by Helen Brooks
'So you've been wandering about on your own?' Luke asked grimly.
'Look, I had to.' If he started a row now she would put the phone down, she thought desperately. 'He might be hurt—a car or something. Or those people who steal cats for their fur. Or—'
'I'm coming over.' She held the phone a fraction from her ear and stared at it in surprise, her mouth dropping open slightly.
'What?'
'I'm coming over, and damn well stay put till I get there, OK? I'm sure there's nothing to worry about. He's probably just found a lady-friend who has decided that he is the love of her life… which is more than can be said for some of us,' he finished wryly. 'I won't be long.'
'There's no need…' But there was. She longed to see him. The thought of a whole night in the lonely isolation of her flat with this anxiety eating at her was dreadful.
'And if he arrives back before I get there ask him for the lady's address,' he added just before he put the phone down. 'He's obviously doing far better than me in the romance stakes.'
She literally paced the flat until he arrived, and when she opened the door to his knock and saw him leaning against the far wall, his eyebrows raised questioningly—to which she responded with a shake of her head—the impulse to fling herself into his arms in a storm of weeping was so strong that her body became rigid with control.
'Right, first things first. When did Mr Jones see him last?' Luke asked quietly as he followed her into the lounge. 'Exactly.'
'He actually saw him the evening before yesterday,' she said, as calmly as she could. 'But Mog has access to the garden himself, so he comes and goes as he wants. He could have been back some time after that.'
'And where have you looked?' he asked gently, his eyes soft as he took in the terrified golden eyes and vulnerable mouth.
'I've walked all the streets in the immediate area, calling him,' she said. 'And I checked the alley that runs at the back of the shopping precinct, and the park that's almost opposite.'
'In the dark. By yourself.' He shut his eyes for a second, and when he opened them she knew, although neither his body nor his voice betrayed it, that he was struggling not to shout at her. 'I will do everything I can to find him, Josie, but only on the condition that you don't put yourself at risk again like that Do I have your word?' tie asked flatly.
'I can't…' She stared at him as she wrung her hands helplessly before realising what she was doing and putting them quickly behind her back. 'If someone said they'd seen him—'
'You would contact me,' he said sternly. 'Wouldn't you? Wouldn't you? I want your promise—I mean it—or I won't lift a finger to help you.'
She stared up at him for a long moment, looking very tiny and fragile in the dim light from the standard lamp she had switched on at his knock.
She had been wandering about alleys and parks on her own? He felt murderously angry and fiercely protective at the same time, and knew he couldn't show either emotion. A tiny little thing like her would be eaten alive out there. It wasn't just down-and-outs who frequented such places, but drug addicts, perverts—and the crimes they committed when they were high on heroin and such-He shut his mind off from the picture of her lying beneath a demented madman and repeated his warning, ice in his voice now. 'You won't act so foolishly again—promise me.' The damn cat! He'd wring its neck himself when he found it!
'I promise,' she said shakily. It felt strange to be worried over; she hadn't had anyone show any real concern for what she did for so long that she had forgotten how good it felt.
'Right. Give me the torch you used and I'll go looking for an hour or two,' he said quietly, watching her with intent, narrowed eyes and noticing the exhausted droop of her shoulders and the downward tilt to her mouth.
'I haven't got a torch,' she admitted shamefacedly, expecting a further lecture on the seriousness of her crime, but he merely stared at her for another moment without speaking, shaking his dark head slowly as though he was lost for words, before turning to leave. 'I want to come too—'
'No.' He turned in the doorway, his voice determined. 'You're all in, Josie, and I can search more quickly and thoroughly by myself.'
'I can't stay here…' she began obstinately, but when he moved back to stand in front of her, lifting her chin with a gentle finger, she fell silent.
'I can look after myself—and you, if necessary,' he said quietly. 'But I have no intention of knowingly taking you on a long and tiring jaunt at twelve o'clock at night when the dregs of London society are out and about. I, at least, will have a torch to light my way—I always keep one in the car—and I'll be back shortly. OK?'
'OK,' she said tremulously. 'Luke?' He paused in the act of turning away, his dark brows raised enquiringly. 'Please look as hard as you can.'
'Harder.' His lips touched hers briefly, and the spicy lemon scent of his aftershave teased her nostrils fleetingly as he left.
He returned just before three—alone—and it was all she could do to stop herself wailing out loud. 'Oh, Luke, what am I going to do?' she asked helplessly as her heart hammered painfully. 'I can't stand not knowing if he's all right. Even if he's…' She gulped but couldn't say the word. 'Even if he's hurt, I'd rather know and face it. If he's lost or—'
'What you're doing now is going to bed.' His voice was not unkind but it was implacable. 'Everything has been done that can possibly be done tonight. I've made it known in certain quarters that a reward is in the offing for a large brindle tomcat, and that might bear fruit. I'll also arrange for copies of a notice to be put in all the shops and pubs in the district to the same effect, and I'll get a couple of people knocking on doors in the area. I'll find him, Josie, I promise you.'
'But he might be…' Again she couldn't say it, her imagination running rampant as she stared at him with great tragic eyes.
'Yes, he might be,' he said gently. 'But knowing is better than not knowing, better than wondering day after day. But I don't think he's dead.'
'You don't?' she asked gratefully, aware that she would ding onto any straw, however fragile.
'No, I don't.' He touched her face with the tip of one finger. 'And you mustn't either; it won't help. Now, you're going to get some steep and leave things to me. I'll arrange for my name and phone number to go on the notices; it'll be simpler that way.'
Simpler? She knew what he meant, what he couldn't say. If the news was bad it was better it came through to him first, so that he could prepare her for it. She stated at him as her mind sped on. Why was he being so understanding, so kind? She would be eternally grateful that he had never once said or even hinted at what he must be thinking. That Mog was only a cat, an animal.
'Thank you.' Her voice was low and shaky. 'Thank you, Luke.'
Why she moved closer to him and rested her head against the broad expanse of chest she never could explain to herself afterwards. In view of what she'd decided, about the way things had to be, it was insane, but in those few moments in the early morning, when the world outside was dark and distant, she forgot the past and the future. There was only the present. And she wanted him. Needed him. Loved him.
She felt him stiffen for a long moment before his hands came round her to hold her tight, but his touch was gentle as he stroked the top of her head and his voice was soft. 'It's all right. I'll make it all right. Go to sleep now and try not to worry any more.'
It was her exit line and she knew it, but she didn't take it. Instead she lifted her face up to his, her eyes luminous as she looked into his searching gaze for a moment before shutting them, the invitation blatant.
'Josie…' His voice was a low groan. 'Go to bed.'
For answer she whispered his name as she snaked her arms round his back, pressing herself further into his hard frame as she did so. There was one moment when she thought he wasn't going to respond, and then he crusted her to him and took her lips in a kiss that was almost savage, all control gone.
One night. One night wasn't too much to ask for a lifetime in which she would have to c
ontinue alone, was it? she asked herself desperately. She wanted his warmth, his comfort, his need of her this night more than any other, when her heart was rent in two at the thought that even Mog had been taken from her. She knew he didn't love her, but she loved him and that would have to do—
And then her mind stopped thinking as sensation washed it clean of everything but the touch and taste and feel of him.
His lips burnt her skin, moving over her exposed and vulnerable throat, and down into the hollow between her breasts, which were tingling at his touch. His hands urged her hips into him, the movement primitive and fierce, before moving to peel her blouse aside and then slowly caressing her fullness. 'Josie…'He breathed her name against her skin as his mouth moved to hers again, and she knew the thrilling excitement that was filling her was in him too as she sensed the heat in every nerve and sinew of his male frame.
She clung to him tightly, giving him back kiss for kiss, allowing him to penetrate the inner sweetness of her mouth while she strained against his hardness, their bodies locked close as they swayed together in the dimly lit room for endless minutes. Quite when she sensed rather than acknowledged with her mind that he had regained that iron control of his she wasn't sure, but gradually she became aware that the arms holding her against him were restraining rather than passionate, that his desire was checked and contained.
'Luke?' She raised drowning green-flecked eyes to the glittering silver of his.
It's not enough, Josie. Your gratitude is not enough.' As she moved to jerk out of his arms they tightened, his eyes narrowing on her flushed face. 'No, there will be no misunderstanding about this,' he said levelly, his voice controlled although the fierce pounding of his heart against his ribcage was anything but. 'I want you. Make no mistake about that. I want you so badly I am thinking, eating, sleeping you twenty-four hours a day, and it's been like that since the first moment I laid eyes on you. But, like I said at the chateau, your body is not enough.
'You are feeling desperate tonight, anguished, and you reached out for comfort, didn't you…? Didn't you?' he persisted softly, nodding slowly as she whispered an affirmative through numb lips. 'And that is understandable. It is perfectly understandable,' he said, with a curious lack of expression she didn't like. 'And I am here for you. I will continue to be here for you.'
He took a step back, his hands still holding her arms but his body removed from her. 'But when I have you—and I will have you—it will be solely and utterly because you want me in the same way I want you.'
'And if I can't?' she whispered faintly, her heart breaking.
'You will.' Just for a moment that supreme arrogance showed through the calm.
'Because you always get what you want?' she asked numbly. 'Because your wealth, your power can buy anything and everyone?'
'No.' He eyed her expressionlessly. 'Because I can make whatever has gone wrong for you right. However this other man failed you, however deep the hurt is, I can deal with it. I know it.'
That utter faith in his own ability, that almost insolent arrogance, didn't grate on her as it had done before she'd acknowledged that she loved him. Now it pierced through her, causing such pain that she was unable to hide it, her eyes wounded as they held his. She would give the world if it were true, but whatever he did, whatever price he paid materially, physically, emotionally, he couldn't give her back what the surgeon's knife had taken. And if he felt anything for her—and there seemed to be tenderness and concern there, at least—what would such knowledge do to such a proud, forceful man?
'I—think you had better go, Luke.'
A deadly silence followed her broken words and then he nodded, and his voice was steady when he spoke.
'I think so too, but I will be back, OK? Again and again and again.' She hadn't expected those words and they hung in the air, tangible and threatening. 'I won't give up.' He walked across the room, turning in the doorway to survey her through eyes that were hooded and rapier-sharp. 'I never do.'
CHAPTER NINE
Thursday was a day she endured with gritted teeth, both dreading and longing for the moment when she opened the door that evening.
There was a mountain of work waiting for her concerning the Night Hawk project when she got into the office, but the chaotic pace helped overall, although the lack of sleep the night before had her light-headed by the time she left the office at five sharp. And the flat was empty. Sickeningly, stomach-wrenchingly empty.
She forced herself to make a sandwich that went straight in the bin, swallowed a couple of aspirins for her blinding headache, then went to lie down on the bed to rest her aching head before she started ringing round some neighbours. She had found that the only way she could function that day was to blot all thoughts of Luke out of her mind, and now, as she slipped into a deep, dreamless slumber, even her subconscious obeyed the unspoken order.
When a loud and unrelenting knocking at her front door brought her out of thick waves of unconsciousness, it also brought her awareness of hard, driving rain against the window and the knowledge that the room was in darkness. She glanced at her bedside clock as she rose groggily to her feet and was amazed to find that it was nearly midnight, but such was her exhaustion that it didn't even occur to her to wonder who was banging with such ferocity so late when she swung open the door.
'One repentant sinner.' Luke was there, big and dark, and in his arms was a bedraggled, thin but very much alive Mog. 'He's been badly frightened, he's hungry, and I think he wants plenty of tender loving care, but other than that he's fine,' Luke said calmly as he deposited the miaowing cat in her arms. 'And don't open the door at this time of night without enquiring who it is,' he added as he turned to walk towards the stairs.
'Luke!' She stood in dazed wonder as he turned, Mog clinging like a monkey around her chest and neck, his two front paws resting either side of her throat as he purred an express train of a greeting. 'How…? When—?'
'One of those notices came up trumps in a corner shop,' Luke said lazily without moving towards her, the water dripping off his black hair onto his leather jacket. 'Some kids had heard a cat miaowing from a row of garages a couple of streets away and one of them told his mother, who put two and two together after seeing the notice. She rang me this evening but we couldn't get into the place-apparently the owners have gone on holiday for a couple of weeks.'
'Mog must have crept in there—probably hunting mice, because the area's crawling with vermin—when they were packing the car. They left and he was shut in. So I got the police involved and after a certain amount of persuasion a couple of the local bobbies forced an entrance and…' he indicated Mog, who was engaged in blissful contemplation of Josie's chin '… here he is.'
'I don't know what to say. How can I ever thank you?' she said shakily. 'He would have died in there, wouldn't he? Please come and have a coffee while I feed him—'
'Josie, a saint I am not,' he said wryly, a twist to his hard mouth. 'Nor am I a masochist. You might not know it, but you look good enough to eat all ruffled and dishevelled the way you are now, and self-torture is not my style. Besides, I was rather proud of my exit last night; I'm not usually so noble. So if you don't mind we'll mate it some other time.'
'I— Luke… Thank you.' She wasn't making any sense but he nodded coolly.
'Goodnight, Josie.' He pointed at Mog. 'And don't forget, plenty of tender loving care. We males aren't always as tough as you think, you know.' And on that enigmatic note he left her.
Over the next week, when she didn't hear a word from Luke either by letter or phone, Josie went through every emotion known to man every day, every hour, on the hour—until she was emotionally and physically drained.
She had expected… She didn't know what she had expected, she admitted to herself the following Thursday evening, a full week after Mog's return. A pressing of his advantage? A display of that clever, ruthless strategy she had seen him display more than once? An invitation to dinner or the theatre or something at least…
/> And then, on the Friday morning, when Andy slung a newspaper on her desk with a wry comment, she thought she had the reason for his lack of interest. 'He's a wily one, is Luke Hawkton. I wonder if it's genuine?'
'What?' She glanced from Andy's round face to the picture in the paper and then froze, her heart thumping as though she had been kicked in the chest.
She recognised the girl with him, of course, the girl who was draped over his arm like a second skin as she smiled prettily into the camera, her dark hair snaking round her shoulders and her evening dress displaying more than a little of her wares. So that was who he had been with when she had been wondering if he was thinking of her. She should have known. She should have known! Bitterness rose up like a grey fog over the picture.
'All the 'happy ever after' spiel they come out with at times like this,' Andy said impatiently. 'Hawkton is no fool. He knows the best way to shut the inquisitive mouths of the Press.'
'I don't know what you're talking about, Andy,' Josie said woodenly as she strove not to let her feelings show.
And she had begun to believe him. To believe he actually cared a bit about her. In fact she had started to worry for him, her love causing a biting anxiety that if he did care, really care, she was going to hurt him, cause him pain—
'I'm talking about Catherine Morley, of course,' Andy said irritably. 'Her engagement.'
'She's engaged to Luke?' Josie asked as the words registered like a bullet in her heart.
'Luke?' Andy stared at her as though he thought she was from a different planet. 'What the hell are you talking about, Josie? Why would he get engaged to his sister?'
'His sister?' If she hadn't been sitting down she knew she would have fallen down. As it was, her whole body felt peculiarly heavy, as though she was going to faint at any moment. 'Luke hasn't got a sister. He had a brother, but he hasn't got a sister.'
'I don't know what you're mumbling about.' Andy was definitely irritated now. 'I don't know about any brother, but I do know Catherine Morley is his sister—or his half-sister, to be exact. The papers were full of it a few months back—you must remember?'