“Why didn’t you tell me about Grayson, Meg?”
Her sister frowned and glanced toward the windows. “It wasn’t that I didn’t trust you, but I knew you would leave for London soon. I knew how desperately you wanted to escape this life.” She glanced at Mary Ellen, tears shimmering in her eyes. “To be honest I assumed I’d rarely see you once you had a taste of the ton.”
“You thought I’d turn into a snob, that I’d stop visiting you?” Her sister didn’t respond, but she didn’t need to. “I was a snob.”
Meg stepped in front of her sister and cupped her shoulders. “You don’t have to do this.”
The words were like ice water to her senses. The thought of not marrying Aidan was unbearable. A life away from her family, a world without the man she loved…unthinkable. How could she not realize that this was where she belonged? Here, with Aidan. “I want to.”
Meg smiled and nodded. “I knew he loved you the moment he first saw you. Remember?”
Mary Ellen flushed, embarrassed that she hadn’t known the true man when he’d first arrived. Embarrassed that she’d been so bloody stubborn and set in her ways. “He’d stepped from the carriage and I thought he looked rather destitute, sad, lonely. Then his gaze met mine and I felt some inexplicable emotion all the way to my soul. I knew then there was more to him, hidden deep within, I merely refused to acknowledge it.”
Meg grinned. “He’s not a duke, or a lord of any kind. Although, he is quite well off since investing in Grayson’s shipping company.”
“It’s not about titles or money. It never was, you know.” She smoothed down her dress, frowning when she saw a wrinkle. “All this time I thought I wanted someone financially secure. But it wasn’t about money. No, it was about being secure in a different way.”
“How so?” Meg settled on the edge of a wingback chair that flanked the fireplace. They were in Aidan’s room at his cottage. He’d thought she’d want to be married at Grayson’s large estate, but no. She’d wanted to start their life together here…where they belonged.
“Papa, as lovely as he is, wasn’t there for us, Meg.”
Meg frowned and looked at the newly polished floorboards. They’d never spoken the truth, but it was time. “I know.”
“He let his sorrow get the better of him. We couldn’t count on Papa.” She settled in the chair next to Meg’s, staring into the leaping flames in the fireplace. “I don’t blame him, but I never wanted to marry a man…” She didn’t finish, the words were too disloyal.
Meg smiled and patted her hand. “I understand.”
And she did. Of course she did. They were sisters, but they were also best of friends and they’d gone through more than most siblings.
Mary Ellen stood, fearful of more wrinkles. “It was never about the money.”
Meg stood as well and drew her close into a warm embrace. “I’m so happy that you’ll be close by. Only a stroll away.”
“I as well.”
They savored their last moment together, but all too soon Meg drew back. “Now, I must go check on baby Violet before the wedding. You’re all right, then?”
Mary Ellen grinned. “Yes, very well.”
Meg left, closing the door softly behind her. Finally alone, Mary Ellen let the moment sweep over her. Anticipation coursed through her very being, a giddy happiness that flared through her soul. She would marry Aidan. For the last three months he’d courted her. Brought her flowers, trinkets and chocolates until she’d had a large collection of gifts that any woman would envy. He’d insisted on a courtship, but she’d only wanted him. Now, finally, she would have him completely.
A warm whispered warning said she was no longer alone. She didn’t need to turn to know who stood behind her. With a smile, she leaned back into Aidan’s solid warmth. “You’re not supposed to see me until the wedding.”
“I had to.” He brushed her hair aside and pressed a kiss to her neck. Hot and cold chills danced over her skin. “Tell me.”
“Hmm?” She turned to face him and wrapped her arms around his neck. He looked rather dapper and handsome in his black suit, but how badly she wanted to take that clothing off him. If her fiancé was handsome in clothing, he was a God naked. Would the guests notice if they were a tad late to the ceremony?
“You said you didn’t truly need someone with money.” He cupped the sides of her face. “What do you need then?”
His eyes were serious, so serious. She reached out, smoothing her hands over his cheek, soothing his obvious worry. “Someone who won’t abandon me when life is difficult. Someone who will fight for me. Someone who will love me unconditionally. Someone who won’t give up on life.”
He smiled that sweet smile that always made her heart warm. “I think I can manage that.”
She reached up on tiptoe, intending to press her lips to his, but Aidan pulled back, resting his hands on her hips as if to keep her at arm’s length. “I can’t think when you’re touching me and I need to talk to you.”
Confused, she allowed him to move away, even though his absence produced a physical pain. Aidan wasn’t one to turn away her affection. “What is it?”
She tried not to worry when he paced to the windows, overlooking the dreary winter evening. The sky hung low with gray clouds, the landscape browns and yellows, but inside their cottage, it was merry and warm.
“There’s something I need to tell you.” He paused at the windows by the bed. The very bed where they’d made love for the first time. The very bed where they’d admitted they cared.
“You’re making me nervous, Aidan. What is it?”
He turned to face her, his features uncommonly pale although he’d fed on her only yesterday. “When you feed from someone… when you fed from me… ”
She stepped hesitantly toward him. “Yes?”
“Damn it, Mary Ellen.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Feeding from me might have made you think you felt things you didn’t really feel.”
She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
He closed his eyes and curled his fingers into fists. The emotion that crossed his face was almost painful to watch. “You don’t really love me. I wasn’t going to tell you. I wanted you so badly…”
The words were shocking, certainly, but also confusing. “Is that it? Is that what has you worried?” She didn’t wait for his response, but laughed. “Oh Aidan.”
He frowned, obviously not finding her response amusing. Eager to smooth the pain from his features, she rushed toward him. “You silly man, I loved you even before I fed from you! I was just too daft to admit it.”
He was still frowning, but she didn’t miss the hope that flared to life in those blue eyes. “Are you sure?”
She threw her arms around his neck, leaning into his hard body. “Positive.”
His lips found hers in a possessive kiss that left her weak. She was gone, utterly gone and would have been happy to stay in their bedchamber forever. How she wanted to start her life with Aidan here and now. She was tired of sneaking off, tired of hiding their affection.
All too soon a soft knock sounded on the door. “Mary Ellen! Grandpapa is here to perform the ceremony. Are you ready?” Hanna’s sweet voice called out.
Mary Ellen pulled back and grinned up at Aidan. “What say you? Are you prepared to be shackled to me forever? After all, your forever is a rather long time.”
He brushed a curl over her shoulder and pressed a kiss to her neck. “Forever and ever.”
The End
Interested in more? Read Meg and Grayson’s story in the excerpt below!
A Night of Secrets
Lori Brighton
Chapter 1
Cumberland, 1857
There was something deliciously wicked about being improper. But only, Meg decided, if no one was there to watch.
“Meg, do hurry.”
Her carefree mood was quickly destroyed by the impatience of the child in front of her. The surface of the water kissed Hanna’s knees
, but the soothing motion did little to calm the child. Hands on hips and lower lip pushed into a familiar pout, she was obviously frustrated with Meg’s lack of speed.
Resisting the urge to laugh at Hanna’s disgruntled frown, Meg settled onto the bank and set her knitting aside. With deft fingers, she slid off her slippers. The grass underneath was damp with last night’s rain and made quick work of soaking through her skirts and petticoats.
“Patience is a virtue, Poppet.”
Hanna sighed the way only a child who’d had to wait much too long could. “Not one of Grandpapa’s sermons now.”
Meg tucked her chin to her chest to hide her grin. The moment they’d stepped near the stream, Hanna had dropped her clothes like a heathen and now stood in her shift waiting for Meg to do the same. As if it were that easy for an adult to be so free. No, adults had propriety and rules to abide by. Still, as Julia had once said, one must test those rules upon occasion, if only to stir the tepidness that is life.
Meg kicked off her shoes and stockings. “For Julia,” she whispered.
She wiggled her toes, appreciating the cool, crisp grass that tickled her sensitive feet. With a contented sigh, she stretched her legs and dipped her toes into the stream. Just as quickly, she jerked her feet out again, goosebumps marring her flesh.
“’Tis bitterly cold. Perhaps another day?” she teased Hanna.
“’Twill warm soon enough, you’ll see.” Apparently, unable to wait a moment longer, Hanna cried out and splashed like a person having an apoplexy.
“I’m a bit old to be playing in the creek,” Meg yelled over the noise, knowing Hanna wouldn’t give a fig, yet feeling the need to argue her case all the same.
Hanna turned, her black hair plastered like tar to her head. With fingers still pudgy from youth she shoved the wet locks back. “Well, then I wish to always be young. Old people lead rather boring lives.”
Meg couldn’t argue with that. Since Papa’s forced retirement and Julia’s death, she was too tired to do much more than the necessities dictated by life before collapsing onto her bed at night. Even with two sisters and a niece to share the responsibilities, there was still too much to do and too few hands and even fewer coins.
“Do hurry,” Hanna pleaded, waving her over.
Meg sighed and stood. “Really, you should be playing with Sally.”
Hanna frowned. “Ever since she turned thirteen, she thinks she’s too old for play.”
“Since when is thirteen too old to enjoy life?” She needed to have a talk with her youngest sister. There was no reason to grow up so soon. No, Meg knew first-hand how precious childhood was and how quickly it could be taken away. She loved her family, truly she did, but at times they were bloody exhausting.
“Meg!” Hanna said once more, sticking out that full, bottom lip.
The child was too sweet for her own good. Meg never could resist Hanna when she turned those pleading green eyes on her. With a quick glance around, Meg made sure the golden fields lay empty. The trees lining the creek would provide shelter from prying eyes, should anyone venture along. Since Papa had retired from preaching, they rarely had visitors. And the spot was shaded enough not to affect Hanna’s sensitive skin. Even so, she shouldn’t...
“Meg?”
Although it was dreary and overcast, it most likely was the last warm day of autumn. With a grin, Meg pulled her arms from the sleeves of her gown and let the dress pool at her feet as she’d done so many times as a child. Wearing only her shift and bloomers, she slid down the embankment. Black mud squished between her pale toes.
“Ewww, Hanna.” The murky goo made disgusting slurping noises not fit for a gently bred woman to hear.
Hanna giggled, her face flushed with heat and amusement. Meg frowned and tucked the skirt of her shift into the waistband of her bloomers.
“Come out further.” Hanna waved her nearer. “The bottom has smooth pebbles and the water is clear.”
“Best be,” Meg muttered.
Hanna giggled again, pressing her hands to her mouth, her eyes alight. Meg fought her grin. It was worth it, the freedom, the joy on Hanna’s face, all worth Meg indecently undressing to her shift.
Meg waded into the middle of the creek where the water rose to her knees. Small, gray fish fought the current, darting around her legs in their haste to do whatever it was fish did. She looked up and noticed the mischievous glint in Hanna’s eyes right before she cupped a handful of water and threw it toward Meg. The frigid droplets hit her face and chest, soaking her shift until the pinkness of skin shone through. If she hadn’t been indecent enough before, surely she was now.
Meg swiped her face dry, flinging the water droplets from her fingertips. The little beast. She gave the child her best glare, but she’d never been good at punishing the younger girls, and they often used the weakness against her.
Hanna pressed her lips together, her dancing eyes showing absolutely no remorse. “Sorry.”
“Hmm, I’m sure you are, little hellion.” She lifted the edge of her shift and dabbed her face dry. “Vicar Young advised his congregation to use wooden spoons on naughty children. Perhaps I should have listened.” Meg waded to a fallen log and settled atop, dangling her feet in the water.
But Hanna merely grinned. “I heard the new owner has moved into Pease Manor.” She lay on her back, floating and splashing her scrawny legs. The child was obviously trying to change the subject, and Meg was curious enough to take the bait.
“Really? So soon?” She peered through the trees. In the distance, the large manor sprawled across the rolling hills. Dark in stone, unlike the rest of the surrounding county, it stood out like a foreign demon come to infect the countryside.
Hanna waved aside a green dragonfly as it danced around her head. “I heard there are ghosts that roam the halls.”
“Hmm.” Meg tugged the ribbon from her hair and tied her damp locks further atop her head. She should just cut her hair. Not having to upsweep the locks every morning would give her precious moments to do other things.
Hanna stopped splashing and stood, her solemn gaze on Meg. “Tis true, it is. My friend Annabel sneaked up to the windows and saw something white inside.”
She looked so serious, Meg had to resist the urge to laugh. “Well, hopefully the new owner won’t mind sharing his place with the dead. Did anyone happen to learn his name?”
Hanna shrugged.
Meg frowned, wondering when she’d become so far removed from society she had to procure town gossip from a nine year old. She pushed aside thoughts of the new owner and focused on her current task, finishing her book. A sale would mean coins to buy new dresses for her sisters, books for Papa, someone to repair the roof.
To gain Hanna’s flagging attention, she clapped her hands, the sharp sound echoing through the trees and sending a flock of squawking sparrows to flight. “Now then, enough playing. Do you see the flower?”
No response.
Hanna lazily stroked through the water.
“Darling, have you seen the bloom we need for our book?”
“Hmm?”
Meg sighed, but she wasn’t truly annoyed. She could never be annoyed with the child. Hanna had changed so much since that night in London, in more ways than just her name. The terror was still there, at night when the memories and worries seeped into her unconscious. But Meg had no doubt with love and patience, Hanna would eventually forget. “You promised you’d help find the elusive bloom.”
Hanna hopped to her feet and brushed away the wet locks clinging to her face. “Of course. Your Mim...Mimu...”
“Mimulus guttatus. Monkey Flower.” Meg slipped off the log and into the water with a small splash. It wasn’t often that Hanna could play outside. Her pale skin did not accept the sun well. A condition, according to Hanna, her mother had held. If the day was bright, the poor child’s skin would redden and burn, itching something fierce. Meg hated keeping her inside so much of the year, but what else could she do?
“Right,
Monkey Flower.” Hanna frowned and gazed downstream. “Perhaps I spotted it where the creek splits.”
Meg rested her hands on her hips. “Poppet, you are certain you saw the flower?”
Hanna shrugged and rubbed the bridge of her nose, a sure sign she was fibbing. “Rather sure, I’d say. It was yellow and resembled a monkey? Perhaps I should look further downstream and you can search here.”
“Or perhaps you should go home and glance at the book to make sure you identified it correctly.”
Hanna sighed and started up the bank.
“And tell Sally she must come back and play with you. This afternoon is the only chance I have to work on my book.” And one of the few chances Hanna would have to play if the sun decided to return tomorrow.
But Hanna had already disappeared into the trees and Meg was alone. Finally alone. She breathed in the fresh scent of the water and wildflowers, letting the gurgle of the stream and soft chirp of birds lull her into a peaceful state. Humming, she lifted her skirts higher and made her way into the current. Smooth pebbles massaged the balls of her feet, while weak light filtered through the trees.
Her gaze slid to the daisies that lined the bank, hiding her in a heavenly cocoon where the burdens of life didn’t dare penetrate. She couldn’t blame Hanna for wanting to play. In fact, she felt the distinct swell of happiness just bursting within, begging to be released. Dare she enjoy herself? Dare she cease worrying about whether there’d be food on the table this eve? Or how they would afford the next week’s meals?
She skimmed her hands over the surface of the creek and scooped up the water. Closing her eyes, she poured the liquid down her neck, letting the water slip between her breasts and wash away the heat and stickiness of the day. Certainly there could not be a more blessed moment. She grinned and wondered what it would be like to swim in the creek nude, completely devoid of clothing as she had as a child. She glanced at the bank. If Hanna weren’t returning, she might be so bold as to try.