Secrets by Brenda Joyce Read Free Book Online Page B

land, and plenty of it was fertile. The few orchards they had yielded the sweetest fruit in the county, the best wine. They had forests aplenty, too, and with careful management Slade knew that a portion of them could be harvested, cultivated, and regrown, not raped and destroyed. It was time to make changes, to take Miramar into the twentieth century, and it was the ultimate irony because Slade knew he could do it, but he wasn’t going to.
    Instead of turning Miramar around, tomorrow he was going to ride out of town right back to the big city where he now belonged.
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    When Slade returned to the hotel it was after dark. He was sober. He’d gone to the cafe, which had been closing up. Mrs. Burke had seen who it was at her door and had immediately invited him in and fixed him up. She had served him a thick rare steak, which he’d washed down with lots of strong coffee. He’d even managed to eat half of a piece of her apple pie. She seemed to take pleasure in hovering over him, although he couldn’t understand why, because as a boy he’d pulled a few good pranks on her, too. She was his own age. He finally decided she was so friendly because she felt sorry for his loss.
    â€œCome back now, Slade,” she whispered at the door when he left.
    He nodded, thanking her, feeling her staring after him. He finally understood her invitation, but not why it had been issued. She was pretty enough, but he could not imagine ever taking her up on it.
    He took his key from the hotel clerk and went slowly up the stairs. He grew intensely aware of the factthat Elizabeth’s room was at the top of the stairs. The exhaustion which had settled over him quickly lifted. He was more resolved than ever to leave the county tomorrow.
    But he paused in the corridor and glanced at her door. His body tightened. He was instantly assailed by an image of her heart-stopping face, her wide golden eyes. The question he had avoided all evening rushed in upon him. His traitorous mind dared to wonder if she were someone other than Elizabeth Sinclair.
    He didn’t want to think the thought. Not now, not again. He was too tired to hope, but deep in his heart, there was hope. How foolish could he be? He made a fist, the key digging into his hand. Tomorrow he was going back north. She would solve her own problems. He tried not to remember her weeping in his arms, clinging to him, regarding him hopefully as if he were a hero. He was the farthest thing possible from a hero.
    A door further down the hallway opened. Rick stepped into the hall, a tall, powerful figure clad in thin red wool pajamas. “Thought you were out here.” He eyed his son.
    Slowly Slade looked at his father. “I’m going to bed.” But he waited, waited for Rick to reveal what he knew about her identity.
    â€œYou been over at Dom’s?”
    Slade nodded.
    â€œTake a bath. You smell of smoke and liquor and cheap perfume.”
    Rick was imagining things, because he certainly did not smell of a whore’s perfume, but Slade did not refute him. If he wanted to think the worst, he would. “So what?”
    â€œI don’t want Elizabeth seeing you like this.”
    â€œAt this hour she’s sleeping.” So she was Elizabeth. So she was James’s fiancée .
    â€œI want to talk to you.”
    â€œI don’t want to talk. I want to go to bed.”
    â€œLooks like you’ve already been to bed.”
    â€œWhat the hell do you care?” Slade bristled. Rick always thought the worst of him. “What I do is my business, not yours.”
    â€œWrong. You have the morals of an alley cat and you always have. I don’t want Elizabeth finding out.”
    Slade stiffened. Sometimes he felt like telling his father the truth. But Rick wouldn’t believe him. It would be pointless. “It doesn’t matter if she finds out,” he gritted. “Because I’m not marrying her.”
    â€œThen you’re