Setting Him Free Read Free Page B

his knees beside her, still not knowing
if she was badly hurt. Only that she was alive, and that somehow it
was important to him. The sounds of the rainforest started up
quietly in the background; insects and birds, startled into silence
by the crash, resuming their business while he stared at her
wondering why he cared.
    Not a religious man, but he had done some praying in
the past two years. Prayed for his life back, all too soon
realising that no-one was listening and no-one cared. And now this.
Connection with another human being. Something he'd despaired of
ever feeling again.
    Probably the shock and the adrenaline pumping through
his system. He'd been in enough hairy situations to know what that
could do to you, how it made you feel. Good sex, getting drunk,
tearing up the town. All great ways to burn it off. None of those
an option now, though.
    He reached for Danielle's wrist again, feeling the
pulse strong and steady, and held on, resting his head on the arm
of her seat. Just a woman and he'd known plenty of them. Why did
she feel so special?
    The fact that they were alone together in a
life-threatening situation? He laughed softly to himself. Yes, that
was enough to make her special. The next few days would throw them
together; make them dependent on each other. The plane had some
sort of homing beacon, but if they'd come down in the thickest part
of the forest it might be days before they were found.
    As he studied Danielle, Taylor realised that her
being alive was a double- edged sword. If she'd died, he'd have
been out of there. With his survival skills, the jungle posed no
threat to him. One more attempt at disappearing, only this time do
it properly. He couldn't leave her, though, or take her with
him.
    Taylor glanced again the front of the plane. There
may be someone in there, badly injured - he should go and check
now, but his shaky legs wouldn't let him. Twisting them under him,
he sat down in the narrow aisle, let his head drop between his
knees, and felt his blood pressure falling.
    Hell, not the time to pass out. If he had a
bad concussion he could be in trouble.
    Breathing desperately, he flopped against the seat
behind him and tried to fend off the nausea. In front of him
Danielle stirred. He called out to her in a voice that sounded
thick and distant. His vision turned misty and he was only dimly
aware of Danielle, on her knees now, repeating his name over and
over, her fingers frantically searching his face.
    Grabbing her hand, he tried to stay with her, but his
body had other ideas and he slipped away. It's okay . She's alive. Now sure of that, he could stop fighting so he
closed his eyes and let the darkness take him.
     
    * * * *
     
    "Taylor." Danielle unsnapped her seat belt and
slithered to the floor, heart lurching at the bloody sight of his
companion sprawled across the opposite seat. Blood everywhere,
trickling down the man's arm to splash onto the floor. Staining his
white shirt. She shut out the image and returned her attention to
Taylor. He could be dying, right in front of her. No, h e
couldn't die . If everyone died, she'd be all alone.
    Poor Taylor, with his sad eyes. He shouldn't die,
here, like this. It didn't seem fair. If he hadn't thrown her back
into her seat, she'd have been in the aisle when the plane went
down. He saved her life. That must count for something with the
powers-that-be.
    She watched his ashen face anxiously and, when he
started to move, breathed such a sigh of relief it made her tremble
right down to her toes. He's alive. I won't be alone , she
thought murmuring a grateful prayer of thanks. Sitting with him in
the cramped aisle, she grasped his hand, stroking it gently,
feeling his fingers grip hers as he came to. She hadn't been big on
hand-holding before, but it seemed the most natural thing in the
world to be holding his. Her thumb drifted over his wrist while he
struggled to open his eyes.
    "Danielle."
    His voice was a hoarse whisper, and he sounded in
pain.