JAKrentz - Witchcraft (17 page)

"Don't forget the woman. The one who held Scott captive."

"True. But if she's a girlfriend of Garwood's, it should be easy to trace her." Starke fell into a musing silence. "What doesn't fit in all this is the weird part,"
Cavenaugh
put in bluntly. "The rose with the needle in it, the silver dagger, the robe Garwood was wearing. None of that fits a straight kidnap or murder attempt."

"I know," Starke muttered in dark frustration.
Cavenaugh
leaned forward in sudden intensity. "Starke, see if you can get Cranston to give you a photograph of that dagger."

"Sure, but why?"

"You and I imported a lot of odd things during our time, pal. We had to get them appraised occasionally.

I've got a lot of contacts who know a lot about weird items. I want to show some of them a photo of that dagger." Starke was on his feet, heading for the door. "I'll get on it right away, Dare." The man was obviously grateful to have something useful to do. At the door he paused for a moment to glance back at
Cavenaugh
. "Are you still going to take Kim into San Francisco tomorrow?" Kimberly wondered at the disapproval in his voice but
Cavenaugh
ignored it. "We'll be leaving in the afternoon. As soon as I finish that meeting with the marketing people. Any objections?"

"Would they do any good?" "No,"
Cavenaugh
said harshly. "I know what I'm doing." "I'll see you later," Starke said and walked out the door. Startled at the unexpected discord between the two men, Kimberly frowned at
Cavenaugh
. "What was all that about?" He switched his emerald-hard gaze to her. "Forget it, Kim. Like I told Starke, I know what I'm doing."

"I never said you didn't, but-" A sudden, bleak thought struck her and she went on in a tight whisper, "Doesn't Starke approve of ... of us? Is he trying to warn you not to get too involved with me?"
Cavenaugh's
mouth tilted wryly at the corner.

"In case you haven't noticed, I already am involved with you. And if it makes you feel any more comfortable about it, yes, Starke does approve of you. Most emphatically. So does everyone else around here."

"Oh."

A sense of relief went through her. "It's just that I know how demanding families can be in a situation such as this," she began gently. "If they don't approve-"

"No,"
Cavenaugh
cut in with cool deliberation. "You do not know how families are in a situation such as this. You only know how one family was and that was twenty-eight years ago. Before you were even born!" Kimberly got to her feet, astonished and annoyed at his biting attitude. She had gotten very accustomed lately to being cosseted by Darius
Cavenaugh
. "Occasionally I forget how overbearing you can be when you choose," she told him as she walked to the door. "I'll see you at dinner."

"Kim, wait!" He was on his feet behind his desk, green eyes urgent and compelling. "What is it,
Cavenaugh
?" she asked warily, her hand on the doorknob. "Kim, you do know that whatever I do, it's because I want everything right between us? I know there are times when I seem like a tyrant to you, but you do understand that I only want what's best for you? And for myself," he added dryly. "I can't pretend to be totally altruistic about all this."

She tilted her head to one side. "About all what?"

"Never mind. Just remember what I said. Oh, and Kim, why don't you have Mrs. Lawson set out a bottle of that new Riesling for dinner."

"Of course," she said politely and closed the door behind her. And while I'm at it, she decided grimly, I might as well tell her I'd like to see a bottle of hot sauce on the table. I may not be sure of my status around here, but I must have some rights! He came to her room again that night and while he didn't exactly flaunt the relationship to the rest of the household, it was obvious
Cavenaugh
had no intention of trying to pretend that he wasn't sleeping with her. No one seemed to mind the obvious intimacy.

In fact, everyone seemed quite pleased about it as far as Kimberly could tell. But it seemed to her that he made love to her with a kind of fierce energy that night, as if he was trying to imprint himself on her senses. He should realize by now, Kimberly thought fleetingly, that he had succeeded completely in wiping out her image of a fictional lover.

She would be satisfied now only with the very real love of Darius
Cavenaugh
.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

Some deep instinct warned Kimberly of impending disaster as
Cavenaugh
escorted her into the ornate lounge of the elegant Union Square hotel. If she were honest with herself she would have known that the promised trip to San Francisco was not really destined to be the romantic idyll she had anticipated. There had been a tension about
Cavenaugh
since the day before, when he had made a point of telling her that whatever he did would be for her own good. When people, especially men, started telling you that what they did was for your own good, a smart woman ran. As fast and as far as she could. But she hadn't been a smart woman lately, Kimberly reflected. She had been a woman in love.

Quite a difference.
Cavenaugh's
tension had communicated itself to Kimberly until she herself bristled with it. He had been almost silent during the drive into the city that afternoon. There had been an implacable, forbidding aura about him that had squelched her attempts at conversation. When they had checked into the hotel he had taken her upstairs to the room and brusquely suggested she change for the evening.

Out of a fleeting wish that the atmosphere between them might be explained and mitigated before the night was over, Kimberly had dressed with hope. The sophisticated little black knit dress wit h its piping of gold at the collar and cuffs had been discovered by Julia yesterday during a shopping trip. Together with black, high-heeled evening sandals and hair brushed into a chic twist at the back of her head, Kimberly felt as ready as she ever would to face what promised to be an uncertain evening. It had seemed to her that
Cavenaugh
had dressed as though he were going to war. He looked formidable and aloof, essentially masculine in the dark evening jacket and dazzling white shirt. She felt the distance between them grow more frighteningly intense with every passing second. Her dreams of an evening of love and promises faded. By the time they were facing the smiling hostess in the lounge, Kimberly knew that something devastating was about to occur.

Beside her
Cavenaugh
spoke with quiet authority. "We're expected by the
Marlands
." Kimberly went absolutely still even as the hostess nodded politely and turned to lead the way. "
Cavenaugh
, what have you done?"

Kimberly whispered with a bleakness that reached all the way to her heart. She turned vulnerable, stricken eyes up to his unyielding gaze.

"What have you done to us?" His mouth tightened as he looked down at her, and for an instant she thought she read desperation in the depths of his emerald eyes. But it was masked almost immediately by fierce determination. "It had to be this way, Kim. You would never have agreed to meet them otherwise." She shook her head, trying to clear it. "I knew from the beginning that you were arrogant, but I never thought you would do this to me." His hand closed around her wrist. "Let's get it over with, Kim. It's not going to be as bad as you think it will be.

Trust me." She looked up at him uncomprehendingly. "Trust you? But
Cavenaugh
, after tonight I'll never be able to trust you again, will I?"

Fury hardened his features even more than they already were. "You don't know what you're saying. Don't fight it, Kim. And don't be afraid.

I'm with you, remember? I won't let anything happen to you."

"What more could happen?" she asked. "Do you know that I thought you were bringing me to San Francisco so we could spend some time alone? And I thought tonight was going to be a very special one for us. I always thought I kept my fantasy world confined to the pages of my books but apparently I allowed it to slipover into real life."

"I'm no fantasy, damn it!"

"No. But the man I fell in love with is."

"We'll deal with this later, after you've faced the
Marlands
and found out that there's no need to deny your heritage."

"
Cavenaugh
... " she whispered distantly as he led her through the crowded lounge. But it was too late.

They were confronting a refined looking couple seated at a round table in the corner. Her grandparents must have been in their seventies, Kimberly realized vaguely as Wesley
Marland
got to his feet and politely extended his hand to
Cavenaugh
. But even as the older man went through the formalities, neither he nor his expensively dressed, silver-haired wife could take their eyes off their granddaughter. When she looked into Wesley
Marland's
face, Kimberly found herself meeting eyes the same amber color as her own.
Marland
must have been a handsome man in his youth, she reflected as she acknowledged the quiet introductions with the barest inclination of her head. Without a word she took the chair
Cavenaugh
held for her, refusing to look at him as she did so. He sat beside her, close and protective. No, not protective. Possessive perhaps, but not protective. A man who cared enough to protect her would never have thrown her into deep water as
Cavenaugh
had done tonight. "Oh, my dear Kim," Anne
Marland
murmured as though she could no longer restrain herself. "You have your father's eyes."

"With any luck," Kimberly said coolly, "that's all I inherited from him." Mrs.
Marland
flinched and withdrew the hand she had been extending tentatively toward her granddaughter. "Kim,"
Cavenaugh
began, softly warning, but Wesley
Marland
interrupted him. "No, Mr.
Cavenaugh
, she has a right to be bitter." Kimberly lifted her chin. "Let's get one thing straight. I will not be patronized. I'm sure
Cavenaugh
has explained to you that this whole thing has been sprung on me without any advance notice. I would appreciate it if we could keep everything short and businesslike. Let's get this momentous occasion over with as quickly as possible." Before anyone could respond the waitress appeared at the table, politely requesting drink orders. When the other three hesitated, as though their minds had been anywhere but on drinks, Kimberly smoothly gave her order. "I'll have a glass of your house wine as long as it's not from the
Cavenaugh
Vineyards."

"No, ma'am, it's not," the waitress said, surprised. "
Cavenaugh
wines are much too expensive to serve as house wines."

"I'm beginning to realize that."

The
Marlands
quickly ordered and
Cavenaugh
asked for a Scotch on the rocks. When the young woman took her leave, Kimberly faced her grandparents. "Now suppose we get down to business so that we can all be on our way. What do you want from me?" It was
Cavenaugh
who responded, green eyes gleaming with faint threat. "Kim, the
Marlands
only wanted to meet you. There's no reason to be aggressive. Just relax." Mrs.
Marland
said hastily, "Your
france
' is right, dear. We only wanted to meet you." Kimberly's eyes widened in mocking astonishment. "My
france
?

Who on earth are you talking about?" Wesley
Marland
frowned. "Mr.
Cavenaugh
here has given us to understand that he intends to marry you."

"Really? First I've heard of it." Kimberly smiled in a brittle fashion as the cocktail waitress returned with the order. "Marriage is a matter I intend to sort out with Kim after this meeting takes place.'
Cavenaugh
said calmly. "Another little surprise you were going to spring on me,
Cavenaugh
?" Kimberly took a deep swallow of her wine. It wasn't nearly as good as a
Cavenaugh
vintage but it certainly tasted better to her tonight than any of the noble bottles
Cavena
ugh produced. "Hmm, not bad," she offered dryly, holding it up to the light. "It has a clean, honest taste."

"Stop it, Kim,"
Cavenaugh
ordered gently. "You're acting like a child."

"What?" she asked sardonically. "Aren't things going the way you had planned? Did you expect me to throw myself into my grandparents' arms after all these years? How terribly disappointing for you." It was Wesley
Marland
who interceded as his wife looked on unhappily. "Kim, we understand this is difficult for you and that it's been something of a surprise. But we honestly didn't think we could get you to agree to meet with us in any other way. The lawyers told me that you categorically refused any overtures."

"Categorically," Kimberly agreed. "We had to see you, Kim," Anne
Marland
whispered. "You're all we have left now. It's taken us so long to find you, dear. Years, in fact. We started looking a long time ago but all we found out was that your mother had died. It took the lawyers forever to trace you. It wasn't until your books started appearing in print that they finally got a lead. They contacted your publisher and your agent, neither of whom would give out your address until we convinced them that we really were your only surviving relations." Kimberly looked into the aging, once-beautiful face and thought of what this woman had done to her mother. "You're twenty-eight years too late, Mrs.
Marland
."