Free The Haunting of Grey Cliffs by Nina Coombs Pykare Page A

guarded. "You're Ned's Uncle Robert."
    Robert nodded, but he looked almost disappointed. "What else do you know about me?"
    Paul opened his mouth, then closed it again. "Not allowed to say," Peter observed.
    I almost gasped. These children had been forbidden to name their own father. "Why?" I asked.
    "Made Gramps mad," Peter said, sending his father a sly look.
    Robert nodded. "I see."
    I swallowed a curse. Was the man so hard-hearted he couldn't acknowledge his own children?
    "Gramps isn't here," I pointed out. "So it's all right to say."
    Peter and Paul exchanged another string of unintelligible syllables. "You're right," Paul said to me. He turned to Peter.
    "We know," Peter said. "You're our father."
    Somewhat to my surprise, Robert smiled. "Right," he said. "And now that you're living in the castle, you'll need to learn to read and write. Will you do that for me? Will you learn?"
    I gaped like any country bumpkin. The unmitigated gall of the man—to ignore his sons for six years and then expect them to obey him!
    But Peter and Paul didn't hesitate, they didn't consult in their private language, they didn't even look at each other. "Yes," they said together. "We will."
    And while Ned and I watched in surprise, Robert took his sons by the hands and went to look at their tin soldiers, lying still upon the hearth.
    * * * *
    The rest of the day went quite well. After Robert left the nursery, with promises to his sons to spend more time with them, we went on to lessons in addition.
    By the time we finished it was almost the hour for lunch. I decided to leave the boys to their meal with Betty and started for the door.
    "Hester?" It was Ned, his voice hesitant.
    I turned. "Yes?"
    "When are you coming back?"
    I hid my smile. "I think for a while we'll have lessons in the morning. In the afternoons you boys may play."
    Ned's face lit up. "Or ride?"
    I swallowed my sudden fear. "Yes. Your father told me that you have a pony."
    Ned nodded.
    "What about Peter and Paul?"
    Ned frowned, but it looked somewhat put on to me. "I don't know. They weren't here when Father bought my pony."
    I turned to the twins. "Do you ride?"
    '"Course." "We do."
    'Then I shall send word to the stables. The three of you may ride together."
    Ned looked somewhat put out. "Unless," I added, "you would prefer to stay in and have more lessons."
    The twins sent Ned a disgusted look. "No, no," he hurried to say. "That last governess used to tell me that fresh air was good for me."
    I swallowed my smile. "Very well. You may ride this afternoon."
    * * * *
    After I freshened up, I went down the dark stairs to the dining room. The hall was still chill and dank, but I was warmed by thoughts of seeing Edward. My truant thoughts actually strayed to the coming evening—and bedtime.
    I flushed and hurried on. Perhaps eventually I would get used to being Edward's wife, to feeling his kisses and—
    I forced myself to push such disturbing thoughts from my mind. Darkness would come—and with it the closeness I longed for. In the meantime, I entered the empty dining room and filled my plate.
    My appetite had always been healthy and my morning's work had made me hungry. I was about half finished when Edward came in. I smiled at him—my husband—such a fine-looking man. "I was hoping to see you," I said.
    He didn't return my smile. In fact, he frowned. He didn't fill a plate either, but advanced to the table and stood glaring down at me. "I have been wanting to speak to you," he said darkly.
    My heart rose up in my throat. What had caused this sudden change in his behavior? Only this morning he had folded me in passionate embraces. And now he was glaring at me as though I had become the worst kind of criminal. I couldn't help wondering how I had offended him, but a moment's recollection gave me no clue.
    So I asked. "Edward, what is wrong? Why do you glare at me so?"
    He scowled, his dark brows meeting in a fierce line. "Didn't I tell you?"
    I got to my feet—it seemed