Illusion of Love

by Patricia Lake

  'Don't go. . . .' she whispered, her hands reaching for him, trying to pull him back, unaware of her own actions, knowing only the need inside herself that he had so expertly aroused.

  But Luke evaded her and sat up in one lithe movement, so that she could not see his face as he gazed away across the stream to the trees beyond. She

  drew a deep breath, closing her eyes as the feelings faded and cold, painful reality intruded. What was she doing? What the hell was she doing? A wave of humiliation swept over her, scarlet colour pouring into her cheeks. Had she gone mad, letting him touch her, letting him make love to her like that?

  Dean's face rose unbidden into her mind on a wave of pain, and all she wanted to do was to disappear. She wanted the ground to split open and swallow her whole.

  Luke was moving, searching his pockets, finally extracting a packet of cigarettes. He glanced at her with blank eyes, offering her the packet. 'Want one?'

  Stephanie shook her head, unable to say a word to , him.

  He turned away, and she hated him for his composure, until she watched him place a cigarette between his lips and light it, and saw that his hand was unsteady. He wasn't as calm and composed as he seemed to be. She also noticed that his shoulders were hunched, very tense, and cursed herself for watching him so intently.

  That brought her to her senses and she sat up jerkily, pulling together her clothes with fingers that shook so much, it took what seemed like ages to button her blouse.

  She could think of nothing but her own self- contempt and all she wanted to do was to get away from him.

  She glanced at the wide line of his shoulders. 'I'll have that cigarette now, please,' she said in a shaking little voice, because she needed something to do, and smoking might calm her down a little.

  In silence, Luke offered her the packet, his narrowed eyes scanning her face carefully. Her trembling fingers reached for one. He lit it for her,

  still watching, and she turned away immediately, dragging the smoke deep into her lungs, thankful that he had not spoken. She did not want to speak to him, and she wished desperately that she did not have to rely on him for a lift back to the house—his house.

  She wanted to think everything out logically, everything that had happened that afternoon, but her thoughts were chaotic. She felt as though she was verging on hysteria, any slip might push her over the edge. So she let her mind drift uneasily and smoked her cigarette, wondering when they would leave.

  But as the minutes passed and Luke did not move, the heavy silence between them began to get to her, and in the end she said, 'Shouldn't . .. shouldn't we be driving back?' Her voice sounded high and stupidly unnatural.

  Luke turned and looked at her, and she could read no expression in the bleak depths of his eyes.

  'Yes. Stephanie....'

  'Good,' she cut in desperately, knowing he was about to say something important, and not feeling strong enough to take it. She stood up, brushing the grass from her jeans. 'I'll collect everything.'

  She turned away from him, but she had only taken a few steps when he caught her arm, pulling her round, forcing her to face him. He had moved so fast and so silently that she was shocked for a moment to find him beside her. His shirt still hung open, the tanned, hair- roughened expanse of his chest drawing her compulsive gaze, angering her, because he still had the power to make her feel weak.

  'Don't touch me!' she spat at him, trying to push away his hand without success.

  'Stephanie, for God's sake listen to me!' His eyes scorched her, his hands bruising her bones.

  'I don't want to!' She struggled in his grasp. She couldn't bear his touch just at that moment, and she certainly couldn't bear to talk about what had just happened between them.

  'Well, you're going to have to,' he told her immovably.

  'Why?' She was stubborn, and his mouth tightened with impatience.

  'Do you want to leave it like this?'

  Stephanie glared at him with brilliant, fevered eyes. 'I don't care, but I don't want an apology.' Perversely, she thought she would burst into tears if he apologised.

  'You'll hear it anyway,' he told her grimly, 'because I am sorry—it shouldn't have happened that way. I was angry and I shouldn't have touched you. It was never my intention to.. . .' He stopped abruptly, biting back the words, and his grip on her shoulders loosened slightly as though he realised he was hurting her. There was silence for a few seconds, then he said quietly, 'I have no excuse to offer you, but I am sorry.'

  Stephanie bit her lip. It was the final humiliation. He actually regretted kissing her, touching her!

  'And that makes it all fine, does it?' she said in a cold, trembling voice.

  'You know damn well it doesn't!'

  She was deliberately making him angry, she knew that, but she didn't care. 'Your apology is a waste of time, then, isn't it?'

  'It's necessary,' he corrected her tautly.

  She felt the tears pricking the back of her eyelids, felt the aching tension in the-back of her throat. He was angry, but he was totally in control, she thought bitterly. She wanted to shake him out of that impassive calmness.

  What had happened meant nothing to him, he already regretted it. She was not yet sure what had happened to her when he touched her so possessively, so intimately, but something had—something deep and confusing and worrying. Something she felt sure would change her life when she recognised it.

  'Will you be apologising to Dean as well?' she asked flatly.

  Luke's eyes narrowed. 'Will you?' he countered softly.

  'You forced me. ...' She didn't get the chance to say another word.

  'Crying rape, Stephanie?' Cold violence threaded his voice and an icy mockery hardened his eyes. She had succeeded in making him very angry indeed. 'Don't kid yourself, sweetheart. You wanted me— almost as much as I wanted you. I could have had you and you wouldn't have raised a finger to stop me,' he told her with brutal deliberation.

  'You're a cold uncaring bastard!' she exclaimed hysterically, shocked by the raw truth of his words. 'I hate you!'

  She was insulting him because he spoke the truth, they both knew that. The knowledge hung between them in the summer air, making a mockery of her harsh words.

  'Of course you do.' His voice was almost gentle, and he half smiled, taking her chin between his hard fingers and forcing her to look at him. 'It isn't over, though, Stephanie, you know that.'

  She didn't answer him.

  'All you have to do is wake up,' he told her expressionlessly, then he released her, turning away abruptly.

  'Luke——' she began.

  'It's time we were moving,' he said, and walked towards the car, leaving her still and shaking and desperately confused.

  CHAPTER SIX

  As soon as they reached the house Stephanie ran inside, glad to be out of the car and the heavy silent atmosphere they had both endured on the way back. Not a word had been spoken, and the tension was suffocating. She had glanced at Luke once. His profile had been as hard as granite, the only evidence that it wasn't a mask of stone being the muscle flicking along his jaw.

  She had heaved a sigh of pure relief as the car pulled up in front of the house, and although she knew it was ungracious, she didn't thank him for the picnic, but merely bolted from the car and ran straight upstairs to her room.

  Once inside, she pulled off all her clothes and took a cool shower, the invigorating jets of water cleaning her hot body and strangely, clearing her mind.

  She had overracted, she thought ruefully, as she sat by the open window fifteen minutes later, slowly smoking a cigarette. And if she was honest with herself—and it was about time she was—her furious anger with Luke had stemmed from her own frustration. She had wanted him—oh, how she had wanted him! Wanted him so badly that his rejection had squashed her, leaving her eager for some sort of childish revenge. What she had been hoping for, she did not know. What she did know for sure was that no man had ever made her feel the way Luke had. For the first tim
e in her life she had felt that craving, that awakening need. . ..

  Her mind halted, refusing to carry her thoughts on to their logical conclusion. She stubbed out the cigarette and got to her feet, pacing restlessly around the luxurious room. No, she thought, no. But the deliberate blanking of her mind was only putting off something that had to be confronted. It had to be faced. And she found that she was shaking as she finally admitted that Dean had never been able to arouse in her the feelings that Luke could arouse, merely by his touch.

  Allowing Luke to make love to her had been wrong, very wrong—and yet if he had not drawn back, she would have let him take her. That was the truth, and it made her shudder with fear.

  She had been totally unaware of everything except Luke's mouth, Luke's hands and Luke's body. The moment he kissed her she should have stopped him, had wanted to stop him, until that terrifyingly sweet weakness had gripped her, wiping every objection away.

  When Dean kissed her, she found it pleasurable, reassuring, but nothing compared to the earth-shattering touch of Luke's mouth. Could she possibly marry Dean knowing that? Wouldn't it be unfair to him?'More unfair to him than to her?

  She sank into a chair, deathly pale. Of course it would be unfair, and she couldn't do it, she couldn't hurt him that way.

  There was only one course of action open to her: she had to break off the engagement. She touched the sapphire ring on her wedding finger and found that she was crying, the blue stone shattering into a million tiny pieces through her tears. She would have to tell Dean that she couldn't marry him. It would be the hardest thing she had ever done.

  I love him, she thought fiercely, but even the thought was hollow. She couldn't have responded to

  Luke the way she had done, if she had loved Dean.

  Luke had been right all along, damn him. She loved Dean as a brother, as a dear close friend. Her life on Moahu, so beautifully easy, had blinded her, left her a child in a woman's body. She had always had Dean to lean on. She had let things drift because she had not known any better.

  It could have been anybody, any man, but it had been Luke who had ripped the veils from her eyes and forced her to face up to the reality of life as a grown woman. She put her head in her hands, and began to sob like a baby. She didn't feel like going down to dinner, she certainly didn't feel like facing Luke. It would be in his eyes, his remembrance, his knowledge of her, mocking her, taunting her.

  Tattered pride finally came to her rescue. She would not allow him to see how right he had been. She would face him as though nothing had happened, as though she had already forgotten his lovemaking.

  She carelessly pulled a brush through her hair, frowning at her reflection in the dressing table mirror. And, of course, there was Carina and Wayne. She couldn't let them see anything was wrong.

  She threw down the brush, feeling utterly miserable, and pulled from the wardrobe the first dress that came to hand. It was silk, violet and blue in delicate patterns. It suited her perfectly, although the knowledge brought her no pleasure tonight. She was just sliding a gold bangle on to her wrist when Carina knocked on the door.

  Stephanie sighed with relief when she saw her half- sister. She had been terrified that it might be Luke.

  'You're back,' she said, managing a stiff little smile.

  'As you can see.' Carina strolled into the room, dressed for dinner, stunningly beautiful in black, adorned with discreetly shining platinum jewellery.

  'I'd like a word, if you have a moment.' She did not smile, and her eyes flicked coolly over Stephanie, assessing her.

  'Of course—sit down.' Stephanie indicated a chair, a feeling of apprehension tightening her stomach. Carina seemed in a particularly bad mood tonight. 'Successful trip?' she asked brightly.

  Carina shrugged, lifting a cigarette from the gold case in her hand, lighting it with delicate grace.

  'The solicitors will be here next Tuesday at noon,' she told Stephanie briefly.

  It was just under a week away, too long to be under the same roof as Luke Baroda, but what choice did she have?

  'Oh—good. I'll be glad when it's all sorted out.'

  Carina looked at her sharply. 'Will you?' There was a wealth of meaning in her cool voice.

  'Yes, of course—won't you?'

  'That's not really what I was getting at, as I'm sure you know.' Carina exhaled smoke in a long stream, her red nails at her throat.

  Stephanie frowned, genuinely puzzled. 'I don't know what you mean, I for one really will be glad when it's all over. I want to get home, and I'm sure you won't be sorry to see me go.' There was no point in being subtle with Carina and Stephanie felt too depressed tonight to fence with her.

  Her half-sister smiled at that. 'Are you sure you want to get home?' Her pale eyes held Stephanie's, faintly hostile.

  Stephanie gave an exasperated sigh. 'Carina, if you've got something to say to me, I'd appreciate it if you came to the point.'

  'I believe you spent the day with Luke,' the other woman suddenly shot out, getting to the point immediately.

  'Yes, he gave me a lift into town, there were some things I wanted to buy, then we went for a picnic.' Stephanie tried to keep her voice cool, but the remembrance of Luke's lovemaking brought a rush of colour to her face that she knew Carina's sharp eyes did not miss.

  'How very clever of you, arranging all that,' said Carina, her voice slightly acid and Stephanie suddenly realised what she was getting at.

  'It wasn't like that,' she protested quickly, but could not meet her half-sister's eyes. It hadn't been planned by her, she desperately wished it hadn't happened. How could she convince Carina of that? How could she even convince herself?

  'Honestly, Carina——'

  'I really don't know,' the other woman cut in, her voice distinctly bored. 'However, I do want to give you a word of advice.' She paused, stubbing out her cigarette, and Stephanie bowed her head, fully aware of what was coming.

  'Men like Luke are very rare,' Carina continued delicately. 'Women know that as soon as they see him. God knows, I've seen them throwing themselves at him, and frankly I can't blame them. I don't even blame you, although I would have thought—bearing in mind the fact that you are engaged to another man—that you would have displayed a little more restraint.'

  'Carina, please ' Stephanie cut in, feeling very

  small and very guilty, her face scarlet.

  But Carina merely lifted her pale hand and said flatly, 'Please allow me to finish.' She paused as though considering what to say next, then half-smiled. 'To put it crudely, I'm asking you—well, actually, telling you, to stay away from him. I've worked long and hard to get myself in this position.' She saw Stephanie's blank look and explained. 'Living under

  Luke's roof—and I don't intend it all to have been for nothing. Do you understand?'

  'Yes, I understand,' Stephanie said quietly, an innocent dignity stiffening her spine. 'And you can rest assured that I'm not the least interested in Luke Baroda—you're welcome to him!' she finished emphatically.

  Carina was silent for a moment, scanning Stephanie's angry face as though doubting she told the truth, then she said, 'I'm glad you feel that way.'

  'I do,' Stephanie reinforced firmly, thinking how unsure her half-sister must be. And with good reason, a tiny voice in her head reminded her.

  But Carina was smiling, obviously relieved. 'I hope you don't mind me being so blunt. I merely thought '

  'I understand,' Stephanie cut in, biting her lip; she found the whole confrontation distinctly embarrassing. Then, even though she wanted Carina to go, she suddenly surprised herself by saying, 'You must be very close.'

  Carina smiled, her eyes full of secrets—secrets, Stephanie realised with horror, that she was jealous of.

  'We'll be announcing our engagement within the next few weeks—that's strictly confidential information, by the way.'

  It was a bombshell, the last thing that Stephanie had expected. She thought of the way Luke had held her only hours be
fore, and felt sick.

  'Congratulations,' she heard herself saying through numb lips.

  'Thank you.' Carina looked very pleased with herself, suddenly in a mood to talk, although Stephanie could not help suspecting her half-sister's motives.

  'Do you know, I could hardly believe it when I found out that father had landed a job with the Baroda Corporation. The moment I saw Luke, I knew—all that raw power, all that wealth. And God knows, I had to work like the devil to arrange dinners, chance meetings and that sort of thing. Believe me, Father's illness was a godsend!'

  'Carina!' Stephanie's face was white with shock, but Carina only smiled, a hard light in her pale eyes.

  'Come now, you're not that naive, darling, you can drop the outraged innocence. Father never gave a damn about me, and I used him to get a foothold here—it was a fair deal.'

  'You shouldn't talk about him like that!' Stephanie protested. It seemed that she was that naive, because Carina's words, utterly believable when you looked into her eyes, did shock her—more than she would have thought possible.

  'Why not?' Carina shrugged. 'He's dead, and when he was alive I never came first, not even after my mother died. Not that I really minded—it meant that I could use him without any scruples at all.'

  Stephanie stared at her, open-mouthed, but beneath the shock at her half-sister's confessions she felt a pang of sympathy. In a way. Carina had been rejected by her father. It must have hurt, it must have hardened her.

  'I don't believe you,' she said quietly.

  'No? You'd better believe that I want Luke, and I don't intend to let anything get in my way.'

  'Do you love him?' Stephanie was forced to ask, and Carina laughed, high icy laughter that tinkled on the air like broken glass, laughter that held no real amusement.

  'I don't believe that there's any such thing as love. I want Luke for his power and for his money and because he's fantastic in bed. He knows that—I'd never be able to fool him. We have ...' she paused delicately, 'an understanding, you might say.'