Page 47 of Safe in Shadow
“I’m afraid Silas Cameron didn’t live in our town for long—or, that is, he was not long a member of the local parish. Did you know that parish was more of a general term for a locality, not so much—”
“What happened to Silas?” Grace hissed, cutting him off.
Of course, she already knew.
“He passed in 1850. March. His brother married Cynthia in June of that year.”
“You didn’t have to mourn for years and stuff?”
“I imagine it was a simple, quiet ceremony. I wasn’t even born yet.” Mortimer gave her a melancholy smile. “I, too, have been dead longer than I was alive. Ooh! I could pay a visit to your Mr. Silas Cameron if my wife drives me over. In my bottle.”
“Jesus, there is so much to learn,” Grace muttered. “Scoot over.”
“NYX. I DON’T CARE IFyou’re upset, you gotta come out. I found out stuff! I don’t think you could have hurt Cynthia! Not on purpose!”
Nyx drifted in like nightfall, slowly slipping his arms around her as he turned from smoke to solid. “You came back.”
Grace dipped her head to rest it under his chin. “Of course, I did. I live here. You’re here. And hey, not that I think you have anything to worry about, but,” Grace turned towards him and looked deep into his eyes, her fingers slowly tracing up his arm until her hand cupped his face, “whatever you did was well over a hundred years ago. You were born over two hundred years ago.”
Nyx dipped his head to kiss her. “Whatever I did, I am still a danger. If there is some way to make me leave without ruining all you’ve worked for, perhaps the strange people in this town can help you find it? But not before I say goodbye properly.”
His tongue stroked hers, and he felt himself unraveling at the edges, while his center became more solid. His unspooling shadows made silk nets around her muscular arms, wrapped around her hips. With Grace in his arms, he remembered what it was like to be a man—but forgot all the trials and hardships his life had given him. As his arms were ensnaring her further, he suddenly broke off the kiss, letting her breathe. “Just a moment. Grace, how do you know how old I am?”
“Because I know who you are. How old you were when you arrived in Pine Ridge. You’re Silas Cameron.”
Chapter Sixteen
Silas Cameron.
A shattered mirror, not simply shattered, but truly powdered to a fine silvery grit, flew back together at the sound of his name, and he was lost, unable to escape the flood of memories that poured over him.
His father, a merchant, came to New York from Edinburgh. He married an American woman, the daughter of another prosperous merchant. They had two sons, then left the world too soon, with both boys just coming into adulthood.
He was the eldest—James’ second father, even though they were only three years apart. Silas was the one who saw James getting swept into bad investments and bad company, too eager to make his mark to exercise due caution in the bustling city.
Silas was the one who said they should buy a good piece of land and build a fine house for their future families. They would become gentleman farmers and allow their uncle, their mother’s younger brother, to take over their father’s trade.
He made the investments. Found the builders. Helped James through a year of seminary at Princeton while the house was being finished.
It was at a party in Binghamton that he met Cynthia.
NYX WAS DIMLY AWAREof Grace speaking in a strangled voice, but he could no longer see her. He could only see the past.
At the moment, the past had dark curls, laughing eyes, and such a sweet, honeyed voice. She lived alone with her mother and was sweet and respectable.
