Sara's Child (15 page)

It isn’t a request, Logan knows, and it tears at him to see the pain he has caused her. “If that’s what you want,” he nods watching her leave the conservatory without speaking another word.

Logan has settled himself in the lounge with a book. He decides to give Catherine the time and space she needs to assimilate all the information he has given her. And it is there that Catherine finds him less than an hour later.

“Now tell me Charles Llwyd had nothing to do with my mum’s murder!” Catherine thrusts a sheet of A4 under Logan’s nose, her stance hard and unforgiving.

Logan takes the paper and reads the details on it with utter amazement. “Where on earth did you get this?” He is looking up at Catherine in shocked horror when comprehension dawns. “Oh god, Catherine, tell me you didn’t hack into Somerset House?”

“Ok then, I didn’t hack into Somerset House.” Her face is impassive, her attitude unrelenting. “Look at the birthplace listed for Charles Llwyd – you can’t seriously expect me to believe that is a coincidence?”
Not on your fucking life.

Logan sighs heavily, turning his gaze back to the sheet of paper he still holds. “No, Catherine, I don’t. The fact that he was born and raised in Glywyth can’t be dismissed as coincidence, but it doesn’t alter the fact that he was on the other side of the planet when Harriet Leavesden was murdered.”

Catherine turns, walks over to the fireplace and places her hands on the mantelpiece to lean there. “I’m so bloody angry I can’t think straight, but there has to be a connection – I just have to find it,” she states more to herself than to Logan.

Getting up he moves across the room to stand behind her. Putting gentle hands on her shoulders, he turns her to face him. “I’m sorry that you’re angry, and to know that I’m the cause of it, but I promise you, Catherine, hurting you is the last thing I intended.”

Her lips tremble as she fights back the tears. “I trusted you and you went behind my back anyway.” The heat might have left her voice but it is thick with the hurt that is tearing at her insides. “Now, I just don’t know how I feel.” A tear escapes her troubled eyes; Catherine does not notice, but Logan does and bends to kiss it away.

Putting his arms around Catherine, he draws her in and is relieved when she doesn’t pull away. “I love you so much, I just wanted to give you what I’ve always had – a parent’s love and pride; I never dreamed I’d find a sibling.” He hugs her tighter and is delighted to feel her snuggle into him. “Don’t shut me out, Catherine,” he pleads softly, “I want to help you find the connection to Llwyd.”

Catherine notes his referral to ‘Llwyd’ instead of Charles and the hardening of his tone. “So you do believe me?” she asks with cautious optimism, shutting out all mention of her estranged family.

“I believe there has to be more to this than meets the eye,” he confirms, and taking her face between his hands kisses her tenderly.

Chapter Eight

It has been a week since Catherine contacted Inspector Harper with her new findings and she is growing more and more frustrated. “How can they believe it’s not him?” she asks Logan for the hundredth time. “I gave them enough proof to hang the man – he was born in Glywyth, he still had relatives living in the area when the torture assaults on young boys and youths occurred,” she raises her eyes and hands to the heavens in a hopeless plea, “and I know it was his voice.”
For fucks sake, will someone just listen to me?

Logan watches as Catherine continues pacing the lounge. “I can’t even imagine how you must be feeling,” he leans forward in his chair and catches hold of her hand when she makes to stride past him again, “but I do know that we need to get out for a while. We’re both going stir-crazy, locking ourselves away in my office spending hours on the computers reading about the most horrific and gruesome crimes against humanity.” Logan tugs on her hand until she sits on his lap then leans back in the armchair taking Catherine with him.

Enfolded in Logan’s strong arms Catherine can almost believe that she really is safe from harm; but that voice is not only haunting her dreams, it haunts her every waking moment. “He’s out there,” she states softly, “and he’s waiting for me.”

Later that day, Logan virtually drags Catherine kicking and screaming to buy a new gown for Arthur Kingsley’s retirement party.

“I still don’t see why I can’t wear the one I wore last time. It’s practically brand new, I’ve only worn it once and it cost a bloody fortune,” Catherine states emphatically.

“I’ve already told you,” Logan repeats calmly for the umpteenth time, “it isn’t the ‘done’ thing. A lot of the people who were at Robert’s party will be at Arthur’s and, as lovely as you looked in it, you can’t appear in the same gown.”

“Don’t see why not,” Catherine states obstinately, and stands resolutely unmoving outside the boutique that Logan had brought her to previously, “all that etiquette stuff you’re talking about, it’s just another word for snobbery and stuffed shirts. The people who follow it probably have more money than sense, if you ask me!”
Not that anyone is or I wouldn’t bloody be here!

“Mmm,” Logan considers Catherine until she shifts uncomfortably.

“What? What?” she repeats when Logan just continues to study her.

“Mmm,” is all he eventually says again and begins moving to circle her.

“Will you stop with the ‘mmm’ shit,” Catherine snaps out, and then begins to turn with him as he attempts to step around her. “What the fuck – Logan you are freaking me out!”

“I have just the dress in mind,” he smiles eventually. “I thought about buying it for you the last time we were here; if it’s still on the rack we’ll call it fate.”

With that, Logan opens the shop door and steps inside waiting for Catherine to follow.
Bloody buggering hell!

“You are not buying me anything,” she growls at him under her breath as the same sales assistant walks towards them as served them the last time.

She gives them a welcoming smile, and asks if there is anything in particular that she can help them with.

“No…” Catherine begins, but is overruled by Logan’s swift interruption and the winning smile he gives to the sales woman.

“Yes, actually – the last time we were in you had a beautiful pewter coloured gown with a cowl neck and very simple lines,” he explains, ignoring the deepening frown on Catherine’s face, “do you still have it?”

The sales woman’s face beams. “I know just the one, and you’re lucky, we do still have it.” Then she leads the way up the stairs to the first floor.

“Why lucky, aren’t there any other idiots out there willing to spend an arm and a leg…” Catherine breaks off and stops in front of a manikin dressed in the pewter evening gown. Her jaw has dropped and when she eventually finds her voice again she says, “You’ve got to be kidding, right?” But when she looks from Logan to the sales clerk and back again she sees that they aren’t.

The sales clerk turns to Logan, and with a nod of approval tells him, “I remember the dress size, I’ll just go and get it for you.”

“Well, you had me fooled,” she sniggers, “a cross-dresser, eh? Just remember the rules, you have to show me once you’ve got it on…then I’ll tell you honestly if it suits you.”

She is laughing now, and Logan’s cheeks pink up despite himself. “For that you get to try on a few others I’ve got my eye on,” he tells her, and enjoys watching her squirm at the thought. “Now behave yourself or I’ll make you try on the whole lot.”

“As if,” Catherine chokes out as the sales woman comes back, but she looks nervously over at Logan all the same.

“If you’d like to come with me,” the sales woman holds out a hand to indicate the changing room, “I’ve also brought you the correct underwear for the dress.”

Catherine’s eyes goggle. “The dress has its own underwear…?”
Bloody hell!

Smiling her understanding, and remembering Catherine’s inexperience with clothing of the feminine kind, the sales woman explains. “The underwear is designed not to have a negative impact on the lines of this type of dress. It would be a shame to spoil something so lovely with ugly lines and bulges.” As they move towards the dressing room she continues, “I was wondering about the underwear I picked out for you on your previous visit – is it to your liking?”

“It certainly is,” Logan chimes in, and receives a back handed slap to his stomach for his trouble. Letting out a groan and a chuckle, he sits down to wait.

When the sales woman emerges, Logan points out a couple of other gowns that he likes the look of and smiles his thanks when she goes off to get them. “Logan…” he hears his name shrieked from the changing rooms, “…are you completely off your fucking rocker? Have you even seen the price tag on this thing?” Catherine asks as she walks towards him wearing the gown.

His expression is one of stunned pride. “Whatever it is…,” he stands up gaping at her, “…it’s worth every penny.”

She gives him an ‘oh yeah’ smile, and then blushes when she realises that he means it. “You…you like it?” she asks hesitantly.

His warm brown eyes have melted at the site of her, moving down then up her body taking in every beautiful inch of her. “Like is too mundane a word,” he tells her quietly, moving forward slowly. “You are beautiful, and the dress is amazing…but together,” he breathes a sigh and shakes his head, “…you look stunning.”

The sales woman stands to one side, the other dresses Logan has asked to see draped carefully over her arms. He follows Catherine’s eyes as they move to regard the woman, and gives an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry to have put you to the trouble, but we won’t be needing those,” and turning back to Catherine, touches her cheek tenderly, “this one is absolutely perfect.”

They don’t notice the sales woman leave or hear her utter, “Quite so,” as she makes to return the unwanted gowns.

Joining her at the till after Catherine has changed back into her own clothes, the sales woman looks a little bit uncertain. She has packed the gown and underwear carefully in a box and put it on the counter ready for them, but which one, she asks herself, will be paying for it?

Catherine laughs as she correctly guesses the reason for the sales woman’s poorly hidden consternation. “It’s ok,” she looks at the badge the woman is wearing, “Selma – is it ok for me to call you that?” and Selma nods with a warm smile. “Ok Selma, well, we already struck a bargain,” and looking back as Logan approaches Catherine lets out another laugh. “I’m giving Logan here a dose of his own medicine, and in return he gets to pay for my dress.”

“His own medicine…?” Selma asks tentatively, look
ing from one to the other.

Logan steps up with his credit card in hand. “What Catherine means is…,”

“What I mean is…,” she interrupts excitedly, “…I, me, moi…,” she laughs prodding herself in the chest, “get to take him shopping for a change, and I can’t wait.”

Even Selma allows herself a quiet laugh. “I’m sorry, sir,” she apologises to Logan as she takes the proffered credit card.

“Not to worry, Selma,” and makes the woman stand tall with pride at the use of her name, “Catherine is insisting she be allowed to buy me a new suit for the function we’ll be attending in a couple of weeks – when I’ve already told her that I own a million of the damn things.” An exaggeration maybe, he thinks, but not by much.

“Well, now you’ll own a million and one,” Catherine smiles wickedly as she casts a wink at Selma.

The tailors that Logan prefers is not more than a ten minute walk away, and so they enjoy a bit of window-shopping along the way.

“You would look great in those,” Logan points to a manikin in one of the shops. “We have time if you’d like to try them on,” he offers.

“They’re trousers,” Catherine exclaims, then looking at Logan she has to laugh. “Delaying tactics? You must be desperate if you’re willing to let me buy trousers.”

“Not at all,” Logan protests and turns to enter the shop.

However, before he even reaches the door Catherine has hold of his arm and turns him back around. “No way…it’s my turn to watch you suffer,” she tells him enjoying his obvious reluctance. “You paid for the dress now you pay the piper.”

It is obvious to Catherine that Logan is a prized customer. No sooner have they entered the shop than an attendant is at his side. “Mr Sayers,” the attendant greets Logan, “how nice to see you again so soon.”

“You see,” he turns to Catherine, “I told you that I already have new suits.”

She looks from him to the box on the seat next to her. “You know…I could always take this back,” she tells him, one eyebrow raised in question.

With a resigned sigh, he turns back to the male attendant. “It appears I will be needing another suit, Jacob. If you wouldn’t mind showing me the sample book?” he asks.

“If you wouldn’t mind showing us the sample book,” Catherine corrects decisively.

Logan gives Jacob an assenting nod then makes his way over to Catherine. “You are determined to get your pound of flesh,” he observes, picking up the box and standing it next to the seat he then sits on.

“Nothing of the sort,” she protests innocently. “I just want to help you choose – isn’t that what you do for me?” Her eyes twinkle with mischief and a subdued smile.

He doesn’t get the chance to answer as Jacob comes back with the sample book and offers it to them. It is large, and when open spreads across both their knees. “I already have one in that,” Logan tells Catherine when she looks hopefully at a lovely charcoal coloured fabric.