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Passionate Retribution
KIM LAWRENCE
Marrying her enemy!"You might blackmail me into marriage, Luke, but I'll despise you with all my heart!" Lucas Hunt harbors a bitter grudge against Emily's family - and she is to be the pawn in his game of revenge! As a teenager, she'd craved attention from this powerful, unconventional man… only to discover the dark side of his desire.Since then she's vowed to hate him. But Luke is determined to become her husband, and Emily can't escape the trap he's laid for her. Nor can she deny that, although Luke is her worst enemy, he arouses a passion in her that she just can't resist!



Table of Contents
Cover Page (#u1d045f6a-93fc-554a-b8a8-ff0d9fec7530)
Excerpt (#u30987e88-7efb-5c70-8561-b0eda720d3b0)
About the Author (#u32c68492-5575-5cab-8daa-25e05651b872)
Title Page (#ud9cadccf-966b-5301-8dc1-e55378fae022)
Chapter One (#ubeeedc2c-2c40-50b4-bbde-f4587792345d)
Chapter Two (#ua2e2dff1-7144-513d-bf14-338f813d20c4)
Chapter Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

“This is to be temporary, then, this marriage?”
“Most are, it seems to me,” Luke replied harshly.

“And I take it liaisons—discreet, of course—would be acceptable.” Emily watched the gleaming, predatory expression steal across his face.

“My wife won’t require another lover.”

He was awesome, Emily had to admit it. She was playing with fire, but it would be worth it. How dare he assume she was his for the taking?
KIM LAWRENCE lives on a farm in rural Anglesey, Wales. She runs two miles daily and finds this an excellent opportunity to unwind and seek inspiration for her writing! It also helps her keep up with her husband, two active sons, and the various stray animals that have adopted them. Always a fanatical consumer of fiction, she is now equally enthusiastic about writing. She loves a happy ending!

Passionate Retribution
Kim Lawrence






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_ba2c154e-493e-5ec9-9964-4035261dd982)
A DARK figure silently emerged from behind a bank of luxuriant foliage and Emily let out a sharp yelp of alarm. A sliver of moonlight revealed the intruder’s features and she gave a grunt of shock which she swiftly disguised as irritation. ’must you loom like that? You almost gave me a heart attack.’ She gave a frown. ‘I thought you were in the Bahamas or somewhere,’ she added critically. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I knew you’d be delighted to see me,’ a deep, gravelly voice murmured smoothly. ‘How long has it been?’ Emily had a glimpse of white teeth as he gave an ironic grin. ‘Actually it was the Seychelles,’ he corrected.
‘Somewhere hot, anyway,’ she agreed, brushing aside a few miles of ocean with an airy wave of her hand.
‘Talking of hot, infant, why are you skulking in the conservatory?’ He loosened his tie as he spoke and idly plucked a juicy grape from the vine which was trained above his head.
Emily’s lips pursed in aggravation as she watched him bite the dark fruit. He had used the denigrating childhood term with benevolent scorn. Luke had always made the most of the fact that he was twelve years her senior, and as a child ‘infant’ had always been able to send her into an incoherent rage. She was sure that despite his negligent manner the word had been calculated; most things about Luke were calculated and his malicious humour took a continual lazy delight in mocking her own family. ‘I was seeking a little privacy,’ she said pointedly, refusing to notice the minor irritation. Tonight even Lucas Hunt wasn’t going to spoil the euphoria of the occasion.
‘It is an incredibly tedious party,’ he said sympathetically. ‘Don’t grind your teeth like that; it’s very bad for the enamel,’ he advised her helpfully.
‘If it’s such a tedious party I don’t know why you bothered coming,’ she hissed back. ‘No one invited you.’
‘What? Miss an occasion like this—my favourite Stapely engaged to be married? It’s an obligation.’
She gave a derisory hoot. ‘You wouldn’t recognise obligation if you fell over it; and as for being your favourite…’ His opinion of her family hardly gave her cause to consider this casual comment a compliment.
‘Admittedly there’s not much competition: Charlotte sends me to sleep if I spend more than five minutes in her company, and your brother has the wit and charm of a waxwork. If he were similarly dumb I might be able to tolerate him, but he reveals the intellect of a bigoted bore every time he opens his mouth.’
‘My sister…’ Emily began, her eyes sparkling. In all sincerity she couldn’t help sympathising with this opinion of her brother; his pompous smugness made it almost impossible for her to be civil to him. Fortunately their paths crossed little, but she felt instantly protective of her sister. Charlotte might be no intellectual giant but there was more to her than Luke’s damning comment suggested.
‘Is so two-dimensional I half expect her to disappear viewed sideways on.’
‘You are incredibly snide and unpleasant to her and she suspects there’s some dark, sinister meaning to everything you say.’
‘And do I inspire similar inarticulate awe in you?’
‘I know there’s some dark, sinister meaning in everything you say,’ she responded frankly. ‘And if you’ve come here to spoil my night, I warn you, Luke…if you pull one of your tricks…’
Luke took a step forward and she could see his features clearly for the first time. The innocent expression should have looked absurd on the severely chiselled, swarthily dark features, but it didn’t. He had changed little over the four years since she’d last seen him, unlike herself. Even if she was never going to be a raving beauty, she knew she had more to recommend her now than as the awkward, confused adolescent she had been then. Fortunately she was also now immune to the effortless charm. Mockery glittered in the intensely blue eyes. ’tricks, Emily…?’
She clicked her tongue with disapproval recalling the occasions he’d turned up at family events, his attire and companions always geared to offend the stuffy formality. ‘Are you alone?’ she asked suspiciously, recalling the voluptuous actress he’d brought to her parents’ silver wedding celebrations. Her father had tried so hard to avoid the lady’s ample cleavage, without much success. Luke had obviously been behind the woman’s embarrassingly tactile admiration of her parent, and the conveniently placed photographer who had captured the moment for the gossip column of a national newspaper the following morning…
‘Straight from the plane.’ He rubbed his jaw. ‘Didn’t even have time to shave; suffering from jet-lag. Aren’t you flattered, Emmy?’ He gave a long-suffering sigh. ‘You little sceptic—here, feel.’
Emily was too startled to demur when he firmly placed her hand against his jaw, rubbing the pads of her fingertips against the coarse, dark growth. She blinked to banish a sudden flurry of confusion as her eyes met the intense blue regard. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she snapped, pulling her hand away. She looked pointedly at his fingers, very brown against her arm. Luke smiled slowly and released her, but not before his fingers had trailed over the blue-veined inner aspect of her wrist.
‘I wish you hadn’t troubled yourself on my account,’ she told him, rubbing her wrist where his fingers, despite their light hold, seemed to have left a mark on her skin. She half expected to see the smudge of bruises but her flesh looked as creamily flawless as earlier.
‘I shall be exemplary, an example of upright smug superiority, as befits a Stapely.’
‘You are not a Stapely,’ she reminded him.
‘How kind of you to remind me.’ A cynical smile curved his lips. ‘Having seen what being a Stapely means at close quarters, I’ve always seen that as a cause for celebration. I seem to remember you usually accompanied that gibe with the delightful spectacle of your tongue.’ His contemplative glance touched her mouth.
‘I grew out of that habit,’ she retorted. Did he imagine he could make her feel guilty for her childish cruelty? she wondered. All the same, it was aggravating to acknowledge that there was a sense of guilt, though heaven knew why—her infantile missiles had always glanced off him. ‘I’m grown-up these days.’
The blue eyes seemed more intense as they unblinkingly examined the proof to substantiate this claim. ‘Is that why you’re marrying, Emmy, to prove the fact?’
Emily realised she’d been holding her breath, waiting for him to speak. Her hand went to cover her bare throat where a pulse was throbbing almost painfully. She rubbed the skin, a faint frown flitting across her face; she was curiously unsettled by the inspection. ‘I feel no need to prove things, Luke, especially not to you.’
‘Why especially not me?’ he shot back swiftly. ‘Am I special, Emmy?’ His deep voice seeped honeyed mockery.
‘I realise you imagine the world revolves around you but—and I know this will come as a shock—some of us make life’s major decisions without considering your opinion.’ Emily’s lips tightened; her barbed comments had brought an almost humorous glint to his eyes.
‘You’re so passionate, infant, incoherently intense. Are you sure it’s you who aren’t the proper Stapely?’ he drawled mockingly. ‘Isn’t there something a tad common about impulsive displays of emotion?’
‘I believe the notion of a mix-up at the hospital was discussed,’ she couldn’t prevent herself commenting drily. There was little intimacy in her family and never had been; she had learnt early on that impetuous displays of warmth and affection were received, at best, awkwardly.
‘What’s he like, then, love’s young dream?’ He turned the subject, only a glimmer of a smile acknowledging her wry comment. His eyes remained beacons of cynicism.
‘Am I to suppose you are for one minute interested?’ Her withering look had no visible effect upon him. ‘You’re so bloody patronising,’ she muttered, chewing her lower lip.
He raised one dark, eloquent brow and plucked another grape. ‘I asked because I am mildly interested at the sort of man who has finally made you fly the nest—or rather move from one prettily feathered nest,’ he amended, ’to another. Want one?’ he added, holding a juicy fruit to her lips. He shrugged as she shook her head, and swallowed it himself. ‘I am assuming he’s not a pauper.’
‘I don’t know why you would assume that,’ she replied coldly. Only Luke could imply that a person was an avaricious little schemer with that infuriating smile. ‘What has money to do with it?’ she enquired haughtily.
‘Oh, not a thing,’ he agreed blandly, ‘when one is filthy rich.’ He enlarged on the subject with smiling disdain. ‘I mean, it would never occur to you to do anything as tasteless as to fall in love with a poor man, would it, sweetheart?’
He wasn’t going to ruin her night, she told herself, aware of anger building steadily. He’s doing it deliberately, she told herself; don’t take the bait. ‘I take it you’ve decided to despise my fiancé without having even met him,’ she observed with frigid scorn.
‘Some things in life have a sort of inevitability, Em. The day you decided to let your father run your life, you set a certain sequence in motion. I feel as if I’ve known Gavin most of my life.’
‘My father does not run my life.’
‘Come off it, Em; you’ve never set foot outside the cocooned abnormality of this mink-lined asylum. You’ve been toeing the party line ever since you could walk. Did Daddy pick out the bridegroom—or just give you a list of candidates?’
Emily sank her nails into the flesh of her soft palms to release some of the anger that made her want to lash out. How dared he breeze in here assuming he knew her every motivation? An encounter with Lucas bloody Hunt served to make her realise her good fortune in finding Gavin. He was the antithesis of Luke, she realised, mentally comparing the two men.
‘Oh, I found Gavin all on my own,’ she said breezily.
‘Impressive. And what does Gavin do?’
Why do I feel defensive? Why shouldn’t Gavin work in her family’s merchant bank? she told herself, her chin tilting a few more degrees to an aggressive angle. ‘Gavin works at the bank.’
‘With an impeccable lineage, of course.’
‘I wouldn’t care if he came from a long line of bastards,’ she retorted hotly. How dared he breeze in here and calmly put her on trial? She wished he’d stayed on whatever inaccessible spot he’d flown in from.
‘That’s very liberal of you; speaking as a first-generation bastard, I find that heart-warming.’
‘I feel certain you wouldn’t have allowed birth to stop you achieving that particular state. Lucas Hunt, you are a self-made…’ A finger to her lips stopped her completing her sentence, and he shook his head admonishingly. She hit out with her hand, but his thumb moved to the angle of her chin, his long fingers cupping her jaw.
‘I wouldn’t advise it, Emmy.’
‘What?’ she snapped, an imminent storm flecking her eyes with gold lights. She gave an inarticulate sound of fury in her throat as her attempts to twist her head free were futile; there was tensile strength in those hands, she realised.
‘Bite, isn’t that the instinct that’s making you grind your teeth? Bad idea,’ he drawled with an indulgent sympathy that made the idea of drawing blood all the more attractive. ‘How many people know that beneath that air of quiet composure lurks a little savage?’
‘The only savage around here, Luke, is you,’ she hissed. In fact, she found the strength of her desire to sink her teeth into his flesh vaguely shocking. ‘I’ve no doubt you’ve your own reasons for being here, concern for my welfare not being one if them. I might have to tolerate your presence because my family——’
‘Through a misplaced sense of loyalty won’t throw me out,’ he supplied with unerring accuracy. ‘You don’t believe that, do you, infant?’ he said slowly, as his forefinger traced the outline of her full lips. ’this is a public occasion—I feel sure all the socially significant people are here, and a show of family unity is called for. No matter how much Charlie would love to throw me out of Charlcot, he won’t.’
With a sense of quiet desperation she shook her head and much to her relief Luke released her; the tactile sensation had been intimidating out of all proportion to the casual contact. It must be the tension of the whole occasion, she told herself; it was far too elaborate, not at all the quiet, intimate celebration she had wanted. But Gavin had sided with her family on this occasion until she’d felt it churlish not to go along.
‘I suppose you think being something of a celebrity makes your presence indispensable,’ she sneered, willing her pulse-rate to return to its normal level. She ignored the undoubted accuracy of his observation; in public, at least, her family would accept Luke.
‘Being a publicly recognisable face means more to your father than it does to me. Not only does he have to accept me publicly, he actually has to project pride.’ The smile was cruelly complacent. ‘You find it more comfortable to accept things on face value, don’t you?’ he said with contemplative distaste. ‘You’ve acquired a veneer of unpleasant hypocrisy, Emily.’
‘It’s you who continues this feud, a remnant of some childish grudge. Don’t you think it’s about time you forgot the past? I don’t care what you think of me, but none of it has anything to do with me,’ she said wearily. The constant warring repelled her; there was something so single-minded, almost malignant, about Luke’s derisive contempt.
‘While your name is Stapely, Em, you are involved,’ he said, a harsh inflexion in his voice.
‘Then the fact I’m about to change my name should please you: one less Stapely for you to hate!’ she yelled. A sudden frown. ‘You don’t seem exactly overjoyed at my impending nuptials,’ she said, puzzled, as it occurred to her that he was displaying uncharacteristic interest.
Luke shrugged, his long, lean body relaxed in contrast to her tense posture. The hooded eyelids half shielding the brilliant blue gaze gave the impression of boredom. ‘Do you require universal approval for peace of mind, Em? Surely a few home truths from me can’t matter. Can it be that there are doubts lurking in that delectable heaving breast? Are there?’
‘They don’t…You don’t…Not that they are true, of course,’ she amended somewhat incoherently. The direction of his gaze made the colour rise in her face. ‘You have a distorted view of everything,’ she protested. Something on the periphery of her vision distracted her. She tore her eyes from the ironic blue gaze. At the same instant it occurred to her that it could appear strange if she emerged from the shrubbery with anyone other than her fiancé, especially if the other turned out to be Luke. She heard the sound of said fiancés voice and gave a grimace; she wished she hadn’t waited guiltily for those few silent moments—she should have revealed her presence immediately.
She didn’t look up at Luke; she was sure he would take the opportunity to make the situation as awkward as possible. Not that Gavin would believe for an instant anything but the most innocent of explanations; unlike Luke, he didn’t have a cynical, distorted view of human nature.
‘We shouldn’t, Gavin.’
Emily froze in the act of stepping forward.
‘We’ve got to tell her, Charlotte.’ The sound of soft cries of distress and the unmistakable murmers of exchanged embraces hung in the humid air.
Emily felt strangely objective, as if what she was listening to had nothing to do with her: it was as impersonal as a radio drama. It wasn’t her fiancé and her sister exchanging what sounded like a wildly passionate embrace, but two strangers and studio effects. The sound of her own breath sounded unexpectedly loud in her ears, accompanied by the thud of her heartbeat.
‘It’s no good, Gavin, we can’t do this to Emmy… she’s my sister.’ Emily heard her sister’s soft voice crack with emotion and the sound of soft sobs filled the room.
A mental scream was building in her head; this was real…it was actually happening. Her head felt as if it would explode; there was no vocal outlet for the anguish that swiftly flowed through her ruthlessly. With my own sister…The words went around in her head. Not Charlotte, she prayed uselessly, the concept was too awful to contemplate, but it was true. Gavin’s reply left no room for doubt.
‘But it’s you I want, darling.’
‘I couldn’t, knowing I’d wrecked Emmy’s happiness. I couldn’t live with that.’
Emily touched her cheek, surprised to find it wet with tears. Teeth clamped over her lower lip, she closed her eyes. She couldn’t live with it, poor Charlotte, she thought bitterly. Charlotte was a fraud. Anger mixed with an acute nausea surged through her in violent waves. It seems a little late for regrets, sister, dear.
‘But I need you…’
She had never heard that inflexion in Gavin’s voice, she wished she hadn’t heard it now. The pain was intense, and humiliation more profound than anything she had encountered before confronted her like a solid object. It jolted into life a long-forgotten memory, just as an odour could conjure up some distant recollection of a time, a place, an event consigned to the dim recesses of memory.
‘Emily needs you.’
She shook her head free of the scarlet fingernails running through the dark hair of the tall man. The image was startlingly vivid. Her mind returned to her sister’s soft pink nails and her fiancé’s blond hair. The pain was acute; it stimulated her senses, and she was conscious of every nuance in the voices; her ears, strained to hear, could imagine every gesture, every touch.
‘Emily needs someone to agree with her.’ Bitterness was unmistakable and she bit her lip to stop the sound of distress which obstructed her throat. ’she never actually listens to me.’
The duplicity was like a physical blow. He was angry with her…The irony tasted bitter in her dry mouth. She couldn’t listen to any more; she felt as if the walls were closing in around her. With her hands clamped over her ears she ran towards the open door that led out on to the terrace, past caring if they heard her.
The soft evening air hit her after the hothouse atmosphere of the emotion-clogged room she’d fled from. She hit the turf running and didn’t stop until her lungs complained too fiercely. She sank down on to her knees and her head fell forward, spreading her honeybrown hair around her. A touch on the exposed nape of her neck made her start and raise her tear-stained, turbulent features.
‘Go away!’ she spat venomously. The last thing she needed right now was any of Luke’s barbed comments. What had happened was bad enough, but that Luke of all people had heard every humiliating syllable was the crowning glory.
He met the tear-drenched, golden-brown eyes, shot with gold as they always were when she was in the grip of strong emotion, impassively. ‘OK,’ he agreed after a short pause.
She watched as he turned, his long-legged stride, peculiarly elegant, swallowing up the ground. ‘No, don’t go…’
He turned. ‘You need a whipping-boy?’ he asked, one dark eyebrow quirking.
‘Well, if it’s sympathy I’m after I wouldn’t be turning to you, would I?’ she snapped back. She sniffed loudly; the instinctive words needed an explanation, and she was glad he’d supplied it because she couldn’t. Why cling to Luke’s company? She pushed her heavy hair back from her face and straightened the skirt of her heavy silk dress. ‘Grass stains all over,’ she said, wondering why she was discussing the state of her clothes when her whole future lay in shreds around her…
How could they? Outraged horror blinded her to her surroundings; she forgot the man standing contemplating her limp, distraught figure with enigmatic eyes. How long had they been…? They had been lovers… they were; some instinct told her this. The intimacy had been in their voices.
She recalled Gavin’s smiling face as her parents had toasted them earlier; nothing in his exterior had given any clue to the infidelity which even then he—they— must have been plotting and scheming. Had he continued with the charade because he hadn’t been totally sure of Charlotte? Am I a reserve? she wondered furiously.
Luke reached her side. He held out a hand to heave her to her feet. ‘In that dress, Emily, no one’s eyes stray as far as the skirt,’ he assured her. His eyes were fixed unapologetically on the upper slopes of her breasts, which gleamed above the stark black fabric of her strapless gown.
‘Not everybody has such a sordid mind as you,’ she told him. The sexual innuendo was peculiar: nothing like that ever entered their relationship…friendship would be stretching it to breaking-point, though he wasn’t always as unpleasant as he had been this evening. Luke sparred with her, baited her, tried and occasionally succeeded in shocking her, but nothing intimate. Even in her present state of miserable confusion she registered that she didn’t care for that brief comment, made more to distract her than for any other reason, she was sure. Was that Luke’s idea of kindness? His next words firmly contradicted this concept and made her catch her breath.
‘If you find a healthy admiration of a good cleavage sordid, maybe that’s why lover boy has looked elsewhere,’ he suggested unsympathetically.
She felt torn between a strong desire to collapse into tears of pain, and violent outrage at the heartless comment. The brilliant blue regard was as cold and indifferent as ice; pride made her face him without a quiver in her voice, and a sense of self-preservation kept her hands firmly at her sides. The pleasure of striking him would be diluted by the fact that he would undoubtedly retaliate in kind; she’d tried that in the dim and distant past and some things never changed.
‘My sex life is none of your business.’
‘Just as well—I have such a lamentably low boredom threshold,’ he said silkily.
‘You’re enjoying this,’ she accused, her voice shaking. ‘I have just…’
‘Found out your boyfriend prefers the big sister,’ he provided helpfully as she took several deep breaths. He gave a shrug of his broad shoulders. ‘Why worry? You heard her about to make the supreme sacrifice on the altar of sisterly love.’ He made a noise of disgust. ‘I thought I was going to throw up. All you have to do is keep quiet.’
‘You think I would?’ she gasped incredulously.
He regarded her thoughtfully. ‘Actually, I thought you would have waded in and thrown the odd left hook. You do have a very tactile temperament, Emmy,’ he recalled reflectively.
Luke had an odd expression on his face that she couldn’t decipher, but then, he was fairly expert at not revealing what he was thinking; he’d honed the craft over the years until he could easily blanket his emotions under a bland smile or a rock-like impassivity that could be infuriating. But then, it was usually intended to be just that…
Something about the way he said ’tactile’ made a shiver run down her spine: his rough velvet voice managed to make the word sound oddly voluptuous.
‘These days I actually think things out before reacting,’ she replied huskily. This was all some extra amusement as far as he was concerned, a chance to see a Stapely suffer a little. Luke had never made any effort to hide his contempt for the entire family, and she couldn’t suppose she was an exception.
‘Pity, I always found your spontaneity abrasively refreshing. Possibly your Gavin has been encouraging all these latent and unattractive aspects of your character. An awful thought offers itself, infant; you could be turning into your mother.’
She listened impassively to his soft drawl. It occurred to her that it was bizarre that he was the one she’d called back in a moment of supreme crisis. It couldn’t even be considered clutching at straws because, with Luke, a person could never be sure whether he’d hold you under or pull you out—his motivation remained a mystery even though she’d known him all her life. A sure sign of mental instability, she told herself with self-dension, actively to seek his company. Shouldn’t she have flung herself in maternal arms? Actually she never had done; there was always the possibility that she might have messed Mummy’s dress or mussed her hair. As for announcing that she was about to call off the engagement…Emily gave a laugh at the idea. Her mother would consider such an idea, for whatever reason, the height of insanity. What would people think…?
‘What’s so funny?’
Emily almost told him; he’d have appreciated the joke. Appearances must be maintained at all costs! But when she thought about it, it wasn’t really funny.
‘Life’s irony?’ she suggested, throwing her arms wide expansively. ‘Well, at least it’s all made your effort worthwhile. Think of the chaos when I announce a wedding will not take place!’
Luke sat down on a fallen tree and she realised for the first time that her flight had taken her as far as the riverbank; the house was a glitter of lights through the trees. ‘You aren’t even going to fight for him, then?’
‘Fight?’ she echoed. ‘He wants my sister,’ she reminded him in a choked voice. The reminder of this fact made her stomach churn; all the familiar landmarks of her life seemed to have disappeared, and the landscape seemed unfamiliar and frightening. Have I been blind? she asked herself. The anger, directed partly at herself, sent her adrenalin into overdrive. She began to pace restlessly over the damp grass. The lies, the deceit…What had been the truth? Had he ever cared for her?
She wrung her hands in anguish, her fingers growing bone-white as the action cut off her blood supply. ‘It must be a mistake,’ she muttered, half to herself, no conviction in her voice, just a sense of desperation. I spend weeks coming to the most momentous decision in my life…That makes my judgement—what? Disastrous hardly seemed sufficient, she thought bitterly.
‘Come off it, Emily, there has been nothing inadvertent going on here. Your Gavin knew exactly what he was doing—and Charlotte, despite the tears and sickly remorse, did too. They knew they were wrong but they did it anyway,’ he reminded her brutally.
‘Considering my earlier defence of Gavin, you must be feeling pretty smug,’ she, replied. The fury that sought an outlet was in her face as she turned on her heel and glared at him accusingly. ‘Anyone would think I’d expect deceit by now—God knows I’m surrounded by it every day of the week. My parents’ marriage is purely window-dressing…’ Her marriage was going to be different, she…Wrong tense, she mentally corrected herself.
‘Believe it or not, when I spoke earlier I wasn’t expecting such a dramatic revelation,’ he returned drily. ’the question is, what are you going to do? Are you going to fight for him, Emmy?’ he persisted.
Her eyes focused on his face, surprised by his question and the unusual tone in his voice. ‘I don’t want him.’
‘You love him?’
‘Don’t be absurd—I was about to marry him!’
‘Not the same thing; people marry for lots of reasons.’
He brushed a stray leaf from the dark fabric of his trousers, and watched her from beneath his thick lashes, the only concession in his features to anything not abrasively masculine.
‘Charlotte loves him,’ she said in a choked voice.
‘At least you can allow the full wrath of Charlie to fall on her head; you, sweetheart, are in the clear. You are the injured party and Charlotte is the bad guy… You do realise she won’t be able to survive the guilty bliss at the expense of her sister’s? the martyrish instinct is too deeply ingrained.’
She frowned at his sneering tone but realised the truth in his words. She felt a certain savage satisfaction. ‘Good!’
‘Who says charity begins at home?’ he remarked drily.
‘Am I supposed to make a present of him, giftwrapped? I’m the injured party here,’ she reminded him, her eyes flashing.
‘And I’m sure you’ll be universally sympathised with once the sordid details get out. Sweet revenge on big sister, and it’s not even as if you love him, is it?’
His words were like a slap in the face; they ricocheted around the small clearing. ‘How dare you——?’ she began.
‘Save the schoolmarm tone for those who are intimidated by it, infant,’ he advised softly. ‘Your sister just filched your property and the boyfriend just trampled all over your pride, and it hurts like hell; but you’re not reacting like a girl whose heart is broken, so don’t expect any sympathy from me.’
He was the most insensitive, wantonly cruel man on the face of the earth, she decided. ‘I must say I find it amusing to hear you speak about love as if you’re the expert. Thirty-two and unmarried might make some people draw conclusions,’ she suggested outrageously.
Luke took this slur on his manhood unblinkingly. ‘I could see over the potted palms,’ he said softly, recalling the recent scene in the conservatory and the advantage of his six feet three compared to her average stature. ‘Pretty boy——is that what made you pick him out to propagate the species?’
‘I’m not as preoccupied with a pretty face as you appear to be.’
‘That’s a rather bizarre avenue for you to take just to avoid a simple question,’ he said, standing up in that fluid way he had of moving. The grace and co-ordination of a jungle cat, she realised, momentarily diverted; strength masked by totally misleading indolence. Looking at his face, seeing no sign of anger at her comment, just an even more frightening absence of expression that was inhumanly cold, she wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly aware of the chill of the night.
‘Could you be asking me to offer proof of my masculinity?’ he asked, as though he were discussing the weather.
‘L-Luke!’ she stuttered, alarmed at his response to her unthinking gibe. It had never occurred to her that Luke was in any way effeminate; the idea was incredibly absurd! She’d just been hitting back without considering the fact that this target was unlikely to sit still and take the abuse. ‘Now who’s being absurd?’ she said, trying to sound firm and in control of the situation.
‘Male vanity is a very tender thing, Emmy,’ he purred, taking, much to her alarm, another step in her direction. ‘It should be nurtured.’
‘Tender my foot; you’re as fragile as the average steel bar, and about as insensitive too.’ The idea that she could pierce his impenetrable hide made her realise he had to be reacting like this just to frighten her. If she had been less distracted she’d have realised this straight away. She knew him, of course, but it occurred to her that the knowledge she had was quite superficial.
He’d been at school when she had been a small child—with her own brother, Paul, but not of course at the same school. A second-class school was as far as her father’s obligation to his adoptive cousin’s child went. It wasn’t as if she’d actually been real family, he was fond of reminding them at frequent intervals. Luke’s mother’s background had been a mystery. How had she repaid their generosity? With Luke, a cruel but, in her father’s eyes, predictable outcome to such a foolish action. She had rejected all the advantages bestowed upon her and had chosen to raise her son single-handed, turning her back on the adoptive parents who had rejected her. It had of course been a source of intense frustration to her parents when Luke, the cuckoo in the nest, had outshone their own cosseted heir in every field. Both young men had gone on to the same university, but Luke had gone on a scholarship and her brother had scraped in.
Her brother, while not her favourite person, was still her brother and her attitude to Luke owed much to his resentment. He’d slaved away, at least so he’d told them, and Luke had mixed with undesirable elements, getting involved in numerous dissident activities, and had still managed to emerge the other side with a first. The details to her young mind had meant little, but she could understand the seething frustration and dislike her brother had felt.
In retrospect, she was glad Luke had incredibly refused the offer of a post in the merchant bank her grandfather had created. He had never fitted snugly into her world; their relationship was tenuous; he was a connection rather than family. Even without the blood tie it made him the proverbial black sheep, who hadn’t had the decency to be a failure. At the time it had caused a minor furore. ‘After all we’ve done for him’ and ‘bad blood will out’ had been two phrases she recalled being bandied about a good deal. But at least Paul hadn’t had to start his career under the shadow of his cousin’s flair and undoubted ability.
At the time it had been decided and, she suspected, fervently hoped that Luke would regret his arrogant assumption that he could make his own way without the cushioning secunty of the family. He hadn’t, of course, and, though his visits were not frequent, he kept in touch as much to flaunt his success as his unconventional lifestyle which was anathema to her tradition-bound household.
It hit her in that split-second as she opened her mouth to denounce Luke’s tactics and total lack of feeling. The corrosive impact of all she had lost in a few moments made her fight for air and go deathly pale. All her dreams…plans. And the humiliation. How long had they…? She tormented herself with the knowledge that while she had discussed the wedding plans with Charlotte, her sister had been…She closed her eyes, a deep cry of distress wrenched from her throat.
‘Don’t faint!’ The voice sounded faintly impatient and the hands that forced her into a sitting position and pushed her head between her knees were ruthlessly efficient but not very gentle.
Emily took several deep gulps and the singing in her ears retreated to the distance. She raised her head cautiously.
‘I never had you pegged as the swooning sort.’
She glared hazily at the harsh features of her companion and swore. ‘It’s not every day I find my boyfriend prefers my sister. I realise vulnerability isn’t a familiar term to you,’ she snarled. Considering that the first book he’d published had made her weep unashamedly, he really was the most inhumane person she had ever met. She recalled the stark black and white pictures, each with a few succinct and touching lines illustrating, without the need of lengthy dialogue, the inequality between the children scattered over the globe, their fates sealed by the arbitrary hand of geography.
‘You’ll get over it.’
This announcement made her abandon her attempt to puzzle the paradox of Luke’s personality; the depth of sensitivity and compassion for human vulnerability she’d seen in those pictures, and the cynical man who had the viperous tongue and barbarous humour with which he heartlessly annihilated others with what seemed like arbitrary cruelty. ’that’s the future; it’s now I’m concerned about.’ Her confused eyes collided with the startling blue gaze, not expecting to find an answer to her dilemma. ‘What am I going to do?’ she said bleakly, half to herself.
‘No one’s going to blame you.’
She blinked, hurt by the unspoken implication that she was in some way to blame. The innuendo in his voice she could normally cope with, but her emotions felt too close to the surface, vulnerable to every nuance. ‘I suppose that’s what everyone will think—it was my fault that he went with Charlotte. I can see it now. I wasn’t woman enough…’ The knowing glances, the speculation and the pity too. ‘I don’t want pity.’
‘I won’t give you any,’ he assured her. ‘It seems to me you’re indulging in just about all you can handle. I hope you don’t mind my pointing it out, Emily, but when you start to wallow in self-pity you get this unattractive whining note in your voice.’ He patted her head. ‘You might keep it in mind.’
She flinched away furiously. ‘You are loathsome… a reptile,’ she told him with deep conviction.
He grinned, not noticeably daunted by the announcement. ‘I’m only trying to be helpful.’
‘Then go walk under a bus,’ she said childishly. The moment the words were out she realised what she had said. ‘Oh, God! I didn’t mean…’ Agitated, her hand went to her mouth. ‘I was just…’
‘You think it might be hereditary, do you, infant? I assure you I have no suicidal tendencies at present.’
‘You can’t know it was suicide.’ For a moment her own dilemma receded, and she rushed on, anxious to redress any unintentional wound she’d inflicted. ‘Your mother was ill, the witnesses couldn’t tell whether she fell or, or…’ Her eyes slid away from the sapphire gaze.
‘Stepped out deliberately,’ he supplied without a hint of emotion in his voice. ’my mother stepped out all right.’
‘Luke, you can’t know,’ she protested, instinctively reaching out and clasping his arm.
His eyes were hard and his expression sombrely composed—the combination made her heart thud painfully as he looked directly at her. ’she stepped out, but it wasn’t suicide…it was murder, Emily,’ he continued, ignoring her horrific gasp. ‘Your father killed her as surely as if he’d driven a kmfe into her heart, in fact, the latter would have been kinder.’
She stepped back a pace. ’that’s a wicked thing to say.’
‘My dear Emmy, you don’t even begin to know the meaning of the word. There is wickedness out there.’ He made an expansive gesture. ‘Enough to kill your dreams, invade your very soul.’ She made a sound of protest; the blankness in his eyes was something she didn’t want to see. Then, as if a veil had slipped back into place, the crooked, cynical grin was back and she almost welcomed the normality. ’the major catastrophe in your life is the fact you’ve been made a fool of. I’ve watched and reported bloodbaths and atrocities that make me feel nothing, so if you’re looking for sympathy…’ His eyes glittered with a dispassionate mockery.
‘Compared to some things I realise this is petty and trivial, but I’m not feeling global disaster—just personal disaster,’ she said, strangely calmed by his brief, shocking and totally uncharacteristic outburst. Did Luke have his vulnerabilities? The concept was alien. All the time she’d known him she’d never seen him come off worst in any encounter; he had always had that callous contempt for authority and an apparently limitless belief in his own ability.
She brushed down her long skirt and raised her eyes to his face. Life had hardened, not mellowed, Lucas Hunt, but experiences beyond her imagination had obviously left their mark. The blue eyes stared back and Emily shivered; the mental picture she’d established over the years of Luke seemed for a moment out of focus. She had the strangest sensation of looking at a stranger…as strangers went, he would have been worth several covert looks.
‘The search parties will be out looking for me,’ she said giving herself a brief mental shake. There were more pressing matters to concentrate on than Lucas Hunt. She lifted her skirt above the damp grass and walked up the incline towards the house.
‘What are you going to do?’ Luke had fallen into step beside her, but she chose to ignore him.
‘I don’t know yet,’ she admitted.
‘No grand scheme?’
‘I’m waiting for inspiration,’ she informed him honestly. No magical solution had crystallised in her head; in fact, she felt that things were bound to get a whole lot worse this evening She felt fatalistic about the whole event. ‘I don’t know why you’re following me. I mean, trivial domestic dilemmas are all a bit beneath you, aren’t they?’
‘Morbid curiosity?’ he suggested, steadying her arm as she slipped on the damp turf. She snatched it away angrily. ‘I’m waiting to see inspiration strike. I’m sure it’ll be enlightening.’

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_a43f088a-2071-5b6c-acb9-5af255fced48)
THEY entered by a side-door. Emily felt physically sick now that the confrontation she could so well imagine was imminent.
Gavin, why did you do it? The question kept going around in her head. He had seemed genuinely fond of her—in fact, his devotion had been vaguely embarrassing at times. He was everything she could have wanted in a husband: he was considerate, kind, bright and, compared to the men in her own family, incredibly sensitive to her feelings. The novelty of having her wishes considered paramount had been original, a heady feeling of being cherished and one she felt sure she could tolerate on a permanent basis.
As for Charlotte, the thought of her sister made her feel wretched, trust betrayed…She didn’t know when, if ever, she would be able to trust herself actually to confront her and remain even moderately civilised.
‘I wish you’d go away.’ She looked in Luke’s direction, transposing some of her anger on to his able shoulders. The barely restrained vitality he was fairly oozing was an added insult. It was reflected in the way he moved, the air of expectation…He was enjoying it, she realised with fury. Contemplating her distress seemed to act on him in a stimulating way, so stimulating that she felt a fresh spasm of unease. At least, she reassured herself, she could be sure of one thing: not even Luke could make things worse at the moment.
‘I’m here to lend you my support.’
‘Why doesn’t that make me feel better——?’ she wondered out loud. She broke off as they both heard the sound of voices at the selfsame instant. A door opened and the throb of music filtered into the small hallway. ‘I can’t…I don’t think I can cope with this.’ Blind panic that had made her freeze for an instant suddenly sent urgent life into her limbs. ‘I’ve got to…’ She had to run, get away. Eyes wild with the urgent drive to escape, she searched the room for an avenue of escape.
Fresh shock swept through her veins, interwoven with a snowballing sense of panic, when without warning Luke turned towards her, trapping her between the wall and his body. Impressions were bombarding her brain as she tried to think beyond the immediate impact which made her laboriously gasp for air, her head growing immediately light.
He was a large man, not heavily built but muscular and hard. She hadn’t actually appreciated the physical proportions of his tall, rangy frame previously. He was close enough without being in actual physical contact for her to be aware of the heat of his body and the male odour which emanated from him, a clean smell, not tainted by the over-use of scents and potions. Unconsciously her hands went out, palms outwards to preserve her own space.
‘You’re hyperventilating,’ he observed impatiently, looking down into her alarm-filled face.
‘What are you…?’
‘Inspiration, remember? That’s what I’m here to provide. And if you want to get out of this mess with some of your precious pride intact, just follow my lead,’ he told her harshly. He bent his dark head and she closed her eyes with a sense of impending doom.
Inspiration obviously allowed for no preliminaries, because she found her hands flattened against the hard plane of his belly as he pressed forward, pinning her to the wall with his weight. She wasn’t aware of one hand sliding beneath her hair to cup her skull, but she found her movements being controlled by the touch of his fingers. She breathed his name, filled with an intense desire to escape; but the sound of her voice was lost against the movement of his mouth.
Luke was kissing her. The concept was too strange to grasp completely. She stood stock-still, counting the sound of her own laboured inhalations. The awareness of his heavy thighs pressing against her traumatised her already impaired nervous system.
‘Open your mouth, infant.’ His voice was tinged with heavy exasperation.
What the hell did he think he was doing, hauling her about like a doll and handing out ridiculous instructions as though she were some sort of puppet? She opened her mouth to tell him exactly what he could do, but he seemed to take this as compliance. The abrupt intimacy of his tongue colliding with her teeth, touching the moistness of her inner lip, was like a bolt of pure, intense excitement. It destroyed all coherent thought processes—and most physical responses too. The weakness was totally debilitating, and if his hands hadn’t slid across her back she would have slid to the floor at that moment.
Nothing in her life had prepared her for the black hole of pure sensation she found herself sinking into. Countering the sensation never entered her head; the intensity required total co-operation. She let the flow carry her along. She was absorbed in the texture of his lips against her tender mouth in a way that was totally alien. A kiss was something pleasant, if you were lucky in your partner, but something she had been able to stop without the wrenching feeling of loss she experienced when Luke raised his head.
She stared at him in a half-horrified, half-fascinated way before she registered the sound of her own father’s voice. The blue eyes held an ambiguous mingling of mockery and anger. Why should Luke be angry? she wondered. I should be angry…I am angry.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’
Luke moved to one side after winking at her, his expression contemplative but palpably unmoved by the ardent embrace. The realisation was painfully humiliating. ‘Charlie, I would have thought that was rather obvious,’ he said, smiling with silky provocation. His fingers strayed seemingly automatically to Emily’s bare shoulder, his fingers stroking her hot skin.
At any other time her father’s thunderstruck expression of total incredulity would have made her laugh. She felt just as stunned herself; her bemused brain was only just beginning to function. Her father’s mouth was open, his face suffused with a purplish glow that stood out in violent contrast to the leonine mane of silver hair he was so proud of. He wasn’t supposed to get over-excited, some sane portion of her brain recalled fuzzily.
‘Hello, Father,’ she said stupidly. The tableau had to be broken at some point and Luke appeared to be savouring each moment too much to be of any assistance. She couldn’t look at Luke—what little dignity she had left he’d managed to rip into shreds. She would murder him, slowly, painfully and with relish! she decided.
‘What are you doing with him…?’ His eyes touched Luke with an expression of loathing. He seemed to be noticing details that he hadn’t done previously: the torn, mud-stained dress, her tangled hair. Details that Emily had not until that moment been conscious of herself. The picture must be pretty damning.
She lifted a trembling hand to her lips, which felt bruised and tender—no doubt as Luke had intended. She felt a small bud of anger blossom dramatically as her breast swelled with a sense of victimisation. Did he imagine for one moment that she’d agree to such a transparently ludicrous ploy to extract her from her engagement and save face? As for his mauling her about in quite such a realistic fashion, she’d never forgive him, ever, even if it was for her father’s benefit.
Not that she was about to lose any sleep over a kiss, she told herself stubbornly. Lurking in her mind was a growing sense of unease at the devastating response of her normally co-operative senses. With forewarning, she told herself, throwing Luke a fulminating glance, I could have taken the thing in my stride. Luke smiled back at her, allowing the hard lines of his face to dissolve into something more warm, more intimate.
‘Emily was putting me out of my misery, Charlie,’ Luke said, a throb of emotion in his voice. Staring into the very blue eyes, Emily felt a twinge of pity for any female he turned the charm on, for it would be awfully difficult not to believe the apparent sincerity he could infuse into his expression.
‘I wasn’t talking to you,’ Charles Stapely snarled, his expression growing even uglier as Luke brushed the stray strands of hair from her brow tenderly.
Emily forced herself to accept his ministrations passively, but she longed to push his fingers away. The sensation was disagreeable; it made the muscles low in her belly clench in objection and she was filled with a restless sense of unease that she was sure was associated with the contact. She was going to stop this farce now—anything was preferable, she thought, shuddering.
His lips brushed her ear. ‘What do you prefer, infant victim?’ he murmured, his voice low but perfectly distinct. Their eyes met. ‘Or fallen woman,’ he mouthed silently but distinctly.
The internal battle was violent but brief. Luke had forced her into this absurd charade from the worst of motives, she had no doubt; but he had given her this choice. The sympathy, the knowing glances…
‘I realise this must be a shock, Father,’ she said. Luke smiled, complacent and unsurprised. He had known her weakness all along, the pity she couldn’t stomach. He foiled her attempt to move away by encircling her waist with his arm. His hand moved restlessly over her silk-clad midriff and she felt her thoughts telescope together, and her next comment slipped out of reach. It was at the same time a jarring but soothing sensation, Luke’s fingers over the soft fabric. Soothing…I must be mad, she decided as the thought surfaced.
‘The fact is, Charles, Emily knew how you would react to—’ his eyes sought hers for a brief moment as if they were exchanging some profound secret. ‘—us,’ he said, his expression sincere as he looked at the older man. Emily silently wondered at the proficient way he lied; the more outrageous the claim, the more convincing he appeared. If she hadn’t been busy loathing him she might almost have admired the talent. ’she got involved with Gavin to forget me, but some things…’
Emily gasped. That was going just a bit far even for her father to swallow. But, looking at Luke’s profile, she thought perhaps he didn’t want her father to be convinced; he was laying things on with a trowel, deliberately letting the older man know that he had in some way engineered this event—which, of course, he had. Things were slipping from her control like sand through her fingers. Luke was putting an alarming amount of effort into his part, and the malice he was directing at her father was painfully obvious.
While she wasn’t close to either of her parents, she felt uncomfortable at colluding with Luke to further his campaign.
‘In the circumstances, I can’t really continue with my engagement,’ she said softly. The way both men looked at her made her realise they had both forgotten her existence for a split-second. ’so glad to see I have your attention,’ she said sweetly, filled with a revitalising wrath. ’there was nothing intentional in this, Father, and with all due respect I feel I should discuss this with my…with Gavin first. I know you’ve gone to a lot of trouble and expense,’ she added drily, even if she had begged for a simple affair to announce her engagement. The lavish occasion had not been of her seeking. ‘It’s better to discover these things now,’ she said, wincing at the triteness of the phrase that rolled off her lips.
‘How true,’ Luke breathed blandly in her ear. ‘You are so deep, infant.’
Emily matched her expression to his, her features arranged in slavish adoration, a besotted smile on her lips. ’move it or lose it,’ she said, referring to his hand which had strayed to her behind.
Luke gave a deep growl of laughter and didn’t comply with her hissed command.
Her father hadn’t had the benefit of hearing the content of this brief interchange, but he had endured the apparent intimacy of the low-voiced murmers. He gave a bitter laugh, his expression a mixture of spite and scorn as he looked at his daughter.
‘Unintentional?’ he yelled scornfully. ‘If you believe that you’re even more stupid than I thought. You don’t suppose he—’he flicked Luke a look of abhorrence, ‘—would have wasted his time on you if you weren’t my daughter? A man like Gavin is worth a hundred of him. You’ll live to regret this, Emily, and in the not too distant future,’ he warned. ‘You won’t let the past die, will you?’ he said, his attention once more on the other man.
‘I always keep my promises, Charlie,’ Luke said softly. ‘Opportunities arise, and wasn’t it you who always advocated grabbing them with both hands?’
‘You admit it, then?’ Charles asked hoarsely.
‘Father, calm down, please,’ Emily said urgently. The distended vein that throbbed in his temple made her stomach tighten in alarm. She’d known even without Luke’s contribution just how angry her father was going to be; this had always been a damage-limitation exercise, but it was getting out of hand.
‘Shut up!’ He rounded on her. ‘I’ll deal with you, later.’
‘Your heart…’ she began anxiously. She had to tell him the truth. Perhaps that wouldn’t seem so bad after this charade. It was selfish of her to save her own pride at the risk of her father’s health, she decided, contemptuous of her own weakness in accepting Luke’s get-out clause.
‘There’s nothing wrong with my heart, you idiot,’ he spat back contemptuously.
Emily was immobilised by a thrust of confused pain. ‘But…’
‘I wouldn’t have thought you’d care if I dropped dead at your feet.’
Emily had seen the swift dart of panic in her father’s eyes, and the truculent observation did nothing to diminish an awful feeling that was solidifying in her head. ‘You just said there was nothing wrong with your heart.’
‘Why would you think there was, infant?’ Luke had been watching this interchange with sharp interest.
‘He has a heart condition.’
‘Don’t you dare discuss family matters with him!’ Was there a hint of desperation in the blustery tone?
I heard the doctor tell him. It was an accident; I wasn’t meant to. She spoke inaudibly, her lips moving silently. As she tried to unravel the impossibility of her awful suspicion, Emily had the feeling that her mental processes were not as acute as they might have been. ‘I wasn’t supposed to hear.’ She spoke out loud. Horror entered the eyes she fixed unwaveringly on her father’s face. ‘Was I?’ The timing had been so perfect, so convenient.
Belligerence entered Charles Stapely’s face. ‘You’ve been contaminated by that swine already…my own daughter.’
She’d been about to leave home, set up her own flat. The initial opposition had been fierce; her father had Victorian ideas about a female’s place and role in society. He wanted her where he could keep his eye on her, control her. Persuading him had been a futile task but short of incarceration he couldn’t prevent her; and, much to her surprise, he had suddenly capitulated, given her his blessing. She’d been on cloud nine—her first job as a probationary primary-school teacher and a small flat of her own.
Even after she’d overheard his conversation with the doctor he’d insisted with untypical generosity that she mustn’t let the frailty of his condition stop her living her life.
She’d had a few moments alone with the apparently eminent heart specialist. No, the only treatment possible was conservative, he’d told her, no surgery. Stress could contribute and hasten the inevitable, he’d agreed when she’d tentatively enquired. The words had shocked her, made her realise the gravity of her father’s condition.
He’d been grateful that she decided to stay, almost tearful; it was one less thing for him to worry about, he’d told her. At that time he’d sworn her to secrecy; one word of his condition and the bank could be compromised. He’d promised to take life easier, but she could understand and even admire his determination not to be an invalid.
‘You lied to me,’ she said slowly, her voice trembling with suppressed emotion. ‘It was all a fraud.’
‘It was for your own good. It wasn’t a lie,’ he protested, ‘just an exaggeration. You and Gavin were meant for one another. You had no need to waste your energies on some poky little flat and a job you didn’t need.’
Emily let out a shuddering breath; she’d wanted to be wrong. ‘Your good, you mean. I’ve heard this rumour that not all families are motivated by selfinterest—just now I find the notion hard to believe.’ Her expression hardened. She turned to Luke, who was watching the proceedings with undisguised interest. ‘Get me out of here,’ she commanded flatly. She had no intention of explaining the significance of the interchange. In one evening she had learnt that three of the people she had thought she knew best had all been deceiving her. Do I wear a label saying ‘gullible idiot’? she wondered resentfully.
‘I never thought you were a fool, until today.’ Charles Stapely’s expression was tight with contempt as he watched her lean into Luke’s body as if the strength of his tall frame was all that prevented her from sliding to the ground. ‘If you’re that stupid, he’s welcome to you. But if you suppose he’s going to marry you, think again—’
‘Actually, Father,’ she interrupted, flushing slightly, ‘we really haven’t thought things out that far.’ She acknowledged the troubled doubts that were stirring just on the edges of her consciousness, forced to wonder at the way she’d accepted Luke’s ridiculous fait accompli with scant thought to the consequences of her actions.
‘Thought!’ Charles Stapely’s fists bunched as he looked at Luke, who was eyeing the interchange from beneath half closed eyelids, very much at ease and not hiding his amusement at the proceedings. ‘I doubt if you’ve thought at all; and just because you’re in his bed, don’t imagine you’ve got exclusive rights. He’s just like his mother—not very discriminating…If it’s breathing, bed it!’
Emily would have retreated if she could from the congealed loathing in her parent’s voice. She was aware of the sudden tension in Luke’s body. He was still standing directly behind her, an immovable barrier to her retreat.
‘You’re a pretentious, pompous fool,’ Luke said almost casually. Emily, looking at his profile, could see a nerve throbbing erratically in his cheek. ‘And if you ever so much as mention my mother again…’ The threat was uttered in a pleasant voice that made it all the more sinister somehow. She saw her father recoil and fight to stand his ground when he looked into Luke’s eyes.
‘I’ve lived to regret ever taking you under my roof, you ingrate. And if you—’ he pointed an accusing finger at Emily ‘—if you go with him, you’re no daughter of mine,’ he told her in a voice shaking with rage. His parting, ‘Wait till your mother hears about this,’ was so petty after the grand gesture of disowning her that Emily found a gurgle of laughter escaping her throat.
She wiped her eyes, wondering whether her mascara was smeared across her face like warpaint. Looking at Luke, she was aware that for once she had surprised him.
‘You don’t sound too disturbed at being cast off,’ he said, handing her a clean handkerchief.
‘Just a touch of hysteria, that’s all; besides, are my feelings actually of any interest to you? You or my father?’ she asked, handing him back his handkerchief and giving him a straight look, her chin tilted at a defiant angle. They were both the same, she decided, each happy to use her to score points off the other. Manipulate whoever happened to be at hand.
‘Keep it,’ Luke advised. ‘You might need it again before the night’s over. Are you going to tell me precisely what that little scene was all about?’
‘No.’ She wasn’t about to display her naive credulity for his contempt. Besides, knowing Luke, he’d probably managed to get more than the bare bones of the incident. She waved away the handkerchief. ‘Nowhere to put it,’ she responded prosaically, then wished she hadn’t because it drew Luke’s glittering regard to her outfit. His eyes made her feel claustrophobic as they travelled at a leisurely pace over her slender but femininely curved—too curved for her own taste— body in the dress which covered too little of some of those curves.
‘Quite true,’ he agreed. His glance, returning to her face, held curiosity and something else she didn’t care to analyse, although it made the pit of her stomach dissolve. ‘I’ll keep it for you.’
‘I don’t need anything of yours, and that goes for any smart moves like the one you pulled in there,’ she ground out from between clenched teeth. If he thought he could divert her by doling out a dose of his particular brand of mesmeric sex appeal, he could think again. ‘I can’t believe you did it.’ She shook her head. ‘You just can’t resist stirring, can you?’ she accused hoarsely. The unmitigated nerve of the man, the undiluted arrogance, astonished her.
‘I simply provided your inspiration. You were going to run away.’
‘Sneer if you like, but running away is less painful at times. Besides, head-on collision doesn’t always solve the problem.’
‘Neither does running away; it just postpones the inevitable.’
‘Thank you for that little gem,’ she snapped. The accusation in his tone made her want to launch a frontal attack. ‘At least my father was bright enough to disguise the fact that he was manipulating me. The only difference with you is I know it. Still, it’s over with now.’ She could retreat and let the wounds heal, sort out what she wanted from life.
‘Oh, there are a lot more possibilities in this situation yet.’
Emily threw back her head, shaking her hair from around her shoulders. ‘Forget it, Luke, I’m sick of the lot of you. I’m going to spend some time alone,’ she told him, a flare of anger igniting dancing golden lights in her eyes. ‘And I’m not available for any more theatricals, even if my stomach could stand up to being mauled about by you.’
‘I don’t think you’ve thought this out too clearly,’ he said icily. He fixed his broad shoulders as if to ease some tension between his shoulder-blades.
‘Of course I’ve not thought it out, you idiot,’ she told him furiously. ’this is an emotional crisis, I’m devastated, hurt, my life is in ruins. Thinking,’ she snarled, ‘is not exactly easy at the moment. If it had been, I’d never have let you set up that little scene for your own sadistic purposes.’
‘I expect you’re not pleased at having all your plans upset. I mean, I’m sure this was one marriage where surprise was not on the menu,’ he said with a faint sneer. ‘You always did like your plans; I expect you’d timetabled the next twenty years. Your mistake was obviously telling pretty boy what he’d be doing with his life; he probably ran to your saintly sister in sheer panic.’
‘You know nothing about it,’ she snapped, her colour heightened. ’there’s nothing wrong with organising— we don’t all drift through life like some gypsy!’
He gave a deep laugh which she considered wildly inappropriate, and it only provided more proof of his total heartlessness, had such proof been necessary. ‘Plans are made to have spanners aimed at them, infant, haven’t you learnt that yet? Even if a man has slotted himself into a position which makes the rest of his life boringly inevitable, he doesn’t need it spelt out for him. You probably had the progeny production timed with mathematical precision.’
‘There’s nothing indecent in a commitment,’ she responded, stung by this unexpected assault. He made her sound as passionless as a computer! Gavin had never complained as she’d happily been involved in planning their future; she had been sure he’d wanted all the things she did. She gave a small sound of pain and bit her lip. Only he hadn’t; that much was now painfully obvious.
‘Why don’t you admit it, Emmy? Your Gavin was just a convenient body who happened to meet your criteria at a time in your life you’d decided you should get married.’
The accusation took her breath away. ‘I love Gavin,’ she declared fiercely.
Luke looked unimpressed by her passionate declaration. ’then perhaps you should have spent more time telling him so between the sheets and less organising him. Your only misjudgement was that the guy’s got slightly more guts than you’d anticipated. You began moulding him a bit too early, sweetheart, you should have waited until after the wedding.’
She felt tears of fury sting her eyelids and she blinked furiously; she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. ‘I hate you,’ she said, not finding inspiration for a more original retort. But the worst part of it was that there was a grain of truth in what he said, and she wasn’t blind enough to her own faults not to see it.
She liked and respected Gavin——at least she had; he was the only man she’d ever met whom she had considered spending her life with. She had been sure he would never bully her as her father did those around him. She had wondered whether the fact that her father was chairman of the bank and she his daughter had had anything to do with his assiduous courting.
‘You can hardly go around saying that, infant, considering we are an…item,’ Luke told her. His eyes watched the ripple of emotions running across her face, a sneer tugging at one corner of his mouth.
She made a sound of disgust in her throat. ‘Don’t get carried away with your fiction; that’s over as of now. There was never any need to go as far as to molest me publicly,’ she told him with a look of distaste. ‘If you had bothered to consult me I could have told you so.’
‘You prefer to be molested privately?’ he said with polite interest. ‘I could——’
‘Keep your hands to yourself, Luke,’ she cut in coldly. ‘I don’t find it amusing. I realise this is just a game to you, but it happens to be my life.’ And a mess it was too.
‘I take games very seriously,’ he told her. ‘For a planner you haven’t looked beyond the next hour, have you?’ he said, changing tack with bewildering abruptness.
Emily looked at him suspiciously. ’should I?’
‘Over and above the fact that your father has disowned you, you seem to be overlooking our deep and abiding passion.’
He was laughing at her, she realised; if her mind hadn’t been so confused, so cluttered with emotions, she would, she was sure, have understood what he was insinuating. ‘Enlighten me,’ she suggested testily.
‘Our relationship can’t fizzle out overnight.’
‘Relationship? We haven’t got a relationship,’ she asserted, panic in her voice.
He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘Or your stoical endurance of my passionate advances will have been in vain. Even stupid Charlotte will be able to see through the charade. It will be, Poor little Emily couldn’t even hold her man. He preferred the sister, you know.’
‘I’m not such a good liar as you so I’m afraid we might as well drop it,’ she said, half relieved that the idea was folding almost before it had begun. One good thing had emerged: she was free from the guilt-induced bond that had held her a self-imposed prisoner at Charlcot.
‘You underestimate my brilliance, infant.’
She closed her eyes and fantasised about wiping that irritatingly smug smile off his face. ‘Don’t call me that!’
‘What, a term of endearment? And to think I thought you liked it.’
‘You know I loathe it,’ she contradicted him. ’that’s why you do it.’
He gave her a sardonic look, his startling eyes as blue as a beneficent summer day and as sharp as jagged ice. ‘Going back to my brilliance,’ he said smoothly, and she wished fervently that she could penetrate that hateful composure.
Almost in flashback, a picture of him crouched with yells and smoke all around him, bullets singing through the air, recording the events going on around him economically but lucidly as if he weren’t in danger of joining the reporter whose blood he was calmly staunching as he spoke, came into her mind. That had been Luke’s first time in front of the camera rather than behind it, but not his last: the powers that be hadn’t needed the public response to the incident to know a good thing when they saw it. After that Luke had been seen reporting from various trouble-spots scattered across the globe, but his first love had always been photography and he had never abandoned it.
It had been a job as a photographer on a daily newspaper that Luke had taken in preference to the job her father had offered him after university. When the opportunity had arisen, he had accepted the challenge of moving to the live medium, working for an independent new station. Her father, who had hated Luke’s effortless progression, had found his anonymity behind the lens easier to bear than the public recognition that had come when he’d stepped to the other side of the camera. She had seen him accept congratulations of his famous relative with gritted teeth, knowing nothing would have pleased him more than if Luke had failed miserably in every venture he began. He had hardly been able to contain his fury when Luke had had a book of his stills published; not content to concentrate on one thing, he seemed to be able to shine in several skies at the same time. The political thrillers which followed had brought acclaim and monetary rewards as they’d lingered indecently long in the bestseller lists. Her father had simmered, and Emily had thought he had grown almost inured to Luke’s ability to juggle several careers and give the impression that he was only using a small portion of his talent. She felt a mixture of envy and admiration, but at that moment she shared a portion of her parent’s frustration. He was so impervious, it made her want to stamp her feet!
‘I think you’re inhuman,’ she announced.
‘It’s rather perverse of you to attack me…your saviour.’ He raised one eyebrow as she choked. ‘And hardly a word about pretty boy’s infamy,’ he remarked thoughtfully. ‘As I’ve been trying to tell you, I am going up to my cottage in Scotland to do some work on my book.’
‘I didn’t know you had a cottage in Scotland,’ she said, surprised.
‘Why should you?’ he said in a tone that made her flush. ‘You can come with me.’
‘Thanks but no, thanks,’ she retorted without thought.
‘I can see the brain is overloaded again,’ he said sympathetically. ‘You can disappear with me for a decent interval and then reappear having seen me for what I am, or whatever story you care to invent. I favour the wild passion which burnt fiercely but briefly, but I leave the details to you.’
‘You do surprise me,’ she said, bristling. ‘Do I actually have any say in the matter? I don’t like being organised, in fact I hate it,’ she hissed from between clenched teeth. She had absolutely no intention of going further than the end of the drive in Luke’s company. He had extracted her from the immediate situation—she just needed time to think. One thing she didn’t need—in fact the very thought made her feel a surge of undiluted panic—was to spend any more time with Luke.
‘I know you prefer to do the organising, but look where that’s landed you. Bossy women are not universally admired.’
She drew herself up to her full height and eyed him balefully. ‘I’m so sorry I’m not a feminine, fluttery female,’ she intoned sarcastically. ‘You sexist pig! I take it it’s all right for you to order me around? I’m supposed to be meekly submissive.’
‘Meekly submissive is not the way I’d have described you, Emily,’ he said drily. ‘I was just trying to drop a hint or two. You’re not exactly subtle, are you? And as for my suggestion, it was just that. I don’t care whether you take me up on it,’ he announced negligently, as though he was beginning to be bored by the whole conversation. ‘It seemed the logical step to take, and if you can type or file you might even be useful,’ he added thoughtfully.
Not if I can help it, she thought bitterly. ‘You’ll be able to torment Father for a little longer—I expect that’s the main appeal.’
Luke gave a sudden grin, devilish lights reflected in his eyes. ‘I gather you have a few reasons to be less than happy with Daddy, Em. The thought had occurred to me that Charlie will be tormented by images of sordid goings-on in the heather.’
Emily felt the colour seep beneath her skin, his words had conjured up an image so shocking and unexpected. Luke was staring at her, his expression broodingly speculative. She registered the dark shadows beneath his eyes and the shadow of stubble that covered his cheeks and jaw. It gave him an air of attractive dissipation, although she knew it probably just indicated incipient exhaustion. Luke kept himself in superb condition; he couldn’t survive at the pace he set himself if he didn’t exhibit some self-control. She was thinking along the lines of exercise and diet… Women, that was another matter. Did her cousin usually take women up to his Scottish retreat? If he did, did he expect…? Her eyes opened wide in sudden sharp alarm.
‘Are you actually suggesting that we—?’ She broke off, searching for the correct terminology to cover this problem.
‘I’m anxious to inflict some mental anguish of a severe degree on your family, Emily, but I’m not willing to exert myself that much, infant.’
The swing of her arm was pure reflex. She registered the darkening mark along his cheek, wondering if he would retaliate. He appeared quite unmoved by her tears and she was furious with her uncontrollable response.
‘You always were a bully.’
‘And you were always a pampered brat,’ he replied dispassionately. She froze when he grasped her chin, forcing her to look up into his eyes. ‘You were always trying to get attention, I seem to recall.’
She tried to jerk away, a hot denial on her lips.
‘You have a very selective memory, infant. Oh, I quite forgot, you’re a mature woman these days,’ he drawled mockingly. ’strange, I doubt that—despite outer appearances.’ His unoccupied hand rose to trace carelessly the outline of her breast from the fabriccovered under-curve to the bare upper slope.
The casual intimacy induced an instantaneous physical response of her flesh, which she endured with confused misery. She swallowed a constnction in her dry throat, aware of the rasp of fabric against her sensitised flesh. The bodice of her dress seemed suddenly painfully tight.
‘The sort of attentions you gave me were delightful interludes. Like throwing me in the lake in November.’ She breathed deeply, regaining a little equilibrium now that his hand was no longer in contact with her flesh, even though his cool fingers seemed to have left an imprint like a brand on her skin. ‘Or pushing my face in the dirt,’ she added, warming to her theme. ‘And—’
‘All of which were preferable to indifference.’
He must have seen the dawning of awareness flicker in her eyes.
‘Y-you were incredibly awful to me,’ she faltered.
‘I believe the punishment usually fitted the crime.’
‘Children may have few rights to speak of,’ she replied, barely coping with an odd breathlessness that was afflicting her, ‘but I’m an independent agent now. And I have no intention of going anywhere with you except away from the immediate precincts of Charlcot.’
‘How long before you’re back?’ he sneered. ‘Living at home at twenty has to limit your emotional development to some extent, even when the said home has all the anonymity of a hotel.’ He gave her a look of mild contempt. ‘A five-star hotel, of course. No wonder you still act like a spoilt brat.’
‘The way I live my life has got nothing to do with you.’
‘Live?’ he drawled sarcastically.
‘I would have left home,’ she began, stung by the contempt. It was easy for him—nothing had ever been there to hold him back. She envied his freedom. I’m free now, she reminded herself: no fiancé, no terminally ill father to be mollified. Should I be celebrating? A bubble of hysteria rose in her throat.
Luke was watching her closely…was that concern? No, it couldn’t be, she decided. ‘Emily…’ He spoke her name angrily, with an urgency that made the wild laughter die abruptly.
‘So it’s true.’ Her mother’s strident voice broke the brief strained silence
Emily sighed, feeling suddenly weary. She hadn’t heard her father bring in reinforcements Here we go again! she thought. As if he’d picked up the energy draining from her, Luke interposed himself between her mother and herself. Not out of any wish to preserve her sanity, she thought, assailed by a strange nebulous hunger. More likely he didn’t want her to end the farce before he had extracted all the spiteful revenge he possibly could from the situation.
Her mother was as cold as her father had been hot; the gist of her words indicated that she wasn’t surprised at Emily’s behaviour. Emily listened to her whole life being described as a deliberate series of actions geared to give her parents the utmost degree of distress. She had the impression that her mother felt somehow vindicated by this final example of her ungrateful behaviour.
She stood frozenly dazed as her mother swept out of the room, dismissing her youngest child, her thoughts concentrated only on minimising the scandal attached to an engagement broken almost before it had been born.
‘Such warmth, such compassion,’ she heard Luke murmur. She looked at him, surprise widemng her blank eyes as he draped his jacket across her shoulders. It held the soothing heat of his body. She gave an involuntary shudder.

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