by Kim Lawrence
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
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 wi
th 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.’
Emil
y 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…’