A Night of Secrets (43 page)

Grayson cupped the sides of her face, forcing her to look at him, forcing the animal within to remain in the background…for the moment. He needed the truth now, once and for all. “Hanna, what is your father’s name?”

She sniffled. “
Mere
called him William.”

Sickening cold reality washed through Grayson. For a moment the world around them faded and he swam in a red sea of anger. He saw nothing but his brother-in-law’s face. The lies. All the lies and betrayal.

“Shite,” Nate whispered.

It made sense. All of it suddenly made sense. Why hadn’t he seen the truth when it was right before him? Slowly, Grayson stood. “Take her.” He gently pushed Hanna toward Nate, the one man he trusted completely.

“Gray, you’ll need help. You can’t do this alone. You have no idea what you’re rushing into.”

“No,” he shouted. Hanna jumped. He swallowed hard, forcing his voice to remain calm. She was terrified enough, he would not frighten her more. “What I need is to know that my niece is being protected. Take Hanna, Nate. If you are my friend, you will take her and you will protect her with your life.”

There was a moment’s hesitation, but Nate finally nodded. “You’ll come with me, won’t you, Dove?” He looked down at Hanna.

Hanna looked at Grayson, searching for his approval. “You’ll find Meg? You’ll bring her home?”

“I will. I promise.” He cupped her shoulders and brought her forward, pressing his lips to her forehead. He glanced back up at Nate. “If anything happens…”

“Gray…”

“No, Nate, listen. If anything happens, protect Hanna. Find Millie and make sure she helps when her time comes.”

Nate nodded, looking anything but thrilled. But he would do what Grayson asked of him.

“I must go.” Grayson started for the door, finally allowing the monster deep within to crawl to the surface.

“Gray, what will you do?” Nate called out.

Grayson didn’t turn. “Have a little talk with my brother-in-law.” In a blink of an eye he was downstairs, his speed so fast, no one noticed. Nelson gasped, stumbling back at his sudden appearance.

“My…my Lord, is there anything…”

Grayson strolled past the man.

The roar of conversation pulsed around him. Faces laughing, faces smiling, faces looking his way. People watching him, wondering, nodding their greetings. He barely saw any of them. It was as if he was no longer in his body. The demon inside had taken control and the demon had one goal. He found William easily. The man stood next to the windows, talking with Lord Temple as if nothing had happened. As if the world had not been destroyed.

William, who had betrayed him. William, who had murdered his sister. William, who would see his own daughter killed. William, who knew where to locate Meg.

As if sensing the anger pulsing from him, the crowd scattered aside and the roar of conversation softened. William glanced up, met Grayson’s gaze and smirked. He knew. The man knew what Grayson was coming for. He knew and he didn’t care.

“Where is she?” Grayson asked, his voice calm and controlled, belying his inner turmoil.

William released a soft laugh. “Your wife asked me the same thing about my daughter not an hour ago.”

An hour ago. They’d taken Meg an hour ago. She could be anywhere by now. Time was ticking. “Hanna is safe, you’ll never touch her.”

He reveled in the look of anger that flashed through William’s eyes. He’d not only come here for Meg, but for Hanna as well and who knew how many others.

Lord Temple shifted, taking a step back in unease, realizing something was happening that he would wish no part in.

William took a drink, feigning ease for their audience. “You didn’t tell me what she truly was. What you truly are. I was quite shocked, as you can imagine. I hadn’t a clue I’d married a monster.”

The word cut more deeply than Grayson wanted to admit. He had trusted William. Cared for him like a brother. “Where is my wife?”

William took another drink as if they had all the time in the world. The demon inside Grayson saw red. His fists curled as he resisted the urge to reach out and wrap his hands around the man’s neck.

William set his glass on the tray of a passing footman. “Since you played so many games with me, I’ve decided to play a game with you.”

Grayson was on him in a second. His grip found the man’s throat and he slammed him against the wall, holding him pinned there. A roar of shock went through the crowd but no one dared to interfere. How he wanted to kill him then and there. William’s eyes bulged from his head, his fingers pulling desperately at Grayson’s hands.

“Where is my wife?”

“Release me,” William gasped. “Or you’ll never see her again.”

The monster inside Grayson protested his release. It might be a trap, another lie, but Grayson didn’t have any other choice. He released his hold and forced himself to step back. William slumped to the floor, gasping for air.

“You think I wanted this?” He stumbled to his feet, his face red and glistening with sweaty outrage. “You think I wanted a monster for a wife? You think I wanted a monster for a child?”

Grayson’s fingers curled and he stepped closer to the man. “Did you kill Emma?”

“I rid the world of a monster,” William whispered.

The truth had finally come out. Grayson should have felt relieved. He felt oddly numb. Emma was gone. But Meg still lived. He knew it in his soul. “Where is my wife?”

William smirked. “You’re fast, but not fast enough. You’re wondering how Emma died? You’re wondering how so many of you have died? Blood is vital to your survival. But what if that blood is tainted? As blood is your strength, it’s also your weakness. We can’t kill you, but your blood can.”

William was insane. If Grayson had listened better to his instincts, he might have realized it. Emma wouldn’t be dead. Meg wouldn’t be missing. “What are you saying?”

“We found a poison that makes your blood run, killing you from the inside.”

“Sir? Is everything well?” Nelson asked behind Grayson.

“And now you are faced with two options,” William continued, ignoring the butler. “A dilemma much like you forced upon me. The antidote for the poison is in my study, in Edinburgh. Meg is south of here at my hunting lodge. In thirty minutes my hired man will shoot her in the head. I know you’re fast, but not fast enough for both.”

Poison. Poison rushing through his body. As William admitted what he had done, Grayson could suddenly feel the poison in his veins. Practically feel his blood thinning, his heart pumping furiously in effort. How had he not noticed it before? So many things missed and Meg might die because of it. No! No, Meg would not die.

“You can save yourself, or you can save your wife. Either way, soon one of you will be dead.”

Grayson should have been terrified. He should have been praying to a God he wasn’t even sure he believed in. Instead, he felt oddly calm. Grayson stepped closer to William, the one man he thought was like a brother to him. Only inches from the man’s face, his lips lifted, his teeth growing with a hiss. “You better hope I die, because if not, I will find you and when I do, you will wish you had died instead of Emma.”

Grayson latched onto the man’s neck again and with ease, lifted and tossed his brother-in-law through the large window. Glass shattered, pattering to the floor and mingling with the sound of screams. He could feel the mad, frantic rush of his guests as they stumbled away from him. They would talk about this for years to come. They would realize he was different. He didn’t bloody well care.

Without a backward glance or word of explanation, Grayson moved across the room and pushed the French doors wide. Stepping into the darkness, he entered the garden, becoming one with the night.

Chapter 24

Slowly Meg became conscious of the world around her. Not that she wanted to be conscious. No, because the more awake she became, the more aware she was of her throbbing lip and jaw. The more she was aware of the way her arms were pinned back so far she thought they would pop from her shoulders. And the more aware she was that the world was completely and utterly wrong.

Her lashes fluttered, barely lifting. She couldn’t move her legs apart and knew her ankles were tied together. A hard, wooden floor spread out before her, the dusty slats pressed against the side of her face. With a groan, she managed to tuck her knees to her chest and sit up. The room spun. A large, open room that had been elegant at one time, but now looked abandoned. Thick curtains covered windows, allowing no light to enter, but a fire burned brightly in the hearth, the only sense of warmth.

As the room slowed and her eyes adjusted to the low light, Meg studied her prison. A small table was placed against the far wall. A settee and chair near the hearth. A kettle hung on the hook above the fireplace, indicating someone was nearby. There were two doors, one that led into a hall and another that seemed to lead outside. Some sort of hunting cottage, was her bet. Which meant she was far from any town, far from any well-traveled road.

Grimacing she shifted, trying to loosen the ropes around her wrists. The twine burned against her sensitive skin. With a frustrated cry, she ceased her struggle. Her head throbbed something fierce and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to scream or burst into tears. Her lovely red dress was torn at the hem, a large dark, stain marred her right hip and her hair hung down around her face, having come lose from the coiffeur. But none of that mattered.

Hanna. Where was Hanna? Was she still alive? No! She couldn’t even contemplate the idea that she might not be. And Grayson… would he go through life never knowing what his brother-in-law was truly capable of?

Grayson’s green gaze flashed to mind. That dimple as he smiled down at her. Would she never see him again? Tears burned her eyes. With a frustrated snarl, she jerked her arms, attempting to pull the ropes free. He wasn’t using her. He would come for her.

“No use in trying to escape,” someone said from behind her.

She wasn’t surprised in the least that someone was there. Meg turned her head to her left, glancing over her shoulder. A man sat on a chair, his body indistinguishable from the dark shadows where the firelight didn’t reach.

Sweat gathered between Meg’s shoulder blades, but she would show no fear. “Who are you? Where am I?”

He leaned forward, the firelight hitting a face rugged with age and life. “Don’t rightly matter who I am, but you can call me Mr. Smith. Was hired by Lord Winters to see you killed, if need be.”

The man who had held her in Hanna’s room while William had hit her. Her gaze dropped to the knife in his hand. He turned the blade this way and that, the metal flashing in the firelight.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll use a pistol. You’ll go faster that way.”

A shiver of unease raced over her skin. “So kind. They really should saint you.”

He grinned showing a few black spaces where teeth should have been. With an ease that belied the situation, he set the knife upon a small side table and took a pocket watch from his jacket. “Yer husband has fifteen minutes to get here.”

Her husband. She’d barely had time to enjoy being married. Meg swallowed over the lump of emotion in her throat. “And if he doesn’t?”

The man shrugged. “Don’t know. Winters doesn’t tell me the details. All I know is that if he’s not here in fifteen minutes, I kill you.”

So easy for him, as if they were discussing the weather. Her life meant nothing to this man. But it didn’t matter. She knew Grayson would come for her. Surely he would. Yet, what if he was too late? “Have you killed before, Mr. Smith? Do you know what that will do to your soul?”

He shrugged, completely unconcerned. “I’ve killed before, some gent from your area and his old bat of a mother. It’s too late for me soul.”

A cold shiver raced over her body and she had to resist the urge to scoot back. Oh dear God, Lord Brockwell and his mother had been murdered by this man. “It’s never too late to ask for forgiveness.”

Mr. Smith winked. “Well, then, I’ll ask for forgiveness right before I die. That way I can appreciate the money I make now.”

She wouldn’t react to his statement. “When my husband gets here, he will kill you.”

He shrugged again, raking his hands through his dark hair. “If he comes. Ye heard Lord Winters. Yer husband might not love ye, tis best if ye accept it now.”

“He does,” she whispered. Yet, why did her heart ache with doubt?

“Has he said it then? Proclaims it to the world every morning?” He was mocking her and she wouldn’t react.

She’d ignore him. She’d ignore the pull of her shoulders, the ache in her head. She could not change this man, but she could keep the man occupied until Grayson arrived. And he would arrive. “Please, water. Can I have some water?”

“I’ll do you one better.” He took the wooden cup at his side, and tossed the contents to the floor. “And prove I’m not as bad as you think. As soon as the water is hot enough, I’ll give you some tea.”

Yes, as if tea could make up for the fact that he murdered innocent people in his spare time. “You’re too kind,” she muttered, watching him stroll across the room to the fireplace where the kettle hung. With his back to her, she wrestled with the ropes, frantic to gain her freedom, even knowing it was useless. The ropes held tight and she only managed to burn her skin even more. Blast!