A Night of Secrets Read Online Free PDF Page A

sought. A shiver of unease caressed his skin. Grayson snapped to attention. He sensed the man’s arrival minutes before he appeared.
    “Hello there,” someone called out.
    Blood pulsed through his veins, his nostrils flared, his body preparing to attack. An elderly man stood across the creek as if he’d magically sprouted like the red-capped mushrooms at his feet. With quick and ruthless assessment, Grayson took in the man’s white beard, weathered face and long, black robe. A man of God? Grayson’s lips lifted as he resisted the urge to hiss.
    “You’re new here,” the man stated the obvious.
    Merde, he’d been so caught in the fantasy of a woman with brilliant blue eyes, he hadn’t even heard the old man approach. He’d gone weak…pathetic since returning home from the Continent.
    Grayson glanced at the stocking in his hand, and not knowing what to do with it, stuffed the fine material in his jacket pocket. “Yes. I’ve only arrived last eve.”
    The old man squinted as if Grayson were an oddity he’d only just discovered. Not bothering to fill the awkward silence, he stuffed his hand into a pocket, pulling forth a fist full of brown biscuits.
    Grayson stepped back. “Well, I should—”
    “You must be the man who purchased Pease Manor?”
    The scent of ginger snaps hovered in the air. “Yes. I am.”
    The old man merely continued to stare at him. Exasperated, Grayson glanced up at the sky. Still dark and gloomy, just as he liked it, yet the day was ruined now. How desperately he wanted to return to the seclusion of his home. Yet, he needed answers, perhaps this man could provide him with a few.
    “Ah, wonderful, wonderful.” The old man stuffed a biscuit into his mouth. What crumbs didn’t stick to his beard, sprinkled harmlessly to the grass below.
    Grayson rubbed the back of his neck. He never had been good at conversation. It was half the reason why he’d joined the military…to escape annoying society where one was forced to socialize. It was also the perfect place to hide. In war, a person could get lost, forgotten. “Name is Grayson Bell—”
    “Have three daughters, I do,” the man interrupted, as if the comment were worthy enough. “And a grandchild.” He brushed the crumbs from his beard. “No doubt you’ll be seeing them about. Like to help the neighbors, kind souls, my girls.”
    Grayson’s insides froze. Daughters. Was this Meg creature one of his daughters? The thought hit him like a punch to the gut. Hell, he certainly couldn’t seduce a Vicar’s daughter. Even he had limits. No, seducing a whore was easy enough. No one batted an eye. But a Vicar’s daughter would surely be noticed. He narrowed his gaze, studying the old man. Were they related? He supposed her blue eyes did match his. Merde , they were related.
    “Your name?” he demanded, a little too harshly, although the old man didn’t seem to notice. The urge to force the man to speak overwhelmed him. He shifted, his hands clenching at his sides as he dampened down the animal inside.
    “I’m the Vicar,” the old man said, as if that explained everything and perhaps it did. “Well,” he paused, rubbing his bearded chin in confusion. “The former Vicar, I suppose.”
    Grayson resisted the urge to sigh in frustration. He almost felt sorry for the man. He wasn’t sure if he was a Vicar or not? Was he losing his mind? He’d obviously get nothing from this mad grandfather. He glanced once again through the trees.
    “Name’s James.”
    Grayson snapped his head toward the man.
    James.
    He couldn’t be…no…it wasn’t possible…
    James.
    The family he’d been searching for. The family he would see destroyed if need be. He surged forward, water splashing angrily around his boots. How many times had he imagined this moment? The need for revenge flared through his veins, a heated passion that urged him forward. He could kill them all…so easily.
    “My Heavens.” Vicar James was focused on the reeds. “My