Knight To The Rescue

‘You’re well rid of him, Audrey,’ her companion continued in the same gentle tone.

‘I dare say,’ she murmured, ‘but it still hurts.’

‘Yes,’ he nodded. ‘I know...’

The essence of real understanding in her rescuer’s voice drew her thoughts away from Russell to consider exactly what Elliot Knight had just done for her. And she was deeply moved. Most men would have silently borne witness to her shame and even sniggered in contempt at her gullibility. But compassion had stirred this stranger to come to her aid. And oh, how gallantly he had done that, routing the enemy without her losing face and even trying to make her feel better with his flattery about her looks.

‘You really are a knight in shining armour, aren’t you?’ she said, a tender light shining in her eyes as she gazed at him.

The compliment clearly rattled him for a moment.

‘But you don’t have to keep on rescuing me, Mr Knight,’ she went on shakily. ‘You’ve already done enough. I’m...very grateful to you.’ She bit her bottom lip when tears suddenly pricked at her eyes.

‘Come on...’ He took her hand and slid out of the booth, pulling her with him. ‘You’re coming home with me for a while and that’s final. I don’t live far.’

‘Oh, but I can’t, Mr Knight. I...I...’

‘Don’t argue with me, Audrey. This is for your own good. And for pity’s sake, call me Elliot! And before you ask, no, I’m not married. Neither do I have a girlfriend who might get the wrong idea. Does that settle all your doubts?’

Audrey might have resisted but in all truth she didn’t want to go back to the office. Neither did she think Elliot had any dark sexual motive for taking her home. Not with her!

It wasn’t till she was led over to the black Saab Cabriolet parked outside that she ground to a halt, wrenching her hand away from Elliot’s solid grasp. ‘This is your car?’ she asked, an instant quavering in her voice.

He frowned first at her, then at the car. ‘Yes? Something wrong with it?’

‘No...no, I suppose not,’ she agreed stiffly, and with grim determination climbed into the sporty car. Nevertheless, an automatic tension took hold of her once the car started round the narrow winding cliff road that led from Newport to Avalon Beach, and Audrey wondered grimly if she’d ever get over this phobia.

She thought she managed to hide it quite well for the short trip, though she felt real relief when Elliot directed the car from the main road up a steep driveway. When he zoomed into an electronically operated garage underneath an impressively large ocean-view home and finally turned off the engine she let out a ragged, long-held breath.

He shot her a curious look and turned to pick up a newspaper that was lying on the back seat. ‘You’re a very nervous passenger.’

‘Yes, I...speed makes me nervous,’ she admitted. ‘Men who own sports cars usually drive fast. You don’t, though. But then...you’re different from most men.’

‘Really?’ He laughed drily. ‘I doubt that, Audrey. I doubt that very much.’ And lanced her with the oddest look before abruptly turning away from her to alight.

Her forehead puckered into a puzzled frown as he guided her up the internal spiral staircase to emerge on the lowest level of the split-level dwelling. What had he meant by that remark, and that look? That he was no better than Russell? That he might consider seducing an heiress, even if she wasn’t all that attractive?

Even though she couldn’t believe her shining knight would do such a thing, Audrey’s newly cynical self still went on the alert.

But the sight of the huge living-room with its high raked ceilings and wood-panelled walls reassured her again, as did the furniture and rugs—all valuable antiques. People didn’t rent homes full of such treasures, she decided logically. They owned them.

‘You must be very well off, Elliot,’ she said, relieved eyes sweeping around in a full circle. Goodness, if she wasn’t mistaken that was a Renoir on the wall. And a Gauguin! They didn’t look like prints, either.

‘Very,’ he agreed, striding across the room to throw the newspaper on an ornate Edwardian coffee table. ‘Make yourself at home.’ He waved towards the brown leather studded sofa that faced the fireplace.

‘What exactly do you do?’ she asked as she sat down.

Elliot had moved over to the cold hearth of the marble fireplace when she threw this question at him. He sent her a wry glance over his shoulder then bent to put a firestarter into the dead ashes before arranging some kindling and firewood in a criss-cross pattern. ‘What do I do?’ he drawled as he struck a match. ‘Let’s see, now...’

He stood up and turned to face her, a sardonic smile on his face. ‘Actually I haven’t been doing much at all lately. I went skiing a fortnight back. Yesterday, I read a fairly good book. Tomorrow I’m going to try my hand at betting on the races.’

‘Don’t you work?’

‘Shall we say, I have no need to unless I want to? And I haven’t been wanting to this year.’

‘Goodness,’ she exclaimed, totally intrigued by him now. ‘Were you born rich?’

‘Not at all.’ Elliot proceeded over to his built-in bar. ‘What do you fancy? Gin? Vodka? A glass of white wine?’

‘Oh—er—yes, white wine.’

He turned and extracted a bottle of Riesling from a wall fridge, opening it like a man who’d had a lot of practice. Pouring a glass each, he carried them over to the sofa.

Fascinated, her eyes followed his every move. He was so unconsciously graceful, yet so...masculine.

‘The truth is,’ he said as he handed over her glass and sat down in front of the crackling fire, ‘I was once married to a rich woman.’

Shock sent her wine glass trembling, and wide eyes flashing to his. ‘You mean you married a woman for her money?’

His self-irritation was obvious by the expression on his face. ‘No, of course not. Please don’t think that. I was merely explaining where a lot of my money came from. Moira died, you see. Late last year. Viral pneumonia,’ he finished tersely before she could ask.

Audrey was taken aback that a person could die of pneumonia in the modern-day world of antibiotics. And said so.

‘My wife suffered from multiple sclerosis for some time,’ he elaborated reluctantly, ‘and had developed an aversion to doctors. I was away from home when she came down with what she thought was flu. Friends tell me she refused to call in a doctor. When I arrived home she was very ill. I raced her to hospital but she died within hours.’

‘Oh, how awful for you, Elliot,’ Audrey murmured.

He looked uncomfortable with her sympathy, his fingers tightening around his glass. ‘Yes,’ he said gruffly. ‘Yes, it was.’

For her part, Audrey could not get out of her mind how devastating such a situation must have been. To have one’s wife, or husband, snatched away so...unexpectedly young. But then, sudden death was always devastating. Nothing could ever prepare you for the gaping hole left in one’s life when a loved one was wrenched away abruptly.

Audrey knew she was going to cry if she kept thinking on that subject. With an enormous strength of will, she pulled herself together, straightening her shoulders and taking a steadying breath. Only then did she notice Elliot was watching her very closely, a thoughtful expression on his face. Quite quickly she lifted her drink and took a sip, feeling embarrassed by his intense scrutiny.

‘You...didn’t have any children?’ she asked.

The muscles in his jaw clenched down tightly. ‘No. Moira couldn’t have any. Can we change the subject?’ he demanded brusquely.

‘Yes, yes, of course.’ She felt guilty for having been so insensitive. Clearly he had loved this Moira very much. And was missing her terribly. Audrey fell awkwardly silent.

‘Tell me about Russell,’ he said at last.

A shudder went through her. ‘Do I have to?’

‘I think it might be a good idea,’ he stated matter-of-factly. ‘Perhaps I can give you a different perspective on the man, show him up for what he is. Someone not worthy of any heartache.’

‘Believe me, I can see that already.’

‘What about your father?’