Setting Him Free (10 page)

She let him take it in, holding him quietly while he
fiddled with the fabric of her blouse, bunching it in his hand,
letting it go. It might not be love, but she felt as if both of
them had taken a tentative first step towards something important.
Too unfair to burden him with such talk yet. One step at a
time.

"Tell me which beach, Taylor. I'll meet you there on
a date we can both remember. Your birthday. When is it?"

"August the fifteenth." His hand continued its
restless exploration. "Yours?"

She breathed a sigh of relief. At least he sounded
vaguely rational again. "August too, the second. That gives you
four months. Will it be enough?"

"Danielle..."

"Will it be enough
?
Answer me. We could leave
it till next year, but I'll be there whenever you want me to be.
Say you'll try."

"I wish I had your strength and determination, love.
You're scary when you get going."

"Better believe that. It's why I'm so good at what I
do." She took his hand again, lacing her fingers in his, gripping
tightly. "See this. We have a connection, you and me. I don't know
why, and I'm not stopping to question it, but" - she looked away
because the words sounded so melodramatic. "I think I was meant to
save you."

He brought their intertwined fingers up to his mouth
and kissed the back of her hand. "I think you were, too. And you
might have. I just don't know. "

"Stop with the 'I don't know'. You will meet me on
that beach. Say it. Promise me right now. Say the words."

A resigned sigh, a long look. "I wish I'd met you
before all this. I can't promise you, but I'll try. Will that
do?"

It would have to. He couldn't make that kind of
promise. Anything could happen in the next four months. He might
not even be alive by then
. No, don't go there. He will be.
But he'd try, and it was more than she'd hoped for at the start of
the conversation.

"I want you to think of me every night at ten o'
clock, and I'll be thinking of you. Wait." Reaching under her hair,
she unclipped her plain gold chain. "Wear this for me, so you won't
forget."

He looked at the chain, then at her. Eventually, when
she was beginning to think he wouldn't take it, he dipped his head
forward and let her fasten it around his neck.

"Then you have this," he said, and pulled the signet
ring from his little finger. He slipped it onto the third finger of
her left hand.

Danielle studied the ornate crest on the face of the
ring with astonishment. "You're not a lord or anything, are you?
Because, American here, so seriously impressed."

"There's a title somewhere in the family. It's a load
of pretentious crap anyway."

"No, it's beautiful.
Lady Danielle
." She
mimicked his accent, then bit her lip, realising what she'd said.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that."

"I wish you could be." Taylor gave the ring one last
look and touched the gold chain she'd given him. "I'll think of you
every night at ten o' clock."

"And I'll do the same." Her voice cracked. "So we
won't be apart really, will we?"

* * * *

Taylor watched Danielle searching her carry-on,
emptying the contents on the floor, muttering about packing him
supplies, lengthening the strap so it would be more comfortable for
his larger frame. If only he could feel her enthusiasm for what he
had to do. There was a way of getting the file back. That hadn't
really been the problem. He knew where it was, heavily guarded, of
course. The problem was what he had to do to get it.

One more job. The diplomat and his family had been
taken care of. He hadn't told her there was always someone willing
to step into a dead man's shoes, to make a name for themselves. But
there were always other, similarly messy jobs. If he begged they'd
be prepared to bargain and, if he was lucky, hand over the file. As
long as he kept his back properly covered this time, he'd be safe
enough.

Watching Danielle strip the businessman's billfold of
the cash and stuff it into the bag, he thought she'd have made one
hell of a spy. And Catch 22 didn't even come close to covering it.
If he didn't do the job they'd want in exchange for the file he
couldn't be with Danielle. If he did, he'd lose his soul again and
become that monster he'd come to hate. She deserved better than
that.

What alternative did he have? The best he could do
was walk out of her life and never come back, despite the hurt it
would cause her. She hadn't mentioned a boyfriend, but a woman like
her must have one. Probably some sophisticated business type.
Someone who could give her the house with the dog and the kids.
Taylor shuddered. Christ, he wanted her. Part of him wanted her so
much it was willing to do that job. Take a risk she'd never find
out. But could she ever forgive him if she did?

* * * *

He needed to change. Danielle found a white tee-shirt
with a more discreet logo in her bag and threw it to him. "You'd
better put this on. That one's just a big ad for where you've
been."

Taylor caught it, nodding in approval. "Do you have a
whole store in there?"

"Perks of the job. Reps give me samples. I usually
hand them out to friends. Will that fit?"

"Should do. Will you help me?"

"Try and stop me." Danielle pasted on a smile and
hopped up. Time seemed to be speeding up, moving relentlessly
towards the moment when he'd walk out of her life. Soon this
interlude would be nothing more than a dream. The thought made her
grab hold of him in panic. Still so much she didn't know about him,
so much she wanted to find out. Rescue could come at any moment,
and there were still places she hadn't touched him. "Come here,"
she said tugging at his tee-shirt, slipping her hands under the
hem.

She pulled up the soft cotton, fingertips gliding
over the smoothness of his skin, the scars, feeling the powerful
muscles flex in response to her touch. A hard man, undoubtedly,
someone not to be messed with. A killer with a heart of ice, which
somewhere along the line had melted and left him wondering who the
hell he really was. The same man whose kisses were soft as
down.

The tee-shirt fluttered to the floor. Danielle lifted
her hands to Taylor's face and carefully traced his features,
learning him by touch as well as sight. Knowing that if she didn't
imprint him in her mind, the memory would fade too quickly for her
to hold on to. Oh, she'd never forget him, but she wanted the
memory to be clear and sharp, not a vague impression of someone
who'd touched her then walked out of her life.

And she wanted him to do the same. Selfish though it
was, she didn't want him to forget her, either. Whether he'd meet
her on that beach, she still didn't know. Better to seal the memory
now than rely on the promise of a future that might never
happen.

"What colour are my eyes, Taylor?"

"They're grey," he said, taking her face in one hand
and holding her still. "Darker round the edges, a little misty,
kind, understanding."

"Yours are the colour of the sea, just off the coast
of Bali. Have you ever been to Bali?"

"Yes, I have."

"How did you get this?" she asked outlining the scar
that skimmed his hairline, refusing to contemplate whether Bali had
been business or pleasure.

"Fell off a roof when I was a kid. How about
you?"

"How about me, what?" Danielle looked up at him,
puzzled.

"Scars, distinguishing marks. What about you?"

"Nothing, I've led a very boring life compared to
you. Unless you count this." Danielle took his hand and placed it
over her heart.

For a moment he stared at it. "Oh," he said very
softly before pulling her against him in a crushing hug. "Shit,
Danielle, I never meant for this to happen to either of us. I'm so
sorry."

"You're sorry we made love?"

"No, not that. You're the best thing that's ever
happened to me. I just wish…"

"I know. Don't say it, Taylor. I wish it too. You
can't stay, and you can't take me with you?" It came out as a
question, even though she already knew the answer.

Taylor shook his head and she turned away. He caught
her, turned her back. "I would if it was possible. You know that,
don't you?"

Danielle nodded and closed her eyes. Drawing it out
like this was unfair to both of them, especially him. Hadn't she
told herself to be strong? When she looked at him again, she
realised she already knew everything she needed to know. The
strong, capable hand gently lifting the hair away from the back of
her neck and winding it around his fingers was also the hand that
had pulled the trigger and ended, how many lives? Yet the remorse
was written clearly in his sad eyes. He'd been willing to lay down
his own life by way of atonement. How long would it take for the
slate to be wiped clean? Danielle guessed a lifetime. Not something
a person could do alone.

"You'll never escape if we don't stop doing this."
She pulled away reluctantly, and picked up the clean tee-shirt from
the seat. Being businesslike about all this was hard, but what she
was good at and what he needed. So she helped him on with the
shirt, smoothed it in place, and pronounced him ready.

Taylor checked the window then sat on the seat,
watching her transfer her own things into a spare carrier bag.
If I beg, will he take me?
No, she thought. He'd fare better
on his own, physically at least. She still didn't know if she'd
made him realise he deserved some kind of life, no matter how much
he thought otherwise.

Without looking up, she could feel his soul-searching
stare prickling her spine, making her heart race and her fingers
fumble as she attempted to close her make-up bag. She must look
like hell.

"Just going to make myself beautiful," she said,
standing up. "Don't want you to remember me like this."

Taylor grabbed her around the waist. "I want to
remember you exactly like this. You don't need make-up to be
beautiful."

"Can I take a photo of you, then? Would that be
okay?"

"I guess."

Taylor sat for a photograph and then she put the
camera on delay and sat with him while it recorded the moment. Soon
these images would be all she had of him. She stared at the camera
screen. So this was what they looked like together? Good, happy
even, like any normal couple.

Then there was nothing left to do but hand him his
bag.

"Time to go."
I'm not going to cry
, she
thought with grim determination. "I'll see you in August, Taylor.
Your birthday or mine. I don't care which."

He shook his head. "Not leaving yet. Not until that
rescue party turns up."

Why was he being so stubborn? "You have to go," she
said. "If you stay until they arrive, they'll see you. Please,
Taylor." She pushed him with both hands. He stood firm.

"And what if I leave you, and they don't turn up? You
don't know how to survive out here. I do. I'm not leaving you until
I know you're safe."

Her eyes were so misted up she couldn't focus. She
hit him weakly on the side of his good arm. "Why won't you go? I'll
be okay."

Then she felt herself folded against him and she held
on tight and whispered over and over, "Go, don't go, go, don't go."
Already feeling the ache of him not being there.

They rocked together, drawing out the moment. Taylor
telling her silently how much this all meant to him. Danielle
answering him without words. Nothing could have said it better than
this.

Suddenly he froze. She heard it, a split second
later. A strange clicking sound, intruding on their moment. Quiet
and distant, becoming louder and closer. A helicopter. Taylor's
eyes locked with hers. They'd come.

Again, time became liquid. His goodbye kiss was
heart-breakingly slow and tender, and then he was scrambling for
the bag and running for the open doorway. Neither of them had time
to think past getting him away from of the plane. With one last
kiss he climbed out. She watched him anxiously then threw down the
bag.

"I'll hide in the trees," he said. "Want to make sure
you get off safe. I'm not going until they've got you."

"Thank you. They must have seen the plane. Now go. I
don't want them to spot you. Go!"

"Goodbye, Danielle. I'll never forget you."

She heard the words and then he was gone. The
helicopter circled, low over the treetops, disturbing the branches,
whipping up leaves. Danielle sat down, suddenly light-headed. She'd
forgotten to give him her address or her phone number. So much
she'd wanted to say. Not enough time. They hadn't even decided
which beach to meet on, and now they couldn't because he was
gone.

Danielle leaned back, feeling bereft and very alone.
Last night she'd been so sure of seeing him again. Now? He was on
his own. Didn't have her to give him pep talks and keep him going.
It would be easier for him to find
he
r than it would for her
to find
him
, but would he come back to her? Or would he get
some stupid notion into his head about her being better off without
him? Every moment they were apart made that more of a
possibility.

It already hurt. All she had left of him were the
photographs and the ring with the family crest. Not much,
considering the impact he'd made on her, but maybe... Smiling
through tears she'd been determined not to shed, she gathered up
her reserves, took a steadying breath and fingered the crest on the
ring. Maybe he had wanted to be found. Maybe she could find him
from this? Trace the family. There had to be places, old family
haunts, seaside holidays from his childhood. People were her thing.
She knew human nature. Sooner or later he'd go back. One last
visit, maybe make some kind of attempt to reclaim his past. She
just had to narrow it down and wait. She could play the spy game
too. All she had to do was find that beach.