Witchcraft

faded. By the time they were facing the smiling hostess in the lounge, Kimberly knew that something devastating was about to occur.
    Beside her Cavenaugh spoke with quiet authority. "We're expected by the Marlands ." Kimberly went absolutely still even as the hostess nodded politely and turned to lead the way. " Cavenaugh , what have you done?"
    Kimberly whispered with a bleakness that reached all the way to her heart. She turned vulnerable, stricken eyes up to his unyielding gaze.
    "What have you done to us?" His mouth tightened as he looked down at her, and for an instant she thought she read desperation in the depths of his emerald eyes. But it was masked almost immediately by fierce determination. "It had to be this way, Kim. You would never have agreed to meet them otherwise." She shook her head, trying to clear it. "I knew from the beginning that you were arrogant, but I never thought you would do this to me." His hand closed around her wrist. "Let's get it over with, Kim. It's not going to be as bad as you think it will be.
    Trust me." She looked up at him uncomprehendingly. "Trust you? But Cavenaugh , after tonight I'll never be able to trust you again, will I?"
    Fury hardened his features even more than they already were. "You don't know what you're saying. Don't fight it, Kim. And don't be afraid.
    I'm with you, remember? I won't let anything happen to you."
    "What more could happen?" she asked. "Do you know that I thought you were bringing me to San Francisco so we could spend some time alone? And I thought tonight was going to be a very special one for us. I always thought I kept my fantasy world confined to the pages of my books but apparently I allowed it to slipover into real life."
    "I'm no fantasy, damn it!"
    "No. But the man I fell in love with is."
    "We'll deal with this later, after you've faced the Marlands and found out that there's no need to deny your heritage."
    " Cavenaugh ... " she whispered distantly as he led her through the crowded lounge. But it was too late.
    They were confronting a refined looking couple seated at a round table in the corner. Her grandparents must have been in their seventies, Kimberly realized vaguely as Wesley Marland got to his feet and politely extended his hand to Cavenaugh . But even as the older man went through the formalities, neither he nor his expensively dressed, silver-haired wife could take their eyes off their granddaughter. When she looked into Wesley Marland's face, Kimberly found herself meeting eyes the same amber color as her own. Marland must have been a handsome man in his youth, she reflected as she acknowledged the quiet introductions with the barest inclination of her head. Without a word she took the chair Cavenaugh held for her, refusing to look at him as she did so. He sat beside her, close and protective. No, not protective. Possessive perhaps, but not protective. A man who cared enough to protect her would never have thrown her into deep water as Cavenaugh had done tonight. "Oh, my dear Kim," Anne Marland murmured as though she could no longer restrain herself. "You have your father's eyes."
    "With any luck," Kimberly said coolly, "that's all I inherited from him." Mrs. Marland flinched and withdrew the hand she had been extending tentatively toward her granddaughter. "Kim," Cavenaugh began, softly warning, but Wesley Marland interrupted him. "No, Mr. Cavenaugh , she has a right to be bitter." Kimberly lifted her chin. "Let's get one thing straight. I will not be patronized. I'm sure Cavenaugh has explained to you that this whole thing has been sprung on me without any advance notice. I would appreciate it if we could keep everything short and businesslike. Let's get this momentous occasion over with as quickly as possible." Before anyone could respond the waitress appeared at the table, politely requesting drink orders. When the other three hesitated, as though their minds had been anywhere but on drinks, Kimberly smoothly gave her order. "I'll have a glass of your house wine as long as it's not from the Cavenaugh Vineyards."
    "No, ma'am, it's not," the waitress said, surprised. " Cavenaugh wines are much too expensive to serve as house wines."
    "I'm beginning to realize that."
    The Marlands quickly ordered and Cavenaugh asked for a Scotch on the rocks. When the young woman took her leave, Kimberly faced her grandparents. "Now suppose we get down to business so that we can all be on our way. What do you want from me?" It was Cavenaugh