Keeping Luke's Secret

by Carole Mortimer

  Actually, when he was teasing, as he was now, Luke was more than just ‘gorgeous’, he was—No!

  Stop right there, Leonie, she firmly instructed herself. She had nothing whatsoever in common with Luke. Except their mutual dislike of each other.

  Although perhaps dislike was rather too strong a word to describe how she felt towards Luke…

  He made her feel uneasy, instantly on her guard whenever he was anywhere near her. But she was no longer sure that was because she disliked him…

  ‘Here we are,’ Luke murmured with satisfaction, coming to an abrupt halt. ‘Feel like going across to the island?’ He arched questioning brows.

  They had walked through the copse of trees at the bottom of the large garden, and now stood beside the lake that those trees edged. It was a large lake, with an island in its centre, more trees growing there. In front of them, tied to a small jetty, was a rowing-boat.

  Leonie looked up uncertainly at Luke. ‘In that?’ She grimaced her reluctance.

  Luke grinned, showing strong even white teeth. ‘It’s perfectly safe, I do assure you. Or do you think I may row you over there and just abandon you?’ he added tauntingly.

  ‘It would be one way of getting rid of me,’ she conceded dryly, even as she allowed him to help her down onto the seat at the front of the rowing-boat, before getting in himself, the boat rocking precariously as it adjusted to his weight. Leonie clutched on to the sides to steady herself as he sat down opposite her. ‘Or maybe you just intend drowning me before we reach the lake!’ she added pointedly.

  ‘Can you swim?’ Luke prompted lightly, pausing in the act of taking up the two oars.

  ‘Thankfully—yes!’ she answered ruefully.

  Luke nodded. ‘Then there would be little point in my attempting to throw you over the side,’ he dismissed scathingly.

  Leonie tried to look elsewhere as Luke began to row them across the lake, too aware of the strength of the muscle in his back and the bareness of his arms as he moved the oars effortlessly through the water.

  ‘What makes you think I want to get rid of you?’

  Leonie stopped trailing her fingers in the coolness of the water as she turned to look at Luke. ‘You’ve never made any secret of the fact that you don’t want me here,’ she acknowledged with a small smile.

  Although if anyone had told her that today she would be sitting in a rowing-boat, with Luke Richmond plying the oars, enjoying the warmth of the day, Leonie wouldn’t have believed them!

  He shrugged those broad shoulders. ‘I think even I draw the line at drowning you,’ he reassured her dryly, turning to look at the shore as they approached the island.

  Leonie watched as he rowed the boat expertly against the waiting jetty before dropping ropes over the two posts there, one for either end of the boat. ‘You’ve obviously done this before,’ she murmured as he helped her onto the jetty.

  ‘Loads of times,’ he dismissed distractedly. ‘Although not recently,’ he admitted. ‘It was always my own private place when I was a boy. I always came here if had something I needed to think about. Or just if I wanted some time alone.’

  She looked at him sharply, suddenly feeling very much an intruder. But she could see how the rugged isolation of this island would be such a draw for a young boy. Here, amongst the denseness of the trees and foliage, he could be anything he wanted to be; a castaway on an island, a pirate in search of treasure, the imaginings were limitless.

  What Leonie didn’t understand was, if this was obviously such a special place for Luke, why on earth had he brought her, of all people, to see it…?

  Luke took a firm hold of her arm, his mouth twisting mirthlessly as he seemed to read at least some of her thoughts from her expression. ‘As you’ve already explained that you can swim, this would be a good place to hide the body, don’t you think?’ he taunted dryly.

  ‘Possibly,’ she conceded. ‘But your mother might wonder what had happened to me when I didn’t arrive downstairs in time for dinner this evening!’

  ‘She might,’ Luke acknowledged, turning in the direction of a well-worn path. ‘This way,’ he instructed economically, beginning to lead the way into the thickness of the trees.

  He obviously wasn’t exaggerating when he said he hadn’t been here recently; the further they moved into the trees, the denser the foliage became, completely covering the pathway in several places, so that Luke had to almost fight his way through. But he obviously knew exactly where he was going, the worn pathway always beneath them.

  ‘I’m starting to feel like Stanley again,’ Luke remarked, as a particularly stubborn branch swung back and hit him in the face.

  ’Or Katharine Hepburn and Humphrey Bogart in The African Queen,’ Leonie came back laughingly as he held the branch back for her to pass.

  Luke gave her an appreciative smile. ‘So you have had time to enjoy some of the simpler things in life besides studying to be a historian!’

  ‘Of course I have.’ Leonie frowned. ‘Your mother’s all-time classic was when she played the role of Catherine the Great in Beloved Tsarina.’

  Luke’s smile faded as quickly as it had appeared, his expression grim now. ‘So it was,’ he rasped dismissively, letting go of the branch a little too quickly and catching Leonie in the face with it.

  ‘Ouch!’ she complained lightly, reaching up to where the branch had scratched her cheek.

  ‘Sorry!’ Luke was instantly remorseful, reaching out to grasp her upper arms. ‘Are you okay?’ He looked at her searchingly, one of his hands moving to lightly touch her cheek where it had been scratched. ‘Damn!’ he muttered grimly. ‘I’m such an unthinking idiot—’

  ‘Please!’ Leonie chided teasingly. ‘It’s only a scratch; I’ve had much worse, I can assure you. I was very much a tomboy in my youth,’ she said as he looked sceptical. ‘I was often climbing trees only to fall out of them!’

  ‘Really?’ A strange light had entered those pale green eyes. ‘In that case…’ He released her to push back the last remaining branches before leading the way into a small clearing.

  Not just any clearing, Leonie instantly realised. At its centre stood a large oak tree, obviously hundreds of years old, and about eighteen feet from the ground, with a sturdy wooden ladder leading up to it, was a tree-house. A very sturdy tree-house.

  ’I always thought I built most of it when I was a boy,’ Luke murmured self-derisively as he looked up at the solid structure. ‘But looking at it now, I realise it owes most of its enduring qualities to the head gardener of the time!’ He placed a foot testingly on the bottom step of the ladder. ‘It seems safe enough.’ He nodded with satisfaction. ‘But I’ll go up first and check.’

  Leonie looked at Luke disbelievingly. ‘You aren’t expecting—! You can’t seriously believe that I—!’

  He grinned unrepentantly, shooting her a challenging glance. ‘You’re dressed for it.’ He looked pointedly at her trousers.

  ‘Yes, but—no.’ She gave a firm shake of her head. ‘Definitely not.’

  Luke stood only inches away from her now, Leonie able to feel the warmth given off by his body. Which was probably just as well; without the warmth of the sun filtering through the thickness of the trees, there was a certain chill in the air.

  ‘Scared?’ Luke taunted softly.

  She looked up at him sharply, swallowing hard as she found herself mesmerised by those cat-like eyes.

  Was she scared? If so, was it the thought of climbing the ladder up to the tree-house that was responsible for that fear? Or was it something else that was causing this sudden trembling and shortness of breath…?

  CHAPTER 5

  ‘MY DEAR, Leonie—how enchanting you look in red!’ Rachel greeted her warmly as Leonie arrived downstairs in the sitting-room shortly before dinner wearing a fitted knee-length red dress.

  ‘Hmm, very charming,’ Luke drawled at his mother’s side, standing in front of the mahogany liquor cabinet pouring out glasses of champagne for the half a dozen gu
ests who had already arrived and now stood chattering around the room. ‘Although somehow I had thought you would be wearing yellow,’ he added tauntingly.

  Until that moment, even though completely aware of him, Leonie had deliberately not looked at him directly. But now she turned to give him a sharply angry glance. Yellow, indeed! No doubt to signify her cowardice this afternoon when she had opted to row back across the lake and return to the house rather than climbing up into his tree-house with him!

  What had he expected? They were aged in their twenties and thirties, for goodness’ sake, not children in their teens!

  But that wasn’t the reason she had turned tail and run, a little voice inside her head mocked.

  No, it wasn’t, she acknowledged crossly. The thought of being alone with Luke in the confines of the tree-house, when she was already so aware of him, had been the reason for that.

  ‘Yellow?’ Rachel repeated in a puzzled voice. ‘Why on earth should Leonie be wearing yellow?’ She frowned. ‘Not that I’m not sure you wouldn’t look lovely in that too, my dear,’ she added with a warm smile at Leonie. ‘You have the colouring and complexion to be able to wear any colour.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she accepted, no longer looking at Luke, let alone acknowledging his sarcasm by giving him an answer. ‘Perhaps you could introduce me to everyone?’ she encouraged the older woman, having already recognised several well-known faces after giving a cursory glance around the room.

  ‘I can do that, Rachel, while I take round the champagne,’ Luke offered lightly as two more guests were shown into the room. ‘That is, if Leonie doesn’t mind putting up with my company for the next few minutes…?’ he added with a challenging rise of dark brows over mocking green eyes.

  Her mouth thinned impatiently. ‘I’m sure I’ll be able to cope!’

  ‘Good,’ he bit out with satisfaction. ‘You’ll need this.’ He tauntingly handed her a glass full of bubbling champagne.

  No doubt she would—with Luke’s sarcasm to contend with for the foreseeable future. Although she intended escaping his company at the earliest opportunity!

  Leonie took a grateful sip of the bubbly liquid before turning to accompany him across the room to where a group of four guests stood chatting together.

  After ten minutes of introductions, and polite social chit-chat—when most people, as Luke had predicted, ended up calling her ‘darling’ because they had obviously forgotten her name, Luke having introduced her as simply ‘Leonie, a family friend’!—Leonie’s head was spinning from meeting so many of the stars of screen and stage. In fact, she felt a headache coming on!

  The women were ultra beautiful, their clothes flamboyant, in a wide variety of extraordinary colour combinations. The men were all handsome, and to Leonie’s eye with only the differing colours of bow-tie they wore with their dinner suits and white shirts to distinguish them one from the other.

  Luke chuckled softly at her side. ‘Would you like to go outside for a breath of fresh air?’ he suggested dryly. ‘The combination of all these perfumes is overpowering. And that’s only the men!’ he added ruefully.

  Did she want to go outside with Luke? To be alone with him in the warmth of the May evening?

  Not really. But he was right about the perfume in here; she was starting to feel light-headed. Or maybe that was just the effect of the unaccustomed champagne…?

  ‘Thank you,’ she accepted huskily as she followed him through the French doors onto the terrace, drawing in a deep breath of air once they were outside. ‘That’s better.’ She nodded, looking out across the peace of the perfectly tended garden.

  ‘Rachel has no idea how overwhelming her guests can be to the unwary,’ Luke remarked dryly at her side.

  Leonie gave a rueful smile. ‘You make me sound like a country bumpkin!’

  ‘Far from it,’ he assured softly. ‘In fact, you stand out in that overdressed crowd like a beautiful butterfly amongst—’

  ‘Please!’ Leonie cut him off laughingly, turning to smile at him. ‘Don’t try to make me feel better; they’re the butterflies, while I’m the poor drab moth!’

  Although there was no doubt that she included Luke as one of those ‘butterflies’—he looked breathtakingly handsome in the tailored black evening suit and snowy white shirt, his bow-tie—surprisingly—the exact same colour red as Leonie’s dress. Almost as if they had planned it that way…

  Which they most certainly hadn’t!

  ‘I wasn’t trying to make you feel better, merely speaking the truth.’ Luke looked down his arrogant nose at her now. ‘Do I strike you as a man who comes out with glib compliments just to score points with women?’ he added self-derisively.

  ‘As a matter of fact—no!’ Leonie conceded lightly. And he had no reason to score points with her, anyway…

  ‘Then accept my words for what they were,’ he rasped, turning to face her. ‘Which was the truth!’

  Leonie swallowed hard, suddenly very aware that she had again put herself in the position of being alone with Luke. As she had learnt to the cost of her peace of mind, only that afternoon, that was not a very good idea…

  Luke reached out to lightly clasp her upper arms. ‘What is it, Leonie?’ he prompted huskily.

  Her arms were tingling, she couldn’t breathe properly—and it was all due to Luke’s close proximity, to the warmth of his hands on the bareness of her arms. Hands that were slowly caressing the warmth of her flesh now…!

  ‘I think we should go back inside now,’ she interrupted sharply, deliberately moving away from him, Luke having little choice but to release her as she stepped back.

  Whatever was going on here—and Leonie had no idea what that was!—she wanted no part of it. She was here to do a job, not to provide entertainment for the son of the house!

  Luke looked at her with narrowed eyes for several long seconds. ‘I’ll rejoin you in a few moments,’ he finally rasped.

  Leonie’s cheeks coloured fiery-red at the harsh dismissal in his voice, although at the same time she felt no hesitation in turning sharply on her heel and returning to the crowded, smoke-filled sitting-room.

  She looked about her dazedly for several seconds, debating whether to just make her excuses and go to bed rather than try to get through the rest of the evening. She—

  ‘Do come and join us, Leonie,’ Rachel invited warmly as she spotted her standing alone, linking her arm through Leonie’s to draw her into the chattering circle. ‘Leonie is so wonderfully clever, darlings,’ she confided brightly to her glittering array of friends. ‘She’s a historian!’

  Leonie almost laughed out loud at the suddenly blank expressions on the faces of the three men and two women who made up Rachel’s group. The actress might just as well have announced that Leonie was a road-sweeper for all the interest they so obviously had in her unusual career!

  Although she had enough common sense to realise, from Luke’s own term of introduction earlier, that Rachel did not want it to become public knowledge that she was in the process of having her biography written. By Leonie, or anyone else.

  ‘Are you helping Rachel with her research?’ drawled the rather effete actor standing on Leonie’s left.

  Leonie realised that the young man was at least trying to show some interest, although, in the circumstances, she could only stare back at him frowningly.

  ‘For her future television role of Elizabeth the first,’ the young man enlarged at Leonie’s lack of response.

  ‘Oh, I see.’ Leonie’s brow cleared—although until that moment she’d had no idea that Rachel was to star on television as Elizabeth the first! ‘Not exactly,’ she answered evasively.

  ‘Oh, well.’ The actor shrugged, turning away, obviously having no further interest in her, either.

  Charming, Leonie decided ruefully. What a lot of self-interested—boringly so!—load of—

  ‘I did try to warn you,’ murmured an all-too-familiar voice close to her right ear. ‘Wish you had stayed outside in the garden with me,
after all?’ Luke added tauntingly as Leonie turned to face him.

  ‘No!’ she returned unhesitantly, rewarded with Luke’s wolfish grin. ‘Do you think we’ll be eating soon?’ she added waspishly.

  Luke eyed her knowingly. ‘Need feeding, do you?’ he teased. ‘Here, have some nuts.’ He picked up a glass bowl from one of the coffee-tables.

  It took every ounce of self-control she had not to come back with the sarcastic reply she was tempted to make, obediently helping herself to the cashew nuts instead. After all, it wasn’t Luke’s fault that his mother’s guests were such a shallow lot.

  ‘Better?’ Luke taunted derisively.

  ‘Not really,’ Leonie dismissed before turning to look about them. It was almost eight-thirty now, and neither Rachel nor her guests looked as if they were in any hurry to begin dinner. ‘I thought dinner was for eight.’ She frowned up at Luke.

  He shrugged unconcernedly. ‘We’re still waiting for one of the guests to arrive. An acquaintance of my mother’s who has apparently been unexpectedly delayed.’

  ‘I’m sure that Janet would be only too happy to make up the numbers.’ The words were out before Leonie gave herself chance to think what she was saying. Once she had, she realised how bitchy her remark had sounded!

  It was really no business of Leonie’s that Rachel’s personal assistant was only in her early thirties, that she was also a very attractive redhead, that she had shown herself more than capable of holding her own in any conversation with Luke. Or that Luke seemed to like her!

  Luke looked at her speculatively for several seconds before slowly shaking his head. ‘Not possible, I’m afraid,’ he drawled. ‘It would upset the balance of the table, you see. My mother’s missing guest is a male,’ he explained dryly.

  What on earth was wrong with her this evening? She had just made a complete fool of herself—and to make matters worse, Luke knew that she had!

  ‘I—’ She broke off what she had been about to say as the last guest was shown into the room. A tall, distinguished man who looked to be in his late fifties or early sixties. That current ‘male company’ of Rachel’s that Jeremy had hinted at…?