Knight's Possession

by Carole Mortimer

  ‘Oh?’ She was wary, turning briefly to Polly as she stood behind Reece.

  ‘Have a good Christmas,’ her friend told her. ‘You too, Reece.’

  ‘Thank you.’ The smile he gave didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  Laurel walked past him to go to the door with Polly, the two of them having exchanged gifts earlier in the day. Her expression was pensive as she came back into the office, not having expected Reece to just come to the shop and see her like this.

  She made no effort to sit down, eyeing him questioningly as he sat on the side of her desk. ‘What can I do for you?’

  He gave a rueful smile. ‘Make the sun come out in the middle of winter, the flowers bloom, the—’

  ‘Reece!’ she snapped.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said without regret. ‘I forgot you don’t like to hear things like that.’

  ‘You didn’t forget,’ she said dully, knowing he was hitting out at her because she had hurt him.

  ‘No,’ he acknowledged tautly. ‘I hoped you might have felt differently since this morning.’

  She looked at him guardedly. ‘Why should I have done that?’

  He shrugged. ‘Because you know I love you, and because you don’t really like hurting people.’

  She had wondered if he had spoken to her mother, but his explanation told her he hadn’t. ‘Why are you here?’ she prompted again.

  ‘To give you this.’ He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out an envelope. ‘And before you look at it I want you to know that there’s nothing you can do to stop it now.’ He held out the envelope to her.

  Inside she found a receipt, from Campbells, for the exact amount of her lease, and it was made out to her.

  ‘I—’

  ‘Another thing you should know is that I don’t want the money back.’ He held her gaze remorselessly.

  Her mouth opened and closed without a sound coming out. He had calmly paid her lease for the next year and now he claimed he didn’t want reimbursement!

  She had spent most of the day in a fog of misery, wondering how much longer she would be allowed to stay open. And now this. For all that she had said about not taking money from him she was tempted to accept this fait accompli. But she couldn’t; she paid her own way in life or not at all.

  ‘You can hardly accuse me of trying to buy you when we’re no longer together,’ he added tautly. ‘I did it because I wanted to, Laurel,’ he told her softly. ‘Not for any ulterior motive.’

  ‘It was very nice of you, but—’

  ‘Before you refuse there are a few other things you should know,’ he put in firmly.

  She swallowed hard, watching him warily.

  ‘I’ve returned Gilbraith’s ring,’ Reece told her flatly.

  Laurel gasped, her face paling, her hands shaking. ‘No—!’ she gave a strangulated cry.

  His mouth tightened. ‘Yes,’ he nodded confirmation. ‘Why didn’t you tell me he was married?’

  ‘I… You… you met his wife?’ she choked, too distressed by what he had done to think straight.

  He gave an abrupt inclination of his head. ‘Gilbraith wasn’t there, so I gave the ring back to her.’ His mouth twisted. ‘The most I can say for her is that she seems to care about their son,’ he rasped.

  ‘So now she knows about Giles and me?’ Laurel groaned at this further humiliation.

  ‘No,’ he sighed. ‘She thought I was from the police returning her stolen ring, and I didn’t disillusion her once I realised who she was.’

  ‘Giles told her the ring was at the jewellers,’ she frowned.

  Reece nodded. ‘And then when he didn’t get it back off you he told her the jewellery shop had been broken into and her ring one of the things stolen. You have to give him ten out of ten for ingenuity,’ Reece scorned.

  ‘You shouldn’t have returned the ring, Reece,’ she told him brokenly. ‘Now I have nothing!’

  His eyes glowed golden. ‘You can’t want a ring that belongs to Gilbraith’s wife just because he gave it to you!’

  ‘I needed that ring,’ she cried, crumpling the envelope and the receipt in her hand.

  ‘Why?’ Reece asked softly.

  She looked at him accusingly. ‘You had no right to interfere.’ Her voice broke as she dropped down on to the sofa. ‘No right!’ Her voice grew shrill.

  ‘Tell me, Laurel,’ he encouraged harshly. ‘Tell me!’

  She looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. ‘I’ve lost it all now, Reece,’ she sobbed. ‘It’s all gone! I won’t take your money, and now I have no way of—’

  ‘Of what, Laurel?’ Reece urged forcefully as she broke off.

  He knew. She was sure he knew without her having to tell him!

  CHAPTER TEN

  ‘HOW much did he take, Laurel?’

  She breathed raggedly, her head down as she dejectedly accepted the fact that she had lost everything. How much had Giles taken? All that she was.

  You could start again, a voice told her. With what, she mocked back. You’re bright, that inward voice told her again, you know your stuff, you can make it. But she knew she couldn’t.

  ‘Laurel?’ Reece prompted again.

  She looked down at the crumpled receipt in her hands, reading out the amount from the bottom, to the last penny.

  ‘Laurel—’

  ‘Please don’t touch me.’ She cringed as he would have reached for her, her head going back proudly. ‘Thank you for doing this for me, Reece, but no thank you.’

  ‘Why not?’ he ground out. ‘If you insist on it you could always pay me back.’

  ‘Oh, I’d insist,’ she choked. ‘But it wouldn’t do any good. I make a living, I don’t have enough spare cash at the end of the year to pay you.’

  ‘Then take ten years, twenty!’

  She gave a wan smile at his vehemence. ‘No,’ she refused dully.

  ‘Why the hell not?’ he rasped.

  She shook her head. ‘Mainly because I’m not about to let someone else pay for my stupidity. I thought Giles was all that I wanted in a husband, that we would have a good marriage partnership.’ She challenged him to question that description. He didn’t. ‘So I let him sign a few cheques for some of the bills, after all it looked as if I didn’t trust him if I said no.’ She bitterly recalled the way Giles had bristled indignantly when she had hesitated about agreeing to his offer to take some of the menial work off her hands before Christmas.

  ‘He’s a professional, Laurel,’ Reece told her gently. ‘Darling, he does this sort of thing all the time.’

  Her head went back sharply. ‘What?’

  Reece nodded reluctantly. ‘I had my suspicions about the ring he had given you; it looked like a genuine antique. So I took it to a jeweller before going to Gilbraith’s, he valued it at about five thousand pounds. That seemed a little excessive for a computer programmer,’ he grimaced.

  ‘Giles steals for a living?’ Laurel gasped disbelievingly.

  ‘Not all the time,’ Reece sighed. ‘He does actually have a legitimate job as a computer programmer. But he makes it a habit to prey on single women—’

  ‘Gullible women,’ she put in self-disgustedly.

  ‘Vulnerable ones,’ he amended firmly.

  Laurel frowned. ‘Are you just guessing or do you actually know all this for a fact?’

  ‘I spoke to the police about the ring, and they were very interested in the fact that several of the flats in your building have been broken into lately—’

  ‘Oh no!’ she groaned protestingly.

  ‘They have Gilbraith in for questioning now, but from what I can tell, “oh yes”,’ he sighed. ‘Your neighbour, the curious one,’ he derided, ‘has already confirmed that he came to your flat the night it was burgled.’ His eyes narrowed as she blushed profusely. ‘You already knew that, didn’t you?’ he said in a puzzled voice.

  She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. What was the point of denying it now, Reece already knew so much. ‘He was looking for the
ring,’ she revealed dully. ‘The other inexpensive pieces of jewellery were taken to allay suspicion.’

  Reece frowned. ‘But if you knew it was him why didn’t you tell the police? Me?’ he added in a hurt voice.

  She shook her head. ‘Does anyone really like admitting they’ve been taken for a fool?’

  ‘But it became so much more than that, Laurel,’ he rasped. ‘Conning you out of money is one thing,’ he continued, even though she winced at the word ‘conning’. ‘Breaking into your home—’

  ‘Twice,’ she put in softly. ‘He was there when I got in two nights after the burglary, when you found me at the shop at two o’clock in the morning,’ she explained at his questioning look.

  ‘Laurel, didn’t it occur to you to be frightened by the things that were happening?’ he snapped disgustedly.

  ‘Of course it occurred to me!’ she glared at him. ‘Why do you think I moved in here?’

  ‘So you could be closer to the only thing you care about,’ he bit out harshly. ‘The police will probably want to talk to you some time, but I told them they could probably find you here,’ he scorned. ‘You do intend spending Christmas with your books, don’t you?’ he derided.

  ‘I haven’t made any plans yet,’ she muttered.

  ‘I have,’ he drawled. ‘But I don’t have the woman I want to share them with.’ He turned away. ‘In the meantime it looks as if I own the lease on a bookshop; do you know anyone who would like to run one?’ he said bitterly.

  ‘Reece—’

  ‘If you do decide you would like the lease after all,’ he picked up the receipt and put it back in his pocket, ‘then I think I should warn you that it’s an inclusive deal—I come along with it. You see, I’m not proud, Laurel,’ he rasped. ‘I can take whatever crumbs you give out. While you’re thinking about it I would suggest you match notes with Amanda; I have a feeling some of your ideas about the past will be completely demolished!’ He walked to the door, turning to see her surrounded by her cash books and the day’s takings. ‘This seems to be where I came in,’ he sighed, the bell over the door telling of his departure seconds later.

  No, it wasn’t where he had come in, that had been on a treacherous night just over a year ago, and she had been fighting her feelings for him ever since. She had been instantly attracted to him, had known he felt the same way, and she had used the excuse of their parents’ relationship to alienate herself from him. She had seen his puzzlement in her sudden cooling towards him, and she had congratulated herself for stopping what could have developed into a relationship that would ultimately cause her pain.

  As it was now.

  She could deny it all she wanted, but leaving Reece this morning had been the hardest thing she had ever done. Or was ever likely to do. Losing the shop was easy in comparison.

  * * *

  Dinner was a strained meal, with Robert making his excuses shortly afterwards, going to his study and leaving the two women alone.

  Amanda smiled. ‘He thinks I don’t know he goes in there to have a cigar after dinner.’

  Laurel accepted her cup of coffee. ‘I didn’t realise he smoked.’

  ‘Just a cigar after dinner,’ her mother said indulgently. ‘He goes into his study because he knows I can’t stand the smell.’

  ‘Daddy smoked,’ she spoke without thinking, looking up awkwardly.

  ‘Yes, he did,’ her mother nodded sadly. ‘It was what killed him in the end. His health had deteriorated very badly before he had the heart-attack.’

  Laurel’s fingers tightened about her saucer. ‘You seem to know a lot about it?’

  ‘Dan,’ Amanda supplied simply. ‘He always kept me informed about your father.’

  ‘Why?’

  She sighed. ‘I lived with him for twelve years, Laurel, I still cared about the man.’

  ‘You divorced him,’ she accused.

  ‘Yes,’ she acknowledged sadly. ‘It wasn’t easy.’

  ‘They why did you do it?’ she scorned.

  ‘Our love had—become something of the past, and trying to keep the relationship going was killing your father—’

  ‘Not you?’ she accused.

  ‘Your father was not a man who liked to be tied to one woman,’ Amanda carried on firmly. ‘His first marriage ended in the same way, but to give him credit he stayed with me for twelve years. It was more than I had hoped for.’

  ‘You were the one that asked for the divorce,’ Laurel reminded hardly.

  ‘I don’t regret that decision for a moment, Laurel.’ Amanda held her gaze steadily. ‘The only thing I do regret is that you and Dan were hurt in the process.’

  ‘You divided us down the middle just like you did everything else in the settlement,’ Laurel bit out hardly.

  ‘Do you really believe that?’ her mother frowned, pain in her deep blue eyes.

  ‘I know I went with you and Dan went with Daddy!’

  Her mother shook her head. ‘It didn’t have to be that way—’

  ‘It was that way!’

  ‘Yes,’ she sighed. ‘But that was because it was the way Dan wanted it.’

  ‘Dan?’ she questioned sceptically. ‘What choice did he have, either?’

  ‘He was sixteen, old enough to decide where he wanted to go, who he wanted to go with,’ her mother stated flatly. ‘He chose your father.’

  ‘Over me?’ Laurel cried disbelievingly.

  ‘Over both of us,’ Amanda said in a pained voice.

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ she shook her head.

  ‘He’ll be here for a visit soon, you can ask him yourself,’ Amanda shrugged.

  She frowned, puzzlement darkening her eyes. Dan couldn’t have chosen to leave her. They had been so close, Dan always her champion, he couldn’t actually have chosen their father over her.

  ‘Laurel,’ her mother spoke gently. ‘He did what he thought best.’

  ‘For whom?’ she disclaimed.

  ‘For your father.’

  She shook her head. ‘Then why couldn’t I have gone with him, too?’

  ‘Try to understand, Laurel,’ her mother encouraged. ‘Your father was never a man who liked responsibilities, and when I met him he had already been alone with Dan for six months, he desperately needed someone to take care of them both—’

  ‘He loved you!’

  ‘Yes, he did,’ her mother agreed gently. ‘But I’ve often wondered if we would have married at all if it hadn’t been for Dan. He couldn’t cope with him on his own, and his ex-wife wasn’t considered a fit mother, and so we were married only three weeks after we met. Then we had you, and everything seemed to be going well. But your father began to feel trapped by all the domesticity. He was a man who really needed to be free, and by that time Dan was old enough to give him that freedom without leaving him completely on his own. Dan knew that. And, although I felt by that time as if Dan were my own child—he did call me Mum—’ she reminded, ‘I had to let him go.’

  ‘But what about me?’ It was a cry she had mentally made to herself a thousand times as a child, feeling unloved and unwanted by everyone.

  ‘Darling, I would have let you go to them if I had thought your father could cope, even though it would have meant I had to give you up,’ she added emotionally.

  ‘I wanted to be with them!’ she cried.

  ‘Do you think I didn’t know that?’ her mother said in a choked voice. ‘You withdrew from me, shut me out, flinched from me whenever I tried to cuddle you, until in the end I became afraid to reach out and touch you.’

  ‘Afraid?’ she scorned.

  Anger flared briefly in the tear-wet eyes. ‘Parents can be hurt too, Laurel,’ she reproved huskily. ‘I even asked your father if he would take you, explained to him that the strain of the divorce was having too adverse an effect on you. He thought it would be better if he got out of your life completely.’

  ‘America,’ she realised faintly.

  Amanda nodded. ‘I pleaded with him to reconsider, but it was no go
od. After he and Dan had gone you got worse. The only thing that made you in the least happy was books. So I bought them for you, hundreds of them, just so that I could occasionally see you happy once again.’

  ‘It also kept me out of your way,’ Laurel accused harshly.

  ‘I didn’t want you out of my way!’ Her eyes flashed. ‘I wanted back the warm, loving child I had always known. But she had gone—and she never came back.’

  ‘What did you expect?’ she derided. ‘You dragged me about from place to place like a sack of potatoes!’

  Pain once again darkened her mother’s eyes. ‘Are you ready to hear this, I wonder?’ she sighed.

  ‘I’m ready,’ she nodded grimly.

  ‘All right,’ Amanda nodded. ‘Did you notice anything else about those moves we made?’

  She frowned. ‘What sort of anything else?’

  ‘Just—anything.’

  ‘My toys disappeared,’ she bit out.

  ‘Yes,’ her mother sighed. ‘And each flat got smaller and smaller.’

  ‘I don’t remember.’ She shook her head.

  ‘I sold your toys, Laurel, just as I sold anything of mine that I could, too,’ her mother told her in a rush. ‘I needed the money, you see.’

  ‘Why?’ Uncertainty flickered in her eyes now.

  She wet her dry lips. ‘Once your father went to America the allowance he had agreed to pay us stopped coming.’ She gave a ragged sigh. ‘I kept writing to him, but—I think he just forgot we existed!’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Maybe he didn’t.’ Her mother shook her head.

  ‘All I know is that the money stopped coming. And after being married and out of work for twelve years the only sort of job I could get didn’t pay all that well. Once Dan was old enough to get a job he used to send us a few dollars every month—’

  ‘You took money off Dan?’ she said disbelievingly.

  ‘I didn’t want to,’ she choked. ‘But what little money we had seemed to go nowhere—’

  ‘You still kept buying me books!’

  ‘I went without lunches for those,’ her mother said impatiently. ‘They were the only thing that made you happy!’ she defended again.

  Years of building a wall about her emotions didn’t make it easy for her to accept what Amanda was telling her, even though her mother had an explanation or reason for everything that had happened.