Secrets Read Online Free PDF

a somnambulist, Regina stood and moved slowly across the room. She leaned over the open trunk. Someone had indeed been there before her, rummaging among her clothes. They were rumpled, not folded neatly. She lifted out a day dress. The fabric was of the finest linen, and the garment was custom-made. She lifted out another dress. It was an expensive silk. She did not recognize either dress, and by the time she had reached the bottom of the trunk, she was breathing hard, as if she had run a great endurance race. She had been told that these were her possessions, but she had never seen them before. They had not revitalized her memory. And she was not hearing any more frightening gunshots in her mind, gunshots that sounded incredibly real.
    She had only gone through one trunk, but she was exhausted. She did not have the strength to move it in order to open the one below, and she sank into a chair. She was perspiring. It was very hot out, but that wasn’t why her shirtwaist was clinging to her skin.
    Her memory was still blank, but she realized the effort hadn’t been entirely in vain. She had just learned an important fact about herself. All of the clothes in that trunk belonged to a wealthy young woman. A very wealthy young woman. Slade hadn’t told her that Elizabeth Sinclair was rich. It seemed like a glaring omission.
    Dozens of questions were suddenly bubbling up in her, questions that she had to have answered. Was she rich? Who was her family and where was she from? And what about James? Had she been grieving before the train robbery? When she regained her memory, would she be devastated by his death? If only she could, at least, recall him!
    Guilt pricked her and she covered her face with her hands. She was aware of waiting for Slade to return, of being eager for his return. Yet his brother, her fiancé, was dead. Even though she could not summon up the slightest feeling for him, she should be dwelling upon that, not upon the brother who had rescued her. She told herself that in the state she was in, it was only natural to need the one and only person she knew, to be looking to Slade for the comfort and strength he so readily offered her.
    She bit her lip. She could not deny herself in these circumstances. Slade was the only person that tempered her fears. If she did not have him to rely on she would be so alone. No, she could not deny herself.
    He did not look like a hero. She smiled slightly, her first smile in many hours. Heroes wore tweed hacking coats and doeskin breeches and rode gleaming black stallions. Heroes wore jet-black tailcoats and brilliant white shirts and gold signet rings with family crests and precious stones. Heroes did not wear denim pants so worn they were close to ripping, with sweaty cotton work shirts and dirty, oversized belt buckles. He was just a flesh-and-blood man, albeit an attractive one, and apparently one who might be a bit down on his luck, too. But he had rescued her. Gratitude swelled her heart once again, as it had done many times before in the past few hours.
    Her warm thoughts were interrupted by a knock upon her door. For an instant Regina thought it was Slade. She eagerly rushed to the door, unbolted it, and swung it open. But Slade wasn’t on the other side. And the moment Regina saw the other man she knew whohe was. He was bigger and fairer than Slade, and his face was rougher and not as handsome, but their eyes were exactly the same. Burning midnight eyes. Intense, passionate eyes. Relentlessly alert, intelligent eyes. This man was Slade’s father, Rick Delanza.
    His eyes lit up at the sight of her. He held out his arms. He said, “Elizabeth! Thank God you’re all right!”
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    Slade leaned back in the hardwood chair, his head against the rough wall. He had a cigar in one hand, the tip lit and glowing, and a glass of whiskey in the other. Yet there was nothing relaxed or indulgent about his posture. His legs were bent at the knee and his feet