To Deceive Is To Love (Romantic suspense) (3 page)

David had to agree that it was an entertaining and a professional display, but then he’d always known Danny was a fine pilot. He’d just never told him.

Then the plane supporting Chantelle did a flip, suspending her upside down. The other plane flew beneath to create the grand finale, the two planes a mirror image, the girls’ heads almost touching.

David couldn’t help the anxiety that snaked through him, relief flooding back when the yellow plane righted itself and the red one circled, preparing for its descent. He watched as the first one
landed,
the yellow one not far behind. He was about to walk away when the sound of shocked gasps caused him to turn and look skyward again.

The yellow biplane had cancelled its descent and was now going into an inverted sustained knife-edge pass. The tendrils of fear were like steel magnets snapping across his heart. Complete helplessness swept over him as his eyes locked onto the fragile figure suspended sideways. Danny was too bloody low; the plane was not suited for that kind of stunt and the engine could so easily stall.

He watched in sheer horror, knowing how easily a stunt like this could go disastrously wrong, the plane plummeting to the ground with no chance of survivors. He craned his neck and locked his eyes upward as the plane soared so close that any lower and the wing tip could part his hair. There had been times when he had been unable to do anything except watch as circumstances beyond his control maimed or destroyed those close to him. This should be no different; he had learned to control such feelings, only this was his brother, the one person he’d vowed to protect and a girl who had so much to live for. Nothing could prepare him for what he was feeling now.

Then the crowd cheered and it was over. He could breathe again as the plane soared over their heads doing barrel rolls. Finally, it circled and prepared to land. David continued watching as the plane came to a standstill and Danny climbed out smiling and waving at the crowd and giving thumbs up as if he was some kind of hero.

The gradual calming down now turned to anger. He felt like marching over and shaking some sense into his brother. This time they had been lucky. Danny had put Chantelle’s life on the line and for nothing more than a cheap thrill for the crowd.

***

“I tell you, the crowd bloody loved it. I’ve done that stunt a thousand times before,” Danny argued.

“Not with a wing walker strapped to your wings, you fool. What were you trying to prove? We’re meant to be a team, not a bloody one-man show. And besides that, we could end up grounded for what you did.”

Don, the team’s founder, was furious and Chantelle felt he was quite justified. She was angry with Danny herself. Steve, the team’s mechanic, had unclipped her waist from the support and helped her down, because she’d felt so weak with nausea. Luckily, it had passed, but her legs still felt like jelly.

Danny hadn’t even consulted her about the knife-edge pass; if he had, she would have told him no way. It maddened her to think the show had been a brilliant success without Danny’s solo performance and that he had just put a damper on it by upsetting the rest of the team. It was as if he wanted the limelight to himself.

Walking away toward the caravan, she decided to leave them to it. Her thoughts on the subject could wait until Danny and she were alone and she was clearer in the head. At present, the leather suit was stifling and the spins had left her head buzzing.

Entering the caravan, she stripped off the leather catsuit and went straight into the tiny bathroom cubicle, which had been installed with a shower. While the cool droplets cascaded down her body, her mind became filled with depressing thoughts, first David Bishop’s rejection and now this. The day couldn’t get any worse.

Stepping out, she dabbed her body dry, towel-dried her hair and dressed in khaki cotton combat shorts and a white vest T-shirt. Slipping on a pair of leather sandals and with her hair still damp about her shoulders, she stepped out into the bright sunlight, ready to enjoy the rest of the show.

“I feel I’ve lost half a bloody stone in this sweat suit,” Tracey, the other wing walker, remarked as she approached the caravan.
“Oh, by the way.
Next time you two want to stage your own display,
do
it elsewhere, not under the Swift Circus banner. That was a dirty trick you played on Don. It just goes to show you’re both in it for yourselves. You don’t give a damn about the team. Well, remember the Swift Flying circus was doing fine before you two came along and can continue that way without you.” It was a scathing attack even by Tracey’s standards.

“I had no idea Danny was going to do that stunt and am just as upset as you are.”

“Right.
He would never do anything without consulting you first and he certainly wouldn’t want to upset you, now would he?”

Chantelle didn’t know what was going on. Tracey sounded like she was jealous of Danny and her. “Do you know what, Tracey? You’re right. I don’t give a damn, well not about what you think anymore; believe what you like.” A year on the team and they had not become the best of friends, but lately Tracey seemed to resent her and for reasons she still couldn’t determine. Slamming the caravan door shut behind her, Chantelle strolled off.

After half an hour of mingling with the crowds and watching the various displays, Chantelle found herself at the small fun fair. A few stalls, a horse carousel, bumper cars and other amusements to keep the children occupied.

“Ten ducks down and win this lovely cuddly tiger! Come on, anyone can do it, even your old gran,” a voice rang out.

She watched as adults and children lined up, bent over rifles aimed at moving ducks. Tacky, but nevertheless Chantelle found it fun to watch and not as easy as it looked. The ducks moved pretty fast and only a man aged in his fifties managed to get eight ducks down. His consolation prize was a beanie. As the contestants moved off, others took their places. It left only one position unfilled.

Seeing Chantelle, the stall holder shouted out to her. “Come on, love, we need one more to make up the number.”

She shook her head.

“Well, get your fellow to do it for yer. You’ll do it mate, won’t yer? Win yer pretty lady one of these.” He pointed to a large orange and black striped tiger on the shelf above him.

Chantelle spun around, wondering whom he had referred to as being with her. She would have knocked straight into him, had he not gently taken hold of her shoulders and moved her to one side as he stepped forward.

“Why not?
I’m sure the pretty lady would love me to.” His eyes were lazy, mocking her.

Broad shoulders took position behind the rifle, his bare arm muscles tensed as he stooped his finger on the trigger, and one eye against the sighting. A bell sounded and for the next twenty seconds, there was rapid fire and clinks of metal as the ducks fell backward. Chantelle watched in amazement as he knocked down all ten ducks without a single miss with one hand supporting the rifle, the other arm casually hung by his side.

“Blimey, we have a Clint Eastwood here,” the stallholder exclaimed as he rang the end of time bell.

The other contestants turned to look at David, only he had moved away and was walking off.

“Hey! Don’t you want your prize?” the stallholder shouted after him.

“Let the lady choose,” he called back over his shoulder.

“I’ll take that one.” Chantelle pointed to the large tiger with a long fluffy tail, all the while watching David’s back so she wouldn’t lose sight of him. Tucking the tiger under her arm, she hurried through the crowds. She had nearly reached him when a group of youths stepped into her path. Chantelle collided with a burly one, knocking his can of lager out of his hand to spill down his shirt and trousers.

“Steady on, darling. Where’s the fire?” The youth jokingly swung her around in his arms, the lager now soaking into her T-shirt as well before she managed to disentangle herself and step back. Unfortunately, she had dropped the tiger which another youth was quick to snatch up.

“I’m so sorry,” Chantelle spluttered, trying to catch her breath. Her gaze darted in all directions looking for David. She spotted him and was relieved that something had made him stop and look back. Then she couldn’t see him anymore; the youths with their skinhead haircuts and tattoos had surrounded her.

Chantelle reached out to take possession of the tiger. The one holding it laughed and held it at arm’s length before throwing it to his friend. They were obviously making a childish game out of this at her expense, all of them slightly worse for drink. Anger began to surface as she faced the one now holding the tiger. “Look, I said I’m sorry. Now kindly return my property.”

“Come and get it,” he leered. “And while you’re at it, I’ll take back some of my beer.” His eyes lowered to her chest, his tongue sliding over his lips.

She swung the toe of her sandal back and then forward, kicking him hard in the shin. The force of it brought his arms down as he yelled his discomfort. Snatching the tiger back, she went to storm past when the burly youth grabbed her arm.

“Hey, bitch. What about my ruined shirt, and my beer?” The tone was no longer jovial. Malevolent eyes stared back at her.

“Look, mate, go and get yourself another beer.” David stepped into the circle and removed the youth’s hand, slapping a five-pound note into it .The skinhead stared back at David, silence falling as he sized the intruder up. David held his glare with a threatening stance, his eyes backing up the warning. The youth stepped away and closed his hand over the five-pound note.

“Gee thanks, mate,” he sneered. “You should keep her on a leash.”

Chantelle felt her wrist grabbed in his hard vice-like grip as David yanked her away with him. “Did you just hear what that bastard said?” she spluttered, not sure who she was most angry with, those group of morons or the way David had treated her like a spoiled child, not even defending her honor.

“Yes, I heard him, and perhaps you deserved it the way you kicked that lad’s shin. You’re lucky they didn’t resort to physical violence back.”

“What did you expect me to do, play their stupid game, go along with their lurid suggestions even?” She came to an abrupt halt, forcing him to stop.

He took her by the shoulders as if he was lecturing a small child. “No, but you could have forgotten this stupid tiger and walked away. They would have given it back.”

Confusion replaced the anger as she stared up into the depths of his penetrating blue eyes. He wasn’t as angry with her as he was with himself.

“What’s your problem, David? Why are you treating me this way? We barely know each other and yet it’s as if you want to fight with me. Have I done something I’m not even aware of? Please tell me because I would like to know.”

Several eyes were upon them now as if they were staging some kind of lover’s quarrel. Gently, David took her hand. “Come on; let’s move away from here,” he said in a low, serious tone.

They left the crowd and found an isolated area behind a drink marquee near the airfield perimeter fence.

“Look, I’m sorry. It’s not you; it’s me. Yes, I am attracted to you and in different circumstances, who knows.” He shrugged his shoulders. “But I’m not looking for any kind of relationship at present and you don’t strike me as a one-night stand.”

“Well, yes, I suppose I do like to go out on a few dates first, get to know the person. But don’t worry; I’m not after a ring on my finger.” She raised her eyebrows and smiled invitingly at him. “Well, what shall we do now, shake hands and walk away or…” She stepped forward, placing her arms about his neck, the tiger dangling down his back, her body close to him.

“You are also a friend of my brother, which makes it a little too personal.” His hands rested firmly on her hips, holding her away from him.

She let out a small laugh. “So that’s it! You think Danny and I might have a thing going. You’ve got to be kidding. He goes for tall willowy blondes, preferably Swedish or at least the last two were. Us red heads don’t get a second look. Perhaps you have the same taste; if so, your loss, not mine.” Her voice was husky, her eyes reaching out to him even as she withdrew her arms and went to step back.