To Deceive Is To Love (Romantic suspense) (6 page)

“Something else, isn’t it?” Chantelle asked. “Makes you want to stay up here and never go down. An elusive feeling, untouched by all the pressures and influences of modern-day living.”

“You read my mind.”

She looked across at him. The blue gaze meeting hers was sensual, just like in the hotel room when he had first taken her in his arms. It was confusing to find the eyes that could be so dark and intimidating one minute could turn to sky blue “come to bed” eyes the next, the cynical smile taking on a boyish charm.

She averted her gaze. She wasn’t about to fall under that spell again. “Since I’ve provided you with an insight into my thoughts, how about you tell me some of yours?”

“I’ve just told you.
Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth.
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings.”

Chantelle continued the quote.
“Sunward I’ve climbed and joined the tumbling mirth of sun-split clouds – and done a hundred things.
High Flight.
John Gillespie Magee.

So we both know a little poetry. Tell me, David, what other deep sensitive aspects are there to your character? I know for one that you listen to classical music on the radio. And I assume from Danny’s comment at the air show that you were once in the air force. And I caught the look those RAF pilots gave you; it wasn’t exactly friendly. So did you get discharged or something?”

 
She turned to look at him and caught the small frown and the tightening of his lips. That was her problem; she always spoke without thinking. Obviously, she had said too much, because he avoided her gaze.

“Oh there’s a lot about me you don’t want to know, Chantelle, believe me. I’m sure, given time, Danny will enlighten you. By the way, was that part of the act, that final crazy knife-edge stunt?” His serious tone revealed he didn’t agree with it.

“No, Danny surprised us all with that.” She tried to make light of it. “I don’t think he’ll try it again, not after the roasting Don gave him. Don is the one who set up the Swift Flying Circus and so what he says usually goes.”

David glanced at her, concern in his voice. “A word of warning: lay down the ground rules. It’s your neck he’s risking up there. I wouldn’t like to see anything happen to it.”

She smiled. “No chance of that, I happen to value my neck. And since you mentioned Danny, what is it with you two? He’s been acting pretty weird since you showed up. He hasn’t been acting like the Danny I know, always fooling around. No one can stay angry with him long, even Don. With you, though, he’s deadly serious, almost --” She hesitated. Hateful was the word that came to mind, which, despite her usual honesty, wasn’t a term
best
aired.

Luckily, David spoke. “You don’t give up, do you? Let’s just say not all families grow up liking each other. Danny and I might be brothers, but we differ in how we feel about our upbringing and of course, there’s the ten-year age gap. I was closer to our father and when he died, any family bond died with him.”

“That’s so sad. What about your mother?”

“She doesn’t exist as far as I’m concerned.”

David’s cold, dismissive tone shocked Chantelle. Whatever his mother had done had left lasting scars. Maybe she could relate to some of the anger; her own upbringing hadn’t been easy and repressed resentment had surfaced when her father died. The papers had called him a hero who’d saved hundreds from dying. There was never any mention of her father’s mistress of twenty-six years. To remain a secret was what her mother had wanted. They didn’t even attend the funeral. She had argued badly with her mother over it and then had felt bitterness toward her father for dying without ever giving her his name.

“I know how it feels to lose a parent. My father died and left me his plane and that was about it. Not that he actually lived with us, so the loss was more about the time we spent together and not having it anymore. He used to visit and take me up in his plane. He taught me how to fly and we were there at every damn air show, mother and me, but he was never a father in the true sense of the word.”

It was strange how she could talk about it now, the teasing and spiteful innuendoes from her years of growing up in a one parent household forgotten or at least pushed aside. Divorce was fashionable, illegitimacy wasn’t.

“Anyway, it was always just mother and me. Then last year she announced after twenty-five years of living in England, she was finally going back home to France and the family who had disinherited her for falling in love. So we all have our family crosses to bear one way or another.”

She met David’s puzzled and somewhat surprised look with a smile. “I sometimes talk too much, usually when I’m in my own territory up in the clouds and have a captive audience.” She gave a small laugh and started to bank the plane in the direction of their destination. “Don’t worry; your savior is on hand. There’s land ahead.”

“How did you get into wing-walking and hook up with Danny?”

“Two questions and again about me.”

“I’m curious, that’s all. Something must have gotten you into it. Or someone.”

Chantelle had a feeling he was still unconvinced nothing had happened between Danny and her. “Look, I’ve known your brother for a couple of years, the same amount of time I’ve known Don and quite a few others. We all got to talking. Don had an aerobatic team, wanted to introduce a second biplane which Danny owned and needed a wing-walker. So that’s how it came about.”

“What were you doing before?”

“I was a teacher and yes, it took some persuading from Don to give up my career. I mean, who in their right mind wants to be strapped to a metal frame with the wind whistling around your ears and everything living rushing toward you as the plane gathers speed down the runway? Still it beats teaching eight-year-olds.”

Picking up the radio receiver, she radioed through to the control tower and started the plane’s descent, focusing all her attention on bringing the plane down on the earthen runway. There was a slight lurch forward as they touched the runway, the unevenness of the ground causing the plane to bump and jerk before finally coming to a standstill.

“Not a bad landing if I say so myself. Still, the owner could try modernizing this runway by having tarmac laid.”

“I’ll pass your criticism on to Tony, but it would mean his rates would go up.”

“Oh, well then forget I said anything.”

Climbing down from the cockpit, Chantelle removed the flying jacket and handed it back to David. She felt a slight chill as the fresh air hit her bare arms, but refused David’s offer to put it back on.

“That’s my new car, by the way. It’s quite unique.” They were walking toward the car park and Chantelle pointed toward an old Renault, which had rust around the wheel arches, and a pale blue driver’s door in sharp contrast to the rest of it, which was dark blue. “Your generous brother donated it to me to use until the insurance payout on the car he so kindly wrote off.”

“That’s Danny for you; he never did have much taste when it comes to transport. Does he still drive around on that motorbike of his?”

“Yes and he’s a crazy maniac on it. Going by the car you drive, you obviously enjoy style and comfort rather than recklessness, which brings me to the question of what exactly do you do?”

They now stood between her heap of a car and David’s Jaguar. Chantelle knew that as soon as she opened the door and climbed in, that would be it. He wasn’t about to ask to see her again and if they accidentally met, polite formalities would be all that passed between them. She didn’t want it to end like this. She didn’t know what she wanted, but it wasn’t this.

“There you go again, asking questions.” He gave a small sigh, but his smile revealed he wasn’t bothered by it.

“Let me guess. You work for an avionics company and lecture abroad or maybe telecommunications. Or you work for the government, recruited from the air force, although you don’t strike me as a paper pusher.”

He raised his arms up in submission. “I work for whoever pays the most, a modern day mercenary. So now you know.”

Chantelle’s eyebrows drew together in a puzzled frown. “That doesn’t tell me anything.” She fell silent, knowing the time had come for them to
part company
, but not knowing how to do it.

The sound of car tires screeching to halt just yards from them caused them both to turn and look. A woman in her early thirties with fair hair cut fashionably short was seated behind the wheel of the red sports convertible.

Chantelle heard David curse under his breath and noted the discomfort in his face. Her curiosity deepened. She stood there and waited, arms folded across her chest.

“Catherine, what are you doing here?”

His disgruntled tone obviously had no effect on the woman, who smiled as she approached him. She looked stylish in designer sunglasses, red lips, high heels, and an above the knee skirt and matching pale blue linen jacket.

Chantelle wasn’t surprised by what came next, the chic way of kissing David twice on each cheek. She stood back and seemed to notice Chantelle for the first time, then quickly dismissed her.

“That’s a nice way to greet me,” the woman pouted. “The weather in Brussels was lousy, can you believe that? But at least the contract was signed and my client was happy.” Her well-spoken, clipped voice continued as if she was acting a part in a play. “I had a couple of days free since I returned earlier than planned and you were nowhere to be found. Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” She returned her attention to Chantelle, pushing her sunglasses back over her forehead, her blue eyes cold and suspicious.

“Chantelle Duvall, this is Catherine Cavendish.” David began to look even more uncomfortable when Catherine linked her arm with his as if he was her possession.

Chantelle’s smile tightened, but she tried to sound lighthearted. “Catherine, David’s told me so much about you. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d better get this little Rolls Royce home before she’s towed away as an eyesore.”

“Chantelle Duvall. Sounds French, but you don’t have an accent.” There was suspicion in Catherine’s tone and in her gaze as she looked back and forth between Chantelle and David.

Already settled behind the wheel of her car, Chantelle called out before slamming the door shut, “Au revoir.”

****

David couldn’t help staring after the Renault as it left the airport. Then, he turned to Catherine.

Arms folded against her chest, she was leaning against her car, sunglasses again shielding her eyes. “Perhaps I should show up unannounced more often. I must admit, she’s not your usual type. A bit -- what’s the word? Ordinary.”

His eyes hardened as he stood there and looked at her, admitting now what he had always known: Catherine was a stuck-up bitch. He didn’t know why he felt so damn angry, but he did and he wanted to rid himself of what had caused it.

“Finally, your friend has made
herself
scarce.” She looked at him, a triumphant smile forming. Feeling in her jacket pocket, she produced a key and waved it at him. “And darling, stop on route and pick up a couple of bottles of chilled Chablis.”

Despite stopping for the wine, David still managed to pull up outside the flat at the same time as Catherine. The flat was in the fashionable, expensive Knightsbridge area of London and it was owned by a “friend” of Catherine’s. The friend was pretty accommodating; David had not once set eyes on the owner. The décor and furniture suggested whoever owned it had expensive and masculine tastes, but David never bothered to question Catherine about it.

As soon as the door was closed behind them, David pulled Catherine into his arms. His hands roughly hitched up her skirt as he pushed her up against the wall. The action didn’t surprise her. She responded with the same amount of aggression, her painted nails tearing their way to his skin and then finally undoing his trousers. Her mouth locked on his in a frenzied assault.

But as suddenly as it started, it stopped. David gripped her wrists as she went to pull his trousers down. He held her at arm’s length, and her blue eyes turned icy.