Authors: Judith Stephan
The noise and excitement of the brawl ensured that no one heard the sirens approaching or saw the blue flashing lights outside the hall.
Henri Delucci strode up and pulled Shilo away from the fracas, but she shrugged him off. She moved towards Charles, with his bleeding nose and his swelling eye.
“I hate you,” she said under her breath, glaring maliciously at him.
“Who is this man?” his father demanded, pointing at Stratt.
“This is Stratt Ogilvy. I met him in Africa. He’s the one I told you about, Dad. He came all this way to see me… and this… this bastard just attacked him for no reason.”
“He had his hands all over her, sir,” called Charles, from behind a blood-covered handkerchief.
“Did it look like I was resisting? Did it look like I was there against my will, Charles?” she screamed, "who do you think you are, trying to control me? I am free to do whatever I please.”
“Let him go,” came a woman’s voice from behind them, “It is Philip Ogilvy’s son.”
Lady Carina moved forward and stood facing Lambert-Carr. She was a tall elegant woman, with her red hair swept up in French roll. She was very striking for her age and Stratt could see where Shilo had inherited her good looks.
“You just leave her alone,” she hissed.
Just then Corbett and two other officers of the law strode in.
“Are you Viscount Lambert-Carr?” Corbett asked.
“Yes, and I would like to lodge a complaint against this man for forcing himself on my girlfriend and assaulting me,” Charles replied, thinking that they had been called because of the fight.
“You, sir, are under arrest, for the murder, of five young women over the past three months, and the suspicion of three others. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law … you sick bastard,” Corbett stated, as he wrenched Charles’s arms behind him and restrained them in handcuffs.
The silence in hall was deafening. You could have heard a pin drop as the patrons stared wide-eyed at one of their own being arrested by the law for what must be the most shocking crime to have hit England since the boys who had bludgeoned the Bulger toddler to death on the side of a railway line.
“This, my friends, is the serial killer,” said Lady Carina, addressing the flabbergasted crowd.
“You!” Corbett gasped. “It was you.”
Lady Carina nodded.
Shilo felt her legs give way and she was caught and steadied by her father.
“You didn’t think for one moment, Charles, that I would let you marry my daughter, did you?” Lady Carina continued. “I knew it all along. All the pieces of the puzzle just fell into place. Your little trips into the country, your BMW all covered in mud, your sudden sale of your car and change in appearance when the identikit picture was published … those scratches on your face. Fox hunting? My hat! You sick, perverted bastard! Get him out of here, Corbett!”
“We were going to get engaged tonight,” he shrieked.
Shilo looked up, shocked, and was shaking her head and blocking her ears with her hands.
“Over my dead body!” said Lady Carina.
“I am not a killer, Shilo. It’s all a mistake!” he screamed again, but they had already begun to drag him out. “This is preposterous!” he continued. “You’ll lose your job for this, Corbett!”
As Charles was escorted out of the huge double door into the foyer, the spectators suddenly started talking among themselves about this scandalous affair. Charles’ voice faded into the night. The men released Stratt from their grasp at Lady Carina’s command and he rushed to Shilo’s side. She was sitting on a chair that someone had pulled up for her with her head in her hands.
“Are you okay?” he asked, “Are you hurt?” His voice was soothing.
“I’m just fine. You just don’t realize how fine I am seeing you here,” she smiled.
Henri started apologising profusely for Charles’ behaviour. The patrons and paparazzi were fascinated about this handsome stranger who appeared to have stolen Shilo’s heart, and the scandal that they would be able to gossip about to those who had not attended the ball. Viscount Lambert-Carr – the most wanted serial killer in England … probably the entire Continent. Just imagine! Visiting reporters were excited about the story they were going to be able to write the next day, and the photographs they had been able to take of Charles Lambert-Carr with a black eye and a broken nose… and a police escort … and Lady Shilo Delucci in the arms of this unknown, enigmatic man.
CHAPTER 15
Later that evening, back in the study at Cairnsway, Shilo and Stratt sat in front of a roaring log fire talking. She had her head in his lap.
“What made you come here?” she asked gently.
He could see the flickering flames reflected in her eyes, the rosy glow it gave her complexion, and he remembered the last time they were in front of a fire on their last night together in Africa.
“Because I love you
so much it hurts … Because I wanted to. Every second you were away was a torture. God I tried to move on and forget you … and I could not.”
“Are you sure?” Shilo asked.
For some hours now, Shilo had begun to think Stratt’s sudden appearance was very coincidental. A few days before, she had found out she was pregnant, and then suddenly the father of her child appeared on her doorstep after saying goodbye forever.
“Shilo, when were you going to tell me?” he asked her, urgently searching her eyes.
She stared at him and then lowered her eyelids. Her worst fear was true.
“I know about the baby, Shilo,” he continued.
“Who told you?” she snapped, “It was Michaela, wasn’t it?”
“That doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’m here. I want you… I’ve always wanted you … I need you and I know you need me.”
“Is that the reason you came? Because of the baby?”
She recoiled from him; a look of unadulterated fear crossed her face. She stood up and smoothed her velvet dress. Tendrils from her hair had come down, and she looked so beautiful. He had suspected that this would have been her reaction.
“Shilo…” he started.
“You owe me nothing,” she said, “We were beautiful together. What we had in Africa was magical but I expect nothing from you. How will I ever be able to tell whether you really wanted me, or if you came only because of a sense of paternal responsibility, of guilt because of the baby. That’s why I didn’t want to tell you … because I knew it would make you view our separation differently. Damn Michaela for interfering!”
She dashed from the room, leaving a bewildered Stratt staring after her.
*
Shilo lay weeping on her bed. What a night. Charles Lambert-Carr was a serial killer and would be in prison for the rest of his life! But at least he was now out of hers for good. All her dreams and wildest fantasies had been realised when Stratt had walked into that ballroom earlier that evening. He had been like the proverbial Prince Charming and she had been his princess, and she had been swept off her feet. The significance of the song they had danced to, echoed in her head… and she wondered if he had anything to do with that. But all that had been dashed, like a delicate boat on the rocks in a turbulent storm. He had only come back because he knew about the baby … out of some sense of duty to his unborn child. It would have been wonderful if he had come all the way here because he loved her and wanted to be with her… and the baby could then have been just a pleasant afterthought. She wept uncontrollably into her pillow, and then as quickly as she had begun, she stopped and stood up. She knew what she had to do. She had to disappear. She had to leave. Get away from here. She needed to go somewhere where she could think and get perspective on the situation.
*
After staring into the flames for several moments, Stratt picked up the phone and called for a taxi, then he gave chase. The house was in semi-darkness as everyone else had been asleep for hours. He clambered up the stairs and along the dimly lit passage. He remembered where Shilo’s room was from earlier that evening, and there was still a sliver of light shining from underneath it. He opened it quietly and stepped in. Shilo stood with her back to him, bending over a suitcase, into which she was bundling several items of clothing. Her red velvet dress lay discarded on a bentwood rocker, and she wore black leggings and a large fluffy white jersey, which hung to mid-thigh.
He cleared his throat, and she spun around.
“Why are you packing?” he asked. “Why are you running away?”
“Because … because I have to leave,” she answered, and the tears started flowing again. “I have to get out of here!”
“Why? Why are you running away from me, when you know how I feel about you, Shilo? I have come half way across the world for you. I overcame my fear of flying to come and get you – don’t run away. Let’s at least talk.”
“I just have to get away from here… because I’m confused. Because I’ll never know why you really came,” she sobbed.
“Shilo, don’t be ridiculous,” he said, and grabbed her arm and forced her to look at him, “I loved you with my whole heart in Africa even before I knew about our baby. I tried to ask you but the words wouldn’t come. I wanted to see you before I left…. To ask you to stay… because I loved you and needed you, but there was a cloudburst and I got to the airport too late. I’ve been struggling with the doubt about how you would cope in Africa… or if I could cope here in England. Whether love was really enough. Yes, the baby made me move faster, but I would have come anyway, sooner or later, because I can’t live without you. And so what if the baby is part of all this because it is part of us.”
“But I’ll never really know,” she sighed.
“Yes, you will. You’ll know when you look in my eyes as you walk down the aisle towards me at our wedding; when I hold your hand as we deliver our first baby together; as we bring up all our children together; as we run the Lodge together; as we lie in each other’s arms every night; as we sit and watch the sunset together when we are sixty-five. You’ll sense it in a look I’ll give you; in the way I touch you; in a kiss; in the way we make love. You will just know, always know, how much I love you … and why I really am here right now. You’ll always feel it here.” He took her hand and placed it on his chest. “Here in my heart.”
“Oh, Stratt, I wanted you to ask me to stay more than anything,” Shilo sobbed. “I know I could live in Africa… because I would be with you. I want to be with you, that’s all that matters and we could work things out. I was so disappointed when you didn’t ask.”
“I tried, but the words wouldn’t come. I tried when I said goodbye to you when you were in the bath just before you left, on the phone that night I called you at the hotel and I was too late on the day you left,” he said, “I’m sorry, Shilo. I was caught between my desperation to have you, and my fear that you would say no… and then the guilt that if you had said yes, you would hate it and eventually leave me.”
He pulled her to him, and once again his arms were wrapped possessively around her. Shilo wept openly into him. Everything was going to be fine.
“I couldn’t go a single day without the touch of your hands, the smell of your hair… I love your hair … the taste of your lips, the way you look at me…” His voice cracked with emotion.
She looked up at him, and his eyes were wet with tears. Her gentle giant was crying.
“Oh Stratt,” she breathed.
“I’ve come, Shilo… I’ve come to ask you to come back to Africa with me. To marry me, to help me run the Lodge when Dad retires… to love me. I’m sorry I’m late, but I’ve come to fetch you and our child.”