Wanted

by Diana Fraser

  With tears streaming down her face, she looked up at Daidan and shook her head. “I wished her dead,” she whispered between sobs.

  He took hold of her, his gaze no longer on the screen, but on Taina. “What? What did you say?”

  “I wished her dead.” She gulped. “When I saw her like this. It was my fault. My fault that she died.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  But Taina had to get out of there and pushed away the scanner, the other stuff and stood up, pulling down her top. “I’ve got to go, Daidan. I have to go, now.”

  The doctor frowned and spoke briefly to Daidan. Taina couldn’t hear what he said because she was out of there. Pushing open the door, as if in slow motion, walking outside, breathing deeply, trying to control the grief that threatened to overwhelm her.

  She got in the car and waited, gasping as she tried to catch her breath between sobs. Then Daidan got in the driver’s seat and watched her. “Here, the doctor gave me some pills to help you calm down.” She swallowed them and rested her head back against the seat with a shuddering breath.

  “I’m okay. Let’s go home.”

  He nodded and drove to the port where he helped her onto the waiting boat. It was only when they’d reached the island, that the staff had been dismissed, that there was only the two of them, that he asked her the question she’d been waiting for.

  “Why did you wish your child to be dead, Taina? Why? I don’t understand.”

  She was lulled by the pills the doctor had given her. She felt dreamy, unreal. She rolled her head on the back of the sofa to face him. His face seemed to come into and out of focus. But his words hammered home with deathly clarity.

  “Why?”

  “Because…” She closed her eyes. It could have been for a second or minutes. But when she opened them he was still looking at her intently. She struggled to sit up and took a drink of water that had miraculously appeared beside her. “Because I didn’t want her.”

  “Why?”

  The word came to her like a breath of wind, barely felt, hardly heard. “Why? Because she reminded me of something I wanted to forget.”

  This time there was no prompting question. But she heard his unspoken question nevertheless, like it was a command she wanted to answer.

  She sighed and lay back again, looking straight at one of her mother’s paintings. “How she began. The violence of her… conception…” She closed her eyes again and when she opened them, again she wondered if she’d been asleep for moments only or minutes. “Or not so violent. Apparently the drug I’d been given in my drink had knocked me out so that I could see and feel everything, I just couldn’t respond. So no violence required. Just…” She rubbed her wrists but didn’t elaborate. There was a long pause. “I was raped, Daidan. My child was a product of a rape. That is why I wished her dead.”

  Daidan didn’t think he’d ever forget the look of numb grief on her face. And he’d certainly never forget how he felt. No matter that he didn’t let it surface. There was time later for that. But he knew what he needed to do. He simply held her. She didn’t cry again, the drugs had dulled her emotional pain. But he knew it would be different the next day.

  Lulled by his reassurance and the numbing of the sedative she soon fell asleep. He carried her over to the bed. Deliberately and carefully he pulled off her shoes and brought the covers over her. Then he stood back and looked at her and his heart ached. He’d wanted to protect Taina from the whole world. He’d wanted her never to be hurt. He’d wanted to always care for her, to love her with a simple, strong love that would survive everything. Instead, he’d driven her away, into the arms of a rapist. And it had been his fault.

  As he closed the curtains and quietly left the room, he thought he’d never forgive himself. There was only one thing he wanted to know now. Who was the man who’d raped the woman he loved?

  CHAPTER TEN

  Next morning Daidan was nowhere to be found. She’d rung the office in the city. Nothing. She’d contacted his people who were working at the castle. Nothing. And she needed to find him because now that the sedatives the doctor had given Taina had worn off, she could think clearly. The shock of pregnancy had disappeared leaving only happiness and relief. But, at that moment another fear was uppermost in her mind—had she really told Daidan everything, or had she dreamed it?

  She paced the length of the lounge, trying to remember, trying to pinpoint her words to something concrete, something real. Then she stopped pacing as she caught sight of her mother’s painting and she suddenly remembered. She’d been looking at it when the words had formed on her lips—violence…rape. Looking at the same painting now, she had a sudden vision of Daidan’s shattered expression. She clasped her hands to her head and gasped. She hadn’t dreamed any of it. She’d told him. And he wasn’t anywhere to be found. Where the hell was he?

  The phone went and she jumped. “Yes?” But it was just someone reporting somewhere else that Daidan hadn’t been seen.

  She grunted in frustration, threw down the phone onto the sofa and went down the corridor to her room to get her sunglasses. As she passed Daidan’s dressing room she stopped. Maybe there would be clues in there? Besides, she desperately wanted to feel close to him.

  She opened the door. Inside the room was orderly. Everything was in its place—shirts pressed and hung with clinical precision, shoes polished and stored on racks. She walked in and stopped suddenly. Why did she feel so strange? And then she closed her eyes as it came to her. It had been her father’s dressing room and the only time she’d been inside was when he hadn’t been around and she’d been secretly trying to find something of her mother’s—anything that would make a connection she so desperately craved. She hadn’t found anything then. And it didn’t look like she’d find any clues to help her locate Daidan now. Because, like her father, Daidan kept everything immaculate. Or almost everything, she thought as she walked to the tallboy, on which a few personal objects were displayed.

  She picked up a small figurine she’d made. Her tutor had been world class; she hadn’t been. She smiled as she remembered her father’s pride, and placed it back in position. Why had Daidan kept it? Then she saw that he’d moved a family photograph that had been there in her father’s time—moved it to make way for another photograph—one of her and Daidan, shortly before they were married. The happiness that shone from their eyes as they embraced and smiled for the camera brought tears to her eyes. How had it all disappeared in such a short space of time? She’d do anything to see Daidan happy again.

  But she knew he’d be far from happy at this moment. She could almost sense his feelings of anger and frustration. But how else would he react? He’d want to know who’d raped her and why she hadn’t reported it. She could lie and tell him she didn’t know the person but she didn’t want any more lies. That only left the truth. But she couldn’t do that yet, not before the launch. Nothing must go wrong with that. Because the truth could destroy all the work and hopes and dreams Daidan had for himself, for them, and for their future together.

  She paced over to the windows and opened them to let the sea breeze cool her agitation. Think, Taina, think! He couldn’t have vanished into thin air. She stepped outside onto the deck and walked down the steps and turned away from the sea, toward the rear of the house where the gardens descended into a thick copse of trees. The boat was still here. He must be on the island, just not with anyone. And she knew the island better than anyone. If he was here, she’d find him.

  It wasn’t until she reached the edge of the woods that she heard the sound of someone chopping wood. Strange. It was still summer. The handyman usually chopped the wood for the fire later in the year. She shrugged and was about to take a path that led around the water’s edge when she stopped once more. There was something in the sound of the chopping—something rhythmic and savage—that made her hesitate. Then she closed her eyes as she realized she was listening to a man venting his grief in the only way he could. She turned and ra
n down the path into the woods towards the sound.

  Daidan swung the axe overhead, held it for an instant, relishing the feel of his muscles pumped and strong before bringing it down with a reverberating thud onto the block of wood, splitting it cleanly in two. He replaced half onto the block and once more swung the axe up over his head. Sweat trickled down his face, stinging his eyes, blinding him as he let it fall once more with a savage blow. He repeated the action with a rhythm that obscured the need to feel. The wood flew in different directions, piling up wherever it landed. All he wanted to do was use his strength against the wood. All he wanted to do was dull the pain.

  “Daidan!” Taina’s voice drifted down through the trees. He hesitated, the axe high over his head, and then let it swing down.

  “Daidan,” the voice repeated, closer now. He glanced up to see her running down the dry track between the trees.

  “Daidan!” she shouted, nearer now. He could hardly bear to see her. The pain dug in, deep inside.

  He raised the axe once more before slamming the blade into another tree stump. He turned around, chest heaving, hands on hips. Even seeing her there, her delicate beauty a sharp contrast to the chaos of cut logs and his sweaty, grimy body, emphasized her vulnerability, underscored how much he’d failed her.

  He tried to smile at her reassuringly but reckoned he’d failed because she looked anything but reassured. He might be suffering but it was Taina who’d suffered most. “I thought you’d still be sleeping,” he said, in as calm a tone as he could manage.

  “No, I’ve been looking for you.”

  “You okay?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Fine. More than fine about the baby.” She rubbed her stomach gently. “I guess it was just the shock, the memory of my last scan… it just got to me. But I want to know how you are.”

  “Fine,” he muttered between gritted teeth before he turned away and pulled the axe blade from the log. He placed another log on the chopping block. But before his grip could tighten on the axe, Taina came and rested her hand on his arm.

  “Daidan, I’m so sorry.”

  He focused on his hands, flexing around the axe handle. “Who was he, Taina? Did you know him?”

  Taina twisted her lips and turned away. She did know him. He could see it.

  “Right. Who was he?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “Won’t. Not now. Not yet.”

  “Then when?”

  “When you’re less angry.”

  He grunted. She was right. He’d never been so angry, or felt so helpless in his whole life. If he knew who had hurt her he’d ignore the launch, ignore everything until he could pummel the man who’d caused her such pain. His much-vaunted control had disappeared in an instant with her words. He took a deep breath and then looked up at her. “Why don’t you go back to the house? You could get hurt here.” It was taking all his will power to remain calm.

  “No. Come with me, now.”

  “What’s the point when you won’t tell me what I need to know?”

  “I want you to talk to me. Tell me how you feel, what you’re thinking. We have to be able to talk to each other about this.”

  “I thought you claimed you knew how I felt—angry.”

  “That much I can guess. You’re angry with me for keeping secrets from you.”

  He grunted. “Correct. But that’s not all.”

  “And for running away on our wedding day.”

  “No, I’m not angry with you for that. You ran because your father and I had driven you away. Try again.” He could feel his control slipping.

  “Well, if not for that, you’re angry that I didn’t return.”

  “No! Wrong again. Hurt maybe, but not angry. Not at you.” His voice was growing louder but he seemed unable to stop it.

  She shook her head, bewildered. “Hurt that I didn’t tell you what happened?”

  He took the hand that held his and gripped it in his before dropping it by her side. “Just leave it, Taina. You’ve done nothing wrong apart from being so damned secretive. But even that I can sort of understand. You were afraid how I’d react, afraid I’d take the law into my own hands.”

  “Wouldn’t you?”

  He began picking up logs and tossing them toward the pile. Taina stepped out the way. “Probably,” he answered at last. He continued in silence... one, two, three logs. Then walked and picked up some more without looking around. Five minutes must have passed before he stopped, sighed, dropped his head and wondered what the hell he had to do to make Taina leave.

  “I’m not going until you talk to me,” the quiet but firm voice said.

  He walked over to where he’d tossed his shirt and pulled it on, without looking at her. He took another deep breath and then turned to her. “So... what do you want me to say?”

  “So if you’re not angry with me, who are you angry with?”

  He tugged his shirt together and began buttoning it up. “Me, of course! I’m furious with me. I failed you.”

  Taina ran to him, slipped her arms under his shirt and pressed her cheek against his bare chest. “You didn’t fail me, you stupid man. You didn’t. How could you fail me when you weren’t there? It was all my stupid fault. I ran away because I felt betrayed by you and Papa. I should have stayed and forced you to understand. Instead I went from one resort, one city to another, a child trying to mix in an adult world. I was unprepared… naïve. I didn’t read the signs, wasn’t aware of the undercurrents. I’d been too protected all my life to understand what was going to happen.”

  He felt his heart would break as he looked down at her and pictured her trying to fit into the superficial world of the rich and famous, imagined her being taken advantage of.

  “I’m angry because I failed you. I should have been there. I didn’t follow you—probably a combination of my stupid pride and the realization that your reaction was quite reasonable when seen from your perspective—and I should have. And we’ve both paid the price.” He looked down to find his hands had moved of their own volition and were stroking her upper arms. “Why didn’t you tell me, Taina? Why?” He didn’t recognize his voice—made hoarse by the pain he was trying so desperately to rid himself of.

  “Because I was scared.” A tear trickled down her cheek.

  “Why? Scared of what? Surely I’m not worse than a rapist?”

  Her breath hitched as she tried to calm herself, tried to stop the tears. “Of course not.” She closed her eyes as if trying to put herself back in that time. “To begin with”—she opened her eyes, looking stronger now—“I thought it must have been my fault somehow. I believed what... he said to me. And then, later, I thought it’s best forgotten. That’s what we always did in my house when I was growing up. If something nasty happened, like finding Mama drunk on the sofa, it was covered up. Next morning back to normal, nothing said. So that’s what I thought I’d do.” She fought back more tears. “And then my body changed and I ignored it for too long. Abortion was no longer an option by the time I was forced by my doctor to face the fact that I was pregnant. So I went away. To the Far East. Singapore.”

  “You left no trace.”

  “No. I have access to my own funds from my mother’s inheritance. I used those. Kept quiet. Told no one except the hospital and waited. Day in, day out, watching my body change. And hating it. Just waiting for the day when my body would expel the invader, and it could be adopted out, and I could get on with my life.”

  “You saw no one you knew? You had no one with you?”

  “Just paid help.” She half-laughed. “Much like my time growing up. It wasn’t so strange for me.” She looked up at him with those violet eyes. “But being pregnant was. I hated it.”

  “So what happened?”

  “The usual. On the due date I had the baby. A difficult birth. You wouldn’t have recognized me—cursing and swearing and a total mess. And then...”

  There was a long pause and he tilted her c
hin so the dappled light moved upon her creamy skin. “And then she arrived. I called her Mimi, after my mother. I wasn’t even going to name her but she arrived, and some nurse who didn’t realize I wanted to adopt the child out placed her to my breast, and Mimi looked up at me and stared at me. Apparently not many babies do that. But Mimi did. It was like she was saying ‘Don’t you dare let me go. Don’t you dare’. One of the nurses said she had the eyes of an old soul.”

  “What did she mean?”

  “Like she’d already lived, I suppose. She certainly had knowing eyes, like she could see right into you. There was no way I was going to let her go. It wasn’t even a decision I had to think through. I knew it viscerally. Like she’d planted the thought in my head and my whole being agreed. There was no question about it.”

  The memories must have taken over because Taina stopped talking and Daidan wove his hands through her hair and brought her against him. Just holding her, giving the only comfort he could, himself. There was no sound except for the birds in the trees around them and a distant sound of a motor boat out in the Gulf. It was all so familiar and yet felt different now. Like they’d turned a corner, like he was looking at everything with new eyes.

  She looked up at him suddenly and tears were streaming down her face. “They told me there were complications. But she looked so perfect I didn’t believe them at first.”

  “What kind of complications?”

  “Mimi had a heart defect. I thought, I have money, we’ll get it cured.” She clamped her quivering lips together, but it didn’t stop the tears from falling. “Turns out I couldn’t. They let me take her back to my apartment for a few weeks at the end. I think I kidded myself that it was all okay, that the nurse was just there as a precaution. But I knew really. I knew. And she died in my arms.”

  Taina couldn’t hold back the emotion any longer and lifted her head and let out a long howl that sent shivers down Daidan’s spine. Then she pounded his chest with her fists and slumped against him and sobbed and sobbed as she should have sobbed all those months ago.