Secrets Read Online Free PDF Page A

rickety armoire, and two upholstered chairs, but they did not match each other or the room. The bed was nothing more than a cot with a thin comforter and there was a hand-loomed rug underfoot which had seen too many trespassers. Regina reflected upon her setting. Although she didn’t have her memory, she knew that this hotel room was not up to standard. Or—it was not up to her standard. So Elizabeth Sinclair was no stranger to travel, but she was used to somewhat better accommodations.
    And then she saw the mirror.
    For one second she stared. Then she rushed to it. Pain darted through her sore ankle but she ignored it. She came to a halt in front of the mirror and she blinked, staring at herself. Her hopes crashed. For she was looking not at a dear and familiar face, but at a pale and frightened stranger.
    She choked on a sob, clutching the edge of the bureau to hold herself upright. Disappointment immobilized her. Shock made her dizzy. She had to fight to calm herself, taking deep, steadying breaths, until the floor ceased its eddying.
    Finally the sensation of being on a moving ship passed. The dizziness disappeared. Still gripping the bureau tightly, she inspected herself as one woman might inspect another who was both a newcomer and a rival. There was a fine coating of dust on her face anddirt stains on her bodice, but Regina barely saw them. Her hair was piled haphazardly on her head, and as Slade had said, it was a rich blonde tinged with red lights, a mass of shimmering honeys and golds. It was a very unusual color. She could understand how Slade would admire it, but the pleasure she had felt before over his apparent interest was gone.
    She studied her face intensely. It was oval, high-cheekboned, delicate. Her mouth was full and rosy-red, her complexion pale but touched with gold beneath the dust. Her eyes were light-brown, amber. Her lashes were long and dark, as were her brows. It gave her a dramatic appearance.
    Staring at the stranger in the mirror, she could only hope that she was dreaming. She touched her cheek to make sure that she was indeed staring at herself, to make sure that this awful and bizarre episode was real, and not a nightmare. It was real. Her fingertips were smooth on her skin, the floor beneath her feet was hard and solid, the room around three-dimensional, not one.
    A rude, unwelcome thought intruded. She had jumped off the train . Regina’s pulse accelerated. She still could not remember, and trying only caused an instant headache. Looking at herself now, she could understand why she had leaped off a speeding train. She was very beautiful, the kind of woman who could have been singled out by outlaws for more than robbery.
    What had happened? A terrible pain pierced the back of her head and a gunshot sounded. She clapped her hands over her ears. For a moment she stood frozen, frightened. Abruptly she turned and ran to the window, looking down at Main Street. It was deserted except for one overburdened dray pulled by two dusty mules. She lifted the window, which opened reluctantly. A warm breeze touched her damp face. She listened intently for another gunshot as a small boy slowly bicycled into view, a balloon tied to the back of his seat, but only heard a dog yapping, wind chimes, and some male laughter from the saloon below.
    She knew that she hadn’t heard a gunshot. It had been in her mind. Yet it had been so real. Had it been a memory?
    Numb, Regina sank into the blue-and-white chair. For many minutes she did not think and she did not move. She did not dare. And when she did think, she found herself yearning for Slade.
    Against her will, her gaze settled on the trunks. She made no move to go over to them. Yet she knew she must. She had just had a memory, she was certain of it. Had it been caused by the sight of her own reflection? If so, would her own possessions trigger an even greater recollection? Fear was almost immobilizing her. Sweat trickled down her cheekbones.
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