Druid Surrender (A Druid Quest Novel Book 1) (30 page)

Surprise widened her eyes. “A spy?”

“No, just a soldier. No one can know. Outside of England, we’re war criminals, subject to trial and execution. Men will kill to keep their secrets buried, so there will never be a day that I won’t need to be on my guard.” Because he couldn’t stop himself, he ran his fingers along her jaw, the need to stroke her silken skin like a physical ache. “So you see, I’m not such a prize, either.”

Her gaze bored into his until he thought he would go mad while waiting for her judgment.

Then her eyes softened to that incredible green. “We could keep each other safe.”

His heart lurched, and he ran his hand down her neck, forcing her head back until she was looking up at him. Less than an inch separated them. “I’ve waited a lifetime for you. I can’t go back to the way things were before I met you. If you ever try to leave, you had better look over your shoulder. I won’t let you go peacefully.”

His mouth crushed hers, possessive and demanding. Only when she met him caress for caress did he gentle the kiss. With a groan, he set her away from him, the separation physically painful. At ease with his nakedness, he retrieved a case from the nightstand.

“I had this made for you.” He lifted the lid and smiled at her gasp.

He turned her to face the mirror, then removed the necklace and placed the gold chain around her delicate throat. Unable to resist temptation, he kissed the nape of her neck, watching her in the mirror.

The golden Celtic knot settled between her breasts and shimmered in the firelight. “Beautiful.” A single finger traced the chain, lingering slightly as he adjusted the charm.

“You will not leave me.” He slipped his fingers lower, lazily caressing the top of her breasts. When she sucked in a startled breath, his hand slid lower until he boldly cupped her in his palm. “Promise me.”

He wrapped his other arm around her waist and pulled her tight against him. Agony and pleasure clashed together, and he closed his eyes, relishing the warmth of her curves against him. He trailed his lips down her neck. When she didn’t speak, he nipped her ear, tightening his hold when she jumped. “Promise.”

At her jerky nod, he slid his hand to her stomach, imagining a child there. He admired the reflection in the mirror, riveted by the picture they presented. His chest expanded at the pleasure etched on her face, knowing he could do that to her.

“Look in the mirror.”

Her lids fluttered open.

His tan complexion next to her pale skin brought out all his protective instincts, and he pulled her closer until her bottom was pressed tight against his arousal. “We were made for each other.”

He reached for her hands, guiding them to the dresser and placed them on top, then ran his fingers up her arms in a lingering caress. “Do not move.”

Her fingers flexed as if she would disobey, then her eyes locked on his hand while it ever so lightly skimmed along her shoulders. She trembled in his arms, but did as he’d commanded.

If she touched him, he would take her hard and fast and without finesse. He wanted to see her fall apart in his arms first.

While Brighid watched, Wyatt lifted the back of her skirt inch by slow, agonizing inch, and her nails scraped across the surface of the dresser. She panted in anticipation, her heart thundering almost painfully against her ribs. After nearly losing him, she wanted him too badly not to obey, for fear he would stop. She was mesmerized by the images in the mirror. Cool air caressed her thighs, quickly replaced by heat when Wyatt pressed closer and she instinctively arched back toward him in anticipation.

“You’re moving.”

Brighid gritted her teeth. With his declaration of love still ringing in her ears, it was all she could do not to turn in his arms and burrow closer. There was a darkness in his past that paralleled hers. She wasn’t alone anymore. His complete commitment to their marriage made her believe they had a future together. Those callused hands cupped her bottom, scattering her thought. Laces gave way under his questing fingers, and she bit her lip so she wouldn’t beg him to go faster.

“The fair…” She lifted a hand but he instantly covered it with his own, forcing it back down on the smooth wooden surface.

“…can wait, this cannot.” He leaned closer, nibbling on her neck. “Watch. See what I see.” From behind, his hand encircled her throat. His other hand traced her bare, sensitive curve of her hip under her skirts. His husky voice sent a shiver down her spine, and she was riveted by his complete fascination with her body. Callused palms abraded her skin, every inch of her skin hyper-sensitive. Craving more, she found herself leaning into his touch.

“Beautiful.”

He made her feel beautiful.

She watched the mirror, but it was his handsome face that captured her attention. Her focus drifted to his lips, and she traced them with her gaze, wanting them on her body. His mouth hovered over her skin, his warm breath making her tremble. One hand slid down, and she gasped when he boldly cupped her breast again.

“Wyatt.”

“Watch.” He rolled the pebbled tip of her breast and let his lower body rock against her.

Unable to help herself, she pressed her backside against him, eager to feel more of him where she needed him most. The hand beneath her skirt slid lower, and her breath caught in her throat as anticipation curled through her. Her legs unconsciously opened, barely able to hold still as he reached for her where she needed him most.

Breathing stopped being important at the first light touch. Her hips jerked in an age-old demand for more. He deepened the caress, his body moving against hers with each brush of his fingers, until nothing mattered but having more.

Her eyes slid close in pleasure as sensation after sensation swamped her. His touch left her abruptly, and she bit back a cry of protest.

Her eyes popped open, and she met his devilish gaze in the mirror.

“Watch.”

Each time her eyes slid shut, he would stop until her world narrowed to just him.

The intimate connection was so deep, all she could feel was his passion for her, and she found herself falling for him all over again.

All she wanted was him—now—with an urgent need that would have frightened her had he been anyone else.

He leaned over, forcing her forward, the action placing his arousal against her intimately. She groaned when the tip of him entered her. Then he stopped and wove their fingers together until she felt surrounded by him.

It felt like coming home.

“Look in the mirror. We were made for each other.” When her eyes locked with his, he surged into her, and her hands tightened at the invasion. When he stilled, she wiggled against him, eager for more, then gasped at the wave of pleasure.

A kiss landed on her shoulder, and she glanced up in the mirror to find him watching her. “Let me teach you what we can be together.”

His body flexed and a low moan vibrated at the back of her throat. He slipped one hand from hers and touched her at the junction where they were joined. Stunning pleasure jolted through her. His teeth scraped her neck, and her euphoria increased, spreading heat through her system like a fever. Not a spot that he could reach and kiss remained untouched.

Emotions became unbearable, and she moaned both in pleasure and frustration.

She wanted more and cursed him for torturing her. “Wyatt, please.”

He grabbed her hips and took control, and she was helpless to do anything but surrender and watch as he propelled her to new heights. Desire spiraled through her system, increasing her pleasure with every thrust, until she crested in a soul-shattering release.

He tensed as he reached his own peak, his thrusts drawing her pleasure out almost unbearably. Her knees weakened, and he swept up her in his arms, gently laying her on the bed. Too tired and satisfied to rise from the bed, she was content to watch him walk naked across the room, enjoying the flex of his muscles as he dressed. The smooth way he moved fascinated her, and she shivered, remembering the way he’d moved in her not moments before.

He gave her a charming smile that melted her insides to mush. “Stand and allow me to be your maid, my lady.”

Brighid blushed, but rose to her feet, unable to resist the opportunity to be near him again. Although he tweaked the wrinkles from her dress and re-pinned her hair, those innocent touches were slow and wicked in their simplicity. He knelt at her feet to settle her skirts, then fingered the loose ribbon of her slipper. He picked up her foot, dragging his hand along the back of her calf, lingering at the sensitive bend in her knee, as if he couldn’t resist stealing another touch. He placed her foot on his thigh just inches from his growing arousal and retied the ribbon. She swayed toward the lips that were so close, but instead of obligating, he ran his fingers down her throat, along the chain, positioning the necklace until he was satisfied. “As much as I want to hoard you for myself, we need to join the fairgoers.”

That cooled her naughty thoughts, and she nodded, bracing herself to face a crowd that had once tried to kill her, and a murderer who wanted them both dead.

Determination hardened inside her.

She would do whatever it took to keep him safe.

“Stay within sight of me at all times. Aaron will be watching from the rooftop until nightfall.” He tipped her chin up to stress his point.

At her nod, he captured her hand, wove their fingers together, and gave a gentle squeeze. “When darkness falls, stay by my side.” He lifted their joined hands and kissed the back of her knuckles. The tender expression in his eyes made her heart flutter in her chest. “Tonight will be the beginning of the rest of our lives.”

T
he weather
for the fair cooperated, the air balmy for autumn. The gentle breeze brushed her face as she walked through the crowd. Wyatt had disappeared with a mysterious smile, and she hated that she felt abandoned. She greeted a few of the villagers, but didn’t linger, not wanting to intrude on their shaky truce.

Nervous laughter ran through the cluster of people nearby. She turned to investigate, and spied Wyatt ducking in and out of the crowd, pulling children in his wake.

What was the adorable fool doing?

She tiptoed closer to gain a better view, and smiled at his antics. He lined the children up in a neat little row, but as soon as he straightened, they fidgeted, ready to bolt. Wyatt exaggerated his gestures until his silliness infected the children.

The laughter spread, and the pall over the day dissolved. Her heart swelled as she watched her man work his magic. Soon everyone had a mug of ale and cheered on the kids.

Wyatt knelt in front of one of the younger children and tied their legs together for a race. In his guise of lord of the manor, he’d be the last person she would suspect as a spy.

But she remembered the man she met at the lodge.

That man was hard and determined and wouldn’t let anything stop him once he’d set his mind on something. She loved both sides of his soul, the dark and dangerous edge that would risk everything for her, as well as the gentle side that could seduce her with just one look.

And by some miracle, he wanted her.

Brighid thanked the goddess for her good fortune.

The starting gun belched, bringing her attention back to the race.

Wyatt and his tiny partner didn’t make it two steps before tripping over each other. Brighid pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. Wyatt sprang to his feet, tucked the child under his arm and charged toward the finish line.

When he waved to her, her treacherous heart gave a lurch of happiness. Only Wyatt had that effect on her. The warmth of the sun soaked into her skin. Glancing around, she couldn’t imagine how anyone present might be capable of murder. When she turned back, she nearly bumped into Wyatt.

“Did you enjoy the race?” He panted to catch his breath, his chest heaving.

Brighid couldn’t resist touching his arm and chiding him. “You cheated.”

“Did not.” Wyatt tugged on his vest, his face perfectly straight. “There were no rules saying I couldn’t carry my partner across the line. I should know…I made the rules.”

She snorted, lured closer by the humor dancing in his eyes. “Everyone is having a wonderful time.”

He wove his fingers together with hers. Instead of pulling her close as she expected, he tugged her toward the assembling group of people. A race for the adults. Brighid dug in her heels. The last thing she needed to do was bring attention to herself. “No. I—”

“Come now, you don’t want to disappoint the children, do you?” Even as he spoke, everyone cheered.

Heat scalded her cheeks. “Wyatt!”

“Brighid!” He kissed her before she had a chance to duck away. “Let yourself have fun.”

The plea battered against the sturdy walls she kept around her, walls she enforced to protect herself and others. She bit her lip at the temptation he presented. “I—”

“For me.”

With only a slight hesitation, she relented.

Like on his first race, Wyatt stumbled, no doubt on purpose, and they went tumbling to the ground. Wyatt twisted so she landed on top, plastered against all those delicious muscles. His arms were like bands of steel, holding her safe. As she gazed down at him, her laughter dried in her throat. His eyes darkened with passion, but he didn’t kiss her as she expected.

It only made her crave one all the more.

She leaned forward, brushing her lips against his. Then he took charge and drew her closer. What was supposed to be a quick brush of lips drew out into a passionate embrace, and she whimpered when he pulled away. Disarming light green eyes met hers, then she saw his rakish smile and became aware of the people whistling and calling out bawdy suggestions.

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.