Shadows of Knight: Book 1 of Dark Shadows - a Romantic Suspense Trilogy

by M E Whiter

  Contents

  Title

  Copyright Page

  Shadows of Knight: Book One

  Book Quote

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Copyright © M E Whiter 2015

  This book is a work of fiction, all names, characters, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons or events, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorised reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, send an email to the author, addressed “Attention: Permissions,” at the email address below.

  mewhiter1@gmail.com

  DARK SHADOWS: SHADOWS of KNIGHT BOOK ONE

  When Australian artist, Rachel Day, receives a free all expenses paid trip to Vancouver, British Columbia by a mysterious benefactor, it soon turns out to be anything but free, when someone pushes her in front of CEO millionaire, Sebastian's Knight's car.

  Once Rachel tells the police that she was deliberately pushed in front of Sebastian's car, her case becomes the subject of an ongoing police investigation.

  While staying as a guest in Sebastian's penthouse, during her convalescence, she receives a threatening note, when her handbag is mysteriously returned to her, through the mail. Sebastian decides to take her away to his lake house for a couple of day, to keep her safe, until the threat can be investigated.

  In the beautiful setting by the lake in Kelowna, their relationship quickly turns into a hot passionate romance. Rachel is surprised to find herself, falling for the highly intimidating and sensually charismatic Mr Knight.

  Unfortunately, not all goes well in cupid's paradise. When Sebastian's overbearing obsession with her safety, threatens her new-found independence, she suddenly realises she's made a terrible mistake, in allowing herself to fall for his charms . . .

  But, will running from the secret shadowing both their pasts, prove to be her ultimate mistake?

  The dark shadow we seem to see in the distance is not really a mountain ahead, but the shadow of the mountain behind - a shadow from the past thrown forward into our future. It is a dark sludge of historical sectarianism. We can leave it behind us if we wish.

  David Trimble

  PROLOGUE

  I can’t believe it’s been two years today, since Crystal died, and already her image has faded from my mind. I miss the feel of her soft pale skin, the fullness of her sweet lips, and the loving look in her blue green eyes when we make love. We had only known each other for less than a year, but she had become my whole world. Before we met, my life had been shallow and meaningless. I sought pleasure, only as a means to an end, while my soul purpose in life had been to build and expand my company and acquire financial security. When Crystal came along, she showed me that there was more to life than that, she was my life saver.

  I had donated Crystal’s portrait to the city art gallery, not long after her death. I couldn’t bare to keep it around, as a constant reminder of what I had lost. Now, I find myself sitting here, again, looking at her image. I know it’s not healthy to keep mourning her death. I need to move on, but how am I to do that? I know, I should stop coming here, for a start. I made a promise to myself, that this will be my last visit.

  I’m just about to get up and leave, when an attractive young woman trips backwards, over my foot and lands in my lap. Before I have time to react, she turns her head around, and looks directly at me. I gasp, in shock, when I see Crystal’s beautiful blue-green almond shaped eyes, looking back at me and for a split second, I think she’s come back to life. But, then when I see the red hair, I realise I’m only imagining it’s her. When I blink away the confusion, it’s my heart that is brought back to life, when I look at her sweet face. Who is this beautiful angel that has the same eyes as Crystal?

  Before I have the chance to ask her, she leans back, suddenly breaking eye contact with me. That’s when I notice, her hand pressing on my crotch. The image, of her with her hand on my groin, suddenly triggers a primal response, I hadn’t felt in over a year. Instantly, I feel an intense desire to push her back onto the bench, and bury myself deep inside her, while gazing into those beautiful blue, green eyes; anything to feel it was Crystal back again, even if only for a brief moment.

  I know my thoughts are improper, and I try to dismiss them from my mind. But, then I go and do something even worse; I give voice to the first thing that pops into my mind, something about, ‘wanting to know a woman’s name first, before I let her grope me.’ I regret it, as soon as the words are out of my mouth. When I see the shocked look on her face, I’m surprised she doesn’t slap my face, but I think maybe, she’s too embarrassed to have thought of it, going by the pink glow on her cheeks. All I know is, that before I have a chance to say anything more, she suddenly jumps off my lap, and rushes out the door.

  It’s all too long, since any woman has attracted my attention, as much as this woman has, but I think I must have lost my touch, because I didn’t even get her name. My lapse in manners, suddenly has me all but desperate, to know what it is. I jump up and chase after her, dashing through the gallery rooms looking for her, but I’m too slow, I don’t find her anywhere. I’m left out of breath and pissed off with myself, for letting her slip away from me . .

  Chapter One

  WEDNESDAY, 6th August

  Rachel

  I PEEL MY eyes open, blinking, the early morning light, casting a soft warm glow across my hotel room. I stretch out, breathing life into my sleepy limbs. Lifting my head, a rapturous smile spreading across my lips, as I gaze around the room. I’m still here! I sigh deeply, the fleeting panic receding quickly, fearing that the last six days, had just been some wild dream.

  My gaze lands on the digital clock next to my bed. It’s just a few minutes before 6:45. Tossing the covers aside, I jump out of bed and dash across the room, to look out the window, needing reassurance that I am really here, at the Four Seasons Hotel, in Vancouver, British Columbia. Yes! Yes! Yes! I shout softly at the view before me, shimmying my arms in the air, glad that nobody can see me right now, with my breasts jiggling about, as I do a little happy dance.

  Once I calm down, I lean my head against the cool thick glass. My eyes glaze over, admiring
the spectacular view of the city, from twenty floors up. On the street below, the city is still half asleep, with the lights around the harbour twinkling like stars through the soft shroud of mist. A sigh escapes my lips, a tinge of sadness, in my heart, knowing that this is the last day of my stay, here in this beautiful hotel.

  After a long hot shower, I stand in front of the vanity mirror, trying to brush the kinks out of my unruly hair. The scowl on my watery reflection, glares back at me, I’m losing the battle. The only sound I can hear, is my mother’s voice inside my head, scolding me, “You have such beautiful red hair, if only you would look after it properly!” Gee, I wonder what she’d say, if she knew I was here? “Don’t think about it!” Shaking my head, I drag my hair backup in a messy ponytail, anxious to be done with it.

  Back in the bedroom, I slip on my red wool sweater and black denim jeans, hoping it will keep me warm enough for a morning of cycling around Stanley Park. I’m packing my things into my backpack, when there’s a knock on my door. As if on cue, my tummy grumbles, knowing that it’s room service, delivering my breakfast.

  Opening the door, my nostrils are greeted by the mouth-watering aromas, that soon spread through the entire room, even before the waiter finishes setting my tray on the table and wishing me a bon appétit, on his way out. I don’t realise how hungry I am, until I sit down and start eating, the scrambled eggs, sausage, tomato, toast and a pot of Irish Breakfast tea.

  Chewing on a piece of toast, I gaze out the window, lost in my reflections. If I had told myself, six short months ago, that I’d be taking a trip halfway across the world, in pursuit of my life’s dream to become a professional artist, I wouldn’t have believed myself, for a second.

  After my marriage ended, I had to start my life all over again. My newfound independence came at a price though. I was the one who left, but I did so with absolutely nothing to my name; no job, no home, and no security. Rebuilding from the ground up, was one of the toughest challenges of my life.

  Art had always been my passion, but after I graduated from art college, I needed to work to pay the bills, then when my husband came along, other priorities got in the way. I started painting again, mainly as a form of therapy, to cope with the depression I’d suffered, when my divorce was decreed final.

  When my friends suggested I should sell my paintings, I appreciated their encouragement although, I didn’t take them seriously until they wouldn’t stop harassing me about it. In the end, I gave in. I scouted out the art galleries, around Bondi where I live in Sydney, Australia, asking them to exhibit my paintings.

  Goosebumps still chill my skin, thinking of the day when Claudia, the manager of the ‘Art by Sea’ gallery in Bondi phoned, asking if I’d be interested in entering some of my work, in an exhibition they were holding in the following month, to promote local artists. At that stage, I had only sold a handful of paintings through their gallery. I was thrilled they had judged my work as good enough to be considered.

  The exhibition had been a brilliant success. It attracted much attention from all over, including the media. Our local newspaper also ran a complimentary review of the exhibition. I was very excited to see my name in print, as one of the contributing artists. It might seem like a small accomplishment, I know, but for me it was an encouraging start. It gave me the incentive I desperately needed, to not give up on my dream.

  A couple of week after the exhibition, Claudia phoned with some more exciting news. First of all, two of my paintings from the exhibition, had sold to an overseas investor. But, even more exciting, was hearing the buyer had contacted her by email, proposing they may be interested in offering me an art commission. Little did I realise at the time, how that one simple email, would soon take my fledgling art career, in a completely unexpected direction.

  THE BIKE RENTAL shop is only a two minute walk from Stanley Park. I haven’t ridden for a couple of years now, so I decide to take the easy option, by walking the bike to the park entrance. I don’t have enough confidence, to navigate the bike through the busy main road traffic. My nerves are already prickling, just walking it out of the shop.

  I stop, when I reach the starting point, for the bike trail, that weaves along the waterfront. Tightening the straps on my backpack, I cross my fingers, hoping I can still remember how to ride a bike. I grip the handlebars, using both hands, as I step through the bike, and plant my behind on the narrow padded seat. With my left foot on the pedal, I take a deep breath, as I push off with my other foot, feeling suddenly lightheaded, when the bike sails forward a lot faster than I expect, my grip on the handlebars, squeezing even tighter.

  The front wheel then starts to wobble, sending me weaving across the track, and I think I'm going to pass out from the fright. Dragging in a deep breath, I loosen my death-grip on the handles, managing to straighten the front wheel out, and get the bike under control, without running into anything. Phew!

  I keeping on pedalling, not game to stop now, as I head along the trail skirting the waterfront. With my confidence gaining speed, by the minute, I start to relax and enjoy the experience. Except for those moments, whenever another cyclist comes from behind, startling me with the shrill of their bell, ringing in my ears, just as they whoosh past me. It sends me into a flying panic every single time, but by some sheer luck, I manage to avoid steering off the course.

  About twenty minutes into the ride, the trail veers off to the left, leaving the waterfront, as it winds through the dense pine forest. The heady scent of warm pine mixed with fresh damp soil fills my nostrils, clearing away any memory of my earlier blunder, as I revel in the joy of being outdoors in the fresh air, with the warm sun on my face and the sounds of the forest, all around me.

  When I pass by an old fallen log, lying just off the trail, I figure it’s a good place to take a short break. Unstrapping my backpack, I test for a dry patch of tree trunk before sitting down. When I grab the water bottle from my bag, I take a long deep swallow, the cool refreshing liquid, rehydrating my dry parched throat. I’d almost forgotten, that riding a bike can be strenuous and thirsty work.

  The last time I did this much exercise, was the day I received the email, about the art commission offer. It was towards the end of June. I had just come back from a walk along Bondi beach, near where I live in Sydney, Australia. I was sitting at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, checking through my emails, while waiting for the kettle to boil, to make myself a chai latte.

  An email from Claudia, caught my attention, so I opened it immediately, thinking that perhaps she had sold more of my paintings, but I was wrong. In brief, she had received another email from the overseas buyer who had bought my paintings. It was actually addressed to me, but as they didn’t have my email address, they asked her to forward it on, which she did.

  When I read it through, my first reaction was: Holy cow! A major understatement, because honestly, I hadn’t really taken them seriously, when they sent Claudia the first email. So, you can imagine how shocked I was, when I realised they were.

  ————Forwarded Message —————

  From: Claudia, Art by Sea Gallery

  Date: July 30th, 2014

  Subject: Commission Offer

  To: Rachel Day

  ________________________________________

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