Witchcraft

who responded, green eyes gleaming with faint threat. "Kim, the Marlands only wanted to meet you. There's no reason to be aggressive. Just relax." Mrs. Marland said hastily, "Your france ' is right, dear. We only wanted to meet you." Kimberly's eyes widened in mocking astonishment. "My france ?
    Who on earth are you talking about?" Wesley Marland frowned. "Mr. Cavenaugh here has given us to understand that he intends to marry you."
    "Really? First I've heard of it." Kimberly smiled in a brittle fashion as the cocktail waitress returned with the order. "Marriage is a matter I intend to sort out with Kim after this meeting takes place.' Cavenaugh said calmly. "Another little surprise you were going to spring on me, Cavenaugh ?" Kimberly took a deep swallow of her wine. It wasn't nearly as good as a Cavenaugh vintage but it certainly tasted better to her tonight than any of the noble bottles Cavena ugh produced. "Hmm, not bad," she offered dryly, holding it up to the light. "It has a clean, honest taste."
    "Stop it, Kim," Cavenaugh ordered gently. "You're acting like a child."
    "What?" she asked sardonically. "Aren't things going the way you had planned? Did you expect me to throw myself into my grandparents' arms after all these years? How terribly disappointing for you." It was Wesley Marland who interceded as his wife looked on unhappily. "Kim, we understand this is difficult for you and that it's been something of a surprise. But we honestly didn't think we could get you to agree to meet with us in any other way. The lawyers told me that you categorically refused any overtures."
    "Categorically," Kimberly agreed. "We had to see you, Kim," Anne Marland whispered. "You're all we have left now. It's taken us so long to find you, dear. Years, in fact. We started looking a long time ago but all we found out was that your mother had died. It took the lawyers forever to trace you. It wasn't until your books started appearing in print that they finally got a lead. They contacted your publisher and your agent, neither of whom would give out your address until we convinced them that we really were your only surviving relations." Kimberly looked into the aging, once-beautiful face and thought of what this woman had done to her mother. "You're twenty-eight years too late, Mrs. Marland ."
    "Don't you think we know that?" Wesley Marland asked bitterly. "But we can't undo the past, Kim. We can only work with the present and the future." He drew a deep breath and then announced grandly, "We want you to know that, as our only surviving descendant, you will be inheriting everything we own." Kimberly stared at them, utterly astounded. "My God," she gritted. "Do you really think I'd touch a penny of your money?" The Marlands stared back at her, obviously not prepared for the vehemence in her words. Cavenaugh quietly sipped his drink and watched Kimberly over the rim of his glass. Wesley cleared his throat. "Forgive me, my dear. It's just that, well, we understand it takes quite a while to become, uh, financially successful as a mystery writer and we thought that ... Kim, our money can be a legacy to your children. Perhaps you should think of them before you allow pride to dictate your answers."
    "What children?" she asked politely. Anne glanced uneasily at Cavenaugh . "Surely when you and Mr. Cavenaugh are married you'll want children?"
    "Not only has Cavenaugh failed to discuss marriage with me, he has certainly not brought up the subject of children." Kim flashed a brilliant smile at the man beside her. "Another little example of our failure to communicate, I suppose."
    "Kim," he said roughly, "you're making this hard on everyone, including yourself. Why don't you deal with the situation like the warm, sensitive woman you really are?"
    "What did everyone expect to accomplish with this dramatic encounter?" she demanded tightly. "A chance to get to know our only grandchild," Mrs. Marland said softly. "After your father was killed and we realized there was no hope of ... of ... "
    "No hope of ever having a properly bred Marland heir?" Kim offered helpfully. "You don't understand how it was twenty-eight years ago," her grandfather said quietly. "Your father was so young. We were convinced that what he felt for your mother was only infatuation that would wear off quickly. Frankly, we believe that's exactly what did happen. John didn't put up all that much of a battle in the end. He seemed, well, almost relieved when we arranged the