The Light in the Darkness Read Online Free PDF

Grey more like a son than he treated Carey. No, he thought bitterly, Kayne treated Grey as an
equal.
    He struggled to keep the bitterness out of his voice as he spoke. “Jenny,” he began carefully, “I don’t know what accounted for his uncharacteristic behavior last night, but Greyson is
not
a good man. I don’t wish to frighten you, but I can’t let you go into this marriage unaware of what he is.”
    Jenny’s unchanging features managed to take on a cast of stubbornness. Having decided that Greyson was a hero, she did not particularly want to hear him denigrated. “My aunt is waitin’ for me,” she reminded him. Jenny was incapable of engaging in an argument, and thus had become a master of avoiding conflict. “There be a passel o’ dirty linen that needs a good washing.”
    Seeing that she did not want to listen to him, Carey caught her arm to prevent her from leaving the table. “Jenny,” he said urgently, pulling her down so that she had no choice but to sit in the chair next to his. “Don’t marry him. Please, you must believe me. You know nothing of Virginia society, and I have known Greyson for a very long time. He is a very bitter man. He’s a rakehell. And—and—he’s a murderer.”
    Jenny stared at him in blank surprise. “How d’ye know?”
    “I don’t know it for certain,” Carey confessed. “It was never proven. But nearly everyone believes he was guilty. He murdered … well …” Carey paused, then burst out angrily, “I don’t understand why my father continues to permit the man into his house. He treats him like a son, whereas I—”
    Jenny gave him a sympathetic look. She was aware of the frequent conflicts Carey had with his father, for he spoke often about their disagreements. Into her mind, which was more astute than either Grey or Kayne realized,crept the suspicion that Carey was jealous of the friendship between Greyson and Kayne O’Neill. No doubt that served to explain why Carey had so often lately been at the tavern in the middle of the day, morosely sipping ale after ale, rather than at Windward Plantation. It also explained why Carey had stalked out of the tavern last night, scowling blackly, when Greyson walked in. “Never mind,” she said gently. “It may be true, but I can do naught to stop it now anyway. ’Twas arranged between my uncle and Mr. Greyson last night. I will be wed in three weeks.”
    “Jenny, you
can’t
.”
    Jenny lowered her eyes to the table and spoke so softly he could barely hear her. “I want to marry ’im, Carey.”
    She wanted Edward Greyson to take her away from the tavern and her empty, lonely life here, wanted it more desperately that she had ever dared to want anything. She remembered the way he had looked last night, staring down at her from the back of his massive black stallion, his cloak swirling about his shoulders in the cold January breeze, his features lean and predatory, like a hawk’s, and as impassive and unyielding as if they had been carved from granite. He had looked every inch the hero he had acted. And then he had done the heroic thing in asking to marry her.
    The only thing that had worried her was the look of disdain Carey had cast Greyson as he left the tavern. It had been more than evident that Carey disliked Edward Greyson, and she valued Carey’s opinion. But now she felt she understood the reasons behind Carey’s attitude, and her concern abated, leaving nothing but admiration for her hero in its place.
    Apparently Carey saw she could not be swayed from this path, for an expression Jenny could not interpret crossed his broad face—an expression of loss, she thought. Perhaps even of envy. “I understand,” he said. The anger that had filled his voice was gone, and he spoke in his customary gentle tone. “God knows Greyson is offering you more than I could—though perhaps not as much as youthink.” He paused, giving Jenny only a brief moment to contemplate that puzzling statement, then went on