A Night of Secrets (36 page)

Marriage. Just the word made her stomach churn. And she’d agreed, in a fit of madness, because she thought she had no other choice. But even as she thought the words, she knew them to be only partially true. Fact was, she wanted Grayson.

His words haunted her night, kept her tossing until the wee hours of the morning. He’d think she was marrying him merely because she couldn’t seem to say no when he kissed her. Because…because every night she wondered what it would be like to actually be intimate with the man again. To have him sink his teeth into her flesh.

Meg stood and paced the room. Her skin felt too tight, her body too warm. In reality she couldn’t stand to think of him drinking from someone else. Couldn’t stand to think of him being intimate with another woman.

“Meg, please stand still. I can’t chase you around with the flowers,” Mary Ellen demanded.

“Don’t know why you wouldn’t want to marry him, Meg. Mr. Bellamont is oh so handsome.” Sally skipped around the room like a girl in love, causing Meg to roll her eyes. “When I marry he will be just as handsome and wealthy.”

“Brilliant,” Meg replied. “Then I don’t have to marry,
you
can save us.”

The shadows were growing long. Twilight had come. Grayson had insisted on an evening wedding and she knew why, lack of sunlight. He had also insisted the wedding be outside, amongst the flowers, although why, she wasn’t sure.

Meg stilled near the windows. Below the servants were clearing a path through the rose garden. Papa stood there, his bible in hand and Hanna next to him. He hadn’t said a word to her since yesterday when he’d told her she would marry Grayson. No, he’d made certain to stay away, knowing she would talk him out of his ridiculous demand.

“You must marry him, Meg, for us,” Sally said.

Meg turned to glare at her sister. She was bloody tired of always having to think of others.

Sally stopped skipping. “What? It’s the only way we’ll all be able to stay together.”

Mary Ellen pushed their little sister toward the door. “Sally, go outside and make sure Papa is ready.”

With a giggle, Sally skipped out of the room.

“Meg, ignore her,” Mary Ellen said, shaking her head. Her sisters looked lovely in their matching apple green gowns that Grayson had insisted they purchase. They had been given a taste of wealth and were already growing greedy.

“Thank you!” Meg took her sister by the shoulders and kissed her cheek. “Finally someone is speaking sense.”

Mary Ellen nodded. “You must marry Mr. Bellamont so you won’t go to prison.”

“No, no.” Meg pressed her fingers to her temple trying to ward off the headache fast approaching. “I can’t marry him.” She grabbed Mary Ellen again. “Don’t you see, he’s most likely using me to get answers.” Or using her for blood, although she didn’t dare speak that out loud.

“Answers to what?” Millie asked from the door.

Mary Ellen shoved a pink tea rose behind Meg’s ear as Meg’s face heated. Blast it! How much had the woman overheard? And why was everyone in this damn house so quiet and sneaky when they approached?

“Answers to Lord Brockwell’s death,” Meg said.

“Meg,” Millie swept into the room wearing a light peach gown cut much too low for their shire. “Grayson barely cares about the man’s death. True, he would like to find the culprit, but he’d hardly marry a woman merely to uncover answers. After all, it really has nothing to do with him.”

Her words rang true, but then why would Grayson marry her if not for answers to Lord Brockwell’s death? Her blood, that’s why. He had some odd desire to drink her blood above any others. She could admit, only to herself, that the realization thrilled her much more than it should.

“Mary Ellen? May I speak to your sister alone for a moment?”

“Of course.” Mary Ellen kissed Meg’s cheek. “I’ll see you outside.” She curtsied to Millie and left the room.

Millie was smiling as she strolled toward Meg. Immediately suspicious, Meg had to resist the urge to step back. Meg’s less than welcoming frown didn’t put Millie off. She smoothed down Meg’s satiny, light blue skirt. “Looks much better on you, and I want you to have the gown. A keepsake from your special day.”

Meg laughed, as tears stung her eyes. “My special day.” She went to the mirror and tugged up the sleeves hanging indecently off her shoulders. She felt exposed, her bare skin gleaming in the firelight. Her neck, long and elegant. The marks were not even visible any longer.

“You look lovely,” Millie said, as if reading her mind. She patted Meg’s hair in place, then curled a thick tendril over her left shoulder. Her hand was cooler than previously. Which meant the woman hadn’t fed. Meg wasn’t sure if that should make her feel better or worse when thinking about Millie.

“Why is he doing this?” Meg asked.

Millie’s smile fell. “He’s not a saint.”

Meg laughed. “That’s for sure.”

“But he’s not the devil you think either.”

“I know that.” Meg focused on the ground while playing with the curl that lay over her collarbone. “And he doesn’t deserve to have his reputation ruined because of me.”

“Oh you dear.” Millie turned her and pulled her into a hug. “You are sweet to worry about him, but Grayson has been through much worse. I promise you he can take care of himself.”

“Millie,” Meg said, pulling away. “I don’t know him. How can I possibly marry the man?”

“What do you want to know?” the familiar, deep voice washed over her, sending heated waves through her body.

She spun around. Grayson stood in the doorway, his face serious, his eyes intense. His black suit fit his body to perfection, outlining his broad shoulders, highlighting his dark locks and Meg had to fist her hands to keep from throwing herself into his arms. Millie swept past them, shutting the door and leaving them alone.

Meg swallowed hard and looked at everything but him. She couldn’t seem to breathe. Millie’s corset dug into her ribs, choking the air from her lungs. She pressed her hand to her waist, praying she wouldn’t faint again.

“What do you want to know, Meg?” He came closer and her panic escalated.

“Nothing. Everything.”

He didn’t stop until he was only feet from her. “My name is Grayson Charles Bellamont. My parents were born in France four hundred years ago, but I was born in the 1700s.”

So the journal was his after all. Dear God, he was so ….
Old
. She was a mere babe compared to him. An idiot compared to what he must know.

“They were merchants. Wealthy merchants. They thought their children would have a better chance at being accepted in England. They entered me into the finest of schools, introduced me to the highest ranked people. They thought vampires should attempt to blend in to human society. But somehow someone knew what we were and they were murdered because of it.”

“I’m so sorry.” For the first time since she’d met him, Meg felt like she understood the man before her. She went to him and slipped her hand into his, giving him her strength.

He didn’t look at her, but continued to stare out the window at the servants below. So powerful, so amazing, yet here… now…he seemed so human.

“Grayson, are you in danger?”

Perhaps he heard the direness in her voice, the tremble of her words. He turned toward her and cupped the sides of her face. “Do you actually care?”

“Of course I care.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed him close. The thought of something happening to him terrified her. And on the edges of her mind, she wondered about Hanna.

Hanna, who hated sunlight. Hanna who liked her meat raw. Hanna, who might be a vampire. Dare she tell Grayson her suspicions? What if she was wrong? What if Hanna wasn’t a vampire, but merely sensitive to light? So many questions, so many things she didn’t understand.

To tell Grayson would mean trusting him completely. Could she, when for so long she’d kept her secrets safe? She pushed the thoughts aside and smiled up at him. She would wait and see. Tomorrow would be soon enough.

“You will be alone no longer. You will have a family. If you want one. I know it’s all females, but…”

His jaw clenched and unclenched, emotion flashing across his handsome face. “I think I’d like sisters.”

Tears stung her eyes and she could merely nod. Giving into temptation, she rested her hand along side his face and stood on her tiptoes. She pressed her lips to his, a gentle, chaste kiss. He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her against his body. Before she could react, he crushed his mouth to hers. The hard kiss softened immediately, his lips moving across her, touching her, tasting her. She moaned and tilted her head, deepening the kiss. Dear lord, she couldn’t think when he touched her, couldn’t get enough.

His tongue slid between her lips, velvety soft, stroking her own. Meg moaned and sank into him, her breasts crushing against his hard chest while her fingers slipped into his hair, loving the feel of the cool locks against her skin. But apparently it wasn’t enough for him.

Grayson’s hand slipped down her back to cup her bottom. Meg gasped as he pressed her up against his arousal. His erection pulsed hard and hot against her skirts, sending a deep ache to that spot between her legs. She should pull back, should demand he leave, should run far, far away. Yet, she could do little else but whimper and wish for more.

Through her foggy mind, she was barely aware when Grayson pulled his lips from hers. He cupped the sides of her face and she blinked up at him, bemused. His eyes had turned a golden green, pulling her under into a swirling mixture of heat and seduction and she couldn’t seem to look away.

“Marry me,” he whispered.

She should tell him the truth about Hanna, about Beth’s whereabouts. She should admit her secrets now, before they were married. But the secrets were not hers to share.

Meg swallowed hard and nodded, wondering if he could hear her heart slamming against her chest. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

******************************************

“Meg?” her father’s voice snapped into her thoughts.

“Yes, Papa?”

He glanced at Grayson, then back at her. “I asked if you would take this man—”

“What? Oh, yes, yes of course.”

Brought back to reality, her stomach did a slow turn. She couldn’t seem to look at Grayson, couldn’t seem to breathe. He didn’t love her. But he trusted her, didn’t he? He wouldn’t have told her his secret if he didn’t. And he wanted her, she knew that much was true.

If only she had time, time to think of a way out of these murder charges, time to find her family a home, time to decipher the feelings she had for Grayson. She glanced up through her lashes at the man who would be her husband in only moments. She truly looked at him and saw the man there behind his intense gaze. A man who had suffered, a man who deserved so much more than she could give.

“The ring,” her father said, interrupting her thoughts.

Grayson took her hand, his grip strong and sure. She watched, as if seeing a play; unable to move, unable to think, focused on that ring. Sparkling emeralds surrounded a large sapphire. A ring that could feed her family for decades. He slipped the cool circle around her finger. The metal wrapped around her, a manacle chaining her to his side for the rest of her life. To the side of a man who didn’t love her. A man she wasn’t sure she fully trusted.

She stepped back, her breath coming out in soft pants. Grayson needed a family, he needed her, but what kind of a family was she giving him? A Papa who liked to drink? A wife who was a suspected murderer? Surely what she had to offer was nothing in comparison to what he could give her; safety, money, freedom. Grayson tightened his hold, as if he sensed the direction of her thoughts.

“Meg?” Papa said.

“I have nothing,” she blurted out.

Papa’s bushy brows drew together. “Pardon?”

She looked into Grayson’s eyes. “Nothing, I have nothing to offer you.”

Grayson’s face was as stoic as always, but she swore she could see the emotion in his eyes, an emotion that tore at her heart. “Excuse us for a moment, please.” He pulled her between the roses under an arch, hidden from view. In the background she could hear the soft chatter of her family who were most likely discussing how mad she had become.

“I have nothing to give you,” she blurted out. “No money, no name. I can’t marry someone merely because they feel guilty or because they want me physically. Or because…they desire my blood.” She took the ring from her finger and pushed it into his hand. Without another word, she turned to leave. His fingers wrapped around her wrist, stopping her.

“You make me feel alive.”

Her heart slapped against her ribs. Had she misheard him? Was he merely saying the words to get what he wanted?

“For years I’ve felt nothing, been numb. You’ve made me feel again.”

Slowly, she turned to face him and in his eyes she saw the truth. A truth that warmed her, that made her believe in impossible dreams, made her believe that life might possibly be worth it all.

“Please,” he whispered. “Stay. Be my wife.”

Tears pooled in her eyes and slipped down her cheeks. Even as her mind warned her not to listen, her heart knew what she would do. “Carlisle. Beth is in Carlisle.” One secret gone… freed. One more to go.