Scarlet Rose Chapter 71, a candy candy fanfic

Chapter 71

"Sir, we're here."

The police officer who was on the wheel of the car pulled to a stop. Through the front mirror, he looked at his boss, sitting at the back, having not moved, despite them having reached their destination.

Robert Shaw's gaze was fixed and unmovable to someplace where only himself was privy to. To the officer who waited for a response, he looked like he wasn't at all there.

The Detective Constable was a seasoned police officer. He had been on the forefront, having led several cases in the past; his eyes had seen many things and his ears had heard even more. To have a case however, where both a highly known criminal with a popularity of a matinee idol among the working class and the leader of the most famous gang in London were involved, whilst he had to follow the orders of the former...

of a "plan" which himself hadn't masterminded, that was doing his head in.

Detective Shaw was a man with his own path in life. A master of his own fate. The time he had spent fighting for his country in the Great War, had made him so. He had seen action at the Battle of Mons, in France. He had seen death and devastation, men he fought side by side perish within a fraction of time. He had been a good soldier. Followed orders, fought against the enemy, even when fear run inside him. It was his duty and he served it with honour.

When he returned back home, he had been a changed man. Or perhaps, he himself had been the same all along and everything else around him had changed. He hadn't dedicated time to ponder much about it. Would it have made any difference? Bottom line was -

Nothing stood the same

After all, he was an action man. Came back from war and had to start building a life for himself. He entered the Police force. Once more following orders. Soon enough though, given his tireless drive, the promotions kept coming his way. Till he reached the point where the decisions were all his own. He could breathe again. The more he became independent, the better he felt. For too long in his life, he had been following someone else's decisions. He had lived through their mistakes, experienced their errors. Sometimes with serious consequences where lives were lost.

He was adamant he wasn't going to be such a man. He didn't want to be one. Each decision had been weighed with care, under meticulous consideration. He didn't take unnecessary risks and most of all he didn't risk the lives of the men under him. If there was a risk which had to be taken, he took it himself. On his own. No one else.

The police officer behind the wheel cleared his throat. Robert's eyes moved, met with his driver's stare through the front mirror.

"Stay here." He ordered him and came out the car.

Stood for a minute in front of the imposing door of the Grandchester mansion in Hampstead Heath. The time had been well after lunch but he wasn't doing a "cold" visit. The Duke of Grandchester was already expecting him, once Robert had put down the phone the same morning.

After all, from all that was Christian's plan, Robert had taken one decision. To phone Richard Grandchester.

A few hours beforehand, as per usual, Robert had arrived at the police station, bright and early and had entered his office after asking one of the police officers for a cup of tea. Not enough time had passed for the residual warmth of his jacket, hang on the back of his chair, to evaporate in the morning air, when a knock made him turn towards the door.

The police officer, who Robert had asked for that cup of tea for, entered the room but he came in looking almost reluctant to do so, having a quizzical look about him. He left the tea on the Constable's desk and made him aware he had someone outside who was asking to see him. Robert raised his brows with surprise but asked for whoever it was to enter the room.

A very old man, he must had been well into his eighties, came in. He couldn't even walk as much; his walk was more like a shuffle. He was hunched, looked rough and smelled even worse. Robert suddenly recognised him. He was one of the beggars who frequented the area round the police station. Not far from where they were, was the church of St Francis of Assisi. At noon, they were offering lunch for the homeless.

The man held an envelope. "Som'ne gave me tis for you Guv'nor." He said with a thick voice full of gravel.

Robert approached the man and took the envelope from his hand. The man didn't retract but waited with his palm wide open. Robert shoved his hands to his pockets to fish whatever change he'd find and gave them to the man.

"Who gave you this?" Robert asked. He sounded firm. That money he gave the beggar were in expectation for an answer, and he wouldn't let him leave without at least having something in return.

The man, after inspecting the value of the coinage he had in his open palm, without looking either content or annoyed, lifted his head up and grinned.

"Hard to tell, Guv'nor." He said. "My sight is almost gone. All I can see looks summat foggy."

Robert gave him a couple more coins. They could help the fog to lift...

"All I can say was he was a young fella...dark hair..." He gave whatever characteristics he remembered. "Spoke well." He added one more. "Educated." He elaborated.

"And when did he give you this?"

There was a pause from the man's part. Trying to increase his windfall from parting with the information this letter entailed. Robert turned impatient.

"No more money! If you don't want to stay in a cell for the day-" He threatened him.

"OK, OK!" He raised his voice in protest. "Yesterday..." He stopped, trying to think. "Two days ago...I cannot remember."

Robert took a moment to react to the man's admission.

"Can I go now?" He heard the man's voice turning impatient. He sure was counting the minutes to get the heck out the police station.

"Why on earth did you bring this now?" Robert asked him.

If this had anything to do with Christian trusting a homeless drunk to bring a letter to the police station on time, he clearly had made a mistake and a rather sloppy one at that. Robert's voice sounded annoyed. He was damned if he was to follow a plan of a man who clearly didn't think things through.

"Is Saturday today...innit?" The old man replied.

Robert turned and fixed his stare to the man. He hadn't expected him to say what he said. "What do you mean, old man?"

"Guv'nor, are you as drunk as I?" He replied with exasperation.

"Were you asked to bring this letter to me, today? On Saturday?" Robert asked him, ignoring the frustration of the man, evident in his question.

"Indeed so, Guv'nor! And was paid handsomely to do so. Man said if I didn't screw it, he'd have me in mind for more jobs."

In the quiet of his office, having sent the man away together with the police officer after he instructed him to take a statement in writing from him, the Detective Constable Shaw sat down. Took a sip from his tea which had turned cold inside the heavy porcelain mug. Picked up the white bone letter opener, cut the sealed envelope open. Unfolded the crisp page and started reading.

To Detective Constable R. Shaw

You must have realised by now two things, Robert.

A. The Raven doesn't like leaving things to chance.

B. I do like writing letters.

This letter, I had left in the care of Thomas Moore, an old man of surprisingly agile mind inside a rather decrepit body. Being hard done by life, it does that to you.

You must already have made his acquaintance.

I realise your meeting with Charles was successful... The more the Raven occupies his mind and temper, the less guarded he'll be, the easier it'll be for him to make the wrong move. But I needed to make sure he did take the bait...

So here is the second part of the plan.

Very soon, the Raven is to break into a mansion of a well-known blue-blooded Londoner. I know I disappoint you by not revealing the name of the chosen aristocrat but I prefer to keep it under wraps. Wouldn't want to enter a house where the Raven is awaited.

I prefer the element of surprise...

What will happen though, I will let you know Robert, because you will take part too.

I am already tied in an agreement with MacDonald about it. The loot which will be quite sizeable in wealth, I will hand to him in exchange to my "freedom". This is what we spat on and gave hands for.

On the night, you will be informed to stake MacDonald's house with your men. He already has incriminating evidence in his house about me. Namely, the folder with all my comings and goings for the last few weeks.

You see, the rich cousin of my girlfriend's didn't take a shining on me. In fact he saw right through me. But you already know more or less of that, because Terrence Graham came to see you to share the exact same information. Both he and Archibald Cornwell had a common agenda I am afraid, to kick me out of Miss White's life.

I took the detective's folder from Cornwell when I promised him that my relationship with Miss White is over. I won't bore you with my love life. I did give the folder to MacDonald as collateral. Have me tied to him and to this one last break in.

If I back down from my word, he's free to do what he wants with the information this folder holds. What I tried to avoid is for Miss White... Rose... to know of my hidden life. That is what I had said to MacDonald. To keep what he knows secret from her. I didn't want her to think of me as a common criminal. Because I was not.

I am not.

The reasons I chose this life are deeply personal, albeit naive, foolish even... There will be time to give you my full statement face to face when the time comes.

For now, you stay tight. Soon, very soon, I will contact you. Be ready. Once you're outside MacDonald's house, keep your eyes for the Raven. I will show up with MacDonald's men, bringing him what he'll be waiting for, sitting in his plush office inside his home. Then you can make your move to have us both-

the Raven and Charles MacDonald detained by Detective Constable Robert Shaw.

Up in that little corner of Scotland, on the isle of Barra, the world had all but evaporated for Candy and Terry. They had climbed back up on the Dreamer after that brief dive of theirs in the cool waters of the bay. Terry gave Candy his dry white shirt to wear while her clothes were drying up under the sun, while he threw on his bare back his linen jacket, not wanting to sunburn more than they already had.

They enjoyed their light lunch al fresco, and kept their conversation light. She filled him in, on how Ms Pony and Sister Maria were doing. He shared with her funny theatre stories of him, Robert and the rest of the troupe. The sun sparkled inside their stares, dried their hair wild, turned them into salty seaweeds, kissed the bridges of their noses and their cheeks red.

They were lying in leisure with their legs spread down the length of the boat as they were finishing off the wine, with eyes almost hypnotised by the tricks the light played when it hit the water. The squawks of seagulls were heard in the distance and the sound of the water lapping against the surface of the boat felt like a lullaby to their ears.

"You know...", Terry said, breaking the silence between them.

"I may stay here..."

Candy turned to face him. Raised her brows. "Here?" She asked him.

Terry's lips curled into a hesitant smile.

"Here as in Great Britain..." He explained himself. "I got an offer from the director of the Shakespeare Memorial Theatre." He elaborated further, given the surprised look on Candy's face. "He wants me to join their troupe in Stratford..."

"Oh..." She exclaimed. She certainly didn't jump up with joy to the news. The prospect of Terry staying in Great Britain...

It was big

It was HUGE

Unexpected

How was she supposed to take it... when only yesterday she had only confessed to him she loved him. She loved him still, she would always love him but the "tomorrow" she hadn't given it a thought. And the secret she had pushed back, fell over on one more complication which showed up from nowhere.

"What do you say, Candy?" He asked her. His voice crept in through the forest of her thoughts in her mind.

She blinked and widened her eyes, lifted the corners of her mouth up - a big, Big smile - "I think it's wonderful Terry! Congratulations!" She raised her voice, infusing it with happiness she had to pull from deep within, hoping it didn't feel too forced.

Problem was, she never was a great actor. And the warmth inside Terry's eyes dimmed a little.

"Thanks." He replied without having taken his eyes from her. "I meant, what would you say if I did accept this and

stayed here...

with you..."

She looked elsewhere, her eyes searched as far as they could reach down the horizon, where the ocean met the sky but no answers could be found there. Crossed her arms in front of her chest. His shirt on her skin smelled of him. Her face tensed as she felt the tears clouding her sight.

"Terry..."

His name slipped out her lips, as quiet as her breath.

"Forget it." She heard him say behind her. How abrupt the change in the air between them was. She felt the chill those two words carried.

"You better sit down." He ordered her with the same coolness in his voice. "We need to take the boat back."

She said nothing. The minutes run like water through her fingers. She didn't want to fan the flames of his temper more than they already were burning inside him. She took his shirt off and gave it back to him. Looked at his face when he took it from her hand. It would be easier for a stone to show feelings. The swell of disappointment was kept firmly behind his eyes. Apart from his brows which had descended on his face and hang over his turquoise stare like two dark angry clouds, he let nothing else out.

She put back her own blouse, it had dried by then. Shoved the wild hair behind her ears and sat down next to the tiller, watching him pulling the anchor up from the depths of the sea. His lips tight, holding the words back. He let the sails unfurl, gathered the rope round his arm and sat down next to her. The Dreamer started flying on the back of the waves; fresh air hit their faces. It came as a relief. What had happened only a few minutes ago, made her cheeks feel on fire.

What else could she say? She knew what he was expecting her to say but she already was hiding something from him that could turn everything upside down between them. She would have been lying to him if she acted as the over excited girlfriend, looking forward for them to start a life together in Stratford.

They were now cutting through the waters with the same precision and speed a tailor cut with his scissors through swaths of fabric. The small dingy rocked and jumped like a nut shell tossed from one wave to the next. Terry had positioned the sails, in line with the stream of air which was blowing over the bay.

"I thought you'd be happy..." He started saying.

"I am happy!" She raised her voice. She looked at him while he steered the boat and then she turned her eyes back to the sea. "I followed you Terry, you entire career...

newspaper clippings-

magazines-

reviews, gossip... yours-

She breathed in.

Susanna's..."

She turned back to him. Noticed his grip on the tiller tighten, when she spoke of her.

"I cried...

But they were happiness tears. I am-

I ALWAYS was!

Proud and happy for you! I never doubted you would become one of the great actors."

Silence filled the gap between them. The same silence which existed for the years they were apart. A sad silence, tasting bitter of the things which were left unsaid, the chances they never got, the what ifs that haunted them in the nights, flickering images of an imagined future on the candlelit walls.

"Candy I didn't mean..." His voice turned quieter, softer.

"I know what you meant, Terry."

She fought against the silence and then the words came out.

"Don't you understand that after you...",

Her voice trembled,

"Me going against everything I was- everything I knew... all that was me trying to forget about you?"

Terry, did not speak.

Hell no!

He didn't expect this answer from her. He let the whisper of her name leave his lips, become one with the wind.

"I hated the part of me that had to let you go... pretend to go on like nothing happened."

Put on a smile Candy!

You're more beautiful when you bloody smile, Candy...

"I always bounced back in my life, no matter what! and yet with you...

I lost Albert after-

She turned, fixed her eyes on Terry. He already knew... Hadn't he been plagued by his own guilt over Susanna, her health... he would have contacted her back then.

Since the accident, despite all the doctors and the superb care Susanna had received, her state had been fragile. Yet, she never complained. Not to him. That made the torment inside him worse. Like a dark monster, with claws sharper than an eagle's he was eaten inside.

Night after night, like another Prometheus, he was ripped up by the guilt; whenever Susanna fell sick and turned more and more frail, he blamed himself for not being able to love her. Even if he consciously closed his mind to Candy, and pushed her back.

He hid the harmonica she gave him, hid her letters; everything he could have done, he did do it, in an effort to stop thinking of Candy. Slowly, painfully, he succeeded to a degree, enough to be able to function without living in the past, he tried...

He tried hard, damn him(!) hated himself so, while she wasted away, waiting, waiting, with hungry eyes, lips left untouched to the kiss of a lover.

Then one day, in the morning newspaper, he read the news.

Business mogul, William Albert Ardlay dies from leukaemia.

Suddenly, unexpected, quietly he passed away in the Ardlay home in Chicago. It was true he had kept a low profile the last six months. There were no business columns covering his travels to new markets, expanding the Ardlay empire. One of the few strong American empires which shone bright in the rest of the world.

William Albert Ardlay was young. He was only thirty-four when he passed away. Unmarried. The main recipient of the Ardlay fortune was Candice White-Ardlay, the young woman who had been adopted and given the Ardlay family name following the will and order of the Ardlay patriarch, William Albert Ardlay, when he had been just a young man himself, barely twenty.

Terry read and read again the obituary. How a life, however short or long, was held captive within a few lines of ink printed on a piece of paper. He was born there. Studied there. Did A), B) C). He was this and that and the other. Patron of arts and charities. A lot of charities.

Candy's influence

Through Archie, there was also an official statement from the family. Short, sombre. Thanking him for shaping the family in ways no one else had been able to achieve. He would be missed dearly. Archie stepped up to take the leadership of the business, fresh out of Harvard Business school. George kept his place as the trusted advisor of the Ardlay patriarchs.

The rest, Terry wasn't able to remember. He drunk too much that night. He crawled back home in a bad shape, and yet he hadn't been able to stop the pain ooze from his pores.

He remembered Albert having brought him back to college, after getting to know each other at a bar brawl.

Yes, the one at the Blind Beggar.

It was Terry against three. Thugs, all of them they were, shaven heads, burly men. The kind of men, you changed pavement if you happened to cross their path during a dimly lit night. They were all outside. In all probability, the men were part of the Blind Beggar furniture. Bling Beggar being their usual drinking hole. Their turf.

And then that Friday night, a stuck up, frigging blue blooded kid stumbled in, took a corner on the bar, swinging bourbon one after another, till someone shoved him off the stool. The insult was kept between Terry's teeth but it was audible enough for the clientele around him to take notice and notice they took, realising they had to do with a fucking arrogant toff teenager who thought he owned the world.

Terry within the alcohol-induced cloud that had filled his brain and his veins, didn't even feel fear. Instead, the anger that was always simmering in his gut, that self-destructing force that governed everything in his life till he realised he had fallen in love with Candy - came to the fore. He stood there and swung the first punch. Not only that, but the smirk he had on his pretty face right when the man who had shoved him, fell back and down on a table as a result from Terry's punch, the table and the man together crashed with a loud noise on the floor. That posh smirk sparked a fire that was difficult to put down. Other men approached and the brawl erupted. A bottle broken in half, its jagged edge came down with force. It cut through Terry's arm. He had flinched but given how drunk he was, he really didn't think much of it.

The three men had taken Terry out the pub. By then, the blood had soaked the sleeve of his shirt and was dripping down his fingers, and the tiredness overtook his whole body. Slowly he was running out of steam till he was risking to be completely still, not being able to even raise a finger against these men-

Terry's punches hit more air than flesh by then, his face was glowing with sweat, blue flames flickered inside his eyes. The thugs wanting to teach this bastard a lesson, were going to finish him off. Two of them held him by his arms, and a third gave him two punches on his sides which made Terry's breath to leave his body like a arrow, unable to fill his lungs with oxygen, till another man who happened to walk the opposite side of the road became witness and came to his rescue.

He seemed a pretty straight laced guy. By his gentle demeanour, you wouldn't think he was one to defend himself or anyone else from criminal bullies of the sort who had Terry at their mercy and yet, his punches were quick and effective. It could have been the darkness who was also on Albert's advantage, it could have been the surprise on the men's faces of how could a man who looked like Jesus, manage to break the nose from one of them...

In any case, the man having taken this element of surprise to his advantage, pulled Terry up who had slid down the pavement, with the wall behind his back. Put Terry's arm over his shoulders and grabbed his waist with the other.

"Run..." Terry had heard this voice clear-cut in his ears. A renewed energy overtook his body. The two men started running for dear life. They run till the only sound there was, was the echo of their own feet hitting hard down the pavement. The streets were quiet. There they had stopped. Their breaths were short and hard.

Terry remembered Albert commenting of his bloodied sleeve. To which comment, he had dismissed it that it wasn't anything serious. Skin deep, most likely.

"Where do you stay?" Albert had asked him. "At least, I'll take you there."

"Leave me outside the garden walls of St. Paul's college." Terry had said, realising he wasn't going to be able to get rid of this Jesus-look alike figure of a man who had come to his rescue.

"My name is Albert by the way." Albert introduced himself, just as he started walking next to Terry, glancing at his reactions, being on the ready to catch the young man from falling down, given how much he had drunk and how much he was beaten.

Terry's mouth broke into a smile. "Really? I thought Jesus of Nazareth, would have been more apt." Said and scoffed with his own sarcasm.

Albert was quick to answer though. Looked like a guy who was quickly to think on his feet and frankly didn't look too fazed by Terry. "For you and where you were a few minutes ago, I could be."

Both men stopped in the middle of the dark road and started laughing with their hearts. The moon sparkled inside their eyes.

"Nice to have known you, Jesus of Nazareth." Terry kept the joke. "I'm Terry..."

"I always lived by Albert's words... smile against the sorrow,

and one day, I would wake up fixed,

but that wasn't the case. To smile having given up on my happiness, stopped making sense."

Candy's words sounded once again next to the sound of the sea, as they were reaching closer to the shore.

"I was only deluding myself..."

"I thought of us, Terry, torturing myself, what it would have been like for us to be together, married, having a family." Candy's voice trailed off.

A thrill crawled the length of Terry's spine to the admission of Candy's thoughts. It wasn't only himself who had spent so many moments alone thinking the exact same things. The hair on his arms stood up. He wanted to take her into his arms, at that exact moment. And cursed his impulsiveness. The anger that erupted and cut their boat trip shorter. They could have been still where they had thrown the anchor and he could persuade her to say

Yes... she wanted to become his wife.

Instead he kept steering the boat and only his stare turned to her for a brief moment. Kept her eyes locked into his. "Freckles, we can still do that. I love you. I haven't changed. Nothing has changed."

"Nothing has changed." Candy repeated his last words, desperate to have been the truth. "Yet everything has changed, Terry. We're changed, despite you saying we're not. And things change. They already have changed- even since you came in London.

Who says tomorrow something comes up and...and... a new Susanna-like situation...

Christian...

"What about Christian? What are you on about, Candy?" Terry's voice deepened. He too was thinking about him. And he was nervous, more and more so. Not so much of Christian himself, but the situation he'd been in.

How Candy would react when she found out that Christian was a common criminal who was supposed to hand himself to the Police. And the worst even, if she ever realised that Terry had been the one who had precipitated that arrest.

"He's in London alone. Heaven's know what he's been up too. His words were vague to me, and knowing you... how you were vague, when I came to New York... your mind elsewhere, it brought back memories."

This last statement of hers, came out of nowhere. Candy bit her lip. Knowing all too well, she went too far. The wine and the sun made the tongue to unravel more than she was willing to...

The same unexpectedness was evident in Terry's voice when he almost jumped from his seat.

"What?!"

"Why do you bring this on, Candy?"

"I really struggle to understand what you are on about. Christian-

He took a breath, trying to calm down. He too had a bit of sympathy for Christian but for Candy to come out, out of nowhere and compare them that they were somewhat similar, to how they handled difficult situations... that, he really struggled to comprehend.

"Whatever Christian is in, it is his fault!"

"Whereas Susanna wasn't yours..." Candy reacted.

"Stop it right here, Candy." He said in a tone that wasn't allowing this discussion to go any further. It was taking a dangerous turn between them.

For a while, they kept quiet, despite not being so quiet inside both of them.

"If you consider me,

an 18-year old bloke,

not paying any attention to a girl infatuated with me, because all I could think of-

Day-and-night

Was you,

your face, your smile, your voice, your freckles, your eyes, your hair,

how you blushed when I teased you, how the kiss I stole from you tasted on my lips and how my skin stung every time I thought of that slap.

I was such a bastard to you at times, and it took for me to put an ocean between us to come to regret so many things that I hadn't said and done...

And all-the-while

I let Susanna fall in love with me as I kept dreaming of what I would do different when I saw you again...

Then yes, go ahead, consider Susanna my own fault, Candy..." Terry finally said.

This peculiar and intense discussion between them, had a left a bitter taste in his mouth, despite the sweet taste of the love they shared since the day before.

Just like Christian, both Terry and Candy stood between the past and the future, in a present that was as fragile as stepping on eggshells. To put the past behind, carried bitterness in its core, while the future, even if the promise of happiness was sweet like the sweetest honey, still felt like a magical illusion. Something that was and wasn't there. It was up to them to decide their reality. Only problem was, they were yet reluctant to do so.

The marina was only a matter of minutes away.

Candy's eyes rippled and sparkled like two green lakes in the summer afternoon. The last admission from Terry shook her. She looked at him, going through the moves of slowing down the boat, turning the mast and the sails so, that the wind put a break to their sailing.

"I am sorry Terry..." She said in a low voice, feeling deep regret that their conversation had taken such a turn.

"No as much as I..." He turned for a moment to look at her when he said those words, really meaning them. He hated the fighting between them. After a day of absolute bliss, he really hadn't the heart to go back to a situation where they bickered and quarrelled, just because the past came between them.

The sound of his footsteps was drowned within the exquisite and very expensive Persian rugs they were walking on as the passed through the Gallery corridor, the Duke's butler leading the way and the Detective Constable behind. Robert had had his fair share of social engagements in mansions of the rich and the well to-do members of the London society but he had never set foot inside the main residence of the Duke of Grandchester who was part of the inner circle of the Royal Family.

He knew fully well the choice he was making by being there. The words of Christian, kept ringing in his head -

I prefer the element of surprise...

Robert Shaw had promised to follow the plan, but up to a point. When he set out to "work" with the Raven, under the promise of having both the famous thief and the criminal boss in handcuffs by the end of this, he hadn't known that a burglary, and one which was to be a highly significant one in that respect, was soon about to happen.

Of course, he hadn't known the target but given the involvement of Terry Grandchester...

Ah yes...

The Raven didn't like leaving anything to chance and so was Robert. Once he had left Terry Graham in that hospital after he was supposedly "attacked" by thugs, he had him under surveillance. Unbeknown to Terry and with the collaboration of the Claridge's manager, his calls were monitored. Given the feud that seemed to be stewing over between Terry and Christian, on the admittance from Terry -

Heck! He even had visited the police station to give Christian in! There wasn't much love lost between the two men who fought over the heart of the rich American heiress, as charming as she was.

Just before Terry left London, the manager of the hotel gave Robert the a list of the people Terry had phoned from his room. It was Sir Edward Lewis and the Duke of Grandchester. Given that both of those names were of prominent nature in the high class society of London, Robert did a little digging of his own. There was nothing much out of the ordinary regarding Sir Edward Lewis and the connection to Terry seemed innocent enough. Nothing more than him and the daughter of Sir Lewis, Marion, having a fling.

The Duke of Grandchester however...

It was more than ten years ago, he had contacted the police about an adolescent boy, at the age of sixteen. He had escaped to the States, alone. He was his illegitimate son who run away from home. Apparently, his mother lived in the States. New York to be more precise.

Richard Grandchester had shown up the police station in a right state. Almost in the verge of losing it. Temper flaring, hand slapped hard on the desk. It was all written on the report. There was no action taken because his son, Terrence G. Grandchester had turned sixteen and was not a minor anymore. It had been a very peculiar incident because under normal circumstances, men like the Duke of Edinburgh would have paid someone to run after his son. He would have put solicitors to bring him back. It would have been all very hush hush and private.

But, the decision of the young man to leave must have caught him so unprepared, it should have been so unexpected, it really must had thrown him off course and his first reaction was to run to the Police station, demanding for someone to run after his son in Southampton, to stop the boat sailing to the States.

What all that had to do with the Raven?

Well, plenty, Detective Robert Shaw would have said to anyone who asked. Since Christian and Terry became rivals, everything surrounding Terry potentially could have been a target for Christian. In any case, if the Raven had his sights to a blue blooded Londoner and his fortune, the Duke fitted the bill down to a tee.

That is when the alarm bells started ringing for the detective. What if he was to be caught a fool by the thief? What if none of this plan was to turn to be true...and Robert would have ended not with two criminal behind bars, not even one.. but none; empty handed, he would sit on his desk with an egg on his face and his career ruined.

Breaking and entering the Grandchester mansion in Highgate, one could say that it was almost as if you had entered and burgled the Buckingham palace. If this had gone wrong... it would be been the end for Robert.

Really, no exaggerations.

So despite the Raven telling him that he preferred the element of surprise, Robert decided against it.

The butler knocked once the door in front of him and Robert entered the room.

After having a brief chat with Fraser MacTavish, the man from whom they had hired the dingy for the day, Candy and Terry took their bicycles and left the marina. They walked in silence, side by side, with the bicycles between them and their tongues locked behind their teeth, both not really knowing what to say.

Draw a line to the sand and move on?

Or... bring the past to the present and deal with it, despite the pain it could bring?

Candy was reluctant to do that. The wine had loosened her tongue to the point she had said things she regretted. She preferred to go back, a few hours back where they were enjoying each other's company, without thinking of the future or the past.

But, she already knew time was ticking backwards. This evening... after dinner perhaps, she would say it. Yes, it had to be done. It was almost a week since she had found out the relationship between Terry and Christian and the secret she had decided to keep inside her, weighed her heart down like a boulder she had to carry on. The more time she let pass, the heavier it was becoming. Soon enough she wouldn't be able to carry it any longer.

They turned to the promenade side of the harbour. They stopped in the shade, and looked at the Kisimul castle. A few hours ago, they were on the Dreamer on the other side of the castle, having thrown anchor where the bay opened up. It was already six in the afternoon. They should have been full of smiles and their hearts light, filled in with sunshine and love and yet.. she almost felt nostalgic of the carefree moments they had shared. An apology came from the deepest of her heart, up her throat and inside her mouth.

"Terry-"

She didn't manage to continue. When she turned, she met with Terry's face and his lips on hers. It wasn't an angry kiss. It wasn't a soft one either. Their bodies came close, as close as they could with the two bicycles between them but her face was between his hands and her heart banged against her chest when he gazed into her eyes. After a day in the open sea, they held the sun captive inside them. The sun and her heartbeat. The skin of his palms felt dry and rough against her cheeks from handling the ropes of the boat. She surrendered completely to Terry's kiss, felt the pressure of his lips on hers. His thumbs caressed the apples of her cheeks. She had her hands on his chest. Felt its breathing movement against her palms.

"I don't want us to fight..." She heard him say softly, close to her ear.

"I love you Terry." She whispered. "With everything I have."

They leaned on each other, forehead on forehead and smiled with a renewed warmth and lightness. He took her hands from his chest and held her fingers inside the closed palms of his hands. Treated her tender fingertips with two soft kisses while they gazed at each other.

"Mr and Mrs Graham!" They heard a woman's voice, the heavy Scottish accent , the rolled Rs on the tongue.

They both turned towards the direction of the voice. It was Mrs Burns. Dressed up to the nines, fancy hat, hand bag passed over her right arm. She flashed them a warm smile.

It looked like their Barra-dise, had worked its magic to the couple who looked full on in love with each other. Whatever were the disagreements they had, they sure didn't seem to have them anymore.

"Mrs. Burns!" Both Terry and Candy exclaimed while the woman hurried towards them.

"Looking very grand!" Terry added and widened his smile, while he side glanced at Candy who feigned jealousy with her brow raised and was ready to poke his ribs with her elbow.

"Oh, please call me Sarah." The woman commented in an obvious flattered tone, cheeks blushing. "We just come back from the church where we held my niece's wedding. Dorothy, daughter of my husband's brother, Angus."

Before she continued to inform them on the entire Burns family tree, Terry stopped her. "That is great!"

Candy stepped in. " You have both our congratulations Mrs. Burns- Sarah!" She said.

"Oh my... well, thank you both!" She said and grabbed both Candy's and Terry's hand with her own. "We're all heading down the Crows Inn. We'll be having a ceilidh dance later on, so we will be delighted if you wanted to join us.

"We don't want to impose-" Candy said.

"Nonsense! You're on Barra, you're one of us, dear!"

Terry and Candy looked at each other. There wasn't a way to avoid this. Perhaps it would be fun. Candy never had been in one of those ceilidh dances although she'd heard of them before. They were traditional Scottish dances. Ironically, despite the Scottish roots of the Ardlays, they never had a Scottish dance held in Lakewood. Albert had said to Candy one time, while he was sort of telling her the story of how they emigrated to the States, of their ancestors who were peasants from the Scottish Lowlands, close to the Firth of Clyde. The elders of the family led by aunt Elroy were keen to erase everything that connected them to such a humble beginning and past. So their dance events were fancy European-influenced, mostly French. They danced the waltz, polka, foxtrot.

In any case, they said their goodbyes, arranged to meet later on and rode their bicycles back to their cottage by the sea.

When that door opened, the Duke stood upright and walked towards the Detective, welcoming him to his home. He outstretched his arm. His handshake, unlike that of many other aristocrats, was a firm one. He asked him where he wanted any refreshments, tea, coffee, to which Robert had passed politely. Didn't want anything. In fact the visit wasn't going to be a long one but definitely one that it had been imperative for him to do.

The Duke wasn't a man who showed much but he definitely looked perplexed and a little worried by the conviction with which Robert was presenting himself there. Whatever the reason of the visit from Shaw then it must had been serious.

"There isn't a good way to say this Sir, but there is serious possibility which has arisen from several sources I have in the...

let us say

... darker corners of London city, that your home will be burgled."

The Duke had remained silent.

"And from what I believe, this operation is imminent, if I may say so." He added.

The Duke paced inside the room. He kept smoothing his moustache and his brows had descended over his stare, each carrying the weight of hundreds of thoughts.

"Do you know who is planning to burgle my house?" He stopped the pacing and faced the Detective.

"The Raven, Sir." The admission came from Robert without even a flinch on his face.

"I see..."

"Whatever I say to you Sir, please let it remain within those walls and not to go any further." Robert said to him.

"But of course!" The Duke quickly confirmed he'd obey whatever Robert was to say to him.

Robert glanced at the butler, who stood at the door still like a statue, even if he was privy to everything that was said between the two men.

"James has my outmost trust, Detective. There is nothing to worry, so please go ahead."

Robert took a breath. "Have you had any contact with Christian Blake, Sir?"

The Duke stare became intense. A deep line formed between his brows which arched upwards. He pressed his lips. "Christian? Why are you asking me this, Detective?"

"Was he here by any chance, as of late?" Robert continued.

"Yes, he was. In fact he was here, last week. We discussed him painting a portrait of my wife. In fact she'd coming down from our home in Scotland, on Tuesday morning."

There, at that moment, Robert's mind flashed like the bulb of a photographic camera. Whatever was to happen, would have to happen till Tuesday. He wondered whether Christian knew that; he was almost certain, he'd find it soon enough. Christian was London's phantom. He was nowhere and everywhere.

"I will have men patrolling the area, Sir."

"You haven't answered my question, Detective..." The Duke asked him. "About Christian."

"Christian Blake, Sir... is the Raven."

Robert didn't add anything else, after that, but let the information sink in for a few minutes. "It can't be possible..." The Duke said in the end. It looked like he was going over the meeting with him and it wasn't making sense to him. "I was the one who asked him to come and see me."

"Oh, believe me Sir... everything about Christian Blake is a case of expertly crafted smoke and mirrors, where himself is totally above suspicion while the Raven has looted till now many mansions of your circle. I have been for long on the Raven's path."

He didn't let the Duke to counter argue. "I told you of all that, because I want you to do nothing." The Detective said in all seriousness.

"You must be joking!" Richard raised his voice. He felt betrayed. His trust to Christian. He liked that young man. He reminded him of himself at that age. Go getter, energetic, charming, confident, a little cocky even.

"Yes, I do mean it." Robert repeated what he said before. "I want you to do nothing and let it all happen. My men are all on this case. But I won't say nothing else, mostly for your own safety. But it is a very significant turn of events and I do believe that this will be the last house the Ravel will enter to burgle for a very long time."

7pm in the evening; inside the Blind Beggar, the atmosphere was decidedly that of a Saturday night. The place wasn't heaving as yet, but it was busy. It was a typical July Saturday evening, the air was warm, people were out for a good time.

Detective Shaw was nursing a pint of ale at the bar. His eyes kept coming back and forth, from the cigarette that was dying a slow death, having left it burning inside the ashtray in front of him, to the door behind the bartender. The one that was leading downstairs, from where MacDonald was pulling all the strings for his operations around London and even further than that.

After his visit to the Duke of Grandchester, he hadn't the desire to go to the Police station and neither home. He just wanted a drink. He had ended up at the Blind Beggar but it wasn't so much a conscious decision. Perhaps a hope. Whether Christian Blake would show up. Saturday night was the perfect setting. Too many folk out for the night, punters enjoying their drinking inside the pub. He could easily slip in. Have a quick chat with the Boss. Charles was his boss after all.

He wished he could talk to Christian. All those days and no one had seen him. What was done was done though. He had talked to the Duke. Richard Grandchester was now aware.

He had left him after he revealed pretty much everything, apart the connection with MacDonald. This was something he preferred to keep to himself. The Raven, even if he was a thief, he had some honour. He wouldn't kill a man. But the man who was one floor below him, below the ground, he was the Devil and he had no scruples for taking a life that didn't offer him any use.

For the moment, he had agreed with the Duke of having a heavier patrolling of the area while he would be in frequent contact and left him on his own to digest what he had revealed to him.

8pm in the evening; Terry wearing his summer linen dark blue suit that he wore on their journey to Barra, was waiting for Candy to come out of the room. They had arrived to their cottage, and partly the kiss they shared on the harbour's promenade, the cycle back, under the late afternoon's mellow sun and the prospect of a fun night out, had made their argument and the heavy conversation they had on the boat forgotten.

Almost forgotten...

The matter with Christian remained and it would have been something, he was sure, they would touch again. Perhaps with cooler heads. He had to control his jealousy. He shouldn't be jealous. Candy loved him. She had said it many times over under his caresses, side by side with the breaths that left her lips. He trusted her. He knew her. But for the time being, he put aside the fact that she found similarities between him and Christian. It was to be an evening of letting their hair down, relax and have fun like a couple in love should.

Dance, laugh, kiss, hold hands, make love...

He heard her open the door. She came out and she left him with the breath stolen from his throat. She wore a deep pink dress with embroidered daffodils, cut on a straight line and finishing at the knee which accentuated her suntanned arms and legs perfectly. Her makeup was minimal and the freckles had overtaken her sun-kissed face. She smelled so good; he felt tempted to carry her back to the bedroom and sod the dance... His girl was the most beautiful woman in the world and was his.

Daffodils... He whispered.

"Remember?" She asked him with a smile.

"Stones don't sit down to smell the daffodils, Freckles."

They shared a tender kiss. "You look beautiful." He whispered.

"Not as gorgeous as the man who's about to take me to my first Ceilidh. I'll have to look out for all those women who will elbow each other to try and dance with you." She complained.

"They can do what they like. I only want to dance with one girl."

She chuckled with cheeks red like poppies. She grabbed her bag and her evening shawl. He took her hand and left the cottage. The car Mrs. Burns had sent was waiting for them.

10pm in the evening; At the cabin in the forest, the night was descending fast. You could hear no more songs from birds. Everything had long gone quiet, apart from the song of the nightingales, perched high up on the foliage of the trees.

Inside the cabin, the fire in the fireplace was slowly dying out, but the room kept still warm. Christian was sitting at the table while Alice was sitting at the rug in front of the fire. She looked at it, hypnotised, lost inside her own thoughts. They had finished their modest meal and were just about to finish the bottle of the wine too.

Christian had left for most of the day, had been in London, taking care of matters at hand, making sure the plan was going smoothly, preparing their journey back the next day. Where Alice would stay, at least for some part of the day. He had left her at the cabin, aware that this arrangement was better to be brought to an end. It wasn't fair for her. Even if she protested otherwise.

He was also keen for cutting his ties with her. She was having feelings for him. And she didn't care if she made them clear. Why he felt so bad, he had no idea. He should have felt elated but he couldn't escape the feeling that he was responsible for where she was, the situation she was in. Not adding the worry of Charles. He knew Charles loved her but he made him suspicious that there was something going on between the two. For his own benefit and his own plan. What if Charles would do something to hurt Alice just to take his revenge on her, just the same as he would do with him?

Alice got up. She looked tired.

"We will be leaving early in the morning." He told her.

She nodded. Brought her empty glass to the table and fixed her hazel stare on his face. Kept his eyes on hers.

It was now or never

She knelt in front of him. Pushed his legs apart to fit her body between them. Raised her torso and brought her face close to his. Put both hands on his cheeks. They prickled her palms. He was unshaven, dishevelled, as tired as she was, but he was beautiful.

He didn't react. He was completely taken by surprise.

love

you"

She said to him slowly with a determination that lit up her gaze. "I expect nothing back. After tonight, I go my way, you go yours."

She kissed him once. A kiss like a feather. Let her lips hover over his.

"Love me for this night only."

He looked at her. Tears sparkled at the corners of her eyes. A deep emotion which rushed out of him, a profound feeling for this woman who so boldly and despite everything, she admitted to him her love, not wanting anything in return.

He returned her kiss. Fired by everything that was flooding his insides, the feelings that were rushing to overwhelm him. He stood up and pulled her to stand up too. With a sudden move, he picked her up on his arms. She put her arms around his neck and disappeared behind the darkness of the bedroom.