“Grayson,” she cried out.
“Trust me, love,” he whispered as he leaned down, his warm breath across her neck. The sharp point of his teeth scraped her neck and pleasure mixed with pain.
“Grayson, please, now!”
Meg felt his warm lips and then the sharp sting of his teeth as they pierced his flesh. She practically felt her blood surged into him, felt her soul enter his body. Euphoria washed over her.
Meg’s body quivered before exploding and pulsing into a burst of brilliant, white light. And she was floating, spinning through a star-filled sky. She was barely aware when Grayson threw his head back, arching deep within her as he found his own release.
Chapter 21
Meg stood before the full-length mirror, her gaze riveted. The reflection staring back couldn’t possibly be her. She felt odd, as if she didn’t quite know herself.
Her dark hair was piled atop her head, soft curls framing her face and falling down around her right shoulder. The sinful red dress nipped in her waist and flared out toward the floor. It certainly brought out the flush in her cheeks, which wasn’t good at all. She should have been pale, as most titled women were, but how could she not flush with heat when she thought of Grayson? And she always thought of Grayson.
Yes, in her gaze was the unmistakable glow of a woman satisfied. She stepped closer and lowered the pearl choker. The tiny bruises were barely noticeable, but the memory they brought forth sent chills, hot and cold, racing through her body.
She took her lower lip between her teeth, the pink blush turning red. Just bloody wonderful. Merely thinking about Grayson, about the nights spent in his arms, brought a heady ache to her body. Three wonderful days they’d been together and although she now knew every inch of his form, she still knew so little about the man and his abilities. It seemed that every time she questioned him about his past, about his parents, he’d start kissing her and she’d forget her train of thought.
She hadn’t told him she loved him since their wedding night. Nor had she drank his blood. But she didn’t need to repeat her actions. Grayson knew she loved him, he had heard her. She would wait for however long it took for him to repeat the words. As for his blood, even now she swore she could feel it pulsing through her, making her stronger, happier. Or was that her feelings for the man?
“You look beautiful,” Hanna whispered from her spot on the bed. She was sitting on her knees, her eyes wide, as if not to miss a thing. She’d only seen Meg in rags, of course she’d think highly of her now. But what would the other women believe? Would they feign niceties then gossip about her behind her back?
“Someday, perhaps a man will hold a ball in my honor.”
Meg wanted to smile over the child’s naiveté. Grayson wasn’t holding the ball because he was proud of his fine catch, he was holding the ball to introduce her and to show the world he stood by her side.
“I can’t move,” Meg replied, wiggling her hips, but the movement only made the corset dig painfully into her lungs. “You can’t loosen the strings?”
“Sorry, my lady,” the maid said from behind her. “If you want the dress to fit, the stays must be tightened.”
The servant’s in the house were so silent that at times Meg would look up from a book, find one cleaning and wonder how long she had been there.
“Well then, should have ordered the dress in a larger size,” Meg grumbled. Really, who had decided a twenty inch waist was all the vogue? She’d never had to worry about her size before. Just another difference between being Meg James and Meg Bellamont. She’d be bloody grateful when the ball was over and they could began their life together.
“Well then.” She turned around to find the maid staring at the floor, tears trembling on her lashes. Meg resisted the urge to groan. It was difficult, the power she suddenly wielded, a woman who could cut down a new servant with a comment that was anything less than cheerful.
She rested her hand on the girl’s arm. “I’m sorry Anna, I didn’t mean to reprimand you.”
A smile quivered on her lips and she dropped into a curtsy. “Tis all right, my lady.”
“My lady,” Meg repeated, her gaze focusing on the far wall. “That sounds incredibly bizarre.”
“My lady?” The maid’s dark brows drew together, most likely worried she’d upset Meg once again.
Meg sighed. “Nothing, Anna. You may go.”
The maid curtsied again and then scurried from the room. Was she running to tell the rest of the staff what a dragon the new Mrs. Bellamont was? How would she ever get used to people waiting on her hand and foot? She felt oddly guilty about the entire situation.
“I wish I could go,” Hanna said and rested her chin in her hands.
“I know, Poppet.” Meg leaned down as much as her corset would allow and pressed a quick kiss to the child’s forehead.
Was it her imagination or did Hanna feel oddly cold? “Only a few more years and you’ll be old enough.” Frowning, she pressed her hand to the child’s forehead. Yes, definitely chilled. Tonight, after the ball, she would tell Grayson her suspicions about Hanna. The thought frightened and relieved her. She prayed Grayson would be able to help her with the child, answer questions she didn’t understand.
“Much more than a few years,” Hanna mumbled and sat up, dangling her feet off the bed. She swung her legs back and forth, releasing a sigh every few seconds.
“Catherine and Anna will be staying with you and have promised to read stories and play games. You will be all right, won’t you?”
“Yes. I suppose.”
Meg fought her grin. “And Grayson has promised to take you riding tomorrow.”
“Truly?” Hanna’s gaze jumped to her and she clasped her hands tightly together. Always fearless, she and Grayson got on well and Hanna was most likely already dreaming of racing across the fields.
“As long as its overcast.” Meg tried to sit, but the corset would allow no such movement. She gasped and leaned back against the bed post. “I’ll probably faint right in the middle of a waltz.”
Hanna giggled.
“They’ll have to drag me upstairs by my massive coiffure.”
Hanna laughed louder.
“It’s not funny,” Meg said, lifting her chin in an exaggerated height. “I can’t breathe. And won’t the town folk enjoy it if I faint and make a fool of myself.”
Hanna frowned. “Oh blast, they’ll be there?”
“Hanna! Watch your language, please.”
Hanna crossed her arms and tucked her chin to her chest, looking more than annoyed. “Sorry.”
Meg swept to the mirror to hide her grin and pretended to fix her hair. “A few town members have been invited. Grayson thought it best to invite the crème de la crème of our little society. He plans to show them they’re either with us, or against us.”
Although the words had sounded rather ominous to her, she couldn’t help but smile. He’d been so angry when he’d heard the way the town had been treating them. Her knight, come to her rescue. Her smile fell. A knight who had never told her he loved her. She certainly was no romantic fool. She didn’t need words of love. He’d done more for them than anyone and that was enough. Wasn’t it?
“Can I show you my secret room now?”
“Of course.” Meg followed the child down the hall. She could hear music below, the small orchestra preparing. Her nerves flared. Would they see through her confident ruse the moment she stepped foot in the ballroom?
“Here it is! Grayson showed it to me. He said it could be my secret.” She reached the bookshelf next to the fireplace and pulled. The case creaked open. There was a small room behind the bookcase, Hanna’s favorite doll and pillow had already claimed a spot in the corner.
“And you’re sharing your secret with me?”
“Of course I am.”
It certainly wasn’t the first secret they shared. Hanna pushed the door back into place. Meg studied the child’s innocent face, a face full of trust and excitement. Hanna h
ad known wealth at one time, and now she would again. The child deserved this comfort after what she had been through.
“When are we leaving?” Hanna asked, interrupting her thoughts.
“What’s that, poppet?”
“When are we leaving for the ocean, as Grayson mentioned?”
Meg smiled and took Hanna’s hands, squeezing. “We will, I promise, very soon.”
“And will Grayson go with us?”
“Oh yes, he’s quite insistent that just the three of us travel. He’s already made plans. Two weeks from today.”
It was odd, now that she thought on it. No servants. Just them. Not that she needed servants, but she assumed Grayson would want them on hand. He certainly was trusting her cooking skills. But the thought of merely the three of them enjoying the week, made her smile.
It was amazing how quickly Grayson and Hanna had bonded, and Meg couldn’t be happier. Hanna needed a strong male influence. And tonight… yes, tonight, she would tell him the truth about Hanna. But if he had known Hanna’s mother and she had relatives about, could Meg lose the child? No, she wouldn’t think such horrible thoughts. Surely if Hanna had family, they would have come looking for her by now.
“I must go.” Meg moved to the door. “And put on a sweater, please.”
Hanna jumped from the bed and skipped toward the windows, most likely eager to peek outside and watch the guests arriving in all their finery. Finally, Meg was alone and forced to dwell on tonight’s events. She couldn’t waste any more time. She was already late. Taking in a deep breath, she made her way down the hall, her heart thudding harder with each step.
To have a ball now seemed preposterous. She’d been accused of murder, for God’s sake, and the entire town was well aware. But Grayson had insisted, telling her she would stand before them guiltless. She must calm her racing heart. Her nerves were getting the better of her, and nerves could be misinterpreted as guilt, couldn’t they?
At the end of the hall she stilled and rested her head against the cool plaster wall. Below, music played, a soft piece she didn’t recognize, but that calmed her nerves all the same. The only positive to his horrifying event was that soon she would dance in Grayson’s arms. She closed her eyes and thought of the past nights.
Nights when she could forget her worries, her anxiety. When he held her close and they lay in silence. Nights when she felt safe. But all too soon the mornings came and with them reality. Who was Grayson Bellamont really? A man who was stoic, who liked order, who was always on time, always prepared. But what did he feel? More importantly, what did he feel toward her? But tonight, she wouldn’t worry about words unspoken. No, tonight she’d dance and laugh.
Soft voices swept up from the foyer. Visitors had arrived while she hid, when she should be downstairs to welcome their guests. She knelt and peeked through the railings like a child on Christmas Eve. Below Grayson stood, his black jacket stretching across his broad shoulders. Memories flashed to mind… running her hands down his bare back, cupping his bottom and pulling him closer. She swallowed hard and focused on the couple to whom he talked. Friends of his, for she didn’t recognize them.
They’d opened the study and the connecting doors that led into the music room. Two of the few rooms in the estate that were ready for visitors. She’d come to love the music room and would often curl upon the settee and read. Or, at times, she and Hanna would play with the keys on the piano. And when they did, Grayson inevitably ended up hovering in the doorway. He wouldn’t play, he never played. Merely watched, waiting for the strength or courage, which she wasn’t sure. There was this part of her that wanted to help him, fix whatever it was holding him back. But she knew only he could truly mend himself. She’d learned that well enough with Papa.
The ball had started without her and she was the main attraction. She took in a deep breath and stood. A James did not shirk duty. She’d make her parents proud. Slowly, she moved down the steps, praying she wouldn’t trip and tumble head over heel, landing with her skirt over her head.
As if sensing her presence, Grayson turned. His gaze slipped down her body, his attention covering every inch and leaving behind a trail of heat that started in her core and swept outward. He didn’t need to say a word, for his thoughts were mirrored in his eyes.
Her mouth went dry. She wanted to rush into his arms, to press her lips to his, to take comfort in his touch. At the same time, she wanted to run and hide, to get away from him and her unsettling emotions as fast as possible.
Then he came for her, holding out his hand as if daring her to take it, daring her to believe in him. And she believed. She slipped her fingers into his, marveling over the strength in the simple touch. Suddenly she didn’t care anymore. She didn’t care who was watching her, who was whispering hurtful rumors. It was merely she and Grayson.
“You are lovely,” he said softly and his words brought a warm tingle through her body.
He slipped her arm through his, his side pressed strong and hot against her. She could barely feel the ground beneath her slippers as he led her into the ballroom. She was barely aware of Nelson calling out names. Barely aware that elegantly coifed heads swiveled toward them.
Candle light surrounded the perimeter of the room and highlighted the colorful shades of dresses that shimmered under the soft glow. Beautiful gemstones settled against the black backdrop of their male escorts in their perfectly tailored suits. Roses of every shade were placed on tables around the area, their heady scent mixing with women’s perfume. The room had been transformed into a place of warmth and welcome.
“Who are these people?” she whispered, stepping closer to Grayson.
“Friends, neighbors.”
“No neighbors I know.” She spotted a few familiar faces amongst the crowd, just enough of the locals to get word out. Meg James was important now. She couldn’t possibly be a murderer. So why did she still feel guilty?
“And are any of them… like you?”
He smiled as he led her to the middle of the floor. “Blood suckers?”
She nodded.
He looked around, studying the faces that lined the perimeter of the floor, watching them carefully. “A few, perhaps. But they know better than to drink from anyone here. Don’t worry.”
“I wasn’t worried.”
He frowned, pulling her closer. “You should be. Not all of us believe humans should be equal, you know.”
She pressed her hand to her neck, thinking of the prison and those two men. To them, she was a game, a meal. “I know.”
The orchestra started a waltz.
“Shall we?” Grayson asked.
Knowing she had no choice, as everyone was watching them, she stepped closer. “How?” she whispered, taking in the multitude of flowers, blooms of every variety, every color. “How could you possibly transform this area in only a few days?” She was babbling like a brook, too nervous to stop talking. She’d known there would be guests, but she hadn’t realized how many. And she certainly hadn’t realized how intensely they’d be watching her, whispering behind their fans.
“Lots of money and servants.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her closer, impossibly close.
“Grayson, I….”
“Yes?” He paused in the middle of the dance floor, his arm wrapped around her waist as if they were the only two people in the room, as if they had all the time in the world.
“I can’t do this, not in front of everyone.” Lord, she’d only just learned to dance. She could feel them watching her, their eyes piercing her body, and her legs suddenly felt leaden. She felt alone, swimming in a sea of unfamiliar sharks, circling her, watching her, waiting for her to slip so they could rush in for an attack. Her fingers dug into Grayson’s hard bicep.
“Follow me, I’ll keep you safe.”
She looked up into his handsome face. So sure. So strong. And she did feel safe.
Before she could respond, Grayson spun her around the room. Meg clung to her husband, focusing only
on him. The lights and faces were a blur of color as they twirled from corner to corner. He was her anchor, her boat of safety, all she had.
She pressed closer to him, her toes barely touching the ground as they moved to the music. Slowly, other groups entered the fray, but she was barely aware. She was only aware of Grayson’s muscular legs brushing against hers, leading her. Aware of his hand burning through the material of her dress. And his eyes, soft and emotional as he stared down at her, only her. The music tapered off and Grayson slowed. They paused in the middle of the room as the other couples around them clapped. Between the corset pressing into her lungs, the activity, and being in Grayson’s arms, she was left gasping for breath.
“Come, sit.” He led her to a chair against the wall and nodded toward a passing footman for refreshments.
Without argument she settled on the edge of the seat, as he loomed beside her, Guardian Angel. A smile pulled at her lips. She’d done it, danced her first real dance and she hadn’t made a fool of either of them. Only three hours to go. How her sisters would love to hear the story of tonight’s activities. How they’d sigh and demand to know every detail as if her life was suddenly a fairytale, and perhaps it was.
“Bellamont!”
Meg stiffened, smoothing down her dress. She knew that from now until the end of the night, they would be bombarded with greetings. How would she ever remember all of their names? Curious as to the identity of their first visitor, Meg peeked around Grayson. A brown haired Adonis swept their way, his strides confident; his suit fit his sinewy body to perfection. He was a handsome man, to say the least, with chocolate brown hair that gleamed in the candlelight; hair much too long for any decent gentleman. And his grin, Lord, his grin promised all sorts of charm and mischief.
A Night Of Secrets, A Paranormal Romance Page 29