To Deceive Is To Love (Romantic suspense)

by Lynne King

  He gave a salute. “Understood, Miss Duvall.”

  It was a very bumpy landing, the ground an uneven strip of coarse grass and mud patches.

  “You’re out of practice,” David remarked as they both launched forward and were pulled back by their seatbelts when the plane finally came to a standstill.

  Ignoring his gibe, she stared through the Perspex at the isolation surrounding them. “A nice place you’ve picked for a landing. Now, with your injured leg, how do you expect to reach civilization? Unless you plan for us to become a couple of hermits?”

  “A nice idea, but no. Look over there, at the edge of the field.”

  Following his pointed finger, all she could see was a tall shield of conifers forming a kind of semi-circle.

  “In between that lot is a corrugated shed large enough to store a Mini Cooper. She’s a bit of a collector’s item now and looks rough, but the engine is sound and the battery is charged up every month.”

  “Oh! How wonderfully convenient. What a resourceful man you are, David. You’re prepared for practically everything, a regular James Bond.”

  “And you have a sarcastic tongue, which you will soon find silenced if you carry on. As you’ve already pointed out, I can’t be expected to trek across the field with my leg, so do me the courtesy of fetching our transport. The keys will be in the ignition.”

  “Why, of course. Now I know why you’ve dragged me along. Anything else my services are needed for, don’t hesitate to ask. I mean…”

  Her words were silenced by his hands clasping her face and drawing her lips to his, hard and demanding and full of unfinished passion. Drawing reluctantly away, David said in a sheepish voice, “That’s my answer and the strongest reason for having you by my side. Mind you, it does help that you can nurse, fly a plane and drive, but I’m not keen on the ladies’ self-defense lessons.

  “Why you…I’ve got a good mind to jump in that car and leave you behind.”

  Opening the pilot’s door, Chantelle dropped to the ground and marched off across the field, a big smile spreading over her face. When he wasn’t angry, in pain or being just damn arrogant, the harshness faded from his features, turning his blue eyes warm and mischievous and his smile devastating. It was hard not to want to hold onto that image and disregard everything else. The old cliché blinded by love had become true in her case.

  The Mini Cooper was as David had said. The keys were in the ignition and the engine started up on the second turn. Minis were not designed for comfort, especially carrying a nearly six foot, broadly framed passenger whose head kept hitting the roof as they traveled across two fields.

  “Ouch! You fly better than you drive. Slow down and look out for those sheep,” David cried out.

  Throwing him a peeved looked, Chantelle swerved, missing the sheep and hitting another clump of grass. She glanced across at David and noticed he had slid down farther in the seat to avoid another bump to his head.

  Finally, they reached a dirt track that got them onto a B road for several miles before joining a main highway. David directed her through several villages, none familiar to Chantelle. Eventually, they left a major town and arrived on the outskirts of a large private housing complex, mock Tudor executive style houses built around a manmade lake, each with enough land to provide privacy.

  “Am I allowed to ask who lives here or is that a top government secret?” Chantelle drove the Mini onto the graveled driveway and switched the engine off.

  “Tony, who owns the airfield and runs the flight school. He was with me when I first met you, remember, when you tried to decapitate me.” He threw her a wink.

  “I remember all too well. It’s a shame you ducked. My life would have been far less complicated.”

  “Then you have a lot in common with Tony. He’s the only other person I trust with my life, seeing both of you have saved it.” He smiled warmly. “Tony was my instructor in the force. When he left the RAF to set up the flight school, I stayed in touch. During my darkest days, he helped me through. That’s why we are turning up on his doorstep at six thirty on a Sunday morning.”

  “What do you mean by your darkest days?”

  David lowered his eyes and looked uncomfortable with the question. “Let’s just say I went through a bad spell. I was thrown out of a job I loved, my father died, my girlfriend dumped me and my dog died.”

  “Your dog?” Chantelle looked at him with skepticism.

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Well, that happened a few years before, but when you’re down, it all comes back to haunt you.” He smiled. “My excuse, anyway. In truth, I drank, smoked too much, got into trouble and was generally on a downhill spiral of self-destruction. Tony helped me get back on track.”

  “And did your girlfriend really dump you?”

  “Not exactly. She slept with a buddy of mine rather than tell me to my face that she wanted out.”

  “Gosh, I’m sorry. That explains a lot,” Chantelle replied, thinking of David’s admittance that his mother had had an affair and now it turned out his girlfriend had cheated on him with his friend. No wonder trust didn’t come easily with him.

  “Don’t worry, I’m a reformed man. I told you they were my darkest days. Now, confession time is over. Let’s go and wake the household.”

  From inside, children called out to their mother that the doorbell was ringing. Finally, the door opened slightly and a head full of short blond layers appeared around it.

  “David!” The woman flung the door open wide and embraced him like a long lost friend before pulling them both into the house and shutting the door sharply. Her ecstatic cry of delight brought her husband Tony, stumbling and bleary eyed, to the top of the stairs. A dressing gown had been hastily thrown around him and his usual carefully groomed strands of hair which covered the sides of his head, leaving the top bald, stuck out like wings, making him look quite comical.

  “My God! David, we’ve been worried sick ever since some very serious looking men came around yesterday. They grilled us as if you were some kind of mass murderer. Not that I could answer any of their questions, but it did make me wonder what the hell you had gotten yourself into this time.”

  “A round trip to hell and back, I think. By the way, this is Chantelle Duvall.”

  “Pleased to meet you at last.” Jenny threw a knowing look at her husband.

  A small frown crossed David’s features and Chantelle wondered what he’d told Tony about her.

  Introductions continued with the three children, two seven-year-old twin boys and a girl of nine, all held back by Jenny because they were overenthusiastic in greeting Uncle David, as they called him. This was a new side to him that Chantelle was seeing as he laughed with them at how silly he looked in his big, baggy dungarees and the beard stubble. She also noticed how Tony and Jenny glanced at each other when they saw David lean against the wall for support.

  “I’ll come and see your monster truck once I’ve spoken with your father,” David replied to the boys’ demands. Looking at Tony, he motioned toward the study to which Tony led the way with Chantelle following.

  “I’ll make some coffee,” Jenny called after them.

  As soon as the door closed behind them, David came straight out with it. “Tony, we won’t be stopping long, but if you want us both to leave now, we’ll go and you’ll still remain the best friend I have.” He smiled.

  “Your only friend,” Tony jested back. “Seriously though, the two of you are not going anywhere. What’s this all about, David? Those men claimed you had terrorist links and was a danger to this country’s security. Of course, I know that’s part of your cover, but surely your own side is aware of it?”

  There was only one leather padded chair behind a solid oak desk in the study and Tony immediately brought it forward and insisted David sit down on it. Chantelle found herself a box full of books to sit on while Tony paced the room.

  After Jenny served the coffee and left the room, David responded to Tony’s question. “Hender
sson, as you know, is my controller, the one who initiated me into the C.T.A.U., and someone I thought could be trusted. It turns out he’s been switching loyalties depending on the price. As for me, he’s painted me as an agent turned bad, an arms dealer who shot up a few terrorist associates. So you’re right, I have no friends, but plenty of enemies.”

  Tony swore and then apologized to Chantelle, shaking his head in disbelief as David relayed past events, including Chantelle’s abduction and him getting shot. “Surely there must be someone in Intelligence you can contact above Hendersson who will believe you.”

  “Yes, I know of one such person. Only he’s a little difficult to reach, since the usual channels have been plugged by Hendersson. By now, my contact in France should have arranged for the wreckage of my plane to be discovered, along with a body identified as me. It will at least take the pressure off and allow me some breathing space.”

  “And then?” Tony stopped pacing and stared searchingly at David.

  Bringing his coffee up to his lips, David looked over the rim at the two of them. “I’ll try and clear up this mess, prove I’m no traitor and then disappear to Canada like I had planned, but hopefully not alone.” He winked at Chantelle.

  Chantelle felt a warm flush creep up. It was the closest David had come to making any commitment toward her. Canada, she thought about it for a second. Yes, the idea was not an unsettling one. She might have smiled back a positive response had it not been for the way he lowered his eyes and looked away from her.

  She knew then he was shielding her from the truth written within their depths. The words of revenge he’d spoke to Pascal came back to haunt her. She also saw from the small frown on Tony’s face that he too had doubts about David’s priorities.

  “Anyway, now you have it like it is. We will leave straight after we have something to eat and freshen up, if you don’t mind. I don’t want to put your family at risk any longer than necessary.”

  “I won’t hear of it. The two of you will stay here for as long as it takes.” Marching to the door, Tony opened it wide and called out, “Jenny, you can start that breakfast now. Bacon, eggs, fried bread, the lot and plenty of it.” He paused and glanced over at Chantelle. “You’re not a veggie, are you?”

  “No.” She smiled.

  Within minutes, the aroma of sizzling bacon started to drift through, the discussion between them at an end as they joined Jenny and the children for a traditional Sunday breakfast. The conversation was now monitored for the children’s benefit and at most times, led by them.

  After a breakfast which was more than Chantelle would normally have for lunch, they retired to the lounge while Tony and Jenny disappeared upstairs to get washed and dressed. The revelation concerning David’s character continued as she watched him stretch out on the floor with the children. They were very fond of their Uncle David and the affection and laughter was a welcoming break from their dangerous predicament.

  Tony joined them after a short while, followed by Jenny, looking chic with her blond layers flicked up at the edges and a discreet amount of makeup. She was wearing figure hugging black cords and a short cropped jacket. It made Chantelle yearn for her own wardrobe instead of the worn and torn jeans she wore with David’s T-shirt and Pascal’s sweater. It all hung off her, making her look a disaster.

  Jenny must have sensed her embarrassment, because she offered, “You’re welcome to use the shower and I can offer you a change of clothing if you like. Tony told me it’s been difficult for you these last couple of days and even I can see that sweater is a borrowed one. At least my clothes might fit you better.” She smiled warmly.

  Chantelle jumped up. “I would love to take a shower and yes, please, if you don’t mind, borrow something a little more…” She pulled at the baggy cable knit sweater and made a disgusted face.

  “Flattering,” Jenny finished.

  “Pascal will be insulted, that is his best.” David laughed. “I think it belonged to his grandfather.”

  The two women left the room laughing. Once in the master bedroom, Jenny slid open the doors to her wardrobe. “Try on anything you like, I don’t mind.”

  “Trousers and a decent top will be fine.”

  Jenny pulled out a pair of brown cords and a burnt orange cashmere sweater and laid them on the bed. “Great with your coloring, or there’s a cream one.”

  “The orange one’s great, but haven’t you something less expensive?”

  “Don’t be silly, I brought it on a whim and the color doesn’t suit me, so have it and no arguments.” She smiled.

  After Jenny had shown her where everything was, she left Chantelle to it and returned to Tony and David.

  Chantelle having showered and changed - came down the stairs. The study door was ajar, causing her to pause on the bottom step as she heard David’s hushed voice. “Sometimes we deceive to protect; it’s the only way.”

  “You’re in love with her, that’s the truth of it,” Tony answered. “The only one you’re protecting is yourself.”

  There was no response to that and his silence hurt Chantelle more than a denial.

  ****

  The rest of the day developed into a kind of traditional family Sunday Chantelle had heard spoken about, but had never experienced growing up. Her mother had always been busy, bent over a sketchpad working out new designs in the cramped apartment she rented for the two of them. Dinner was whatever they had in the cupboards, which didn’t amount to much and was always left for her to cook. When her mother’s designs started to get noticed, their surroundings improved, but Sundays remained the same, her father spending the day with his real family. If her mother was ever unhappy, she never revealed it openly.

  When it came to preparing dinner, Chantelle offered to help peel the vegetables, the joint of beef already cooking in the oven. It gave Chantelle a chance to speak with Jenny alone.

  “How long have the two of you known David?” Chantelle asked, peeling the mound of potatoes in front of her.

  “Well, Tony’s known him since David was in his late teens, when he first enlisted in the RAF and Tony was his instructor. He knew David’s father quite well and I think he asked him to keep an eye on his son, not that David needed it.”

  Jenny cut up the potatoes Chantelle handed her and placed them in a saucepan. “He was doing really well, had a brilliant career, even made it to flight Lieutenant. Then it all went terribly wrong. He was court marshaled, given a dishonorable discharge for something Tony said he would have done in the same circumstances. I don’t know the exact details; just that he disobeyed orders and the military doesn’t take kindly to subordinates making decisions on their own. It sent him over the edge. We hardly saw him for about a year. Goodness knows what he was up to. When his father died, it brought him back to his senses. I guess suicide is a hard thing to handle from someone you admire and think you know. It leaves so many unanswered questions.”

  Chantelle stopped what she was doing and glanced over at Jenny. “But I thought … Danny, David’s brother, said it was an accident.”

  “I’m sorry; perhaps I shouldn’t be telling you this.” Jenny finished the last potato, then faced Chantelle. It was obvious her curtness had been unintentional. An apologetic smile followed. "I'd better explain. David was the one who found his father and the suicide note left in the study. He destroyed it, I think, not wanting anyone to know his father took his own life. He also wanted to spare Danny. He only told us several years later when we’d had one too many and emotions were running high.”

  “David blames his mother though, doesn’t he?” She felt a little uncomfortable talking about someone who was sitting in the next room unaware his secrets were being laid bare, but she needed to know David. She felt Jenny understood that.

  “Yes, you’ve obviously realized David is a very stubborn. He has had little or no contact with her since his father’s funeral. Tony and I don’t agree with his attitude. It wasn’t easy for her. Let’s just say the marriage wasn’t a happy o
ne toward the end and the divorce was messy.”

  Jenny looked back at the remaining vegetables on the counter. “Right, the potatoes are in, the carrots are peeled and ready to go. That just leaves the brussel sprouts and swede.”

  They finished preparing the rest of the vegetables with Jenny now doing most of the questioning. “You were a wing walker!” She looked shocked. “What! Someone strapped to the top of a plane’s wings while it twists and turns? Crazy! David and you are a perfect pair, both mad thrill seekers.”

  Chantelle didn’t quite agree with that statement, especially with the line of business David was mixed up in, which made her doubt Jenny knew all David’s secrets.

  It was obvious she had her suspicions though when she added, “This latest assignment has gotten David into trouble, hasn’t it? Those men who came around looked pretty menacing. Tony took them into the study, so I don’t know what was being said, but when he came out, he looked shaken. He didn’t sleep at all last night and his only explanation was that David had been caught up in some trouble abroad and was missing. It was such a relief to see you two on our doorstep.”

  Removing her apron, Chantelle kept her eyes lowered. “David’s been pretty secretive and I hate to say it, but untruthful at times. It came as quite a shock when I found out what he actually does.”

  “Journalists are secretive and they always have such a bad reputation. I guess David thought it might put you off. Still, I should say foreign correspondent. It sounds much better and he’s always on assignment abroad. I’ve yet to read an article of his. He claims he writes under several pseudonyms. Goodness knows what story he’s involved with now. It looks like he’s upset someone important.”

  Chantelle wanted to blurt out that Jenny had it all wrong, that it was much more serious than that and David wasn’t a journalist, but a bloody secret agent. Instead, she looked away, relieved by Tony’s interruption.

  Tony’s balding head appeared around the door. “I hope you two haven’t forgotten dinner with all your gossiping.”

  Jenny picked up a tea cloth and threw it at him. “It’s all cooking very nicely, thank you. Us hardworking women would appreciate some sherry, wouldn’t we?” She raised her eyebrows at Chantelle, who gave a nod of agreement.