The fact that he knew her real name barely registered He'd seen Taylor. She couldn't conceal her surprise. Her mind raced with the implications. Taylor was back in England.
And now, looking at Lord Carrington's emotionless expression, she knew what Taylor had been up against. What he'd meant by danger. And he was family. What hope did she have of walking out of this?
"What are you going to do?" she said, a tremble in her voice. "Shoot me?"
The old man let out a surprisingly robust laugh for one so frail. "Either that or I'll be offering you a job. Let's just see how this conversation goes, shall we? Now, you are Miss Radley, aren't you?"
Danielle nodded. He'd pulled the rug from under her feet. Quick thinker though she was, this conversation would test her skills to the limit.
"Good, I just needed you to confirm that we have the right person." He sounded like someone ticking off an inventory, suddenly very brisk and businesslike.
"The file's safe." He motioned towards the desk. "I presume that's what you've come for?"
You're enjoying this, you bastard. Danielle clenched her fist and some fighting spirit returned, but she couldn't help looking with longing towards the potential source of any chance of a future with Taylor.
"Your own grandson. His wife? How do you live with yourself?"
"Politics, my dear. You couldn't begin to understand. And you must believe I had nothing to do with the murder. I would never condone that."
"That was big of you." Danielle flicked another glance at the drawer.
He followed her gaze. "Ahh, the file. I suppose I could just give it to you."
"You could, oh," she realised quickly that he was toying with her. He tilted his head and contemplated her. She could almost see the options running through his mind.
"Just what would you be prepared to do to get it?"
The question threw her. What would she do? She wanted it so desperately, it scared her. Then suddenly it clicked into place. Taylor wasn't just back in England. He was back. "Oh my God," she said, her voice rising, her blood running cold. "What's he doing in return for the file? What are you making him do?"
"I'm very impressed, my dear. It took us two years to find him. You got him here in two weeks."
It's my fault. Taylor's killing again and it's my fault. He's doing it for me. Oh God, what have I done? I'm supposed to be saving him.
I still can.
That last thought gave her courage and, somehow, she got to her feet.
"Tell me where he is. I'm going to stop him. He doesn't have to do this."
"It's too late."
"No it isn't. Tell me. You wouldn't have the file if he'd already done the job. Please tell me."
The old man looked genuinely mystified for a moment. "Why should you care so much? You knew him for barely a day."
"Because." What did she tell him? How could she explain what had happened, how fast it had happened? It sounded bizarre even to her. "Because...because…" She looked Lord Carrington squarely in the eye. Calm now and focused on what she had to do.
"I'm having his baby. Your great-grandchild."
Chapter 10
For the briefest moment Lord Carrington seemed to visibly shrink in front of her. He went from hard man to proud grandfather, and back again so quickly, Danielle almost missed it.
She felt a slight twinge of guilt before ramming home her advantage, reminding herself what this man was capable of. She'd seen his weakness, and now she could play this game too. He'd asked her what she was willing to do to get the file. Well, they were both about to find out.
"When?"
His voice was very thin and frail. Only now did Danielle notice the pallor and the blue tinge to the old man's lips. She could see what was going through his mind. Will I live to see it?
"Early next year." Danielle kept her voice even, her gaze unwavering. Cruel, yes, but it had to be done. Too much at stake.
"A great-grandchild?" His gaze flicked down to her stomach and back to her face. "My first."
She heard the tiniest hint of pride in his voice. Time to twist the knife. "You won't see it. I'll make sure of that." Danielle dropped the notebook into her bag and extended her hand. "Goodbye, Lord Carrington. I'm sorry we couldn't do business."
He made no move to shake her hand. "Sit back down, Miss Radley. We need to talk. How much do you want?"
Her throat felt thick, as if her heart had crawled up and lodged there. She sat down slowly, never taking her eyes from the old man. She'd underestimated him once before and wasn't about to do that again. "There's only one thing I want. One thing I want to talk about." Her gaze stayed firmly on the desk.
Lord Carrington laughed. "Have you ever thought of entering politics, my dear?"
"I don't generally like swimming with sharks, Lord Carrington, but in your case I'm willing to make an exception."
The old man sat there, staring at her. The silence stretched out for so long that Danielle had trouble keeping still. Her heart pounded so hard, it was painful. Everything hinged on what he said next.
"He was my favourite, don't you know."
"So you just used him up? How could you?"
A brief look of annoyance flickered over his features. "I've already told you, you have no idea how these things work."
"I think I do, Lord Carrington. You used him to fuel your own ambitions. But you can put it right. It's in your power to do so." The oldest trick in the book. Let the man think it's his idea.
"I can see what you're doing, young lady." Lord Carrington's eyes glittered. "If there is a baby, I probably won't live to see it anyway. So why should I help you? Why should I put myself at risk?"
"Because you owe Taylor big-time, and you know it. You used him and it's time to pay back. Do the right thing for once. And I think that, deep-down, you still love him. Do you really want to die with this on your conscience?"
Another long silence.
"You might live to see your great-grandson, after all." Push the knife in hard, give it a twist. She was learning fast.
The old man levered himself up from his chair. "Are you sure I can't interest you in a job?"
Danielle held her breath while he fished in his pocket for a key and shuffled over to the desk. It seemed like an eternity before he unlocked the drawer and took out a very small envelope.
That was it? That's what all this fuss was about?
Making his way back to Danielle, he stood for a moment and contemplated the envelope in his hands. "He's a clever lad, you know, should have gone into politics instead of the army. I'm very impressed. Goodness knows how he got hold of half of what's in here."
Danielle swallowed. Frozen in place, she eyed the envelope. "I know that. Let me take it to him."
He drew the moment out, whether for effect or because it really was such a big deal, she'd never know. His lips were moving, but no sound came out, almost as if he was silently weighing up the pros and cons. He glanced once out of the window, smiled very briefly, composed himself, then held out the package.
"I strongly suggest he never tries to use it." He pressed it into her hand. "I'll make sure the relevant people know he has it. He smiled again, at some private thought, and nodded his head. That will be enough to buy his safety. And I'll take care of the murder charge. I'll deny any involvement, of course."
"Of course." Danielle took the envelope with shaky fingers, hardly able to believe it. Her future. Taylor's future. She raised her eyes to the old man. "Thank you," she said. "Now where can I find him?"
* * * *
It was that dream again. Danielle, looking at him with such yearning and love. Telling him she wanted him and would never leave him. He blinked, the image shimmered and faded, and he was alone once more.
Taylor stood at the shoreline, hands in pockets. Wild, angry waves crashed over his bare feet, soaking the hem of his jeans, matching his mood. He wanted the anger. Needed it so he could do what he had to do.
The envelope was folded, in his back
pocket. Still unopened. He pulled it out, already knowing what would happen when he did open it.
"It's me or you, mate," he muttered. "Who's it going to be?"
Ripping the envelope open, he carefully pulled out the photograph. An unremarkable face stared back at him, circled in red ink, his smiling family around him. A soft target; he could tell that already. His Grandfather had at least done that for him. Single shot should do it.
Taylor placed two fingers over the man's face, blanking it out, leaving only his smiling family in view. Two girls, one on each arm. An adoring wife, soon to be a widow. Taylor closed his eyes. Fatherless children. Grieving wives. How many had he been responsible for? He didn't even know. Had stopped counting a long time ago. He lifted his fingers and gave the man back to his family. Covered him again. Playing God, that's what he was doing. All that stood between him and Danielle was this one man, who he didn't know and didn't want to know.
He stared at the photo one last time and pushed it back into the envelope.
"I guess this is your lucky day, mate."
Without hesitation, he tore the whole lot into four pieces and threw them into the sea. They floated around his feet on the incoming tide, taunting him for his weakness, or strength, he still wasn't sure which. He walked back to the cottage with no idea of what his next move should be. He didn't know what to feel about his decision. It was hard to feel anything at all.
* * * *
There he was.
Hair longer than she remembered, and blown every which way by the stiff breeze. Hands in pockets, his white shirt billowing in the wind, sleeves folded back to his elbows. Standing and staring blankly. Two months since the crash and even from where she was standing Danielle was aware of how much he'd changed. But, she wasn't sure who she was seeing. The man he used to be before, or the man he'd become after they'd parted. Slipping off her shoes, Danielle stepped gingerly onto the cold, hard sand and made her way towards him to find out.
She'd missed him, but not until this moment, after finally setting eyes on him again, did she realise quite how much. There'd been a hole in her life, and, as she closed the distance between them, she felt the hole closing up. And the world, which had been tilted at such an odd angle since he'd left, was slowly righting itself, like the sun suddenly appearing on an overcast day.
Her heart wanted to run ahead of her and leap into his arms. That was how she'd imagined this reunion. She reined it in, walking slowly and deliberately instead. A few more yards and he'd turn around and see her. Then she'd know if he still wanted her.
She hadn't been going to give him a choice. He was her Taylor and she'd come to claim him. But her rational mind screamed the possibility that when he turned around she wouldn't see Taylor at all. Just some guy she'd had amazing sex with in the aftermath of a traumatic experience.
A few feet away, she stopped and softly called his name. He was so engrossed, he hadn't heard her coming. He turned and she knew then, that he'd always be her Taylor. The killer who'd found his soul. The man with the sad eyes who'd made such sweet love to her. Did he still want her? With a lump in her throat, she waited for his reaction.
* * * *
In another dream she'd appear to him, calling his name, but he couldn't get to her. No matter how hard he tried, or how loud he called, she always stayed out of reach. He'd wake up, covered in sweat, as if he'd run a marathon, and every time it happened she was a little more ghost-like, and that bit farther away.
He turned towards her voice, unable to resist. If ghosts were all he was going to get, then so be it. He'd more or less resigned himself to never seeing her again. Until the deadline, he was safe. When they found out he wasn't playing ball, it would start all over again. Then there'd be a choice. Stay? Or run again?
"Taylor."
The sound of her voice washed over him like a familiar melody, making him shiver. He loved everything about her, and it only got worse. Absence really did make the heart grow fonder as well as more painful.
He frowned. She was almost near enough to touch. This was new. His hand went out and, instead of going right through her as he expected, it touched warm, solid flesh. Taylor pulled back as if she'd burned him. His breath caught in his throat.
"Danielle?"
"Yes." Her fingers circled his, guiding them to her face.
"Christ, it really is you?"
Her face, the one he remembered so well, lit up. "You better believe it."
Believe? He touched her again. Warm and solid and definitely not a ghost. Somehow, she'd found him. She leaned her soft cheek against his hand and closed her eyes.
"Danielle." He repeated her name, as if he still couldn't quite believe that she was there. "You found me."
"Did you ever doubt it?"
He was quiet for a moment. Humbled by her faith in him. "No," he said. "You were the one thing I never doubted."
A very small smile lifted the corner of her mouth. "You are pleased to see me?"
He held out his arms. "Come here," he said. "Let me show you how much."
* * * *
Danielle closed the remaining distance between them and stepped into his waiting arms. The way he held her told her everything she needed to know. Pressed against her with the whole length of his body, arms wrapped so tightly around her it was almost painful. He couldn't get close enough. Who cared if she couldn't breathe? She'd got to him in time, and all that mattered was being here, doing this, with him.
He held her like that for a long while, his whole body hard and rigid, before she felt him start to relax and she could wriggle herself free enough to look at him properly. A little thinner, new lines around his eyes. Darker hair, different clothes. His broken arm healed, but he was still Taylor. The man she'd fallen in love with.
He still looked stunned, as if he thought she might disappear at any moment. She raised herself up on tiptoe, holding onto his elbows for support, and kissed him. He dipped his head, closing his eyes when their lips touched, tentatively at first as if they had to re-learn what to do. Building in intensity as they remembered. His hands slid around her back, pulling her against him. Letting her feel him.
A delicious, aching need began to spread through her whole body. Now they didn't have to hurry, and it didn't feel frantic or desperate. They had time. Only he doesn't know that, she remembered. Doesn't know that he's free at last. She pushed him away, and reached in her pocket.
"I have something for you, Taylor." He tried to pull her back in. She touched her palm to his chest. "Wait," she said. "You'll like it. See."
When she held up the envelope, her heart did a backflip as he registered the gift.
His freedom. His life. And her.
* * * *
"Danielle, is that...?" Taylor's eyes flicked from the envelope to her. She nodded, and the hope he saw in her eyes told him it was true. She'd bloody-well gone and done it. Somehow she'd got the file. He could live again. With her.
His hand was shaking so badly he had trouble getting the thing out of the envelope. "How did you get this?" He looked up. Hope shone in her eyes, and also something else that made him realise she wasn't the same Danielle he'd met two months ago. Meeting him, coming into his world, had corrupted her in a way he'd never wanted to happen.
She looked away in response to his question. He turned her back, smoothing the wind-whipped hair away from her face. "What did you do?"
"Nothing so terrible." The smallest hint of regret laced her voice. He didn't miss it. She looked him in the eye, steady and unwavering. "I did what I had to do, so you wouldn't have to."
"Oh, sweetheart." He pulled her close again and rested his chin on the top of her head. "I never wanted you to get involved in all this. Whatever you did, you have to live with it. It never goes away and it changes you. I'm so sorry."
"Sorry for what? That you've made me feel things I never thought I'd feel? That you've given me a purpose in life beyond partying and having a good time?" He felt her trying to pull away again, and let her
go.
"Danielle, I'm not worth it."
She moved away a few paces, and for a heartbeat he thought she was leaving. He took a panicked step toward her. She turned back to him.
"Taylor. Don't ever say that. I've come halfway around the world to find you because you are the most amazing man I've ever met. No, you're not perfect. None of us is, but I love you. I think I've known that since the first time you looked at me." She gave a shaky laugh. "Don't worry, I haven't murdered anyone. And you wouldn't have either, would you?"
Amazing, she'd called him amazing. It didn't begin to cover what he thought of her. He shook his head. "No, I wouldn't have."
"Then you weren't coming for me?"
Hell, this was hard. She was so much stronger than he. Knew what she wanted and went for it with all her heart. He felt ashamed of his cowardice. He'd only been trying to protect her, but he saw now what it would have done to her. How it would have made her feel, knowing that he hadn't felt their love worth the risk. Looking at her now, he knew she would have followed him into hell itself if she'd had to.
And he would have denied her the chance.
How did I get it so wrong? His stomach clenched at the disappointment creeping into her eyes.
"You came for me, Danielle. Thank God one of us got it right."
Two steps closed the gap between them.
"You did save me," he said. "And I need you, stay with me. Yes, it'll be dangerous, but, hell, it's worth the risk. I'd rather have one more day with you than a lifetime alone."
"Me too."
The biggest sigh of relief left his lips. Her mouth curved into a smile. The kind of smile that would soothe his shattered nerves. Mend his broken heart. The kind of smile he hoped to see a lot of in the years to come. Taylor held out his hand, smiling back at her for the first time. Her grip on his was strong, and he knew that she had set him free. Free to love her like she deserved. Free to have a stab at a normal life.
Setting Him Free Page 9
