Read A Night of Secrets Online
Authors: Lori Brighton
Tags: #Vampires, #Romance, #Historical, #Fantasy, #Mystery, #Suspense, #Adult
A Night of Secrets (46 page)
Hanna burst forward, hitting Meg’s body with a force that had her stumbling back. “Do you still love me?”
“Hanna.” Meg leaned back just enough to cup the sides of the child’s face. Her large green eyes were glowing slightly, filling with shimmering tears. “My dear, please don’t cry. Of course I love you!”
“But I’m not normal! I’m evil, it’s true. It’s why my father wanted me dead.”
She could practically feel Grayson bristling behind them.
Meg tightened her hold around the child’s cold body. How she hated Hanna’s father in that moment. “What is normal, Hanna? Is normal the Constable, a man who is so bitter and horrible he couldn’t see the truth when it was standing in front of him? Is normal Papa, a man who can’t take his sorrows and drinks them away? Is normal a man who is so blinded with hatred that he will hunt down innocents and kill them on the streets?” She pressed a kiss to the top of Hanna’s silky head. “You, my love, are as normal as they come.”
Crystal tears slipped down the child’s pale cheeks. “Are you sure?”
Meg nodded.
Hanna swiped at her nose with her sleeve, a childish movement that warmed Meg’s heart. For one long moment, she merely held the girl, taking comfort in her small body.
“Meg, can we find shells now?”
And the child she’d known was back. Meg laughed, so delighted with the change. “Of course we can!”
Hanna stepped back, a shy smile upon her face. “I’ll get a basket to collect our treasures.” Meg watched her rush into the cottage. It didn’t matter what Hanna was suddenly capable of, it didn’t matter how she fed. Hanna was still a child, a normal child.
“Do you believe that? What you said?” Grayson whispered, standing so close to her, she could feel his heat. She sank back against him, letting the wind bring forward his scent.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Grayson had been wrong, although she’d certainly never admit that to him. Having a normal life wasn’t about being human. It wasn’t about having a traditional family. “The richness of our lives, Gray,” she said, turning and wrapping her arms around his waist, “is not based upon what we eat, or how long we live.”
“Really?” He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. “What is it based upon then?”
She grinned against his mouth. “How well we love those around us and how well we are loved.”
His lips found hers once more. “Then we, my dear Mrs. Bellamont, have a very rich life indeed.”
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