Illusion of Love

by Patricia Lake

  She heard the faint click of the receiver being replaced, but couldn't turn round. She was suddenly afraid of what she had done, of what she might hear.

  'What do you want?' Dean's impatient voice turned her head.

  'You're leaving,' she said quietly.

  'There's not a hell of a lot to stay for, is there?'

  It was as though she wasn't there. He carried on flinging things into the suitcase, unfolded.

  'I didn't want it to end this way,' she said miserably.

  Dean laughed humourlessly. 'I'd never have guessed.' He had not looked at her once.

  'I want us to be friends. There's so much we've shared in the past—we grew up together!' she cried, because she felt so lonely. Without Dean she would be totally alone in the world.

  He looked at her then, his blue eyes furious, contemptuous. 'That's a tall order, honey,' he said, snapping shut the locks on his suitcase.

  'I know.' Stephanie bowed her head. Of course, she was asking too much.

  'With me, it's all or nothing—that's how I run my life,' Dean told her, 'and I'm certainly not interested in Baroda's cast-offs.'

  Stephanie gasped. 'You know very well that it's not like that!'

  Dean's eyes were cynical. 'No?'

  'No!'

  'Well, let's just forget it, huh? I'm really not that interested.' He glanced at the gold watch on his wrist. 'My plane leaves in one and a half hours' time. I've got to be going.'

  He didn't care at all; she could see that in his face. He had written her off in much the same way that Luke had written off the embezzled money. It didn't matter.

  'Why did you ever ask me to marry you?' she asked painfully, because that was the one thing she couldn't understand.

  Dean shrugged into his jacket, obviously impatient to get away. 'What is this—a third degree? Are you deaf? I've got a plane to catch.'

  'Why?' she persisted stubbornly.

  Standing still at last, he said, l wanted you because you were untouched, you'd always been mine. No other man had been near you.' There was an ugliness in his face, in his voice as he spoke, an ugliness and a brutal possessiveness that frightened her.

  Stephanie shook her head in amazement. It was perfectly all right for him to have as many affairs as he liked, but she had to be untouched! It was incredible—all the more incredible because she had been totally unware of his motives, of what had been going on right under her nose. He had never loved her; she knew that for certain now.

  'Thanks for telling me,' she managed steadily.

  'Is that all? Can I go now?' There was a sarcastic edge to his voice. He was treating her as he treated his employees at the casino.

  'There is just one more thing——' Stephanie began.

  'What is it, now?'

  'Island Holdings is your company, isn't it?'

  Dean smiled, but she saw the wariness in his eyes. 'You tell me.'

  'The solicitors told me that my father embezzled thousands of pounds from Luke. He invested the money in a company called Island Holdings.'

  'So?' Dean's expression was unpleasant.

  'So, it's your company, isn't it?'

  'Yes, it is, but what does that prove?'

  Stephanie could hardly believe his coldness. 'Did you know my father?' she demanded unsteadily.

  'Yes, I knew him.' It was not an admission, more a cool statement of unimportant fact.

  'Why didn't you tell me?' She suddenly felt very unsure of herself. She could feel the tears blocking her throat.

  'Look, honey, I really have to go.' Dean was picking up his case, moving towards the door.

  'Why?' she demanded again, and moved after him, grasping his arm.

  He shook her off, irritation in every line of his body. 'We both knew that I'd be a bloody fool to say anything else—so let's just leave it,' he said coldly, opening the door.

  Terribly hurt, Stephanie held out the sapphire engagement ring. 'This is yours,' she said, in a voice shaking with tears.

  'Keep it,' came the uncaring reply. 'You might need it when Baroda gets tired of you.'

  Then he was gone, without so much as a backwards glance. Gone for ever.

  She felt the tears pouring down her face. She felt utterly desolate—partly because of what Dean had done and partly because she felt she could not blame him for being angry. She ripped open the letter from her father. It was brief. He loved her and regretted the lack of contact between them. Too late, too late.

  Needing to get out of the room, out of the house, Stephanie hurried downstairs, still clutching the sapphire ring, and outside.

  She ran towards the cliffs, unaware that the rain was starting, noticing only that Dean's hired car was gone. She scrambled down the cliff path to the bay, uncaring that the sharp stones grazed her legs when she stumbled and tore at the hem of her silk skirt, only the screaming of the gulls filling her head. The sea was rough and grey, the waves edged with white. She stood at the angry water's edge and, lifting her arm, threw the ring with all her strength into the sea. Now it was ended once and for all.

  'It will only get washed up again.' The low, cool voice behind her made her jump. It was Luke. He had followed her again.

  'I hope it brings the finder more happiness than it brought me,' Stephanie said bitterly, not turning round, only just realising that she was soaked through.

  It was raining heavily now, the thin silk of her suit was clinging revealingly to every curve of her body, her wet hair was plastered to her small head.

  'Heartbroken?' Luke queried sardonically.

  'Maybe.' She wished he would go away.

  'I don't believe you.' There was laughter in his voice.

  'He's gone.' She sounded lost.

  'What did you expect?' She got the impression that he was angry with her.

  'That must be my trouble,' she said wryly. 'I obviously do expect too much.'

  'You're feeling sorry for yourself, that's all.' The tenderness in his voice shuddered through her.

  She felt raw and very vulnerable, still unable to cope with Dean's leaving, with everything that had happened in this one crazy day. Her whole life had been turned upside down within the space of twenty- four hours and it had left her feeling that she had no solid ground beneath her feet. One small step in the wrong direction could leave her falling into some dark, unknown precipice, because all the solid reliable things in her life had been torn away.

  'Of course I'm feeling sorry for myself!' she retorted, trying to ignore the effect he was having on her. 'It's a luxury I can't often afford.'

  Luke was silent—so silent she thought he might have gone, so that when his hand touched her shoulder, she trembled violently, turning to him.

  The furious roar of the sea, the screeching of the gulls and the howling wind filled the silence between them, leaving it more empty, more nerve-racking. He was as wet as she was, she noticed absently, the fine cotton shirt he wore, stuck fast to the wide muscular line of his shoulders.

  It was darker now as they stood face to face on the

  tiny landlocked beach. She looked into the brooding darkness of his eyes and could not say a word.

  'The tide is coming in,' he told her, his green eyes holding hers.

  'Tell me about my father and Dean,' Stephanie said quietly.

  'Ask Sangster,' said Luke, a muscle moving spasmodically in his jaw.

  'I did, but he wouldn't tell me.' Her eyes pleaded, unconsciously beautiful. 'You know. Please tell me!'

  He didn't want to, she could see that as he remained silent.

  'Please!' she repeated urgently. 'I have to know—it's driving me mad!'

  Luke stared down at her for a moment and she couldn't tell what he was thinking.

  'Stephanie——' he began.

  'I know it's not your responsibility, but you're the only other person who knows,' she cut in desperately.

  'Okay.' He smiled slightly at her sweetness. 'You recognised the company name?'

  'Yes, one of Dean's compani
es.' She felt almost as though she was betraying him—and herself.

  'Apparently your father met Sangster when he was in London on business. Your father was anxious to reestablish contact with you, but he was reluctant to get in touch with you directly, after so many years of silence. Sangster gave him a photograph of you,' Luke revealed in clipped tones.

  Stephanie's eyes filled with sad tears. 'He should have got in touch with me,' she said shakily.

  'He was proud and stubborn and he still felt very bitter about the divorce,' Luke explained gently, watching her. 'Perhaps he was afraid you would reject him. I think he wanted to find out about you first.'

  Stephanie thought about that, and it made her hurt even more because Dean had never said a word about it. She hadn't received the slightest hint, and now it was too late.

  'And the money?' she asked, wanting to know it all.

  Luke shrugged restlessly. 'I had no idea until the auditors went in. You have to understand that in a lot of ways your father was very like Sangster. He was an opportunist, he liked taking risks. Sangster offered him an easy way to make a great deal of money. He would have been set up for life. And it would have worked—the money he took from the hotels would have been replaced before anyone noticed it was missing, had Sangster's company not gone to the wall.' His voice was cool and calm, but Stephanie could see the anger in his eyes.

  'And that's it?'

  'That's it.'

  He had made it easy for her, she realised with a rush of gratitude. He could have said a lot more, but he had given her only the cold hard facts, allowing her to place her own interpretation on them.

  'But isn't . .. isn't what Dean did illegal?' she queried.

  Luke shook his head. 'He's clever, and believe me, if there was any way I could get him into court, I would.'

  'But what about. . . .?' Stephanie stopped, biting her lip savagely.

  'Him and Carina?' Luke hazarded calmly.

  'You know?' She was astonished.

  'I guessed.' He didn't sound as though he cared one way or the other.

  'I'm glad you stepped in this morning,' she said, shivering at the very remembrance of it.

  Luke smiled. 'At the beginning, I suspected you might be involved in Sangster's shady dealings.'

  Stephanie stared at him, wide-eyed. She couldn't blame him for that. 'Never!' she said emphatically.

  'I know that now—I knew the moment I met you.' His voice became very low. 'You're so innocent.'

  She flushed. Stupid, was the word she would have used. She thought back and realised that he had been testing her. He was the clever one. She had the feeling that he had outwitted them all.

  'Thank you for not taking it any further,' she said quietly.

  'I liked your father—and there's no reason for the people who are left to suffer. It's only money, after all,' said Luke with a faint shrug of his shoulders.

  He meant Carina, of course. She turned back towards the sea, which had swallowed up at least a foot more of the beach. The tide was coming fast.

  Maybe Luke was right; maybe she had been attracted to Dean because he so resembled her father. If it was true, it had not been a conscious thing. When she was a child, Dean had been a father/brother figure to her. She had always turned to him for protection, had always taken her problems to him. And if that was so, if she had subconsciously needed him as a substitute father, their relationship had been doomed right from the beginning.

  She felt the warm rain on her face. She did not want to go back to the house, she wanted to stay here for a while.

  'Thanks for telling me,' she said over her shoulder.

  Luke did not answer. 'What will you do?' he asked, watching her vulnerable profile.

  'I'm leaving,' she told him shortly.

  'Back home?' His voice was harsh.

  'No, no, not for a while, anyway. I don't know—the world is my oyster.' Her voice broke on the last word, but she stiffened her shoulders and swallowed back the tears, not wanting to reveal her weakness.

  'You can stay here as long as you like,' he told her, still watching her. She thought of him with Carina and her heart twisted.

  'I don't want to stay here. I hate this place!' she retorted emotionally.

  'Do you think I'm just going to let you walk away?' Luke asked expressionlessly.

  'You can't stop me,' she told him steadily. She looked at him in surprise, her breath catching at the magnificent power of his body, at the dark hair plastered against his skull, throwing the stark bones of his face into sharp relief.

  'You're a fool if you really think that,' he said, his mouth twisting harshly. 'I still want you, Stephanie. The only difference is that Sangster is now out of the running and you're a free woman.' His voice had become deeper, low and possessive.

  Stephanie stared at him wildly; her heart jumping into her throat, her legs weakening in response to the sensual threat of his words. She had to fight him, because he was practically engaged to her half-sister, and although nobody else at the house seemed to care about casual affairs, she did.

  She wanted Luke—there was no point in denying that, but if she became his lover, he would be a part of her for ever. For her it would mean everything, whereas for him, as for Carina and Dean and Wayne, it would be nothing more than a passing pleasure, a satisfaction of his needs.

  'Yes, I'm free,' she said angrily. 'Free to say no, which is what I'm saying to you. I don't want you!'

  'Is that so?' drawled Luke, his dark gaze sliding down her body in slow masculine appraisal, over every curve visible beneath the soaking silk.

  'It's so!' she snapped, and turned away from him, walking stiffly back up a beach that was getting smaller by the minute now. It was darker too, and the warm rain was still lashing down, ignored by both of them.

  Luke was behind her in a split second, and pulled her round to face him, his mouth tight with anger, eyes burning. Without a word, he tangled a hand in her wet hair, pulling back her head to expose her mouth, the white line of her throat.

  'I've waited too long for you,' he told her, his cool clean breath fanning her cheek.

  'You'll wait for ever! Let me go—I don't want you!' Stephanie spat, fighting him and fighting herself and finding it almost impossible.

  A faint smile touched the corners of Luke's mouth. 'I can prove you a liar,' he murmured, his smoky gaze fixed on the gentle outline of her face. 'And the challenge is irresistible.'

  His mouth touched hers with anger and she knew that her insults had hit home. But her momentary awareness was soon drowned beneath the hungry demand of his lips.

  'No, Luke, no. ...' she murmured, under the pressure of his kiss, splaying her hands against his hard chest, trying to push him away.

  He was far too strong for her and he was holding her too tightly, almost cruelly, the long fingers tangled in her hair, holding her still beneath the drugging touch of his mouth. All her fierce resistance seemed to melt into nothing as she heard him groaning softly and his mouth became gentle, more intimate, his tongue tracing the outline of her parted lips. His hand left her hair to slide lower, down the curve of her spine to mould her even closer to the powerful strength of his body. She could feel the heat in him, the hard need, and she shivered, trembling violently against him in defeat, her heart pounding as though it would burst.

  Luke felt the restless shivering of her body and lifted his dark head. He looked into her eyes, his own heavy, black with a desire he could not conceal. Stephanie saw that desire and a weak ache of triumph shot through her. She stared at him as though in a trance, her own tongue now tracing the bruised responsive softness of her lips in unknowing provocation.

  'Oh God, Stephanie,' Luke said deeply, 'hold me. I want to feel your arms around me.'

  She couldn't fight the feelings he was arousing in her, they were too deep, unleashing a need in her she had not known existed. And before she realised what she was doing, her hands were sliding to his powerful shoulders, stroking the tensed muscles her fingers reme
mbered so well. Her mouth met his again, soft and parted, silently and sweetly offering him the passion he had aroused, the passion he demanded.

  She felt the stillness of surprise in him for a second, then he groaned low in his throat, his arms tightened around her, their mouths fusing with a desire, a wildness that shook them both with its ferocious sweetness. His mouth trailed fire across her throat, his hands deftly pushing the silk from her shoulders, her breasts, exposing her bare wet skin to his touch.

  The tide was rolling in faster, lapping at their feet, and its cold threat brought Stephanie to her senses. What was she doing, allowing Luke to make love to her like this? Her moaning pleasure died, shrivelling instantly, and she pushed at his unyielding chest.

  'Luke—the tide.'

  He lifted his head reluctantly and smiled down into her glazed frightened eyes, his breathing harsh and uneven. In silence, he took her hand, and they climbed the path back to the house.

  Stephanie was glad he was silent. She thought she would probably curl up with embarrassment if he spoke and she knew he was aware of that.

  As they reached the house, she said, too sharply, 'I am leaving tomorrow.'

  Luke turned his head and looked at her, totally in control of himself, as though nothing at all had happened on the beach. And there was a tautness around his mouth as he said, 'Why are you telling me?'

  She swallowed painfully, her mind blank for a second. She had been telling herself as well. She had to get away from him before it was too late, before . . . before she fell in love with him. If she went inside with him now, she would end up in his bed tonight.

  'Why, Stephanie?' Luke persisted coolly. He was violently angry and she couldn't look at him, afraid of what he might read in her eyes.

  'There's nothing to stay for,' she said clearly. 'Nothing at all.'

  She felt him stiffen beside her, well aware of what she was doing. But instead of destroying her with cold words, as she expected, he stared down at her profile for a second or two longer, then left her in silence. He disappeared inside the house, and the door slammed behind him, leaving her alone, as she had wanted, but aching with regret.