Setting Him Free (6 page)

I'm doing this for him
.
To show I trust
him
.

Hell, who am I kidding?
Everything about him
called to her in a way she'd never experienced. Her insides were
still tingling with the anticipation of the nearly-kiss. Her
emotions in a tailspin. If he didn't make a move soon she'd
explode.

She knelt up, and pushed the tray out of the way.
"Well?" Her knees trembled slightly. What would this really prove
other than that they were both horny as hell?

When he made his decision and dipped his head towards
hers, Danielle closed her eyes and grabbed his tee-shirt, to steady
herself as well as to anchor him in place. He seemed to be hovering
on the edge of something. His slight hesitation made her tighten
her grip, silently willing him on.

Surprisingly, nothing like she expected. Instead of a
dam-breaking, passionate torrent of a kiss, he gave her the
sweetest, most heartbreaking kiss she'd ever experienced. A brief
touch of his lips on hers, and the question "Do you trust me?"
whispered so quietly against her cheek she thought she'd dreamed
it. And when he sat back, and she opened her eyes, he looked
drained. Like a man who had nothing left to give and for whom
nothing mattered, except the answer to his question.

"Taylor?"

Hell, she'd got it so wrong. No black and white in
this, no question of right or wrong, justification or condemnation.
It was way more complicated than that. Leaning towards him,
Danielle gathered him up, feeling him let go his resistance, his
good arm sliding around her back. He needed her strength, too and
she'd been dumping it all on him. Expecting him to look after her,
because he was a big strong man and she was a woman.

Poor man was tired, and not just physically. She felt
it in the way he held her. Almost like a child who needed silent
reassurance that everything was going to be okay. She couldn't give
him that; she had no idea what the future held for him. She could
only give him this.

"I'd trust you with my life, Taylor." Threading her
fingers into his hair, she stroked the short strands, soothing and
caressing. Taylor held on, giving no indication he'd heard the
words.

"Rest," she whispered. "That's what you need. Just
now there's nothing to worry about." Danielle sank back against the
side of the seat, letting his weight fall on her. His hair tickled
her cheek and she continued stroking, a little overawed at his
trust in her. "None of it matters any more. It's just you and me,
and nothing else."

Taylor hardly moved except to breathe. Danielle
continued stroking his hair, his shoulders, his back until his
weight became so heavy, she thought he'd gone to sleep.

Some loose part of the plane clanked rhythmically as
the wind increased and the sound of the wildlife gradually became
quieter. A rumble of thunder caught her attention. The heavens were
about to open and the rain come thundering down. It would stop as
abruptly as it started; usual for this part of the world, and
Danielle thought with longing about peeling off her sweat-stained
clothes and stepping under the torrent of water. Soaping her body,
shampooing her hair, letting the rain rinse it all off. Only a few
hours had passed since her morning shower and already she couldn't
remember what if felt like to be fresh and clean.

Taylor was stuck to her. A pool of liquid heat
soldered their bodies together. He didn't smell any better than she
did. Not a complete turnoff, though, which she found surprising.
They smelled like a couple who'd just had sex on a very hot day,
only without the sex.

Tipping back her head, she closed her eyes,
remembering the last man she'd been in that position with. Poor
Marc. On the face of it, the perfect man for her, kind and
generous, offering a comfortable lifestyle, unconditional love.
He'd doted on her, treated her like a queen and she'd tried to so
hard to pinpoint why that was never enough.

Then Taylor had fallen into her arms and held onto
her as if he never wanted to let her go. And now she knew.

From that first glance, Taylor had called to her on a
level that almost scared her in its intensity. Everything about him
touched some sensitive part of her, and set it on fire. His voice,
the touch of his hand on her face. His lips brushing across hers.
The way he trusted her enough to lie quietly in her arms and let
her give him comfort.

Marc had almost smothered her with caring, loving to
sweep her off her feet at the most inopportune of moments. Fun at
first, but then it just made her feel powerless. She wanted to be
swept off her feet by a man who couldn't help himself, not by one
who thought she was too delicate to walk. She'd maybe watched
Gone With The Wind
once too often, but Marc had never once
carried her to bed.

Had Taylor had ever carried a woman to bed? She could
probably bet her life on that certainty. After a while he lifted
his head to look at her drowsily, a little sheepishly.

"That was nice." Taylor pushed himself up, groaning
as he adjusted the position of his broken arm in the sling, and
then leaned back against the seat beside her.

"Thank you." He spoke very quietly, a tinge of
self-consciousness in his voice now. Resting his right elbow on his
knee, he stared down at his feet.

A few moments of silence as if neither of them knew
what to do or say next. Danielle pulled at the knotted tails of her
blouse, freed them and flapped the hem in an effort to cool
herself. She stretched her arms above her head, working out the
kinks, needing to do something to fill the awkward gap between two
people being so intimate and then suddenly not being. Too hot to be
so close, but the loss of contact was startling, like the moment
he'd pulled his gaze away before the crash. She wanted to reach
out, hold him some more and make the most of this time
together.

Soon he would be gone and she'd never see him
again.

Instead, she heard herself saying "You're welcome,
Taylor." And, hell, that sounded awful. Why had she turned so
formal all of a sudden?

A hint of a smile on his face, as if he understood
what she was feeling. "Need to go to the bathroom?"

"Yes, but I don't suppose we can use that one?"
Danielle tilted her head towards the back of the plane. Taylor
shook his head.

"Strictly outdoor plumbing, I'm afraid." Another low
rumble of thunder rattled the plane. Taylor pushed to his feet,
shoved the gun back under the seat with the toe of his boot, and
stretched out a hand to her. "Let's go cool off."

She let him haul her up and lead her to the exit,
stepping in to help him when the door wouldn't open as easily as it
had earlier when he'd dumped the dead body. The activity smoothed
the transition from intimacy to more practical matters. It was
quite a drop to the ground. Danielle stared down in dismay. A few
splintered tree trunks held the plane in place.
Perhaps she
could use them as steps?
And how would Taylor cope with his
broken arm?

"Think you can do it?" he said, narrowing his eyes
and mentally measuring the distance. "You go first. Then if that
first branch is too low I can pull you back in."

"Okay." Danielle sucked in a breath and steeled
herself. There would be snakes out there, and goodness knows what
else.
No, don't think about that
. The body would be there
too. When she looked dubiously back at Taylor, he squeezed her
arm.

"It's all right, love. I'll be right behind you. You
can do it."

"Okay."

Love?
The word rolled off his tongue so
easily. Didn't mean anything, of course, but it made her feel good
all the same. She took another deep breath. No dignified way of
doing this so might as well get it over with. She knelt down and
rolled onto her stomach. Taylor held onto her as she inched
backwards until her legs were paddling in mid-air, her feet feeling
for the first branch. Then she grasped the edge of the floor and
lowered herself.

Where had the body landed?

Taylor crouched in the doorway. Her face was level
with his boots. "Can you make it, Danielle?"

"I think so. We will be able to get back in, won't
we?"

"Looks easy enough, but climb down carefully. Try not
to scratch yourself on the twigs."

Climb down?
She placed her foot on a lower
branch, and found there were no more convenient footholds. So she
took in a steadying breath, released her grip on the plane, and
jumped. When she hit the ground she stumbled sideways and nearly
stepped on the body.

For a few seconds she could only stare, wide-eyed,
unable to tear her eyes away from the horror of the dead
policeman's vacant stare. A knot of panic rose in her throat, and
when another sharp crack of thunder split the air she let out a
small scream, stuffing a fist into her mouth to stop the sound,
ordering herself to look away. She couldn't. That might have been
her
lying there with ants crawling from her mouth, her
eyes.

Behind her she was aware of Taylor jumping down, and
then his arm around her, pulling her away, shoving her face against
his chest. She breathed against him, grabbing handfuls of his
tee-shirt, twisting them into her fists until her panic subsided.
Around them the forest fell silent. Soon random raindrops started
falling softly here and there, filling the air with a different
kind of music.

Taylor took a step back, concern in his eyes.
Danielle let go, and held her hands up. "I'm okay, I'm okay," she
said letting go one last shudder. "God, that's gruesome."

Taylor steered her away from the body. ""Not a pretty
sight. Try not to look."

"I'm okay, really." She wasn't, though. Every nerve
ending was on edge. All she needed now was to meet a snake and
she'd be running around screaming and flapping her arms above her
head like everyone's stereotypical, hysterical female. The thought
made her smile. Taylor gave her an encouraging hug.

"You're a good girl."

"I'm not a girl. You had noticed that?"

"Oh, I've noticed. Which tree do you want?"

"The one with hot and cold running water, the
flushing toilet and the hot tub."

"Over there, then." He pointed to the left. "Mine's
the one with the marble tub and the gold taps. Be quick."

Danielle hugged him back. "Now you're getting it,"
she said with a wink.

* * * *

The rain took its time in coming. A drop here, a drop
there, almost as if it couldn't make up its mind. Taylor hunkered
down on the end of one of the branches wedged beneath the plane to
wait for Danielle. She reappeared, hair loose and flowing about her
shoulders. Tilting back her head, she stood quietly and let the
raindrops wet her face. Then the drops gathered momentum, and she
abandoned herself to the downpour. Taylor cradled his broken arm,
mesmerised by the sight, torn between needing to get her back into
the safety of the plane and wanting to see her soaked to the skin,
clothes moulded to her body.

"Come and cool off, Taylor." He barely heard the
words above the din of the torrent now pounding everything in its
path.

Hesitantly, he stood and moved towards her. Danielle
leaned back when she felt him behind her. He slipped his good arm
around her waist. She seemed to understand him on some instinctive
level he couldn't fathom. They hardly knew each other, yet they
fitted together perfectly.

His mind raced on. Yes, they would fit together
perfectly doing
that
too and there it got mighty
complicated.

"Isn't this heaven?"

He had to agree. Whether they were talking about the
same thing, he had no idea, but if there'd ever been an idea of
celestial bliss in his mind it was in the feel of her hot, wet body
pressed softly into his. The sound of her panting breath and
laughter as the rain half-drowned her. And the sight of her flushed
skin, clearly visible through her soaked blouse. He tightened his
hold on her waist and bit back a groan when she wriggled and pushed
back against him.

Perhaps he had died in the crash after all and,
inexplicably, was in heaven instead of the hell he was expecting.
For those few moments when she'd held him on the plane all his
earthly cares had slipped away. Every stroke of her hand had lifted
another bit of the burden he'd hefted around for so long, and he'd
wanted to stay like that for the eternity it would need to make him
whole again.

How could he refuse such a gift, so generously
offered? Up until this morning, simply getting through the day took
every ounce of his willpower. So lost in despair, he'd practically
walked into the police station by himself. But this, here, gave him
a reason to go on, for the next few days at least. Made him feel
stronger than he had for a long time.

The rain stopped abruptly, as if someone had turned
off the shower. They stood together, neither of them speaking while
the trees steamed around them.

With his mouth pressed against her ear, he whispered,
"You're beautiful, Danielle."

"What, like this?" She shivered and laughed and
tipped her head right back, looking up at him with glittering
eyes.

"Especially like this."

Slowly, they rocked back and forth, and soon the
rainforest wasn't the only thing steaming.
Kiss her
, a voice
in his head urged, but still he held back. What right did a killer
have to kiss an angel?
None at all
, a different voice
said.

"Let's get back inside. Reckon it'll be dark soon.
They won't be looking for the plane until tomorrow now."

Daniell's mouth flattened a little. Her eyes clouded
over.

"They'll find us." Taylor smiled and touched a finger
to the end of her nose. "Couple of days, tops. If not, I'll get you
to safety. Stop worrying."