‘We’ll see you in a few minutes,’ Sally squeezed Nikki’s hand as Mr Dean came into the room.
The two bridesmaids were wearing identical pale green dresses, with small puff sleeves, a fitted bodice, gathered waist and flowing skirt to the floor, the tiny white roses in their hair matching the small posies they carried.
‘I love weddings,’ Sally grinned as they drove to the nearby church in the white Rolls-Royce.
‘This one is certainly very beautiful,’ Lori nodded, her hair looking a deeper red against the pale green gown.
‘Maybe it will prompt Dave to propose,’ the other girl said wistfully of the man she had been seeing the last two months.
Lori gave her a sharp look. ‘Do you think he might?’
‘No,’ Sally laughed. ‘But I live in hope.’
It was a beautifully warm day, the sun shining brightly, birds singing in the nearby trees. Lori felt herself get caught up in the occasion despite herself, and when Nikki arrived at the church on her father’s arm she could have cried at the other girl’s obvious happiness.
As was usual in churches it felt cold once they were inside, and Lori repressed a shiver as she and Sally followed Nikki and her father down the aisle, although the church looked completely different from when they had come here for the rehearsal earlier in the week. White flowers decorated the altar and sides of the church, and the whole place had a lighter, happier appearance.
Lori took Nikki’s bouquet as the service began, listening to the beauty of the words of the service. And yet something else penetrated the subconscious of her mind, a prickling sensation down her spine, something that made her feel uncomfortable. She began to slowly look about her, sensing that someone was watching her. Everyone she looked at seemed intent on the bride and groom, or the service book in front of them. And yet she still sensed that there were eyes on her, still felt that uncomfortable sensation down her spine.
And then she saw him!
She looked hastily away again, and yet the man’s face stayed imprinted in her brain. He was seated next to Mrs Hammond, a tall dark man with piercing grey eyes, an arrogant slash of a nose, lean cheekbones, a thinned mouth, his powerful physique looking magnificient in the grey morning suit, the shirt snowy white, a man of possibly thirty-eight, thirty-nine years of age.
She glanced back at him, finding those curiously light grey eyes still on her—and making no pretence of doing anything else. At twenty-four she was confident enough of her own attraction not to blush, meeting that arrogant gaze squarely for several seconds before slowly turning away. Those few seconds had given her chance to notice several other things about the man, like the sprinkling of grey in the darkness of his hair at his temples, the hardness of the grey eyes, the cynical twist to that almost sensual mouth.
His mouth quirked mockingly as she began to turn away, and for a moment her eyes widened. How dared he look at her so insolently! There were high wings of colour in her cheeks as she turned back to face the altar, but it was because of anger, not embarrassment, that her eyes sparkled like a cat’s. Rude, arrogant man!
And what was he doing sitting next to Ruth Hammond? Paul didn’t have a brother, she knew that, and his cousins had acted as ushers. But there he sat, with Ruth and Claude Hammond, almost like visiting royalty!
And he was still watching her, damn him! She didn’t need to turn to know those grey eyes were still watching her, could feel the man’s presence with ominous clarity. Ominous…? Now why should she have chosen a word like that? She had become adept, over the years, at putting down the wolves—even the apparently lethal kind, as this man appeared to be. He didn’t frighten her, and if he chose to follow up this single-minded interest he seemed to have in her he would find out that he didn’t attract her in least.
He was there again while the photographs were being taken, standing on the very edge of the crowd watching them, those light eyes still fixed on Lori. He seemed very tall out here in the sunlight, his hair pure black now, no grey distinguishable, his legs long and straight in the grey trousers, the jacket to the suit fitting snugly across his wide shoulders.
Lori’s head was back proudly, her hair a red-gold cloud in the light breeze, her eyes the colour of honey in the sunlight.
‘Luke!’ Paul called out. ‘Luke, come and join us.’
‘Not me,’ the man with the grey eyes spoke out lazily, his voice deep and controlled, the sort of voice that commanded attention.
‘Oh, come on, Luke,’ Paul cajoled.
‘Yes, come on, Luke,’ Nikki joined in the pleading, holding out her hand.
‘Do I get to stand next to the chief bridesmaid?’ he drawled, his gaze mocking as he saw Lori’s mouth tighten.
All the guests laughed—with the exception of Lori. And Jonathan Anderson, the best man. Jonathan was one of the junior lawyers in the firm of Ackroyd, Hammond and Hammond, and he had been trying, unsuccessfully, to date Lori for the last six months. His arm tightened possessively about her waist as they stood in the group for the photograph, moving closer to her.
‘Well, do I?’ Luke mocked.
Lori was breathing heavily, hating the way this man was humiliating her in front of all these people. She didn’t like attention drawn to her, a relic from the past, and she would never forgive this man for causing all the eyes to be on the both of them.
‘Of course you do,’ Nikki giggled.
‘Then I accept.’ He stepped forward, his movements fluid and forceful.
‘Lucky Lori,’ Sally murmured goodnaturedly. ‘Where have you been hiding him, Nikki?’
Wherever it was, Lori wished he had stayed there. He had taken Jonathan’s place now, his arm encircling her waist just as Jonathan’s had, his body hard and unyielding, his arm implacable.
He smiled down at her as he felt her stiffen, a roguish smile, the coldness gone from his eyes, the cynicism from his mouth.
Lori pointedly ignored him, looking over at the photographer as he organised the bride and groom, the two bridesmaids, best man, and Luke in the photograph. A disgruntled Jonathan stood at Sally’s side, and he grimaced as he caught Lori’s gaze.
As the photographs continued to be taken Luke remained at her side, his hand never moving from the slender curve of her waist, accepting her haughtiness, but unaffected by it.
‘Bride and groom only now,’ the photographer requested briskly, having done this so many times now it was rather boring for him.
His words were all the encouragement Lori needed, and she evaded that confining arm to slip away into the crowd, noting with satisfaction as the man called Luke was waylaid by Claude Hammond. He had obviously intended talking to her, and as she didn’t like anything about him she had no wish to talk to him.
Nevertheless, his silent admiration continued at the reception, his fixed gaze starting to become embarrassing. He had no right to look at her like that, to mentally strip her with his eyes. And they were such all-seeing eyes, slightly narrowed, their expression enigmatic.
‘Damned cheek!’ Jonathan muttered at her side.
Lori continue to smile at him, taking the glass of champagne he held out to her. She didn’t need any explanation as to the reason for his anger, the resentful glances he was still shooting at the dark-haired man across the room spoke for him.
‘Who the hell is he?’ he snapped, standing in front of her and effectively blocking her view of the room behind him.
She shrugged. ‘I have no idea. A friend of the Hammonds’, I suppose,’ she infused uninterest into her voice, although her own curiosity about the man was quite strong.
‘Mm,’ Jonathan nodded. ‘Nikki seems to know him too,’ he added questioningly.
‘She’s never mentioned him.’
‘Hm,’ Jonathan said again, turning to look at Luke, who was now deep in conversation with Paul. ‘Interesting-looking chap.’
Dangerous, she would have said. Ominous and dangerous? Considering she had never even spoken to the man he had made a deep impression on h
er!
She might not have spoken to him, but he had said enough with those eyes, was still saying it!
‘Like to dance?’ Jonathan offered.
‘Thank you,’ she nodded, smiling up at him.
Jonathan was a dear, she knew he was, and yet something held her back from going out with him. He reminded her too much of Nigel, the same blond hair, the same good looks. The same determination to succeed! She knew that, like Nigel, he would never think of taking Lorraine Chisholm for his wife.
They moved well together, both tall, the red cloud of Lori’s hair drawing attention to the beauty of her face, a beauty Jonathan seemed fascinated by, for he gazed down at her with admiring eyes.
Lori chuckled as they continued to dance together as each successive melody was played. ‘I think we’re supposed to change partners, or at least take a break occasionally,’ she teased.
‘I know,’ he muttered. ‘But if we stop that man called Luke is going to ask you to dance, and I don’t intend giving him the chance.’
She frowned, glancing round. Yes, there were those steady grey eyes on her still, more searching now, as if something about her puzzled the man. Heavens, he couldn’t have recognised her, could he! She felt her panic rising, and then dismissed it. It wasn’t possible that after all this time someone should recognise her. Charles Phillips had only discovered the truth because he had had someone delve into her past; she bore little resemblance to the bewildered young girl she had been all those years ago.
No, it couldn’t be because he recognised her, her years of disguise had been too effective. Maybe he was just trying to unnerve her. Sad to say, he had succeeded!
‘Let’s sit this one out,’ she requested stiffly of Jonathan.
‘Oh, but—’
‘If he asks, Jonathan, I shall simply refuse,’ she told him haughtily.
‘You will?’ he still looked uncertain.
‘Yes, I will.’ She moved out of his arms, turning to walk into the hard wall of a masculine chest.
Strong hands came up to steady her, grasping her upper arms, the fingers long and tapered, a hidden strength within them. ‘Lori,’ drawled a deeply familiar voice.
She had known it was him the second before impact with his chest, had detected the slight smell of his aftershave, had vaguely seen the strong line of his square jaw.
‘Thank you—Luke,’ she nodded coolly, making to move out of his grasp. His hands remained, not hurting, but not gentle either.
‘Dance with me,’ he requested huskily.
‘I—’
‘We were just about to go through to the buffet,’ Jonathan cut in purposefully, taking one of Lori’s hands and putting it in the crook of his arm. ‘If you’ll excuse us,’ he gave the other man a smug smile before moving away. ‘Saved by the bell—or in this case, food,’ he muttered as they followed the stream of people into the room that contained the buffet dinner.
‘You aren’t very subtle, Jonathan,’ she smiled at his undoubted jealousy of the other man.
‘With that type subtlety doesn’t work,’ he scowled. ‘I can be subtle if I have to be.’
Lori knew that; she had once gone to court with him when his own secretary had been on holiday. She had been amazed at the change that had come over him, amazed and dismayed. He had been totally remorseless in his attack on the defendant, reminding Lori of another courtroom, another lawyer. Jacob P. Randell. Just the name made her shiver!
She saw the man called Luke several times during the evening, mostly with the Hammonds, once or twice with Sally on the dance floor, the latter blushing prettily as he spoke to her, a fact Dave viewed with a scowl on his petulantly handsome face. Not that Lori thought a little jealousy would do that young man any harm—he was altogether too sure of Sally for her liking, and she feared for her friend’s deeply committed love.
But Luke didn’t approach her again, pointedly so, seeming to move away if she should happen to approach the group he was talking to, his gaze always fixed firmly in the opposite direction if she should unavoidably look at him.
She knew what he was doing, of course, and her anger towards him grew. He surely didn’t think she was idiot enough to become interested in him merely because he was suddenly ignoring her? She had stopped playing those sort of games years ago, if she had ever played them, and she certainly wasn’t going to be drawn into that sort of trap.
‘Dance, my dear?’ The elderly Mr Hammond, her own personal boss, stood in front of her, his hair still as dark as his son’s, his step still as youthful, although he perhaps looked a little tired lately. The excitement of the wedding, she supposed. Lori had been his personal secretary for the last two years, and although she might have been a little young for the promotion she had made sure he never regretted giving her that chance.
‘I’d love to.’ She moved gracefully into his arms, finding he moved easily across the dance floor despite his portly figure. ‘The wedding went beautifully, Mr Hammond.’
He looked pleased. ‘I thought so.’
Lori knew that the Deans and the Hammonds had paid jointly for their children’s wedding arrangements, the Rolls-Royces and this costly reception, that Ruth Hammond had insisted her only son should be married in style. Poor Nikki and Paul would much rather have had a much quieter wedding, but to please the two mothers they had agreed to this extravagant affair.
‘Nikki looked beautiful,’ the elder Mr Hammond said with pride. ‘I couldn’t have chosen better myself.’
Nikki had been floating on cloud nine all through the wedding, and Paul wasn’t far behind her. The happy couple had eyes only for each other, which, after all, was the way it should be.
‘And now, with your permission, I’ll pass you on to my young friend.’ Mr Hammond had stopped dancing while Lori was so deep in thought, releasing her. ‘I know he’s been longing to meet you all day. Luke…?’ he prompted with a fatherly smile.
Lori viewed her tormenter of the day with angry eyes, the gold around the irises seeming to make them glow. Mr Hammond viewed the two of them with an indulgent smile, obviously very pleased with himself.
‘Lori?’ Luke mocked her.
She swallowed her anger. He was a friend of the Hammonds’, how much of a friend she didn’t know, but she could hardly be impolite to him in front of her employer.
‘Very wise,’ he taunted as she moved stiffly in his arms to the music, the elder man having rejoined his wife at their table.
‘I beg your pardon?’ She bent her head back to look at him, at once wishing she hadn’t, finding he was much too close. He was so close she could see the exact smoky grey colour of his eyes, the thickness of his dark brows and lashes, the fullness of his mouth, the lower lip sensually so as he gazed back at her.
‘I could be an important friend of Claude’s,’ he drawled in answer to her question.
Lori turned away, angry that he could read her thoughts so easily. And did he have to hold her so tightly?
‘Yes, I have to,’ he told her softly.
She blinked up at him dazedly. Could he read her every thought, for goodness’ sake!
‘More or less,’ he derided, smiling as she gasped. ‘It’s those eyes of yours,’ he continued softly. ‘At first they just look brown, then you notice that the gold circles make them change colour with your mood. Like right now. You’re angry, your eyes have gone the colour of honey. You have the eyes of a cat, Lori,’ he laughed throatily. ‘Like the sleek ginger tabby I had as a child. I loved making that cat purr, Lori.’
‘How fascinating,’ she said with saccharine sweetness.
His thumb-tip moved rhythmically over her wrist. ‘You aren’t as calm as you sound,’ he mocked, his thumb stopping pointedly on her fast pulse. ‘Enigmatic like a cat too,’ he murmured. ‘Do you scratch like a cat too when cornered, little kitten?’
She looked at him with cold eyes. She knew his bold manner and rugged good looks would appeal to a lot of women, but for her he held no attraction. ‘I never put myself in
a position where I can be cornered, Mr—Luke. Although I’ve always admired the cat as a species.’
‘So have I. Even more so now,’ he drawled. ‘But I think I would enjoy having you purr more than I would have you scratch me.’
Lori pulled away from him, taking exception to the innuendo this time. ‘I never purr. Now if you’ll excuse me, I think Nikki and Paul are about to leave.’ She walked away, a tall graceful woman. It would have irked her immensely to know that several of the people watching her thought she had the sensuous grace of a cat!
‘Thank you for everything you did to help, Lori.’ Nikki came over to hug her, ecstatically happy, looking very beautiful in the stunning lemon dress she had chosen to wear for the flight to Barbados. ‘Hasn’t it all been wonderful?’ she glowed.
‘Wonderful,’ Lori nodded, kissing her friend warmly on the cheek. ‘Now off you go and join your impatient bridegroom.’
‘What are you going to do about poor Luke?’ Nikki giggled, needing no champagne to make her intoxicated, although she had probably had some of the bubbly wine too. ‘He’s quite smitten, you know.’
Now was her chance to find out more about him. ‘But, Nikki, wh—’
‘Come along, darling.’ Paul’s arm came about his new wife’s waist. ‘Sorry to interrupt, Lori,’ he kissed her on the cheek, ‘but the car is waiting to take us to the airport.’
‘Sorry, Lori,’ Nikki looked regretful, ‘but we’ll talk when I get back,’ she promised before she was pulled away by her husband.
Lori sighed her dismay. The new husband and wife were to be away for a month, so Nikki was going to be no help at all where the man called Luke was concerned.
‘She’s quite right, you know,’ he spoke softly behind her, startling her. Although she didn’t know why—he was starting to be her nemesis! ‘I am smitten,’ he looked down at her with serious grey eyes. ‘So what are you going to do with me?’
‘Nothing!’ she snapped, turning away. ‘Except ignore you.’
‘I’m afraid I’m not very ignorable,’ he derided softly.
Lori maintained a stony silence, watching as Nikki tearfully gave her bouquet of roses to her mother, and the two of them hugged each other tightly before Nikki got into the car with Paul.
Subtle Revenge Page 2