LOVE'S LEGACY
BOOK III
CLAIRE'S ESCAPE
By
T. L. DAVISON
A Club Lighthouse Publishing E-Book
ISBN 978-0-9782581-3-9
All rights reserved
Copyright © 2004 by T. L. Davison
This book may not be reproduced in whole or in
part without written permission.
For information contact:
Club Lighthouse Publishing
Email editor@clublighthousepublishing.com
A Romance/Nostalgia Edition
EXCERPT
ACROSS THE
STREET, James Brandon waited until Claire's friends were out of sight before
getting out of his car. With brisk, long strides, he caught up with Claire,
just as she was about to enter the pizzeria. He was dressed in black, with his
shirt opened at the collar.
"Dr.
Brandon! What are you doing here?" she asked surprised, stopping to face
him.
"Whatever
happened to James? I was here in the neighbourhood meeting an old acquaintance,
who works in this building," he lied. "I was just coming down the
stairs to go to my car, when I saw this familiar, beautiful lady go by, and I
said to myself, `James, looks like you're in luck tonight. Maybe you could talk
the lady into having a drink with you.' So how 'bout it, gorgeous?" he
asked; the look on his face designed to melt the hardest of hearts.
"Besides, you look like you could do with something to relax you just
about now."
"Sorry
you're out of luck doctor. I just turned down Lisa's and Rob's invitation to do
the same." Claire responded coolly, and started to enter the pizzeria, but
James placed a detaining hand on her upper arm halting her.
"What
a pity," he sighed, mimicking a British accent. "Are yer really going to be so heartless and force this lonely
fellow to drink all by himself tonight? C'mon, sweetie, loosen up, eh? It's
Saturday night, and it's not as if you have to get up for work in the morning.
One drink, I solemnly promise," he persuaded. "Haven't I always been
on my best behaviour with you, after that disastrous encounter in the hospital,
which I thought I'd made up for? It can't be that after all this time you still
don't trust me?" He affected a tone of injury, while that disarming smile
lingered on his lips. "Please kind lady, do take pity on a lonely
gentleman doctor."
"What's
this?" she sniggered, gently shrugging his hand off her. "The all around playboy doctor hard up for female
companionship! Incredible! Anyhow, I'm starved. If you'll excuse me for
a moment or two, let me get something to eat. I think better on a full
stomach." Claire stepped into the pizzeria just as the chef took out a
freshly cooked pizza with the works from the oven, laid it down and cut it into
slices.
"Whadda ya hava tonight bellisima?" A chubby, florid
faced Italian behind the counter greeted Claire with a leering smile, matching
the look in his black eyes. He glanced at the doctor who followed Claire into the
pizzeria, cleared his throat, and immediately assumed a more businesslike
manner.
"Just
a slice to go please," Claire informed him coolly. She hadn't missed the
crude look in the man's eyes, and suddenly realized she was glad the doctor had
followed her.
"Sure
theeng signorina,"
he said, casting a questioning glance at the doctor.
"Make
it two slices and two cans of Brio," James interposed.
Claire
started to hand the man the five-dollar bill she had borrowed from Lisa, but
James beat her to it, handing the man a five-dollar bill of his own.
"B..but James...." Claire
started to protest.
"Be
quiet woman," he commanded, picking up one slice of the pizza and a can of
Brio that the man had put on the counter. Claire took the other and led the
way, as James stood aside for her to go out the door. He led her to where he
had parked the car, and there they sat and had their pizza and pop.
"Mmmmmmm, that feels so much better. At least it quells the
hunger pangs I'd been ignoring all evening..."
"You
should start taking better care of yourself young lady. Is this the way you eat
on the go all the time?"
"Don't
start on me, James," Claire warned him. "I'm not in the mood for a
lecture on my eating habits."
"Aren't
we touchy tonight? What's wrong?" James questioned, looking at her
shadowed profile with narrowed scrutinizing eyes. Claire could have sworn she
heard a note of concern in his voice. She wished she could confide in him, but
decided the less Dr. James Brandon knew about her, the better, so she shifted
the conversation to the theatre.
"I
suppose it's just the jitters of having my first leading role as opening night
draws nearer, even if our company is just community theatre. On top of that,
tonight's rehearsal session was a complete disaster. I even lost my temper and
snapped at the chap who's playing 'Oberon', so I owe him an apology. I can do
that tomorrow afternoon. I must really be in bad shape. Just listen to the way
I'm rambling on," she said self-deprecatingly, before taking another bite of
the pizza slice.
"Don't worry about it, we all have those moments," James
assured her, then asked with a hint of anxiety, "you have to go back
tomorrow?" At least it sounded like that to Claire, and she glanced
speculatively at him.
"Yes,
we have to make up for tonight's wasted session, and I'll bet Rafe is going to be twice as gruelling with us. In fact,
knowing him as we do, he's just as likely to demand we come back every night
until then. He even had some of the troupe go into apartment buildings, and
hand out brochures. Oh yes, he also had the event advertised on a few radio
stations and cable T.V."
"Sounds serious."
"Uh
hum," Claire nodded with her mouth full as she took another bite of the
pizza. "He aims to make us well known, eventually
"What
do you think?"
"I
have faith in the company's capabilities, but we certainly won't be ready for
Just
like I've got big plans for you my sweet, tonight, James smiled insidiously to
himself. Claire finished eating, wiped her mouth and hands with two sheets of
Kleenex she took from a box on the seat between her and the doctor. She opened
the door to get out and dispose of them, along with the paper plate and pop
can, in a nearby garbage disposal.
"Where
are you going?" James asked, noticing she took her handbag along.
"To dispose of these. Thanks again for the
pizza."
"Don't
mention it. Come back when you're done."
"Why?
I should be going home..." The idea of the drink was forgotten.
"Yes
I know, but you should let me drive you. It's only fair since I was the one who
kept you back in the first place." It was becoming hard to control the
anxiety building up within him as Claire got out of the car, but James managed
to keep a casual expression as he heard the note of finality in her voice.
"It's
all right, really. I can find my way, just as I've done many times
before."
"No
Claire!" James' voice suddenly became forceful, as he got out from the car
and came around to her. He took the stuff from her and deposited them in the
garbage bin, along with his own. As he glanced back toward the theatre, he noticed
Rafe and Kenn Michael Harrison talking in front of
the theatre. He couldn't hear everything they were saying, but hazarded a guess
they were talking about him, especially since Kenn Michael cast a suspicious
glance his way. More than ever, James felt a greater urgency to get Claire
away, particularly when he noticed the puzzled look on Claire's face as she
noticed Kenn Michael looking their way. James didn't think Claire knew the man,
but something in the way she looked at his nemesis, bothered James immensely.
"Look,
it's dangerous for a young lady to be walking the streets at night by herself.
Good Lord, girl! Were you wearing blinders just now in that pizzeria? Couldn't
you see how that dirty old fart was literally undressing you with his eyes, even
though you were with me? Think Claire, for Chrissakes!
What would have happened if you'd been alone? And you'll encounter a lot more
and probably worse on the street as you walk home alone." James Brandon
almost believed in his desire to protect her from the imaginary harm that could
befall her, as he opened the door and bade her enter the car again.
* * * *
FROM THE
front of the theatre, Kenn Michael Harrison and Rafe
Gaston observed the exchange.
"Look
ol' chap yer gotta warn 'er when she comes to rehearsal
t'morrow. Man, that bloke she's with, is pure trouble
with a capital T. Trust me, please." Kenn Michael turned to his friend and
urgently implored him. "He's a nasty piece o' work, that one."
"Bear,
eet eez not my place to
tell my actors..." Rafe started to protest.
"Look
man, yer said yer liked
her, an' she's one of the best in yer troupe, d'yer want t'keep it that way?
"All right, I weel talk to 'er. Don't know what good eet weel do, but I weel try," Rafe resigned, unable to refuse Kenn Michael's request in
the face of the man's urgency. Rafe took another look
at the man in question. Even from where he stood with Jenny under the glare of
the streetlight, one couldn't miss it. He stared at his friend, then again at
the man. Although the other man was physically larger, the ressemblance
was startling.
"Don't
even say it ol' chap," Kenn Michael growled,
guessing what was on Rafe's mind. "And no, we
are not related."
While Rafe turned around and locked the theatre door, Kenn
Michael watched James Brandon's silver Porsche drive off with Claire in it
beside him, not understanding why his heart plummeted at that moment.
* * * *
CLAIRE
LOOKED UP at James and mistakenly read genuine concern in his expression. She
trusted him and acquiesced to his request. He was right. She had no business
walking down
"Ah
my sweet Titania," James remarked, giving her no
more time to contemplate as he got back into the driver's seat beside her.
"There might be an angry Oberon out there, just lying in wait for the
fairy queen to capture and torment her." A whimsical note crept into his
voice but finished on as something frightening. "And it'll be for
something far more devastating than her not letting him have the changeling for
his page, so think about it fairy queen."
What
difference did it make? She was being saved from one possible wolf somewhere
out there on the streets and tossed to another; the wolf in whose hands she was
now. Ah, but it did indeed make a helluva lot of
difference. This wolf wanted to be the first and only one to ravish her.
"You
seem to know something about the play," Claire remarked.
"I've
done quite a bit of reading since I got my act together," he replied.
Claire
looked contemplatively at him, wondering what he meant, but James offered no
explanation. James' eyes met hers and suddenly Claire shuddered. The feelings
of revulsion she had initially felt toward him, suddenly washed over her like
an icy wave. Claire wondered why she should suddenly feel this way again. James
had certainly given her no reason to distrust him any more. If anything, he had
been a perfect gentleman since the hospital fiasco. What was wrong with her
tonight? Maybe she did need a drink after all. She was cold on a very warm
night. She felt as if she were being pulled down by some powerful force, into a
dark bottomless abyss, from which there was no escape: Worse yet, she felt
powerless to stop whatever it was that was pulling her down.
"Oh
dear God, what's happening to me?" she sighed in a low barely
audible voice, breaking eye contact with James.
"Are
you okay Claire?" James asked, frowning as she lapsed into contemplative
silence.
"Yes."
"You
really expect me to believe that? I've been watching you for the past few
minutes, and it seems as though you're fighting against something within
yourself: Something very heavy Claire. What is it?"
"I
said I'm fine, really," she snapped, then swiftly
apologized, "Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't snap at you like that. It's just
that I'm all wound up, I suppose...."
"If
this is what the theatre does to you on your first major role, what's going to happen later kiddo? You're a bundle of nerves..."
"Look,
does that offer for a drink still stand?" she asked impulsively, but it
was as if the words came from someone else. The last thing she should be doing
was going out drinking with the doctor tonight.
"I
never withdrew it." A satisfied smile curved James thin lips. He started
the car and pulled away from the curb, and headed west toward
"It's
"Yes,
that gives us over an hour and a half. After all, the convent," with snide
emphasis on the word, "closes at
"I
remember clearly telling you eleven during the week, and
"Okay,
okay, so I was a bit off. A guy's entitled to make a mistake now and
then."
"With
that attitude, a man in your profession could be in a heap of trouble,
especially in the operating theatre."
"Over
here it's called operating room, or just plain O.R. my dear." The satisfied
smile was still on his lips. James felt on top of the world. Things were going
his way, just as he intended. "Yes," he continued in response to
Claire's statement, "but we aren't in the process of a medical or surgery
now. However, anyhow you take it, we still have over
an hour before you turn into a pumpkin, Cinderella."
"Wonderful,"
Claire muttered sardonically.
* * * *
JAMES TOOK
HER TO a bar in the
Again,
"I'm
warning you, have some respect, bitch. You don't know who you're dealing
with," he threatened.
"Why
the fuck should I?"
"Are
you saying you're not? Be there tomorrow morning or else!" He slammed the
receiver down in her ear and returned to his quarry.
Claire
agreed when James returned and suggested they take a drive down to the Bluffs,
which were close by. He parked the car on a side street and lead Claire through
a well-trodden path, leading down to the waterfront. He took the liberty of
placing his arm around her shoulder, but Claire shifted away as a cold shudder
ripped through her body when he touched her.
"You're
not cold by any chance, are you?" James asked with perfunctory concern,
knowing the real reason she shuddered was because of physical contact with him:
He sensed it wasn't because she was turned on by him, but something else he
didn't want to face. Well, he intended to remedy that situation.
From
behind a cluster of trees, the water came into view, calm and glassy with a
widening path of the full moon's reflection upon it. While the scene produced a
feeling of serenity within her, the night was anything but silent. It was
filled with the sounds of chirping crickets, croaking frogs, intermittent
honking of
As they
walked along the well-trodden path on the bluffs, the place almost reminded her
of the chalk cliffs along the coast in Lulworth,
where she and Lance had walked hand in hand a year ago. Here the land was
sloping and lower than the cliffs, which rose to nearly six hundred feet in
some places. Off to the right hand, at the bottom of the bluff she could see
the lights of
"Lance."
Claire didn't hear James' words as she thought of her fiancé. She whispered his
name almost in panic, as the heavy feeling suddenly descended upon her again.
Through the lingering buzz of the zombies, the inherent sense of responsibility
and loyalty managed to filter through to her brain, and she remembered she
hadn't rung him in
"Wait,
Claire! Slow down. Injuring yourself wouldn't get you there any faster,"
James called as he darted after her. She could certainly run fast. Shit! And
she was half drunk too! Anything could happen. One false step too near the edge, and she could go plummeting over. "I'd
better catch up with her," James muttered to himself as he ran after her.
It took no
more than two minutes to reach the car. Claire was gasping for breath as James
caught up with her and pulled her into his arms, leaning against the side of
the Porsche. James gently rested her head on his chest, tenderly holding her
until she regained her breath. "Easy, girl, relax. Listen to your doctor
for once," he coaxed soothingly.
My God,
it feels like Heaven just holding her like this! James almost cried out.
Claire never saw the real tenderness that momentarily softened his expression. Forgive
me, but I can't turn back now. I must have her, tonight. I'll love and cherish
her. I'll give her everything he can, and more. Dr. James Brandon looked up
to the starlit heavens, eyes glistening under the pale glow of the moon, as he
silently implored whatever powers that be, to let him have Claire. He would
have liked to have her come to him willingly, but he knew there was no chance
of that happening. All he knew was that he had to have her.
Even
Marianne's dire warning that what he intended to do could backfire, when she
spoke to him the day after he first took Claire out, could not penetrate James'
resolve or need to have this young woman as his own.
Claire
broke away from James and sought further refuge in the comfortable leather
upholstered seat beside the driver's, as he opened the car door for her, before
walking around to the driver's side and getting in.
"Do
you think we'll make it?" she asked, anxiously, praying that by some
miracle she would get home on time. The apprehension in the pit of her stomach,
told her that her hope for a miracle tonight, was in vain. It was a dread
feeling of foreboding even ten zombies wouldn't alleviate now.
"Just
relax, poppet, I promise you, somehow we'll make it." James placated her,
knowing damn well it was a snowflake's chance in hell of doing so before
* * * *
THE MILES
back to downtown
Knocking
on the door, she hoped Jackie, the female security guard who came in on the
weekends, might be within earshot. It was a fruitless effort. Claire stepped
back onto the sidewalk, and glanced up at Lisa's window which was slightly
opened, and illuminated by a dull blue glow. Even when she wasn't at home, or
asleep Lisa usually left a little blue night-light on in her room. Claire
doubted Lisa would be asleep at this time but she decided to try anyway. She
picked up a few pebbles from the plant box at the front of the building, and
pelted them up at Lisa's window. Lisa would sneak down and open the door for
her if she was home. The lights didn't come on in Lisa's room, a clear
indication her friend didn't come home. Lisa never went to bed before one on a
Saturday night, and if on the rare occasion she might have, she was a light
sleeper and would have heard the third pebble Claire pelted against the window.
Claire
glanced back despondently at the doctor's car, which still stood waiting. She
wondered suspiciously if James might have planned things to turn out the way
they did tonight. If so, why? He had assured her he
wanted nothing more from her than friendship, and he knew she was engaged to
another man. In a morass of confusion, frustration and defeat she swore,
"Damn,
they really meant it when they said `the door closes at eleven-thirty.' Not
even a bloody doorbell. Do you have to wonder why, Claire?" she grumbled,
as she stepped back to the car. James held the passenger door open for her, and
with a sinking heart, Claire got in beside him. "Well, I've been locked
out," she remarked with a hint of accusation.
"I
can see that Claire. Close your door please." James instructed her,
starting the ignition, ignoring the accusation in her voice.
"Where
are we going?"
"Why,
to my place of course."
"B..but that's not proper..,"
Claire started to protest.
"Have
you got a better idea in mind?" James responded a trifle impatiently,
cutting her off.
"A
motel for instance," Claire suggested hopefully.
"Got the
cash? Because I'm flat broke right now. I used the last of the cash I had on me
tonight to pay for the drinks. And I'm maxed out on my Visa," he answered
a little too quickly to be believable. Claire sighed, disappointed, for she had
only the five dollars she had borrowed from Lisa.
"I'm
afraid I don't have much cash on me at the moment either. I forgot my wallet
and chequebook in my other handbag. Lisa and I were rushing around to get out
earlier, and I grabbed the wrong handbag."
"For
all the good it's doing you there now," James remarked, not very
sympathetically. "How much do you have on you?"
"Just
the Fiver Lisa loaned me earlier."
"That's
not enough to find yourself a decent place for the night kiddo, and I simply
loathe the idea of you spending the night in some dingy Sally Ann hole. So
don't even suggest it."
"It
wouldn't be all that bad for one night you know, really."
"Absolutely not!" The stridency of his voice
startled and almost frightened her for a moment. "I refuse to let a classy
young woman like you sink into that position, when you can easily spend the
night at my place. I do have a guest room."
"Liana! Why didn't I think about that before?" Claire
suddenly brightened up, hopeful. Her key to Liana's place was also in the other
handbag, and Claire cursed the fates that made her grab the wrong handbag, but
all was not lost. If she rang Liana and explained her predicament, her sister
would open the door for her.
"Your sister?" James strove to keep the disappointment out of
his voice, thinking Claire would slip past him tonight after all. He had to
think fast. He stopped at the first telephone booth they came upon, to let
Claire make the call to her sister.
The phone
must have rung twenty times on the other end, but no one answered. Liana and Pete
were out, and it must have been May's weekend off.
Somebody
upstairs must like me, or is this fate? James wondered ecstatically.
Claire was
too preoccupied to notice James' smug smile as she announced without looking at
him, that Liana was out, and her key to Liana's place was in her other bag.
"Smart,
Claire, real bloody smart," she rebuked herself.
"Hey,
no need to flagellate yourself kiddo. We're all human and make mistakes.
Besides, it wouldn't be all that bad staying at my place for once Claire. I'm
sure your Lance would understand the circumstances and forgive you for this one
mistake, should you feel the need to confess to him later on." The
doctor's voice was laced with sarcasm as he mentioned Lance. In fact, the few
times Lance had been mentioned between them, James' reaction had always been
the same. "Personally, I see no reason to become overwrought about the
situation. After all, these are the nineteen seventies, not the seventeen
nineties. So loosen up, huh?"
It could
have been totally coincidental, but Claire startled as James mentioned the
seventeen nineties. She looked up at him for some sign of ... of what?
Knickers,
now my imagination is really getting the better of me, she decided,
frustrated and confused. She couldn't help wondering why the doctor had
mentioned the seventeen nineties instead of any other time period when women
were more repressed in society.
"What's
wrong?" James asked curiously as she startled, looking at him in that
searching manner. "Did I say something wrong?"
"I ...
I don't know. Why did you say seventeen nineties and not any other time period?
Does it mean something to you?"
"No,
should it?" he asked puzzled, but deep within him something dark stirred,
something resembling a memory, but he ignored it. Occasionally he had strange
thoughts about life in that particular time, as though he had been there. A few
times those thoughts took on a disturbing turn, and in his mind's eye, James
would have flashes of a dark haired man on a horse with an old fashioned spear
in hand and murder on his mind, chasing a couple who were fleeing on another
horse. James, being a man who lived for the present, generally pushed those
disturbing thoughts out of his mind, by rationalizing he probably read
something of that nature when he was younger. He dismissed the thought.
"I
guess not. I was just curious. Forget I said it," Claire dismissed in
response.
"If you say so." James shrugged and let the
matter go, giving thought only to how he was going to use the opportunity he
had striven to make happen tonight.