A Night of Secrets (21 page)

“Do you play?” he asked.

“A little,” she whispered.

“Then play something.”

She swallowed hard and rested her trembling fingers atop the keys. Nerves made her hands slip, the keys crashing. “Sorry, I’m a bit out of practice.”

He said nothing, merely stood and moved to the window. She was not relieved when he moved. In fact, the opposite. He leaned against the wall, and stared out onto the dark gardens and she wondered what he searched for out there.

“Play,” he demanded.

She took her lower lip between her teeth and concentrated on the keys. She knew exactly what she’d produce. A mellow Scottish ditty about a man gone to war and his love left behind. She knew few songs, but as a child it’d been one of her favorites, a song that reminded her of the childish hopes and dreams of true love.

She pressed softly on the keys, concentrating on sweeping her fingers as her mother had taught her. The song filled the air and transported her back to childhood. Her mama smiled down at her, pride sparkling in her blue eyes.

“
That a girl, my little Meg. You’ve got it now. As good as any titled lady.”

Grayson was suddenly beside her. Startled, she missed a key and mentally cursed the man’s presence. When he sat down, she almost forgot the notes. The side of his body pressed to hers once more, and she wanted to do nothing more than sink into his hard form, to steal his strength. She closed her eyes, the material of her nightgown providing no buffer from the onslaught of his presence.

“You lie, Miss James,” his breath was a cool whisper against her ear.

Her hands stopped, the notes hovering in the air until they dissipated. “What do you mean?”

“You lie. You play quite well. Continue.”

She released the breath she held. Her talent was a secret she was actually willing to share. She had to close her eyes to concentrate, but her mind refused to forget the man next to her.

“Do you play?” she queried, hoping to change the subject, to break the tension in the room.

He didn’t look at her. “I used to.”

She wanted to ask what prevented him now, but knew better. Personal questions would only make things awkward. And things were already too tense between them.

“You’re not paying attention,” he snapped.

“Sorry.” Her fingers floundered until she caught the song again. Taking in a deep breath, she closed her eyes and concentrated. She forced her mother to mind and just as quickly Grayson took her place. Gritting her teeth, she tried to remember the beach and their summer jaunts as a family, but Grayson was there, with no shirt. Damn him!

He suddenly moved, jerking her from her fantasy. Stiff, she waited to see what he’d demand next. When his arm wrapped around her back she almost bolted from her seat. She didn’t dare open her eyes, barely breathed as his body pressed to her back and sides, cocooned in a hard hug. She felt the whisper of his hands right before he rested his fingers atop of hers, cold hands that numbed her skin. She stilled, her breathing harsh in the quiet room. She didn’t know what he was doing, and was too afraid to ask.

“Keep going,” he said softly, his breath brushing against the side of her face.

Her fingers straightened, and then curled, trying to make sense of the alien feel of his cold hands on hers. They were too large, consuming. She wanted to slip out from underneath his arms and rush from the room, leave behind the strange sensations he brought forth.

“Continue,” he demanded.

She moved her hands up and down the keys, her progress halted by the weight of his fingers. It certainly wasn’t her best performance but he didn’t tell her to stop. Finally, the song ended and her hands stilled. He kept his fingers over hers and she didn’t dare remove them. Unable to resist, she peeked up to see his lashes resting against his upper cheeks, his lips slightly parted.

His face was all hard planes, but there was a vulnerability about him that reached out and painfully clenched her heart. She wanted to hold him, to slip her fingers into his hair, to explore his taste and tell him everything would be well.

A warm wash of realization swept through her, settling around her heart. She blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of her emotions. Dear God, she had feelings for the man. A man she should fear. But what kind of feelings? Certainly not love, lust then?

Lust. The word settled in her stomach like a sickness. She was a vicar’s daughter. She wasn’t supposed to feel lust. Even as she thought the words, stories she’d heard whispered amongst the town’s women came to mind. Kisses, touches, the heated aches. She hadn’t understood it all, had never felt this way around Mathew. She understood now.

Frightened, she started to pull away. Grayson’s eyes opened and his fingers clamped around her wrists, holding her captive. There was a fierceness to his gaze that frightened her.

“
Merde,
you drive me mad, confuse me so I don’t know my own thoughts,” he whispered.

Meg’s lips parted in surprise. He dropped his hands to her hips and jerked her forward, sliding her across the bench. Her palms flattened against his chest, but she was helpless to stop his mouth from crushing to hers.

Hard and bruising, the kiss was completely different from the soft pecks Mathew had given her. Fear gave way to desire, desire to know more, taste more. She felt as if she were falling, falling into a dark, deep pit of sinful seduction.

His tongue slipped across her lips and she opened her mouth with a whimper. His hands slid up her waist, cupping the weight of her breasts. A heated ache swirled in the pit of her belly, seeping into the space between her legs. Meg’s whimpers turned to moans and she sank into his hard body. She’d had no idea a kiss could make a person feel this way. She knew it was wrong, dear God, she knew, but she couldn’t seem to pull away.

His fingers curled into her hair, cupping the back of her head and deepening the kiss, while his other hand reached around her back and pressed her closer. Her breasts crushed indecently to his hard chest. Instantly her nipples hardened and her breasts grew heavy. She realized with a start, that she was on his lap although how she had gotten there, she had no idea.

And then his velvet tongue rubbed against her own and she no longer cared about propriety. She no longer cared over the fact that she was a vicar’s daughter. Tentatively, she kissed him back. He tasted like scotch and mint and something intimate that could only be him. He groaned low in his throat and his hands moved down to cup her bottom. When he drew her closer she felt the proof of his desire, his steely erection, pressed to her thighs.

The sensations didn’t frighten her as they should have. No, if anything Meg felt an odd thrilling need sweep through her body. Her fingers curled into his chest and anxiety warred with need, need for something...anything to alleviate the ache.

The desire to beg for more formed on her parted lips. When his fingers dug into her hair and he jerked her head back, she had to remind herself that he wouldn’t hurt her.

Her neck exposed, he pressed his cold mouth to her sensitive skin. Meg shivered, a small gasp escaping her lips as his hand slowly moved up her leg, underneath her nightgown, touching the sensitive skin of her outer thigh. Her mind screamed at her to stop him, knowing he’d ruin her, but her body wouldn’t obey. His hand moved higher… higher. God save her, but she pressed closer to him.

His teeth scraped against her neck. There was a sharp sting, as if he’d scratched the flesh. Meg stiffened, confused with this love play. Then she felt his tongue, like damp velvet, drag across the wound. His body seemed to grow harder. Emotions she’d never felt washed through Meg …desire…fear…need. Mostly, need. Need to be closer to him. Need to have more.

Grayson shuddered almost violently and suddenly, he stumbled back. Meg fumbled to regain her balance, pressing her hands to the bench. Lord, what had just happened? Grayson stood on the other side of the room, his wide gaze locked on her as if she were the very devil. His eyes…those eyes
glowed
. She wasn’t imagining it now. The heat in her body was doused. Horrified, she pressed her hand to her neck where the skin pulsed.

“What are you?” she whispered.

“Go,” he snapped, turning so his back was to her.

Meg stood, her legs trembling and tears burning her eyes. Dear God, she’d become a harlot. She should run, yet, she couldn’t. As horrified as she was, she wanted to go to him, to demand answers, to comfort him for some reason. Hesitantly, she stepped forward.

He spun around, his face a mask of fury. “Go!”

Fear replaced any compassion. Meg choked on a sob and raced from the room.

Chapter 11

“The Clancy’s in Ireland,” Millie’s voice rang out across the garden interrupting the chirp of birds. She sashayed arrogantly down the path, a smirk upon her perfect face. The large straw hat she wore did little to detract from her beauty. Even though the sun was covered with thick, gray clouds, she was sensitive to its rays as most blood sucking women were. He glanced upward. Did Collette feel the effects? She was so close to turning, that surely they’d noticed her aversion to the light.

“Well, did you hear me?”

“Excuse me?” Grayson stretched out his legs and crossed his arms over his chest.

The marble bench beneath him was as cold and hard as his own body, yet he couldn’t seem to drudge up the nerve to go inside where he might come across Meg.
Merde,
last night had been a mistake. A mistake he feared he’d make all over again if alone for only a moment with the woman.

He’d never be able to think rationally now that he’d tasted her blood. So sweet. How easy it would have been to sink his teeth into her neck. He rubbed his trembling hands over his weary face. He’d almost lost control.

Millie stopped in front of him. “Her sister’s husband, the one who died, his last name is Clancy.”

Slowly, Grayson looked up at her. “And you’re rather proud of that, aren’t you? Uncovering the information so quickly.”

She moved to a pink rose bush and plucked a bloom, bringing it to her nose. “Never send a man to do a woman’s work.”

He almost hated being the bearer of bad news. Almost. “I already knew.”

She spun around to face him, her smirk gone. “You didn’t.”

How he wished he could laugh, but he’d found little amusement since Meg had arrived. “Sent a man to investigate in Ireland the day I arrived here. Should be getting back any moment now.”

She stomped her foot and rested her hands on her hips. “
Putain de merde!
”

Grayson clicked his tongue. “Such language.”

A pink flush stained her cheeks, but he knew the blush was not one of embarrassment but annoyance. There were so many few times when she lost control, that he should have savored the moment. Instead, he found himself thinking of Meg.

“Must you always win?”

He sighed and looked out over the flowers. “I can’t help it, winning comes quite naturally.” They’d both been spies during the war, hiding in the darkness of shadows. Their unspoken competition to uncover answers before the other was a known amusement among the troops. They were rather equal in talent, although neither would admit it.

She snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. “So, what will you do? Charge Meg with murder?”

He frowned, his attention returning to her. Why did he feel like charging Meg with murder would be like charging himself? She’d crawled into his body, resided in his veins and skin and the very air he breathed. “I don’t know yet.”

“You can’t really believe she’s a murderer, Gray. Even I can see she reeks of innocence. It hovers around her, this sweet scent. Quite nauseating.” Millie paced in front of him, her lavender skirt swirling around her ankles. Even in the dull sunlight, her golden locks glimmered. She was gorgeous, really. Men wanted her, artists wanted to paint her and women wanted to be her. Blast it all, why didn’t he just marry her and get it over with? No one understood him like Millie. And Meg… Meg was a poison. Having her had ruined him. He couldn’t eat, drink, breathe without thinking of her.

“Why do you care? Humans are merely an amusement, I believe you once said. Do not tell me you’ve actually found a soft spot for a
human
?”

“No,” she muttered. “I merely know an innocent when I see one.”

She grew silent, pouting, no doubt wondering how she could get the best of him.

“Marry me, Millie,” he blurted out.

When she turned her wide eyes toward him, the heat of embarrassment crept into his face. He rubbed the back of his neck, cringing.

Instead of answering, she threw her head back and laughed.

Grayson frowned.

She waved her hands through the air, bending at the waist as she sucked in deep breaths between her peals of laughter. “I...I...apologize.”

Grayson rolled his eyes heavenward and sighed. “So glad you find marriage to me amusing.”

She swiped the tears from her cheeks and collapsed next to him, her hand resting on his thigh. “You silly, silly man.”

“Please, do go on. You’re doing wonders for my ego.”