A Night of Secrets (20 page)

“
Merde
.” He stalked to the fireplace and leaned against the mantle. “I won’t leave until you tell me the truth, Meg.”

“I did not murder Lord Brockwell. There, I’ve told you the truth, you can leave.”

He turned to face her. Her shoulders, round and smooth, gleamed in the firelight like a golden statue come to life. How he wanted to kiss that satiny skin, show her just how much he could please her. He flipped open the top button of his shirt, his collar suddenly too tight.

His gaze dropped to the pulse thumping on the side of her neck. He could grip those smooth shoulders, pull her from the water, lay her upon the bed and sink his teeth into that vein on her neck. Drown in the taste of her blood while he mated with her, bringing her to an ecstasy she couldn’t began to understand.

“I didn’t,” she whispered. Her body quivered and her arms lowered slightly, revealing the tops of her breasts, perfect mounds that would fit deliciously into his palms. His fingers curled, itching to touch her.

“You believe me?”

He jerked his gaze back to her face. “Perhaps.”

“Then why am I here?”

“Because the Constable doesn’t believe you. It would help if you told him where to find Lady Brockwell.”

She looked away. “Would you?”

“Would I what?” He moved to a side table where a bottle of sherry glistened. Hell, at this point he’d drink a woman’s alcohol. He poured a glass and downed the smooth liquid in one motion.

“Would you betray your best friend?”

He set the cup on the table and looked at her without flinching. “Perhaps I would.”

Her eyes flashed, angry with his answer. “Well I wouldn’t. Especially if that friend had done nothing wrong.”

His lips curled into a sneer, angry she was so naïve, but angrier more that he cared. “And you know her so well, do you?”

“Of course I do. We’ve already discussed this.”

“You’ve known her for only three years, how can you be sure Lady Brockwell would not kill her husband?”

“Instinct,” Meg whispered.

He released a wry laugh and shook his head. “What was she like before she came here? What was her family like?”

Silence stretched heavy between them. He’d won, he knew it, but he took no happiness from this victory.

“Truth is, you don’t know her and you’ll give up your own freedom, you’ll put your family in harm’s way to protect someone you’ve been acquainted with for only three years.”

She snatched a towel from the floor and stood. He saw a flash of rosy skin before the material was wrapped around her wet body, clinging to her curves. “How dare you. How dare you reprimand me for being a loyal friend!”

“Loyal at the expense of your own family,” he snapped, stepping so close, he could feel the heat radiating from her form. Dear God, he wanted to toss her onto the bed, press his mouth to hers so she’d shut up, to extinguish the fire burning under his skin. To sink his teeth into that pulse and drink until his own body was just as warm as hers.

“I am teaching my sisters about what is right and wrong. Teaching them about standing true in the face of tyrants.”

Was he the tyrant she spoke of? “And what about Sally, what about Hanna? Who will care for them when you are hanging from the end of a rope?”

She paled, swaying slightly. He’d hit a nerve with his harsh words. “The truth will be revealed. God will not—”

He threw his head back and laughed. “God? Don’t you dare bring religion into this situation.”

She fell silent, her swimming eyes on him, pleading for something he didn’t understand. Some bloody human emotion he couldn’t feel, let alone know.

“How can I not believe in God?” she whispered. “I have no one else.”

Her words pierced his chest like a Russian sword. He searched her face, watching the tears slip down her cheeks and cursed himself for feeling guilty.

“You have family.” More than he had.

She laughed and swiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. He didn’t miss the way her fingers trembled. “Yes, I have a family, and as you said, they are completely reliant on me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to rest.”

He felt the cad for mocking her. But mostly for making her realize she was alone in this world. But she needed to know the truth, needed to understand she could rely on no one. The sooner she realized, the better.

“Meg.”

She stilled at the bed, her back to him.

Damn it all, but he couldn’t crush her hope. Not now. “Sleep well,” he said and moved across the room.

He rested his hand on the doorknob and waited for a moment, one long moment.
Merde,
but he needed to get the truth from her, and fast before he no longer cared about his mission.

Chapter 10

Not a sound interrupted the silence. No creak. No groan. No footsteps or whispered words. The house, along with its occupants, slept.

Meg lay on her side, cold but afraid to do more than stare at the dying fire. The embers in the hearth peered at her like demon eyes, hissing and sputtering to stay alive but there was no reason to stoke the flames. She wouldn’t be here to enjoy their warmth.

Exhaustion weighed down on her body and mind, murmuring sweet words of relief. How desperately she wanted to sink into the world of unconsciousness, to forget the day, to forget her worries. Instead, she pushed herself upright, letting her legs dangle off the edge of the bed.

She waited, waited for her pulse to slow, for her mind to clear. Her heart beat, ticking a rhythm that matched the porcelain clock under the glass dome on the mantel. She could taste freedom, feel it in her bones. It’d be easy enough to escape, although once outside, her destination remained an elusive mystery. She’d worry about that later.

Steeling her resolve, she stood. Her body trembled, the glowing coal blurred before her eyes. Her body felt heavy, sobbing for reprieve. She let her lashes drift down for the briefest of moments and leaned against the bed post. From somewhere downstairs a clock bonged, the low rumble announcing the time to be a little past three.

In a mere two hours, the farmers would be in their fields. She had to leave now, or she’d never make it past the community’s watchful gaze. With renewed determination, she stumbled forward and the room spun, her body protesting and making her waver on her feet.

“Come on, Meg, you can do this,” she whispered.

Like crickets on a warm summer evening, her mind buzzed. She narrowed her eyes, forcing her senses to focus. She’d travel the few hours until daylight and then hide somewhere. The thought of resting her weary head propelled her forward.

Her trembling fingers fumbled with the handle until the door popped open. If she was quick, she might have time to stop home, gather supplies and run. She peeked into the hall. Moonlight slanted through the window at the end of the corridor, splashing the area in an eerie blue. No footmen stood guard outside her room. Had Grayson been bluffing?

She pulled her borrowed wrap close, material much too ridiculously thin to be of any use, and padded down the steps, her slippers making little noise. Perfect for the house, but the silly stockings would be soaked outside. Yes, she’d run home and get a gown, pack whatever she could and disappear. Perhaps she’d go to Scotland, perhaps Ireland. She knew the woods for miles around. If need be, she’d find cover and hide until they gave up their search for her.

And Hanna, she sucked in a sob. Hanna would be better off with Papa. At least for a few years, until things died down.

Halfway down the steps, her vision blurred. She gripped the railing as she weaved forward. Giving into temptation, she sank down and rested her forehead on her knees. How badly she wanted to crawl up the steps and collapse onto her plush, warm bed. But she knew she would not rest, for dreams of Grayson would fill her head. The gaols and his glowing eyes. The way he’d looked at her while she’d bathed, the heat in his gaze, the intensity even now made her shiver.

The tinkle of piano keys wafted through the air. Meg jerked her head upright. Had she imagined the sound? Slowly she stood and took another step down.

“
Ping, ping, ping
.” The notes rang soft, but clear and she could only imagine the mournful tune came from some lost spirit.

She gripped the railing, her heart hammering. Dear God, had Hanna been right? Were there ghosts in this estate? As if she didn’t have enough problems already.

“
Ping
.”

She narrowed her eyes and moved down one step at a time, slowly, hesitantly. There had to be a perfectly acceptable explanation. Her feet touched the marble floor and she paused, tilting her head this way and that to catch the sound.

No more music came and she waited to hear the footfalls of a servant, a butler, anyone to explain the sound of the piano. The house settled once more into silent rest.

Meg darted a glance at the front door looming at the end of the foyer, her entryway into freedom. She took her nightgown in hand and twisted the material in her fingers, indecision holding her captive. She could go now, or…

“
Ping, ping
.”

She spun around and stared down the long, dark hall. As if pulled by an unknown force, she followed the notes from room to room until she reached the end of the corridor.

At the last door, she stilled. Holding her breath, she peeked inside. The room glowed in the same blue as the hall upstairs, indicating the curtains were thrown wide. A fairyland, a dream.

Her eyes adjusted and slowly shapes morphed into pieces of furniture. With her heart slamming wildly in her chest, she peeked around the open door. Immediately, she recognized his broad shoulders and trim waist.

Grayson.

With his back to her, he sat on the piano bench, hunched over the keys like a man disillusioned with life. He wore only trousers and his shirt sleeves, white material that glowed in the moonlight and gave him the heavenly appearance of an angel lost, grieving. Not a ghost, but a man obviously haunted all the same.

Even from her distance she felt his melancholy like a wave threatening to take her under. Her body suddenly weak, Meg sank against the wall. What demons hid within his soul? Tormented his nights? God help her, but she wanted to reach out to him, to comfort the very man who’d made her life hell for the past two days.

He sighed, a sigh that clenched around her heart and wouldn’t let go. In the back of her mind, she knew she needed to leave, to escape while she could, but her legs and her heart wouldn’t cooperate. Who
was
this man?

“Miss James,” the shock of his voice stabbed through her hazy mind.

“There are guards posted around the house. There is no point in trying to escape.” He didn’t turn when he made that statement and for a moment she thought she’d dreamt the words. Perhaps, even now she dreamt of him. But no, his voice still echoed through the room.

“Come here, Meg.” His tone was soft, yet left no room for argument.

She wanted to resist, to flee, but an unknown force- fear, curiosity, need- drew her forward. Like one floating, she moved across the room, barely feeling the floor beneath her feet.

Only a breath away, she stopped, her hands clasped in her skirt. So close she could feel the chill of his body. He turned on the bench and his eyes locked with hers. She trembled slightly, as if his gaze pierced her very soul. Slowly, his attention traveled the length of her gown to her slippered feet peeking from the hem of her white nightgown.

He lifted a brow. “You had thought to escape in your bed clothing?”

“It was all I had,” she whispered, her voice husky.

His hair was out of place, tousled about his head as if he had repeatedly raked his fingers through the strands. Instead of making him look more human, his mussed appearance only made him seem all the more dangerous. Her hands fisted as she resisted the urge to step forward, to smooth his hair back into place. To trace his jaw line and feel the scruff of the whiskers on his cheeks.

Before she could move, he reached out, taking hold of a loose lock that fell down to her waist. Slowly, he entwined the strand around his finger, the movement pulling her painfully closer. She bit her lower lip, forced to shuffle forward until she stood between his legs. The inside of his hard thighs pressed indecently to her legs, holding her captive. She didn’t understand why his touch affected her so much more than Mathew’s ever had. At the moment, as heat bubbled in her veins, producing an ache that spread deep into her core, she didn’t care to know why.

“I trusted you to keep your word, Miss James. You have gravely disappointed me.” He tilted his head back and looked into her eyes and she was acutely aware of the fact that they were alone. Utterly alone.

“Sit,” he ordered.

He untwined his hold on her hair and patted the space next to him. Even if she wanted to disobey him, her legs could no longer seem to hold her weight. There was something about Grayson this night, a whisper that warned her to obey the man. She sank onto the bench facing the piano. He turned and their shoulders and thighs touched, the contact singeing a path all the way down her side.