To Deceive Is To Love (Romantic suspense)

by Lynne King

  He stood looking down at her. “Abroad. This was never a home; it’s been rented out on a yearly basis until I put it up for sale. This room remained untouched and locked, waiting for the day I would finally rid myself of the past.” He moved away from her and went over to the window, his voice becoming more and more detached. “I didn’t even want the damn house. It was a legacy from my father. My mother wasn’t too happy, but then she’s wealthy in her own right and certainly didn’t deserve any more than what she got.”

  “That’s a bit harsh.” Chantelle couldn’t help the comment.

  He turned away from the window and walked back to her. “As his wife, she should have understood, helped him get through the loss of a career he loved so much. Instead she turned her back on him, the one she claimed she’d love till death do they part. Well, he helped her out on that score.”

  “David!” She wanted to snap him out of the melancholy mood that had taken over.

  “I’m sorry, you wouldn’t understand.”

  “Try me.”

  He smiled. “Now, let’s get you something to eat and no protests.”

  Immediately, he bent down and scooped her up in his arms and carried her out of the room, down the corridor and into a kitchen Chantelle’s whole flat would fit into. He placed her down on the edge of the oak farmhouse kitchen table. Her surroundings were very traditional, with a wooden dresser covering an entire wall. An Agar cooker provided a feeling of warmth and homeliness, a complete contrast from the other rooms she had viewed.

  “How do bacon, eggs, fried bread and tomatoes sound to you?”

  “A recipe for a heart attack, but what the hell? I’m starved.”

  “I do have muesli somewhere in this cupboard if you prefer.”

  Chantelle screwed up her nose in response. Sliding down from the table, she sat on one of the wooden kitchen chairs. Curiously, she watched David as he made her breakfast.

  He was obviously used to multitasking. He fried the bacon, made a pot of tea, set the table and whistled while he did it. With his shirt unbuttoned to his waist, she could see the fine line of dark hair that rose from his navel and spread sparingly over smooth, bronzed chest muscle. One word of encouragement and she would be back in his arms again, her self-respect in tatters.

  Pouring the tea, David served their meals and sat across from her. Conversation had been stilted until now, limited to how did she like her bacon and did she take her tea with sugar. Watching as he picked up his knife and fork, she found herself hesitating, her fingers resting on the cutlery.

  David’s fork stopped short of his mouth with a mushroom suspended from it. “Don’t tell me you’ve lost your appetite.”

  She gave a small smile. “No, it’s just that I haven’t thanked you yet for coming to my rescue. From what I can remember, I was pretty rude to you last night.”

  “If you were, it was justified. Now eat before it gets cold and Chantelle” -- gentle amusement entered his eyes -- “It’s not often I get to undress a lady and act the perfect gentleman at the same time.”

  “I should think your girlfriend would have more to say on that subject.” She bit into her lower lip and looked questioningly back at him.

  He placed his knife and fork down. “I don’t have a girlfriend, wife or lover at present. Catherine, who you had the unfortunate and untimely introduction to, has a husband and her playthings. I was one of the latter.”

  “Was or still are?”

  “Do I detect an interest in my availability or am I about to be met with verbal condemnation?” He was teasing her now, his eyes challenging a response.

  “Depends on your answer.”

  “You have my full confession. I made the mistake of bedding a married woman, just the one; the rest I believe were single at the time. Now, let’s hear yours.”

  Stalling, Chantelle pushed her empty plate to one side and dabbed her mouth. She might not have had as many lovers as him, since he had eight years advantage on her, but the ones she had were not exactly lasting memories. Commitment she had always felt was a weakness and so she held back, preferring to break and run if a relationship was getting too heavy. It was unpleasant to think she was not unlike him in some ways.

  “You’ve gone very quiet on me.”

  “I never kiss and tell.”

  “Why did you stop me?” His tone turned serious and his hand reached out and touched hers. “We both felt it, wanted it. I’m no fool when it comes to reading signals. But then you froze on me. Is that a regular occurrence on your part?”

  “Do you mean, am I a tease? Frigid? Or maybe I went off the idea of being a quick screw in a hotel room?” Chantelle pushed her chair back and went to stand up, forgetting all about her ankle. “Damn.” She gripped the table, taking the pressure off.

  Immediately David was by her side. Turning her around to face him, he hoisted her back onto the table’s edge. “I don’t want to fight with you; it was a question I’ve been burning to ask to see if you felt the same way. That no, it wouldn’t have been merely a quick screw, lay or whatever cheap word you want to call it. I think we both know that.”

  He clasped her face in his hands, his mouth coming down to meet hers. Slow and leisurely at first, his tongue traced the outline of her lips before parting them to plunge deeper, a possessiveness that was both needy and sensual. He broke away abruptly and Chantelle’s eyes opened wide as if she had been cheated.

  There was no need for words; she saw it in his face what he was asking. Slowly, her fingers went down to the tie on her bathrobe and undid it. Taking hold of the lapels of the robe, she peeled it away from her shoulders, allowing the garment to slide down her body onto the table. Reaching up, her arms encased his neck, bringing his lips down upon hers with a demanding and wanting equal to his.

  Immediately, his large, powerful hands were on her naked skin, his fingers wrapping around the swell of her breasts, the thumbs tantalizingly rubbing the swollen beads of desire. His mouth moved down her neck and replaced his thumb, sucking each one in turn. Experienced fingers traveled down her stomach and then between her thighs, one hand parting her legs while the other delved into the moistness increasing with every feathery touch.

  Chantelle had been leaning back, her body arched forward and her head flung back, feeling she was about to burst. With sudden urgency, she came forward, pushing the shirt from his shoulders. Her fingers then pulled at his belt buckle, her impatience causing David to break away and remove his trousers so she could take his pulsating manhood into her hand.

  David let out a gasp and in one swift movement, pulled her halfway off of the table. His hands clenching her buttocks supported her weight as he gently glided into her welcoming crevice.

  Her sharp intake of breath was followed by exquisite waves sweeping through her as his mouth plundered hers, silencing her cries of release. Frantically, she clung to him, wantonly; her body out of control; nails digging into his back as every thrust grew stronger and drove deeper.

  Her legs locked tight around his thighs, matching rhythm for rhythm until David lifted his mouth from hers. A soft, low cry broke from Chantelle as David brought her face into the moist and salty hardness of his chest. His body shuddered at the same time, the spent juices of climax finally coming to an end.

  Slowly, he withdrew while at the same time pulling up the bathrobe to cover her nakedness. He gently lifted her chin so she would look at him. “No regrets.”

  She gave a small smile. “No, and you?”

  He leaned forward and planted a kiss on her forehead. “The only regret is that I can’t have you for always, wake up with you every morning and have this feeling every day.”

  “That’s the best kiss off I’ve heard.” Chantelle laughed, hiding her pain. He couldn’t have made it any clearer.

  He went to say something when the kitchen door swung open and Danny marched in.

  “Well, isn’t this bloody typical? My plane is in pieces stuck in a ditch while my brother is busy screwing the one respo
nsible.”

  Grabbing his trousers and hastily putting them on, David faced his brother. “You might still have the key, but this house belongs to me. Now, I suggest you walk out of here and we talk later.”

  Having maneuvered herself off the table, Chantelle leaned against it for support and pulled the bathrobe tighter around her. This couldn’t get much worse; Danny was now looking at her with pure disgust. “Danny, I’m so sorry.” Her voice wavered. “I don’t know what happened, the engine basically cut out…”

  “I tell you what happened. You should never have been flying her in the first place. And you call yourself an experienced pilot.”

  “I think you’ve said enough,” David cut in. “How about cooling it? Forget your blasted plane; the insurance will see you’re all right. You should be thankful Chantelle didn’t lose her life or anyone else’s and that was because of her skill as a pilot.”

  Danny let out a contemptuous laugh. “Insurance, what bloody insurance? The plane cleared me out and I wouldn’t say landing nose first into a ditch was a perfect landing.”

  “You bloody fool.” David shook his head. “It’s illegal not to insure that plane.”

  “Well, it will be me doing the suing. For starters, it will be stealing my plane and taking it up without my permission.”

  Chantelle flopped down in the chair, unable to believe what she was hearing. This was not the Danny she knew. His charm, wit and boyish manner were gone. “Danny, you can’t do that! You agreed I could fly it to Manston.”

  “Maybe I did, but straight there, not on a pleasure flight all over the country.”

  “Why you …” David grabbed Danny by the lapels of his jacket, nearly lifting him off the ground.

  “Stop it, you two!” Chantelle screamed.

  The two men stared back at each other, Danny’s top lip curling up at the edges as he sensed David’s hesitation. Chantelle had risen off the chair, her weight balanced awkwardly on one foot, her hand reaching forward to touch David’s shoulder. For a moment, it seemed to have calmed him, but his narrow glare remained fixed on Danny’s face.

  “Go on, throw a punch,” Danny taunted. “You’re just like him; you settle everything with your fists. Only you were never around to see it, were you?

  “You’d believe anything she told you.”

  “I was there, remember? You weren’t.”

  This was no longer about the plane or the scene Danny had walked in on. This went far deeper, the two of them locked in an emotional battle from the past. All Chantelle could do was stand back and watch, fearful that one word could trigger David into striking Danny.

  Danny’s gaze shifted to Chantelle as she leaned against David for support, the gesture revealing the intimacy between them.

  “You surprise me. I always thought you had class the way you brushed off men who tried to get into your knickers at every opportunity. I’ve seen them hit on you at shows and in the bars afterward, but you were never interested. It even crossed my mind you might be gay. How wrong can I bloody be? He comes along and you’re dropping your knickers like all the rest and lying to me like a bloody tramp.”

  There was a deadly thud as David’s fist cracked into Danny’s chin, the force sending him reeling back, Chantelle’s scream going with him.

  A deathly silence followed. The force wasn’t hard enough to knock Danny off his feet, but he was staggering, blood trickling from his lip as his hand came up to check that his jaw was still intact. Taking a white handkerchief out of his pocket, he dabbed the corner of his mouth and stared back at the blood on it.

  Chantelle started hobbling towards him.

  “Don’t come any nearer,” he growled hoarsely at her. “I should be thankful. I know my brother can hit much harder than that. His hands are trained to kill, isn’t that right? Or hasn’t he told you how he makes a living? Mercenaries, isn’t that what they call you lot? Only I have my own name for them: hired killers. I can see by your face you had no idea.”

  He let out another contemptuous laugh. “My big brother. For years, I had it drummed into me how good he was, that I could never expect to amount to anything by a father who despised me and worshipped his eldest. It was the truth that destroyed him, not our mother.” Malevolent eyes tore into David. “He couldn’t handle the rumors that circulated after your discharge from the air force. You dishonored the family and that’s something he couldn’t accept, not from you.” Turning, Danny walked out of the kitchen; a door slamming confirmed his departure.

  Reeling from Danny’s disclosure, Chantelle sat back down. David had been right all along. She knew nothing of his world, what he did, and could never begin to understand it. Mercenaries belonged in violent action movies. Whether they really existed and what purpose they served had never concerned her until now. Her gaze lifted to see David returning from the tumble dryer with her clothes.

  “Get dressed, Chantelle, and I’ll drive you home.”

  “Home.” Her eyes tore into him now. “Don’t you think I deserve some sort of explanation?”

  A hand came up to rough his hair up even more as he frowned heavily. Finally, he let out a small sigh. “There are certain aspects of my work that can’t be revealed. Danny chooses to believe the worse and I can’t blame him for that.”

  “Have you ever tried to explain?”

  “No, it’s better this way. With my job, it never pays to have emotional bonds; they could be used against me.”

  Chantelle shook her head, unable to comprehend what he was saying. She gazed up at him questioningly. “What kind of work requires such sacrifice?”

  “It’s called survival. Now, get dressed Chantelle. I’m taking you home.”

  He left her alone, confused and so angry. She wanted to demand an explanation, but from his tone and manner, she knew there would be no point. He had shut her out just like he had done with his brother.

  Confession time was over. So was the intimacy.

  Chapter 8

  It was horrendous weather to drive in; the traffic on the motorway snarled up as drivers decreased their speed, all except David. His foot seemed to never leave the accelerator as they raced along the fast lane, the spray from trucks sometimes obliterating the road ahead. The demons were in control now and his face was fixed in a grim, threatening expression. Danny was a reckless speed freak, but this was different. Sinking farther and farther in her seat, Chantelle tried not to look at him or outside, both made her extremely nervous.

  The sudden swerve of the car forced her to look up, but she wished she hadn’t. Her eyes widened, staring ahead as her nails dug into the car seat. “My God! Are you trying to get us bloody killed?” He had just overtaken on the inside lane, the sound of a horn blasting confirming how close he had come to being sandwiched by a truck.

  He gave her a sidelong glance, the fear in her face forcing an awareness of what he was doing to her, the nail indentations still showing in the leather upholstery. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. Gradually, he decreased the speed and stayed in the center lane. Those two words were all he said.

  Chantelle felt like screaming at him to say something, anything to convince her that what had happened between them less than an hour ago wasn’t her imagination. Instead, he seemed a million miles from her. His face was grimly set and his eyes ever watchful on the rearview mirror. Chantelle even glanced behind her, but could see nothing except spray and dipped headlights. They arrived finally outside her flat and Chantelle opened the passenger door before he turned the engine off.

  “Wait, I’ll help you,” he called after her.

  “I’ll manage, I’m not an invalid,” she retorted. Already out of the car and standing gingerly on one leg, she heard David’s door slam. Gritting her teeth, she started hobbling and limping toward the Victorian terrace, the rain beating down on her. She was determined not to have David’s arms around her again or suffer the humiliation of being carried into her flat like a piece of unwanted luggage being returned, which was how she’d felt from the mo
ment he had told her to get dressed. She kept her eyes fixed on the slippery wet pavement in front of her and didn’t realize where David was until she looked straight up into his face. In his black trench coat, arms folded across his chest, he seemed to fill the whole doorway.

  “Well done, now how do you propose getting up the stairs?” He raised his eyebrows, only there was no humor in his face or voice, just a steely glint in his eyes to counter her glare.

  “If you would kindly move out of the way, I’ll show you.” Her voice was clipped, daring him to try and stop her.

  He immediately stepped aside, allowing her to place the key in the lock and open the door. Hopping inside, she went to quickly slam it when, to her consternation, she found it wouldn’t close. Looking down, she saw his foot blocking it. “Get out, I don’t need or want your damn help.”

  “Well, you damn well have it whether you like it or not.” He pushed the door farther open and stepped inside, nearly knocking her backward. “I’ve about had it with your childish, stubborn behavior.” In one swift movement, he grabbed her forearm to pull her toward him, then grabbed her waist lifted her up over his shoulder. “If you kick me once more, I shall dish the same punishment out, only it will be my hand on your behind, understand me?” The serious intent behind his words forced her to admit defeat and humiliation as he carried her up the stairs and into her flat, the door conveniently wide open. He deposited her onto her settee.

  A small cough sounded. “I was just feeding Chat.”

  Standing in the kitchen area was a bemused Paul, Chat supported in his arms and purring affectionately, his nose coming up every now and again to nudge Paul’s chin.

  David threw Paul a suspicious glare and looked back at Chantelle. “Your neighbor does like to put in frequent appearances, doesn’t he? Usually at the wrong moments.”

  “Don’t mind me. I’m on my way out, since you two look like you’re in the middle of something here.”

  “Mr Bishop is on his way out, Paul, not you.” Standing up, she threw David a glare when he went to assist her, and then limped to the bathroom unaided.