by Rebecca Heap
Once his secretary had established the connection, without any form of salutation, he barked, “Sebastian, get back now. I need you to track down Robert Spencer and bring him in for questioning.”
After listening to Sebastian’s reply for a second, he cut in with “It’s not your place to ask questions. Now get back here!”
CHAPTER 20
Michael sat in his car across the road, gazing up at Kate’s flat. He kneaded at his eyeballs, he hadn’t slept much recently, and then steepled his hands against his mouth, blowing heavily in and out, his agitation betraying his uncertainty. He’d ignored her call but she’d left a voicemail, saying she’d like to see him and would be available around seven tonight if he fancied something to eat?
She couldn’t be certain he’d got the message. It was already past seven. Wouldn’t it be better all-round if he stood her up? He’d quenched the flames of his passion for her, hadn't he? And hadn’t he done enough damage already? But his gaze was caught by a flicker of movement at the window of her flat and he could see Kate, her figure softly haloed by the golden light behind her. He watched as she lifted a hand to her hair and brushed it behind her ears in a habitual gesture and his heart stuttered in his chest. Who was he kidding? He could no more stay away from her than an animal in the wild could ignore the siren call of its mate.
When Kate answered the door, he didn’t know what he expected. That she’d throw herself at him and smother him in kisses, exclaiming how much she had missed him? Maybe not quite, but he was not prepared for this aloof, pensive individual with the smoky eyes, who invited him in with a soft voice and a quick perfunctory kiss on his bearded cheek.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” she admitted, turning and making her way back into the apartment. He stood there uncertainly for a minute but was left with no choice but to follow her in.
The anxiety he’d suffered in the car began to resurface and he said to her retreating back, “Look, Kate, I don’t think us going out is a good idea.”
She turned back to him and smiled. “It’s a good job we’re staying in, then” she responded. He froze in bewilderment and then, as he moved forwards, he noticed the dining area adjoining the kitchen. She’d arranged the table for dinner with a shining white tablecloth, lighted candles and two sparkling wine glasses.
She raised her eyes shyly to his. “I wanted to surprise you,” she continued. “I'm not a bad cook when I put my mind to it. I've prepared a meal for us here.”
Michael was flummoxed and felt like turning around and hightailing it out of there, especially as he just wasn’t sure he could trust himself alone with her. He remained unresponsive.
Kate chose to approach him and simply break what she read as astonishment, by saying, “I have surprised you, haven’t I? Shall I take your coat?”
This triggered a response in Michael. He lifted a hand, as if to ward her off, and said, “I ……Katie look, after what happened last time I saw you, I’ve been doing some thinking. I want to make it clear. I’m not looking to get romantically involved. I think we should just be friends. I just want to be a friend to you.” He was confident he could maintain a straightforward platonic relationship. Surely friendship was possible, now he’d expunged his feelings of misplaced lust?
Kate’s gaze wavered, but she fought valiantly to control her disappointment. “That’s fine.”
He shrugged out of his coat and her hand brushed his as she took it. Even this fleeting contact prompted the hairs to stand up on his arms, as if affected by a static charge. He pretended to ignore it but she must have felt it too as she paused, ever so briefly, before turning away hurriedly, saying “I’ll just make some finishing touches to our starters. There’s wine, beer and spirits on the side so just help yourself to whatever you fancy.”
She walked on through to the kitchen to finish her preparations. He couldn’t help noticing the alluring way her backside moved under the smooth cotton of her trousers. He shook his head. Boy, he needed a drink! He helped himself to a bottle of strong lager and took a long, grateful swig. He wiped his mouth and his body began to loosen up as he studied the room. It exuded a warm ambience, with the scuffed but cosy looking couch, the bulging bookcase and the pretty little assorted lamps dotted about the place. Her father might be loaded but the only thing in the room that hinted at such wealth was an oil painting set above the mantelpiece, which looked suspiciously like an original. It wasn’t to his taste but he was struck by the evocativeness of the image. The knight in the picture was utterly transfixed by a beautiful woman leaning down from a horse to tantalisingly kiss him. He smiled wryly and took another gulp of his beer. He could thoroughly identify with the man in that picture and how he felt.
He was about to sit down when his gaze was caught by a small, framed photograph standing on the mantelpiece. Picking it up, he studied it. It was a picture of a dark-haired woman. She was looking rather sad and the photo was a little creased and faded but he could still see that she was hauntingly beautiful. The fine planes of her face reminded him of Kate and he concluded that this must be her mother.
He put it back down quickly as he heard Kate re-enter the room. As he turned, he could tell by the sombre look on her face that she had seen what he’d been studying. “Sorry...” he began, but she waved away his apology. “Don't be sorry for looking at that photo. I wouldn't have put it there if I didn't want people to see it.”
“Is it..?” Michael began but Kate finished his sentence for him.
“My mother? Yes,” she confirmed, moving forward to pick up the picture herself. Her eyes took on a wistful look. “She was beautiful wasn't she?”
Michael was tempted to answer, “Yes. Just like her daughter,” but realised, by the sorrow that had fallen like a shadowy curtain over her face, that it was not the time for a glib remark like this. He heard Kate release a soft sigh and then she turned to him and said, “She died when I was very young. It is a deep sadness for me that I never got to know her.”
“Do you remember anything at all about her?” Michael asked.
“Nothing concrete,” Kate replied. “Just very rudimentary memories of sounds, scents and feelings. The smell of vanilla makes me think of her. Snatches of song sometimes come to me too. I know she loved me – if nothing else, the sense of being enveloped in warmth and love is always with me when I think of her.”
“Hold on to that knowledge, Kate,” Michael advised. “You have something precious.”
Kate looked at him, clearly puzzled by this comment. Michael explained, “My mother left us when my sister was born. I can forgive her for that. What I can't forgive her for is coming back, not for love, but just to inflict more pain. She took my sister from me.”
He could see the pity in her gaze now and his face darkened. “I'm sorry, I shouldn’t have told you that,” he disclaimed. “I've belittled your loss and that's not fair.”
Kate placed the frame back on the mantelpiece and smiled at him. “You haven't Michael. Come on, before we both get too maudlin! I've put our starters out.”
He took a seat at the small dining table. He was touched by the effort she'd made to make the setting look romantic and inviting. She asked him about his trip, “Was it a success?”
“Undoubtedly...with just one unexpected development.”
She sought to explore this further with him but he seemed keen to move the conversation to other subjects, dismissing it with, “It was nothing I couldn’t handle”.
The mood lightened as they made small talk and laughed over her invective when she realised she'd overcooked the lamb. Michael was unconcerned about the imperfect food when it was served by such a perfect hostess. He was having a hard time denying the overpowering attraction he still felt for her. The subtle lighting made her hair gleam and her blue eyes glow like twin flames.
As she cleared their final dishes away a tension descended on her, like a wire inside her being pulled taut. She poured them both a brandy and invited him back through to the sitting room, her
eyes hooded and her body language stiff.
He sat facing her on the comfortable settee, watching her as she looked down at the liquor in her glass, her wrist moving gently so the burnished liquid shimmered and swirled. After a while, she took a large gulp of her drink and raised her gaze to his. The sapphire of her irises was almost eclipsed by huge pupils, her eyes clouded by the alcohol they had consumed but also by the trepidation he read within them. He could sense an edginess in her, like a lightning storm flickering on the horizon.
“There’s something I need to tell you about,” she began, but before she could continue, he enveloped her free hand in his large, warm one. She started a little, and a slight furrow appeared between her brows, but she did not move her hand out of his grasp.
“I think I already have some idea of what you’re going to tell me.”
Her eyes widened at this and she made to move her hand, but he held on to it and spoke reassuringly. “You don’t need to be afraid,” he soothed. “Your father confided that you’d been through an awful experience some years ago...a kidnapping. That is what you were going to talk about?”
Kate simply stared at him and nodded mutely in response. “I’m sorry to have interrupted you before you even started,” Michael said, “but it would have been disingenuous of me not to mention it. I’m your friend and I want you to know that, whatever you tell me and whatever it was that happened to you, you’re beautiful inside and out and nothing can change that.”
Michael’s words seemed to have a defusing effect on Kate and she crumpled, her eyes flooding with tears. She had worked herself up into a fierce but fearful resolve, determined to give him just a brief outline of her abduction but worried that he might somehow judge her, just as Robert had.
She allowed him to move over to her remove the glass from her rigid fingers and enfold his arms around her. He could feel her slight body shaking within his embrace. “But you don’t understand,” she whispered. “How can you be so certain about me when I am not even certain of myself? I don’t know half of what happened or half of what I did! I can’t seem to remember!”
Michael kissed the top of her head, breathing in the citrus fragrance of her hair and pulling her more tightly against him. “None of it was your fault. None of it!” he insisted. “Now just relax. Trust me. Close your eyes and tell me what happened. You may recall things you didn’t know just in the recounting of it...and, in doing so, you may exorcise the fear that still festers inside you.”
Kate forced herself to relax against him, as she did so becoming conscious of the solidity of his chest against her back and the strength of his arms around her. This served to soothe her while at the same time electrifying her senses, so that she could hear the heavy, rhythmic thump of his heart, feel his warm breath caressing her temple and inhale his distinct masculine scent. She sighed and closed her eyes, her body sinking against him, as she swam down in her mind to seek out the memories that were hidden in the thick, black mud of her subconscious.
Michael fought against his body’s instinctual response as she softened against him. Her closeness, the way her body fit so snugly against his was enough to drive a man crazy. However, he considered the gentle curve of her face and the long, black lashes, lying innocently against her cheek, and he was humbled by the trust she was placing in him. He couldn’t allow his residual desire for her to destroy this moment of revelation.
Kate began haltingly, but it was as though a searing light had now been aimed at many of the murky places in her mind and the details of her ordeal came spilling out of her. Michael held her as she talked and rocked her gently as tears began to flow down her face, the fear and desperation she had felt reflected in her voice and the recurrent stiffening of her body. She came to the point in her account when she had been on her way home with Sebastian and she suddenly gasped and broke away from him.
She shook her head frantically from side to side and started moaning, “No. No. No!”
Michael reached for her, but she bucked away from him, standing up and turning wide, staring eyes upon him. “What is this? What is this!” she shouted. “Why do I remember this? Why do I remember him attacking me? That’s not right! It can’t be? It can’t be!”
“Who attacked you?” Michael asked, frowning and still trying to reach for her. His heart cried out at the stricken look on her face. Kate just collapsed on to the settee and dropped her head in to her hands, weeping pitifully. Michael knelt in front of her and took hold of her shaking shoulders, gently grasping damp tendrils of her hair and smoothing them away from her cheeks.
She suddenly launched herself into his arms and clung to him, sobbing against his shoulder like a forsaken child. She eventually managed to say, in between hiccups, “Sebastian tried to force me to…to…..” She shuddered at the memory, unable to finish the sentence. “When I fought him off, we crashed.”
She moved herself away from him a little and lifted her head, her mascara smudged and her blue eyes rimmed with red and preternaturally bright. He had never seen her so breath-taking. “I know it’s true,” she whispered. “My mind now screams at me that it is. He was there to rescue me but he was my enemy too.”
Michael's face hardened at her words and she sensed all his muscles coiling, like an animal preparing to attack. Before he could speak or move, she gripped his arms tightly. “Michael!” she pleaded. “Don't!”
“Don't what?” he replied, shrugging angrily out of her grasp and standing up. “Don't kill the bastard? I knew he was an arsehole the minute I met him. I'll tear his balls off and stuff them down his ugly, maggot-ridden throat!”
Kate stood now, her own anguish forgotten in her desire to placate him. “And what will that achieve? He will just deny everything! He'll say I'm confused and that I'm mixing him up with my kidnapper.”
Michael just glared at her, his eyes blazing and sulphurous like those of a predator hungry for blood. “You expect me to just stand by and let this go? Don't you think he should be punished? You could have died, for God's sake!”
Kate just slid back down on to the couch, shaking her head. “Don't you think I've had enough heartache over it all? And besides...I think Sebastian must have regretted his actions. He claims that he saved me after the accident. I don't remember the crash or anything after it, but witnesses confirm that a man gave me CPR at the scene. Don't you see? He was trying to make up for what he'd done.”
Michael stared at her, his gaze incredulous. “I don't believe it,” he said, his voice low and fervent. “And you're a fool if you believe it. That man is so self-absorbed, he would consider it a complete waste of energy to help another human being. I bet he doesn’t even know how to perform CPR.”
Kate sighed wearily. “He made a mistake. If you want to hate anyone, save your hatred for the man that put me in that situation in the first place. The man that abused his girlfriend and then murdered her to keep her quiet.” Her eyes became unfocused for a minute as her thoughts again turned inward. A frown marred her forehead. “It’s odd,” she murmured. “I can understand him feeling he had to kill her but why did he have to rape her? From what I remember now, that woman would have given herself to him freely.”
She came out of her reverie and focused again on Michael, her gaze ice-cold. “Who knows what motivates such a man? That man persecuted and terrorised me. He is the one that should be punished.” She thought she was all cried out but two tears still managed to creep into her eyes and trickle down her cheeks.
A strange, wretched expression flitted over Michael's face. He recovered himself and sat back down next to her, tentatively placing a hand on her shoulder. “Your kidnapper didn't die in the crash, did he?” he asked.
“No,” Kate murmured. “He somehow managed to escape. His DNA and fingerprints were recovered from his girlfriend’s house but they’ve never been able to match them to anyone, because he’s never been caught. He wasn’t on any criminal database.”
Indignation returned to Michael's face and voice. “Well don't
you see?” he cried. “If it wasn't for Sebastian's inability to control his baser instincts your kidnapper would have been brought to justice! Now you are left living your life looking over your shoulder, wondering if he's still out there and whether you might still be in danger.”
He wished he could take back these words once he'd uttered them when he saw the bleak look on Kate's face. He sat back down next to her and gently coaxed her into his arms. “I'm sorry,” he said. “I’m a stupid ass to have said that. You don't need reminding of it...you must live with that knowledge every day. Just know that I am here now. And I won’t let anything happen to you.”
He pulled her closer to him and she was again overwhelmed by the strength and the comfort she derived from his embrace.
She laid her head on his shoulder and gazed at the neatly delineated contours of his bearded face. She moved slightly and lightly kissed his rough cheek, smiling at the bristly texture against her lips. She leaned back to look at him. “Have you ever considered coming out from behind that hairy mask?” she asked, intending to lighten the mood.
However, his reaction was to flinch a little and she caught something unnameable flash briefly in his eyes. Fear? Dismay? He then recovered himself and smiled. “I've had it so long, I'd feel naked without it,” he said, shrugging self-deprecatingly.
She put her hand up to his face and made him look at her. “You can't hide forever,” she said. “Don't you think I've learned that? Like you said, I was living in fear every day, living a poor, frightened, sham of a life. I never thought I'd be able to trust anyone ever again.” She paused and looked up earnestly into his eyes. “I never thought I'd love anyone ever again,” she whispered, tracing her finger down the exposed part of his face to his lips.
He caught her hand in his and she could feel him shaking infinitesimally. “Don't,” he begged, emotion harshening his voice.
“Don't what?” Kate asked, consciously mocking his previous response. “Don't have feelings for you? I knew there was something about you the moment I met you.”
