by Anne Mather
‘It wasn’t convenient at all actually.’ Luke sighed. ‘Felix came to see me while I was in the hospital. I’d been depressed for days, and he foolishly thought that knowing your ex-husband was in prison might give me some encouragement to get well.’
Abby frowned. ‘And he thought this, why?’
‘Don’t be naïve.’ Luke exhaled noisily. ‘Felix isn’t a fool. He knew—knows—how I feel about you.’
Abby hesitated, and he could tell his words had registered with her, however reckless they had been. ‘Well, I still don’t understand. How did he find out about Harry?’
Luke swayed a little, but he managed to stay on his feet as he said, ‘Felix knew someone who worked in the City, and, when he mentioned Laurence’s name, this guy said Harry had been convicted of abusing his wife.’
‘Abusing his wife?’ Abby was taken aback. ‘But I’ve never—’
‘I got that.’ Luke was bitter now. ‘I couldn’t understand why.’
He shook his head. That wasn’t something he wanted to get into right now. ‘But apparently, he’d married again a couple of years ago.’
‘And when were you going to tell me this?’
‘I wasn’t,’ he said. ‘I knew what you’d think. But circumstances alter cases.’
Luke blew out a breath, abandoning any hope of opening the chest of drawers for the present. He dragged himself to the bed and lowered himself onto the mattress.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said heavily. ‘You’ll have to give me a minute. I guess my legs are not as strong as I thought.’
Immediately, Abby’s expression changed, her indignation giving way to anxiety. Abandoning her position, she came to join him on the bed, sitting down beside him and gazing at him with unconcealed concern.
‘I’m the one who should be sorry,’ she murmured, hesitating only a moment before rubbing his back with a gentle hand. ‘I should have realised you’re still recovering from surgery. We can continue this conversation when you’re feeling better—’
‘No!’
Luke knew he had to get this over with now, before he gave into the desire to be with her. The feel of her hand massaging his back was far too appealing. But he must remember why he’d brought her here.
Yet he could feel the heat of her hand through his tee shirt, feel her thigh warm against his hip. His skin prickled with the knowledge that this might be the last time they’d be alone together like this. But whatever happened, he had to keep his head.
Yet it was well-nigh impossible.
‘Abby,’ he said hoarsely, desperate to say what needed to be said before he lost the will to do so.
However, although she might feel like punishing him for his arrogance, Abby’s hand moved up to his shoulder, and from there to the nape of his neck.
The feel of her cool fingers against his skin was a torment. He could feel his pulse pounding, the blood searing hotly through his veins. He felt a constriction in his chest that expanded as he gazed at her; at the delicate curve of her cheekbones, at the soft vulnerability of her mouth.
‘I would never hurt you,’ he grated. It was not what he’d planned to say and his hands balled into fists on his thighs. ‘You’ve got to believe that.’
‘I do believe it.’ Her fingers brushed the growth of stubble on his jawline. ‘But you didn’t trust me. You never did.’
Luke forced himself to flinch away from that caressing touch. He was half afraid that if she touched his scars, he’d never find the strength to let her go.
His breath hitched, and then, although it was much too late to do so, he tried to explain.
‘I would have told you about Harry,’ he said unsteadily. ‘But I suppose what bugged me was the fact that you’d stayed with a man like him, even knowing how he was treating you. Why in God’s name didn’t you leave him?’
Abby sighed. ‘I had my reasons—’
Luke stiffened. ‘You loved him?’
‘I don’t think I ever loved him,’ she admitted ruefully. ‘But my mother liked him and I suppose I trusted her judgement.’
‘And later?’
Abby’s fingers curled over his scalp, finding the roughened patch of shaved skin where they’d drilled into his skull. Her breathing quickened, as if at the renewed realisation that he could have died, and Luke felt his nerves tighten in response.
She swallowed convulsively, but, like him, she obviously felt compelled to go on.
‘I suppose my mother thought he would look after me. He had a good job, a nice apartment. She knew nothing about the way he treated me. Harry was careful not to do anything that might arouse her suspicions.’
Luke captured her tormenting fingers in his and brought her hand down to rest on his knees. ‘And when he started abusing you?’ he asked huskily.
‘Oh...’ Abby’s voice broke, and when she continued, her tone was much lower. ‘So you believe me?’
‘I’d suspected it for some time,’ said Luke, massaging her knuckles with unsteady fingers. ‘Even that night in the wine bar, I noticed you had bruises on your neck. What I still don’t understand is why you didn’t leave him.’
‘But you never asked why, did you?’ she murmured unevenly.
‘Perhaps I didn’t want to know the answer,’ said Luke honestly. He groaned. ‘Every time I thought of you two together... God!’
‘My mother became terminally ill about two years after Harry and I got married,’ Abby broke in quickly. ‘I had already realised that the marriage wasn’t going to work, but...’
She broke off and pressed her lips together before going on, ‘But my mother needed constant nursing care, and my salary wasn’t going to pay for that or for a decent nursing home when she needed one. Harry told my mother that she didn’t have to worry. He’d take care of all of it.’
‘So he paid?’
Abby nodded.
Luke stared at her. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘When?’ Abby withdrew her hand from his, twisting her fingers together in her lap. ‘That first day you came to the café, when you accused me of cheating on my husband? Or later, when, although you were making love to me, you were making it plain that you’d never trust a woman like me?’
Luke scowled. ‘What about the night you arranged to meet me at the wine bar? Couldn’t you have told me then?’
‘Oh, right.’ Abby gave a little cry and pushed herself up from the bed, raking trembling hands through her hair. ‘How would I have phrased that, I wonder?’
She glanced back at him over her shoulder, her expression pained.
‘Let me see, how about—by the way, Luke, I should have told you, I’m married. My husband is abusing me, but he’s only agreed to go on paying for my mother’s palliative care if I don’t tell anyone about it.’ Her lips twisted. ‘Yeah, I can quite see how that would have worked.’
Luke couldn’t listen to any more. He caught her wrist and pulled her down onto the bed again. Then, before he could stop himself, he hooked his hand behind her head and brought her mouth to his.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said against her lips. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve been such a fool. Will you ever forgive me?’
He heard her catch her breath, but she didn’t draw back. And what began as an attempt to make amends for his past sins quickly became a hungry assault on his senses. It might have been weeks since he’d held her in his arms, but she felt so right there, and he didn’t want to let her go.
Ignoring the pain in his arm, he bore her back against the tumbled sheets and covered her with his body. The soft sweat pants he was wearing did nothing to disguise the erection pushing against the cotton, an erection that fitted so perfectly into the yielding juncture of her thighs.
One of her hands slid down between them, finding the throbbing pulse of his arousal before slipping inside his pa
nts.
Her fingers closed around him and Luke’s senses spun.
He wanted her. Dear God, he wanted to be with her. Not just for now, but always. Did he have the right to feel this way? When he might be an invalid for the rest of his life?
No!
He was soon aware that he was in danger of losing what little self-respect he had left. When he pulled away, she was forced to release him, and for a moment he could only lie on his back beside her, striving for control.
When his breathing eventually steadied, he pushed himself up into a sitting position again. And from there, he used the crutch to haul himself to his feet and slowly make his way back to the chest of drawers.
This time he managed to get the drawer open, and he pulled out the sheaf of documents safe inside a green plastic file.
Then he turned and made his way back; but not to the bed. To his earlier position on the window seat.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
‘LUKE?’ ABBY FROWNED, propping herself up on her elbows. ‘Why are you sitting over there?’
Luke pulled a wry face. ‘Because I don’t trust myself to sit beside you. Abby, much as I want to be with you, it’s not going to happen.’
Abby sat up then and stared at him. ‘What’s not going to happen?’
‘You. Me. Us.’ He avoided her eyes by bending over the file he’d collected from the drawer. ‘You must have wondered why I asked you to come and see me today.’
Abby frowned. ‘I was beginning to think it was because you’d come to your senses.’
‘Well, yes.’ Luke’s mouth twisted, and he cast her a rueful glance. ‘In a manner of speaking, you could be right.’ He paused. ‘Though not in the way you perhaps mean.’
Abby was tense now. ‘Go on,’ she said, half knowing she wasn’t going to like what he had to say.
Meanwhile, Luke had drawn out a sheaf of official-looking documents, and, putting the plastic folder aside, he lifted his head and looked at her.
‘I suppose I should have had my solicitor do this,’ he said, ‘but I gave in to my desire to see you again and decided to speak to you myself.’
‘Speak to me about what?’ Abby was confused. ‘If this has something to with the accident—’
‘It has,’ he broke in before she could continue. ‘Apart from my obvious injuries, there are complications. I’m informed that, at the least, there’s no guarantee that I’ll ever regain the full use of my legs.’
‘So?’ Abby was confused. ‘You know I’ll be there for you, whatever happens.’
‘No.’ Luke’s tone was harsh. ‘Do you think I want you to spend the rest of your life looking after an invalid? I could spend half my life in a wheelchair. I don’t want that for you.’
Abby took a disbelieving breath. ‘And what about what I want?’
‘Abby, I know you mean well, but this isn’t something to be taken lightly. I haven’t even spoken to you about the other injuries I’ve had.’
‘I know they had to relieve the pressure on your brain by drilling a hole in your skull,’ said Abby defensively. ‘Your father said that had been a complete success.’
‘How would he know?’ Luke was impatient. ‘There are always doubts about how successful that kind of treatment has been.’
‘But your brain is working perfectly well,’ she insisted vehemently. ‘You know that.’
‘And what if I had a relapse? What if I became paralysed or worse?’
‘We’d face that if it happened.’ Abby sighed. ‘Don’t be pessimistic, Luke. No one knows what’s round the corner. Even me.’
‘Which is very brave of you, but you have to be practical.’ For a moment, his eyes dropped to the slight swell of her stomach and his lips compressed. ‘You’re going to have enough to cope with, what with the baby. I would only create more problems for you.’
Abby’s lips tightened. ‘You don’t think it’s more important for the baby—our baby—to know its father?’ she demanded. ‘Luke, the baby needs you. I need you. I love you. Isn’t that enough?’
Luke bent his head over the papers he was holding, and, instead of answering her, said, ‘I’ve made arrangements for you, and the baby. And I’ll get to them in a moment.’
‘Luke...’
‘But first, I want to tell you that the development will go ahead as planned. However, I’ve made certain amendments to my original drawings, which I think you’ll approve of.’
‘Luke, you shouldn’t be thinking about such things right now.’
‘There will still be a supermarket,’ he persisted doggedly. ‘But I’ve decided to make a small mall of individual shops leading to the bigger premises.’
He paused and then continued, ‘Naturally, you and the other tenants will have the option of renting one of these units; and I’m assured that this will give you all the opportunity to gain from passing trade.’
He lifted an architectural drawing from the file and unfolded it on the window seat beside him. ‘This is a copy of the plans being presented to the committee and, naturally, you’ll all be able to view them before any decision is made.’
Abby shook her head. ‘You didn’t have to do this,’ she protested.
‘Oh, I did,’ he said firmly. ‘I’d decided on the changes before—well, before the crash. I’m also arranging for the rents to be capped. Which should please your friend, Hughes.’
‘He’s not my friend,’ said Abby flatly. ‘But you’re right. He’ll think he’s won.’
Luke looked at her now. ‘Do you think I care what he thinks?’ he demanded. ‘I’m not doing this for him. I’m doing it for you. I don’t want to deprive you of your livelihood, just in case you refuse my help.’
‘What help?’
‘I’m coming to that.’ Luke took a steadying breath. ‘If you’ll just give me a moment...’
Instead of doing that, Abby got to her feet and came across to the window seat to sit next to him. Luke moved aside so his hip was not touching hers, and she persuaded herself it was because his thigh still pained him. A lot.
Picking up the plans to move them aside, she saw at once what Luke was describing to her. It was a perfect blend of ancient and modern; a sleek supermarket, approached by a neat row of small, more traditional units.
‘This is what you’ve been doing?’ she asked, forcing him to meet her eyes.
‘Well, my architect,’ he agreed modestly. ‘But you can tell Hughes that the shops he so badly wanted to preserve didn’t fall into the necessary category for conservation.’
Abby pulled a face. ‘I never thought they did.’ She folded the plans again and put them aside. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘There are going to be some very relieved shopkeepers.’
‘Good.’
‘Okay.’ Abby blew out a breath. ‘So let’s talk about us. Because there is an “us”, whatever you say.’
‘I’m coming to that.’
‘Not quickly enough,’ said Abby, gazing at him with accusing eyes. ‘I hope you’re not about to try and buy me off.’
Luke sucked in a breath. ‘I wouldn’t put it quite like that,’ he said. ‘But I do want to do what’s best for you and the baby—’
‘So do I.’
‘—and by ensuring you are financially secure, I won’t feel so bad about you having to cope alone.’
Abby’s brows drew together. ‘What do you mean, having to cope alone?’
Luke rolled his lips inward. Then he said quietly, ‘I’m thinking of spending some time abroad.’
‘Abroad?’ Abby’s stomach dropped. ‘Where abroad?’
‘I haven’t decided yet. As you can see, I’m not really fit to travel at present.’
‘And you plan to go alone?’
‘Of course, alone.’ Luke ran an impatient hand over his
scalp. His hair was growing back over the spot they’d shaved, and a dark strand fell appealingly over his forehead. ‘Apart from Felix, that is. I don’t imagine he’ll let me go far without him.’
Abby could hardly bear to look at him. ‘But I don’t have that right. Is that what you’re saying?’ she demanded painfully. ‘For God’s sake, Luke, you said you loved me. I’m having your child. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?’
‘Of course, it means something,’ he retorted, his frustration giving way to anger. ‘Do you think this is what I want to say, Abby? Do you think I want to go and live in some Godforsaken country where I’ll know nobody?’
With a strength she guessed was born of a sense of inadequacy, he managed to get to his feet. ‘But I can’t stay here, not when being near you is such a temptation. I was planning to ask you to marry me. But that would be pure indulgence now.’
‘Then don’t indulge yourself, indulge me,’ exclaimed Abby emotionally. Getting to her feet, she successfully blocked him when he would have moved away. ‘Indulge your baby,’ she added huskily, drawing the hand that wasn’t clutching his crutch to her stomach. ‘I need you. We both need you. Are you honestly prepared to deny you need us, too?’
Luke stared down at her with tortured eyes. ‘You know the answer to that as well as me.’
‘So why hesitate?’ Abby moved closer and slipped her arms about him, ignoring his instinctive attempt to move away.
‘Can’t you see, we can face whatever problems there are together? Nothing is easy, Luke. But so long as we love one another, nothing can keep us apart.’
‘But you don’t deserve this!’
‘You don’t deserve this,’ countered Abby huskily.
‘But after the life you had with Laurence,’ Luke protested, ‘I won’t be a burden to you.’
‘You couldn’t be a burden to me if you tried,’ she whispered, reaching up to bestow a warm kiss at the corner of his mouth. ‘I want to live with you. I want to share my life with you.’ She pulled a face. ‘I don’t honestly care if you marry me or not, so long as you don’t send me away.’