Sunder Read Online Free PDF Page A

Briton smiled at her as she held her arms open for a hug.
     
    He hugged her, desperate to absorb the sweet smell of homemade bread and jam that she had no doubt just finished making.
     
    “Your father, Nicolai, was my grandmother’s favorite of all of the boys. She always told us about your family, when I was a girl. You were named for him, if I’m not mistaken. You are also Nicolai. I saw your name on the deed to the house when I had to renew the insurance.” She let him go and put her hands on her hips and looked him over.
     
    Briton nodded. “I am told I resemble my great-grandfather a fair amount. But people generally call me Briton though, not Nicolai. Briton is my second name. Nicolai is very old country.”
     
    She nodded, giving Miles a look. “Yes, yes of course. You youngsters need to have your independence.” Miles rolled his eyes.
     
    Briton spoke with a laugh, “Indeed. Ms. Whitburn, may I introduce my friend, Miles Xavier.”
     
    She nodded slightly. “Lovely to meet you, Mr. Xavier.”
     
    Miles’ old face turned into the sweetest of smiles and he bowed slightly, taking her hand in his and kissing it once. “The pleasure is all mine, my dear Ms. Whitburn. You will forgive my being so forward, but it has been a long trip on my old body, and I would just about die for a hot bath.”
     
    She blushed and made a sound similar to a giggle, “Call me Betsy. I will draw you a bath right away.” She turned and walked down the hall with Miles.
     
    Briton let them leave him there at the front door. He was stopped in the entrance, seeing it all around him. He could see his family moving about in the house, like ghosts. He wished they were there to haunt the old place, but his kind didn’t haunt. You needed a soul for that.
     
    His family’s things were still there, in their very spots. The old table in the hall his mother put the post on, and the old chair he had sat in millions of times tying on his skates or readying to go hunting with the family. He looked back at the street; no other houses sat on the street and the lamps seemed spaced more than they would have been on any other street. His father’s doing. The land was all owned by his family—by him now . The last of his family.
     
    He closed the door and looked up at the mark above the door. It made a chill crawl up his spine. He knew the charm still protected the old house, and he knew if he were smart, he would find the sister who would inherit from Betsy’s sister and make sure everything was up to snuff.
     
    He walked into the kitchen to see the fresh bread and jam and homemade pickles, just as he had remembered. Betsy’s mother had been the very same with the comfort food. Briton smiled, thinking about how happy Miles would be here. He hoped deep down that it would be for a very long time, hoped being the operative word. Of course that all depended on the Michaels clan.
     
    Betsy walked into the kitchen and smiled warmly. “It’s amazing how much you look like him. Please forgive me if I stare, it’s uncanny though. I only saw his photos, but I remember his face so clearly. If I’m not mistaken, he left town after the great fire. His family died in the fire.”
     
    Briton nodded, forcing himself to not rage at the memory of the dreaded night. “I’ve heard the story from my mother. Sad tale.”
     
    “Was a sad night for certain. The whole town still mourns it. So many died. We lost family too, my great-grandmother and my great-great-aunt.” She frowned and walked to the fridge. “Can I get you a snack or some leftovers? I had lamb for dinner.”
     
    He shook his head. The flames of the fire were still licking at the windows of the carriage as he watched them burn to death. Her great-great-aunt and great-grandmother had died trying to save his family. The hunters had taken so much that night.
     
    “Briton, son. You okay?”
     
    He snapped out of it. “Sorry, what?”
     
    “Tea? I was offering you some