They heard the bedroom door open. Dempsey’s torso shifted to the side to catch a look out the door of the living room to Belle moving through the landing thus Jack’s body shifted to block his view.
Dempsey’s eyes shot to Jack and the grin came back.
“Protective,” he muttered.
“You’ll meet her soon enough,” Jack returned then went on. “And you’ve investigated her. If she was yours, you’d be the same bloody way. Now, focus. What did you find?”
“Ghost tale,” Dempsey got to the matter at hand, “told around campfires. Kids telling it to scare the hell out of other kids.”
“Dempsey,” Jack warned low.
“For centuries, Bennett,” Dempsey returned. “A shocking story, heartbreaking, brutal. So much so, there are not one but three local historians who’ve made it the focus of their field of study. And not only that, it was shocking, heartbreaking and brutal back in the day. It stunned local residents. Joshua and Brenna Bennett were popular, Brenna especially. She was adored. Her murder marked the locals. The fact that her children were taken made it worse. So there’s a good deal these historians could study. And they shared it all with me.”
“Explain,” Jack demanded.
“Diaries of local residents, letters kept, archives of constabulary records. I haven’t had time to go through it all thoroughly but the primary theme bled through almost immediately,” Dempsey answered.
“And that theme would be?” Jack prompted when Dempsey didn’t go on.
“Bennett and Caldwell had a lifelong feud,” Dempsey replied and Jack felt his body get tight.
Dempsey continued.
“It was not private. It played out very publicly and started when they were young. It followed them into adulthood and business. Caldwell was not well-liked and, the story goes, this was because he was a cheat and a poor loser. Further, although Caldwell was not a peasant, not common, his family didn’t have the kind of money the Bennett family had, still, he was ambitious. And most of that ambition was centred around besting Bennett. Unfortunately, Bennett was richer, smarter and better looking than him and always won. Caldwell didn’t like this. From what I read, as boys even to young men, Bennett participated in these various contests, whatever they were and, in the end, they included the pursuit of women. However, as Bennett matured and turned his mind to the family business, he lost interest in Caldwell and his competitions. In fact, Bennett was often in London and not in Cornwall at all. That said, it was widely believed that Caldwell still smarted that the games ended before he could best Bennett at least once.”
As engrossed in the story as he was disturbed by it and its further similarities to his own life, Jack still heard Belle moving about the house so he lifted a hand. Dempsey fell silent and his eyes cut to the door.
Jack turned to see Belle standing there, looking curious and tentative, her gaze on Dempsey. She was wearing jeans so faded they were nearly white and had a frayed split in one knee. She was also wearing a white slouchy sweater that was loose-woven and had a wide neck so he could see her white vest at her shoulders and through the weave. She’d pulled her hair back in a ponytail but tendrils had escaped and framed her face. Even nearly first thing in the morning without makeup, she looked just as casually chic and adorably charming as she actually was.
She also, fortunately and unfortunately, looked like she’d just enjoyed a rather pleasurable orgasm. Jack liked that the results of their lovemaking lasted some time for Belle.
No, he loved it.
Though, as usual, he wasn’t keen on sharing it.
Without a choice, he extended an arm her way and called softly, “Come in, poppet, meet Mickey Dempsey.”
Her eyes came to him, she gave him her small smile then she walked straight to him. She fitted herself tight to his side as his arm curled around her shoulders and hers around his waist but she leaned forward and extended her other hand to Dempsey who took it.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Dempsey,” she said softly in her musical voice.
“Mickey,” he corrected. “And nice to meet you too, Ms. Abbot.”
She awarded Dempsey one of her small smiles. It was smaller than the ones she gave Jack but it was something and that something was something Dempsey liked. Jack saw it immediately as Dempsey’s gaze grew captivated.
“And please,” Belle continued, “call me Belle.”
“Belle,” Dempsey murmured and he still hadn’t let her hand go.
“Perhaps we can move forward with what you have to share so Belle and I can get on with our Sunday,” Jack suggested pointedly, Belle pulled her hand from Dempsey’s grip and Dempsey grinned at him. Jack looked down at Belle. “I explained I’d spoken with Mr. Dempsey and what I asked him to do,” he reminded her of the conversation they’d had days before and he did this to share with Dempsey that Belle was aware of the situation.
She nodded up to Jack then to Dempsey then she informed them, “Coffee should be ready in a few minutes.”
Jack had no intention of sharing coffee with Mickey Dempsey. He wasn’t even going to ask him to sit down.
His blossoming Belle, however, had other ideas.
“Please, sit, Mickey,” she offered, throwing her arm out to the couch.