracking his nerves. When the doctor probed the nasty injury on her head, Brighid hissed in complaint, and Wyatt crossed his arms to keep from shoving the man against the wall and beating the daylights out of him. When the doctor straightened, Wyatt immediately joined him beside the bed. “Well?”

“Her arm will need stitches.” He opened the satchel, retrieving a needle and some string. “Let me finish first. Then we’ll talk.”

Brighid flinched with each pass of the needle, but didn’t make a sound. His gut tightened every time the needle pierced her flesh. Unable to help himself, he walked to the other side of the bed, and held her hand. Much to his surprise, she squeezed back.

He wanted to take down the bastard who’d hurt her.

No more playing by his enemy’s rules.

It was time to plan for war.

The doctor wiped the blood from his hands, and Wyatt’s anger hardened.

“You’re suffering from exhaustion,” he told Brighid. “You’re banged up some, and will wake tomorrow morning wishing you’d never been born. Maybe next time you’ll try harder to stay out of trouble?” The doctor gave her a pointed look and began packing his case.

“I can try.” Brighid answered with a wiry grin.

“I did my best, but you’ll have a scar on your upper arm, and possibly a small one over your eye. With time, they might fade.”

“Thank you for taking the time to come see me. Now, maybe you will tell his lordship that he can stop worrying.”

For the first time, the doctor smiled. “This must be payback for the countless times I had to patch him up when he was a youngster. He worried his mother to death with his antics. Take care, my lady.”

When Brighid turned to study him, Wyatt just raised a brow. “I was a perfect angel.”

Though he expected the diagnosis, the confirmation that she would be all right dissolved the soul-wrenching terror that had taken root in his chest at the thought of losing her. He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand, stealing the small comfort she wouldn’t willingly give any other time.

Every incident had become steadily more severe.

He couldn’t allow there to be a next time, or she might not survive.

When the doctor walked toward the door, Wyatt reluctantly released her and followed.

“Can you tell me anything about the man who did this?” He’d trade his fortune for even the smallest clue at this point.

The doctor paused and rubbed his jaw. “The blow to her temple was dealt by someone not much taller than herself.”

Wyatt’s jaw dropped. “A woman?”

“I should think not. The strike was too forceful.” The doctor turned the knob but paused. “Whoever did this had the strength of a man.”

“Thank you for your help.” The doctor waved him off as he walked away. Wyatt spied Trudy and the boy anxiously waiting, and he opened the door wider to admit them. They’d make perfect chaperones, forcing him to keep his hands to himself. She needed time to heal, and come to terms with what had happened. The boy rushed forward and launched himself onto the bed. Wyatt snagged the child by the back of his pants in the nick of time.

“Careful not to jostle her. You can visit for a little bit, but she needs to rest.” The boy nodded, his gaze locked on her face as if he would be content to stand guard for the rest of the day. Wyatt liked the kid even more. Deciding he could use all the help he could get, Wyatt lifted him up onto the bed. The boy tensed then crawled slowly forward and snuggled at her side.

He wished he could follow the kid’s example. He also wished he didn’t feel insanely jealous of his trusting relationship with Brighid.

Feeling like a cad, Wyatt walked out into the hall. “Trudy, order a tray of food for Lady Castelline.

She bobbed a curtsy and scrambled down the hall. When he turned, it was to find Aaron leaning against the wall. “You should rest with your wife.”

“I doubt I’d be able to find room in her bed.” His humor faded, and Wyatt shrugged away the temptation and headed toward his room to dress. “I have a killer to catch before he succeeds in murdering my wife.”

Aaron stepped in front of him when he tried to walk past. “When did you last manage to catch a few hours of sleep?”

“I—”

Aaron reached past him and opened Brighid’s door. “The best thing you can do for your own peace of mind is be there when she wakes.”

Wyatt’s sluggish mind couldn’t work fast enough to argue, not when he wanted to remain with her so badly in the first place. A shove between his shoulder blades sent him stumbling into the room. He stood there a moment longer, then yawned and slipped under the covers. In deference to the child, he kept on his robe and damp trousers.

Wyatt shifted to get comfortable, trying not to disturb them, but he could have been lying on a bed of nails, unable to find a comfortable spot. He twisted to his side and found himself inches away from Brighid, her jasmine scent luring him closer. He froze a moment, then surrendered to the inevitable and gathered her close until she was draped over his chest, his mind locked on one thought.

No more just reacting. It was time to fight dirty and employ a few of the tricks he’d learned on the streets.

He’d do whatever it took to ensure her safety.

* * *

B
righid woke cocooned
in a sinful warmth that made her want to linger, but it seemed she spent the whole time she’d been in this house in bed, and she was tired of it. It was time to stop being a victim and find out who was targeting her.

Paul had vanished, and she saw a tray of food on the table. Her stomach gave a rude rumble, but when she tried to shift away, a band tightened around her middle.

Someone was behind her.

Someone big.

She tensed, afraid to move and draw attention to herself. She scrambled to remember what happened after the doctor left.

And came up with nothing.

Despite all her protests, she’d fallen asleep like a weak, helpless female.

Taking her courage in hand, she glanced down.

Familiar arms were wrapped around her, as if unwilling to let her go even in sleep.

Wyatt.

One of his hands cupped her breast.

Much to her mortification, her nipples pebbled. It was everything she could do not to groan and arch into his touch. Then she remembered their kiss. Heat speared through her, and her lips tingled. She wanted more, and that frightened the daylights out of her. She needed to escape his hold before Wyatt discovered her weakness and used it against her.

“Brighid.” Wyatt mumbled her name and tucked her closer, pressing her back firmly into the solid wall of muscles of his chest. His fingers brushed against the tip of her breast, and she squirmed at the delicious sensations.

Then she went rigid, determined not to dissolve into a puddle of pure desire. When he didn’t move, she realized he was still asleep. Her belly flipped at the thought he would call out her name from his subconscious, and something dangerous curled around her heart.

She hated to admit it, but she was becoming used to his presence.

Actually craved it and took comfort just being near him.

All she’d ever wanted was to have her cousins back. When weeks passed into months without word, her hope had faded. Then she met Wyatt and knew he would change her future. She resisted his flirtation and charms, refusing to leave her people to their fate.