Passionate Retribution

by Kim Lawrence

  She raised her chin, her eyes glittering in protest. What right had he to sound bitter? ’my memory of the events obviously differs from yours,’ she said, too hurt to recall caution. ‘I simply didn’t care for your ideal of a ménagé à trois,’ she asserted, swirling lights of gold filtering into her wide eyes.

  ’that’s a very provocative little dress,’ Luke said, his expression derisory as she made this accusation. ‘Does Gavin approve? You really are a creature of habit, aren’t you, Emily? Is the wedding back on? You should be an interior decorator for a neat life; you’re a natural.’

  ‘You’ll be the last to know if it is.’ A faint groan escaped her lips as his hand moved over the curve of her behind slowly, sensuously.

  ‘You’re generating enough heat to light a small town,’ he said, bending his head to rest his chin on the top of hers. She felt the movement of his lips through her hair. ‘Does Gavin mind that we were lovers, that I can make you beg for my touch?’ The only solid thing at that moment was the seductive whispered words in her ear and the riot of aching, raw sensations. ‘Your skin has a special texture, Emmy, satin, transluscent skin. I like to touch you. Can you feel how much I want to touch you?’

  She raised her eyes slowly; they felt incredibly heavy, and her heart beat in time to the music’s throbbing tempo as their bodies moved in sweet synchronicity to the rhythm. ’stop it, Luke,’ she pleaded hoarsely. She could hear the thunderous thud in his chest, and beneath her fingers the ridge of scar tissue across his ribs stood out. Pleasure at the memory of tracing the old wound with loving lips was mingled with an angry helplessness at the old pain it signified.

  He caught her hand and raised it to his lips. With slow deliberation he let the tip of her forefinger move between his lips, tasting. On the surface, the gesture was almost courtly, but he had transformed it into something incredibly erotic. She felt dizzy with the violent response to him and her knees almost buckled as she slumped against him.

  ‘I don’t want to stop this…I’m the hedonist, if you recall; self-denial is anathema to me. In a perfect world a man gets what he patiently bides his time for; but this world, infant, is far from perfect.’

  ‘Then it should suit you,’ she said, making her voice hard. This self-preservation could be a painful process, she thought miserably. Beth was watching them, she reminded herself, seeking to escape from the voluptuous need for surrender he had evoked with his mastery of her senses.

  The deep streak of possessiveness in her nature made her mentally, if not physically, free herself from him. Beth. She was the one Luke really cared for; he had told her as much. He was angry because she had taken the incentive from him and walked out. The profound experience of the communion of their essence was tarnished for her by his perception of the same event. Luke had never lied to her; she knew this. But still the sense of betrayal went deep.

  ‘I’m here with Gavin and you’re here with Beth. I see no reason to change that arrangement. Why haven’t you told Dad?’

  ‘About what?’ he asked, his enigmatic eyes watching her with an unnerving gleam.

  ‘The lies…’

  ‘You have the nerve to talk about lies when you’ve run back to the tedious safety of pretty boy?’

  ‘Will you stop calling him that?’ she bit back. ‘He has a name.’

  ‘I doubt if you’ve been very honest with him, or doesn’t he mind being a substitute because you haven’t the guts to sustain an adult relationship. If it’s a luxurious nest you hanker after, I’m sure I could match anything pretty boy has to offer.’

  ‘The idea of being any man’s mistress holds little appeal, but the idea of being yours is absurd. I realise I’m the focus for your ideas of retribution, Luke, but that’s absurd. I know Beth’s besotted with you, but even she…’ A spasm of disgust contorted her face and he relinquished his hold on her as the music stopped, a fact which neither appeared aware of. ‘I’ve only just managed to get my freedom from my father…all of you.’

  ‘Aren’t you back at Charlcot?’ he said with a frown.

  ‘I have a flat of my own.’

  ‘With Gavin?’

  She ignored the thin-lipped query. ‘A job, at least a temporary one.’ Her legacy from her maternal grandmother would prove very useful in the months to come, when she wouldn’t be able to work.

  His eyes continued to rake her face. ’there’s something else…something different.’

  Emily’s eyes opened wide with fearful horror. He couldn’t put his finger on it now, but he would… Luke almost seemed to be able to see into her skull on occasion.

  ‘You two are making a spectacle for the bored and curious.’

  Her father’s voice woke Emily from her private world. She flushed, looking around the half-empty floor, aware that they were the target of curious gazes. The expression on Luke’s face at being interrupted was so savage that even Charles Stapely lost his edge of suavity and assurance.

  ‘Keep out of this,’ Luke ground out. ‘I don’t know where you get the nerve to warn me to keep away.’

  ‘It was the only way I could ensure you came.’

  The music began, leaving the trio a small island of inactivity. These enigmatic words had Luke’s complete attention, Emily saw. She could see that once more she was surplus to requirements. She was gone, swallowed up in the well-groomed crowd, before either man had noticed.

  Emily sat cross-legged on the polished oak floor, the one she had expended so much energy on restoring. Better to fill her time with mindless, exhausting tasks than to be torn by the gut-wrenching longings.

  The evening had been a nightmare. She felt numb…Seeing Luke with no prior warning like that had been overwhelming. She had taken a taxi back to her small sanctuary. In a trance-like condition she had thrown off her shoes, undone the clips from her hair, and sunk into her present position. Only the strident peal of the doorbell broke into her abstraction. At first she thought she would ignore it, but it went on and on…

  The Smiths, the elderly couple who leased her the top floor of their Victorian villa, were fortunately hard of hearing. The stairs leading to her own private entrance were steep, so she negotiated them with care, ever conscious of the life in her safe-keeping. She was frowning as she wondered how she was going to cope with a pram and this incline as she unbolted the door.

  The breath was sucked from her lungs in one great gasping breath. ‘Luke!’ The possibility of hallucination was discarded. He was totally solid, a tower of savage, simmering rage. How had he found her?

  She had sworn Gavin to secrecy.

  ‘You remember my name, then.’ He shouldered his way into the narrow hallway and his presence was too overpowering. The greyhound-lean toughness of him was so close she could sense the hard strength of muscles she knew were beneath the formal dress suit he still wore. At some point he’d discarded his tie, and his hair was wildly untidy. She was breathing in air that carried the scent of his body, the unique concoction of odours that produced a natural perfume that made her achingly aware of a deep starvation of her senses.

  Her mind was whirling; she refused to look up. Instead she fixed her eyes on the middle button of his pristine shirt. ‘I don’t know what you’re doing here, Luke, but I’d like you to leave,’ she said in a surprisingly calm voice. ‘We’ve said all that was necessary.’ He’d told her father all those lies, finally gone through with his threat. She’d been waiting for the past ten weeks, wondering why he hadn’t, but obviously he’d been waiting for the ideal moment to relish the humiliation. He was here to gloat, punish her with the details.

  ‘Well, what a shame. I don’t give a damn what you’d like.’

  ‘Will you lower your voice?’ she responded. ’this is a respectable neighbourhood.’ He hadn’t changed. Still arrogant, overbearing, so bloody sure of himself and to hell with the rest of the world. How did I fall in love with him? she wondered, furious at the elemental response she’d suffered the instant she’d seen him again.

  ‘Then
how will they take to having an unmarried mother as a resident?’

  Emily looked up, her face swept clear of all colour. ‘How…Marty…no, Marty wouldn’t,’ she stammered in a stunned half-whisper. Martine had promised not to contact Luke even when Emily had confided her condition, and no one else knew yet. The agreement had been grudging, she recalled.

  ‘So glad I have your undivided attention finally,’ he drawled. His expression was menacingly aggressive, the blue eyes pure steel. ‘Who’s Marty, Emmy? Another new boyfriend? Doesn’t Gavin come up to scratch?’ he asked with a smile that made her swallow down the instinctive scream.

  ‘If you like,’ she said defiantly, the air of unconcern spoiled by the spasmodic tremors which swept her entire body.

  ‘It’s true, then, you are pregnant?’ He watched her, his body coiled like a high-tension spring, the errant nerve in his cheek clenching.

  She blinked hard but this nightmare still didn’t vanish. A sweetly provoking smile curved itself around her lips. ‘Putting truth in the arena would only confuse you, Luke.’

  He inhaled sharply, air hissing through his clenched teeth. ‘Upstairs.’

  ‘I’m choosy about my guests…’ Her words trailed off into a shriek as he literally threw he over his shoulder and carried her fireman style over his shoulder and up the stairs. He ignored her furious stream of invective and kicked open the half-closed door.

  Emily kicked out at him as he placed her on the small sofa, feeling savage satisfaction as her foot connected with his shin. ‘You think you can barge in here like some barbarian.’ She sat upright, indignation overcoming the instinctive fear the sight of him had produced. Fear that had been well-founded. He knew about the child, though how was a total mystery to her; but that single fact placed in jeopardy her calm, joyful plans. Her newly born maternal instincts were on full alert; if Luke thought he was going to take the child away from her…A choked sound emerged from her throat.

  Luke was looking around the room, but, as if sensing her silent regard, he glanced directly at her. ‘You find me uncouth and barbaric, Emmy. Is that why you ran out so dramatically?’

  ‘I didn’t think you’d notice,’ she replied coldly. ‘You were so busy.’ So that had nettled him, had it? Not enough, she thought bitterly, to try and locate me. No, I bet he was too busy with another of his merry bloody widows, she thought viciously. Her dreams had been troubled by visions of Beth Urquhart.

  ‘What,’ he asked swiftly, a small crease between his darkly defined eyebrows, ‘is that supposed to signify, or was it simply one of that plethora of childish retorts you have at your fingertips?’

  ‘As if you didn’t know,’ she sneered.

  He sat down on the sofa beside her, an arm laid across her shoulders effectively pinning her to the seat. She held herself rigid, swallowing hard as he pressed his thigh with slow deliberation against her own. ‘I’m sure it’s fascinating, but shall we get back to the original question? In case you’ve developed selective amnesia, Emily, I’ll repeat myself,’ he said with heavy irony. ‘Are you carrying our child?’ As he spoke he took her chin in his free hand and, fingertips pressing into the angle of her jaw, wrenched her head around until she had to meet his interrogative stare.

  ‘My child,’ she corrected, and her words lit a fire somewhere at the back of his eyes. ‘How did you find out?’

  Luke was silent for a long moment, as if he had trouble assimilating the information she had so reluctantly volunteered. The smile was silkily affable, his eyes hard and cold. ‘One of life’s little ironies, infant. Your father made sure I was there tonight.’

  ‘I don’t understand…’

  ‘There’s a lot of that going around, infant,’ he shot back, his voice flecked with some of the rage that was obviously consuming him. ‘Your dear papa made sure I’d be there tonight because I’ve been ignoring his recent phone calls. He wanted to read me a lecture on parental responsibility, would you believe? An incredible source to find such a doctrine preached,’ he continued ironically. ‘He accused me of deserting you like the worthless piece of scum I am. He waxed quite lyrical on the subject,’ he recalled, with a satirical lift of an eyebrow. ‘We exchanged some pleasantries and parted company.’

  Emily saw no humour, not even of the ironical variety, in this information. Her mind was coming up against those dead ends again. The thought of her father confronting Luke made her imagination boggle. How on earth had he found out? ‘You didn’t hit him, did you?’ Luke had such an air of suppressed violence about him that she could imagine her father pushing just that little too far. ‘I don’t understand. I haven’t told him.’

  ‘I didn’t hit him, though the thought did cross my mind. You always did underestimate your father’s ingenuity, infant. He’s been tracking you since you got back to town. A visit to the local maternity clinic sort of gives massive clues.’

  ‘That’s disgusting!’ she choked. The notion of being followed made her shudder.

  ‘In the circumstances, I can only applaud the precautionary measure.’

  ‘You’re as bad as he is,’ she said, incredulous at this peculiar alliance against her.

  ‘He’s only looking out for you, Emmy.’

  ‘You’re making excuses for my father,’ she choked.

  ‘I can understand the motivation,’ he corrected quietly. ‘You must be three months pregnant,’ he added, making a swift mental calculation.

  ‘Always assuming that the baby is yours.’ Her face was a mask of unconcern. She could have told him to the day…to the hour how pregnant she was.

  He took her by the shoulders and looked into her face, the blue eyes steadfast, the expression almost wary, tinged by a deep sadness that shone through the anger that was still etched in the tightly drawn lines of his face. She felt a fresh wave of bewilderment at his response. Had she half hoped he’d be willing to accept this simple get-out clause? It would be simpler for all concerned. She couldn’t imagine Beth taking kindly to the situation.

  ‘Are you going to tell me it’s not?’ His eyes slid to the flatness of her belly and back to her face. They glowed with a primitive possessiveness. ‘I thought not,’ he said with grim satisfaction as her expressive face confirmed what he was already sure of. ‘Had you any intention of telling me?’

  ‘No.’

  An explosive sound escaped the confines of his chest. ‘I suppose it’s nothing to do with me.’

  ‘You catch on so quickly,’ she said admiringly.

  ‘And you inhabit a fantasy world. Did you think your own family, living less than ten miles away, wouldn’t notice when you produce a baby? How do you think I tracked you down here?’ He gave a short, hard laugh. ‘And to give the devil his due, he is genuinely concerned for your welfare. I think you actually scared him when you reacted the way you did to finding out about his little scam. It’s probably the first time in his life he’s felt guilt,’ he added abruptly. He continued as she maintained a stunned silence. The flare of tenderness in his eyes had hit her in a vulnerable, exposed area. ’the fact that your mother would have a stroke if people knew she had a daughter bringing up a child in squalor virtually on her doorstep might have coloured the degree of his concern.’ He clicked his tongue and shook his head. ‘Bad for the image! Now, if it had been a designer drugs problem, that would be far more acceptable— one her cronies could identify with. It’s almost obligatory in her circles.’ His expression told her exactly what he thought of those circles. ‘But poverty is just so unpicturesque.’

  ‘This is not a hovel.’ It hadn’t been tenderness, she told herself, just her ever-hopeful imagination, a trick of the light. She wasn’t going to build herself up to be smashed down.

  ‘Depends how you look at it. As it happens, my child is not being brought up in some one-room attic.’

  ‘It was good enough for you,’ she bit back. Was he going to take everything from her—not just her love, the gift he had no need of, but the life born of that love too? She’d be damned before sh
e was going to be pushed aside. She was genuinely confused. Luke seemed to want the child—in her mind she had never imagined that. Surely a baby would be an inconvenience? His lifestyle was not geared for parenthood; and besides, he and Beth had no more obstacles. Why create a new one?

  ‘A situation I see no point in perpetuating,’ he returned coldly. ‘And the reason you’re going to marry me.’

  Emily gave a startled gasp. Not just the extraordinary thing he had just said robbed her of breath, but the way he’d said it, as though the matter were closed. ‘I think you’re the one inhabiting a fantasy world. I can do without your warped sense of honour, Luke Hunt.’ She gave a laugh that made the swift transition into choked sob, but her eyes remained hard, not dewy. It hurt to be offered what she’d dreamt of—marriage, a child—Luke’s child—for all the wrong reasons. ‘What’s wrong, Luke? Did Daddy tell you to marry me? Or did he warn you not to? I suppose from your point of view that’s an attractive proposition. Well, I’m no pawn to be sacrificed for either of you. I don’t care if my mother is the talk of the bridge club; this is my child and legitimacy is not something I’m worried about. I know all about loveless marriages, and I don’t want one. Besides, aren’t you forgetting the delightful Beth?’

  The colour seemed to be seeping from beneath Luke’s teak-dark tan as she spoke. He’d lost weight, she realised. He’d always been lean, but the bones of his hawkish face seemed more pronounced, the lines deeper ingrained. He pushed his fingers through the thick pelt of his hair as he spoke, and Emily was shocked somehow to see a few silvered threads at his temple. Had he been ill? she wondered, concern a pain in her belly.

  ‘If you think for one moment I’ll permit my child to be raised by another man…’ he said hoarsely.

  ‘Does there always have to be a man?’ she snapped.