His breath caught in his throat at the rose-tinted loveliness of her breasts, and he pulled himself back from her with effort. ‘I want your answer now, Lori,’ he told her hardly. ‘I can’t wait any longer. Will you marry me?’
‘Yes.’ She didn’t hesitate, knowing he loved her as deeply as she had wanted him to.
Then why did she have this feeling of depression, a heaviness to her mood, when she should have been silently rejoicing?
Luke closed his eyes, his ragged sigh proof of his relief at her answer, and came down beside her on the bed to give her a lingering kiss on the lips. ‘Tell me,’ he prompted huskily.
She knew what he wanted her to say, and yet she shied from this deliberate lie, realising for the first time just how innocent in all of this Luke was. She had coldly decided to get to Jacob Randell through his son’s love for her, never stopping to think of the consequences to Luke when she callously destroyed that love.
Luke had proved he wasn’t a man who loved easily, and the fact that he had admitted to loving her so deeply from the beginning meant that he was going to be devastated when she ended it for him. Why hadn’t she thought of that before she entered into this? Because she hadn’t thought of Luke at all then, hadn’t cared what happened to him in her revenge on his father!
But she cared now. She cared more than she had realised! ‘I love you,’ she told him, and knew it was the truth.
She had fallen in love with Luke without even knowing she had; she loved the son of the man she had hated most of her life. And Luke wasn’t a man who would forgive easily. When he knew the truth he would want to destroy her as ruthlessly as she had wanted to destroy his father.
‘I love you, Luke!’ she choked, raising her arms to pull him down to her, tears in her eyes slowly cascading down her cheeks as she returned the warmth of his kiss.
What could she do? How could she stop her plans for revenge backfiring on her in the cruellest way possible?
CHAPTER TEN
LORI was very subdued on the journey to Luke’s father’s the next day, having spent a sleepless night.
Luke had left shortly after she had told him she loved him, and when Sally arrived home half an hour later Lori was aware that it was her turn to pretend to be asleep, avoiding all personal questions.
And all the time the tears had streamed down her cheeks in her silent misery. When it had happened, how it had happened, she just didn’t know; all she knew was that when Luke went out of her life, as inevitably he would, she would want to die.
It was as if she had been caught up in one of those terrible dreams she had trouble escaping from the last few weeks. But the dream, or nightmare, was over now, and she had been left with only the stark reality of her love for Luke.
She loved him, loved everything about him, the thick darkness of his hair with the distinguishing grey streaks at his temples, the warm grey of his eyes when he looked at her, the hook of his nose, the indulgent curve of his mouth, and the hard beauty of his body. She loved the quickness of his mind, his strength, his air of command. She just loved the man himself, knew that her love equalled the intensity of his.
And she was caught in the vortex of revenge, revenge of her own making, a revenge that would ultimately destroy all Luke’s love for her. There was no way she could put a stop to this mad spiralling towards the end of the plan, the ultimate bitter end was out of her hands now. And it would be bitter; this wonderful man at her side had already told her his opinion of Lorraine Chisholm by his reaction to Nigel’s broken engagement. Once he knew that she was Lorraine Chisholm he would never forgive her. She had no doubt that Luke’s love was genuine enough now, but once he knew who she was… She shivered with apprehension.
‘Anything wrong, darling?’ Luke glanced at her anxiously, sensing her shiver. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve given you the wrong impression,’ he smiled. ‘My father isn’t exactly an ogre. We don’t get on, but I’m sure he’ll be charming to you,’ his mouth twisted. ‘He has an eye for a beautiful woman.’
Lori chewed worriedly on her bottom lip. It was that perception of Jacob Randell’s that she feared. Twelve years had passed, twelve long years for her, and during that time she had grown from a confused young girl to a confident woman, and yet basically her appearance was the same. She might have matured, slimmed down, but she still had a cloud of red-gold hair, sparkling brown eyes, refined features.
‘Don’t worry, kitten,’ Luke put out a hand to clasp hers, ‘I’ll be by your side.’
She was glad of that when she met Jacob Randell!
The house Luke parked the Jaguar outside was situated about fifty miles from London in a sleepy little village in Surrey; the house was more like a large cottage, painted white to fit in with the other houses in the village.
Luke got out of the car to come round and open Lori’s door for her. ‘Not exactly what you would expect of Jacob P. Randell, is it?’ he scorned.
It certainly wasn’t. But if the house came as a surprise to her, Jacob Randell was even more of one. He was in a wheelchair!
The maid took them out to the lawned garden at the back of the house, where in a wheelchair beneath the big sunshade sat an elderly man, his iron-grey hair now snowy white, the piercing eyes that had once seemed to see into a person’s very soul now dulled with age.
All Lori could feel as she looked down at this rather sad old man was pity, making a mockery of her vengeful plans for retribution for her parents and her own unhappiness.
‘I hope you’ll excuse my not getting up.’ His voice was as strong as ever, deep and commanding. ‘But as you can see, I’m not able to.’ He smiled to take the sharpness out of his words.
‘No,’ she said without sympathy, sensing a self-pity she wouldn’t have believed possible in such a compelling man. What was the saying, ‘The bigger you are the harder you fall’? Jacob Randell had certainly fallen! She looked about her appreciatively. ‘You have a lovely home, Mr Randell.’
‘Yes,’ he sighed, unimpressed, and turned to his son. ‘So, Luke, this is the young lady you wanted me to meet.’
Lori looked up at Luke, a Luke she had never seen before. He was coldly removed, his eyes icy as he looked down at his father, giving absolutely nothing away of his thoughts from his expression.
‘Yes, this is Lori.’ His arm moved about her waist in a possessive gesture. ‘My fiancée.’
‘Indeed?’ Silver-coloured eyes widened as Jacob Randell looked at Lori with new eyes.
She tensed under that sharp appraisal. Did he recognise her as the daughter of Michael Chisholm, could he recognise her beneath the sophisticated veneer of Lori Parker? She wasn’t sure she could cope with the scene such a revelation would cause, and she moved instinctively against Luke’s side, feeling his arm tighten about her waist as he looked down at her anxiously.
‘Your taste, as usual, is impeccable, Luke,’ his father drawled. ‘Could you go and ask Mrs James to serve tea?’ He looked up challengingly at the younger man.
Luke seemed to hesitate; he nodded slowly and reluctantly, giving Lori a regretful shrug before striding into the house to speak to the housekeeper.
‘Sit down, my dear.’
She turned nervously to Jacob Randell, the longing still in her eyes from where she had watched Luke leave, and sat down abruptly on one of the garden chairs, perching on its edge.
‘I’m not that frightening, am I, Lori?’ Jacob Randell mocked her nervousness.
She moistened her suddenly dry lips, ‘I—What do you mean?’
‘You’ve gone quite white,’ he smiled enquiringly.
That smile—how well she remembered that smile! It was like a lure for unsuspecting innocents.
‘It’s Lori, isn’t it?’ He raised white brows, a thin man, his imposing height lost in the wheelchair, his lean face lined with age, bitter humour in his eyes. ‘Or is that just my son’s pet name for you?’
‘No. No!’ she said more strongly as her voice came out as a husky squeak. ‘My name is Lo
ri.’
‘Unusual,’ he said softly.
Delicate colour winged her cheeks, and she looked at him worriedly, unconsciously pleating the pretty brown and cream cotton skirt she wore with a brown tee-shirt. ‘Yes,’ she said huskily.
‘So you intend marrying my son?’
‘Yes,’ she nodded, knowing she could never be Luke’s wife.
‘When is the wedding to be?’ His eyes were narrowed.
‘We—er—we haven’t decided on a date yet,’ she blushed.
‘No?’
‘We only became engaged yesterday.’ She was becoming agitated.
Jacob Randell smiled again. ‘My son doesn’t usually waste any time once he’s decided to do something.’
There was no answer she could make to that, knowing first-hand of Luke’s haste she had been the object of his impatience since she had first met him, when she had had no intention of either loving him or marrying him. Now she loved him too much, and she could never marry him.
‘Your fiancée doesn’t seem too sure of me,’ Jacob Randell looked up to drawl.
Relief flooded Lori’s face as she saw Luke had rejoined them. She smiled reassuringly as he raised his dark brows in questioning anxiety, loving the way his hair curled darkly over the collar of the light grey shirt he wore with black trousers, seeing him move with all the forceful elegance his father had once possessed.
He sat down beside her and took her hand in his, entwining his fingers with hers. ‘My father hasn’t been—teasing you, has he?’ he asked tautly, an underlying steel to his voice.
‘Er—’
‘When have you ever known me to tease, Luke?’ his father mocked his tension.
‘Never,’ his son rasped. ‘Lori?’ he prompted hardly.
She frowned, not wanting to be the cause of an argument between these two men—there seemed to be enough friction between them already! ‘Your father and I were just talking,’ she assured him lightly.
‘I was asking Lori when the wedding is going to be,’ his father told him.
Cool grey eyes were turned on the older man. ‘I’ll let you know when Lori and I have decided on the date,’ Luke rasped. ‘You’ll want to be there?’
‘Of course,’ his father nodded tautly.
‘Of course,’ Luke drawled derisively.
The antagonism between the two men seemed to lessen slightly as tea was served by a small rounded woman who retreated back to the house as soon as she had put the tray down on the table.
‘I see you’re still terrifying the life out of Mrs Holland,’ Luke taunted as Lori poured the tea.
‘She stills runs like a frightened rabbit, if that’s what you mean,’ his father chuckled his enjoyment of such sport.
Their tea on the lawn must have looked so pleasant to an outsider, only Lori seemed aware of the undercurrents between father and son, of her own nervousness of the time-bombs that existed within each of them waiting to go off.
She felt immense relief when Luke suggested they leave an hour later, standing up immediately.
‘Your future bride seems anxious to leave,’ Jacob mused, looking up at her with mocking eyes, cruelty in their depths. ‘I think she finds us a little overwhelming together.’
‘Most people do,’ Luke snapped. ‘I know Mother always did.’
His father’s expression became harsh. ‘Let’s not bring your mother into this.’
‘No,’ Luke rasped agreement, ‘let’s not. I’ll let you know about the wedding.’
‘It was nice meeting you, Lori,’ Jacob told her smoothly, controlling the anger that had made him flare up at Luke seconds earlier.
Luke seemed disinclined to talk for the first ten miles of their journey back to London, and Lori was lost in her own thoughts. She had been dreading that meeting with Jacob Randell, and it had turned out to be as traumatic as she had imagined.
Oh, she no longer feared the omnipotent Jacob P. Randell, rather she pitied him. He was a bitter old man who was living out his life confined to a wheelchair, without the love of his only child, without the love of anyone. All he had left were his memories of a past career—and a loneliness that had aged him prematurely.
‘I had no idea your father was in a wheelchair.’ She turned to Luke with a frown.
‘He doesn’t like to advertise the fact, and to be honest I hardly notice it,’ he said harshly. ‘It doesn’t seem to have made any difference to his effectiveness. He still has the tongue of a viper!’
‘How did it happen?’ Her voice was husky.
‘A back injury in a car accident. My mother was killed in the same accident,’ Luke added hardly.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Yes, so am I. He should have been the one that died. God, I’m sorry!’ he groaned as he heard her shocked gasp. ‘Visiting my father is guaranteed to put me in a foul temper. As you probably gathered, there’s no love lost between us.’
‘Yes,’ she nodded.
He drew in a deep, calming breath. ‘Satisfied now that you’ve met him?’
‘Oh, Luke!’ she choked, clasping his arm. ‘I wish—’
‘I know.’ His fingers moved to entwine with hers.
If only he did, if only he could understand the bitterness that she had known for so long, and which had now faded with her love for him. She could so easily have lived with that hatred all her life and ended up as old and embittered as Jacob Randell himself. She shivered at the thought of that; she knew that Jacob Randell’s son had been the one, ironically, to save her from such fate. She might lose Luke in the end, but she would never again be that woman full of hatred, afraid to love.
‘Did it put you off me?’ Luke asked in a lighter tone.
‘No,’ she smiled at him. ‘You aren’t your father.’ And she had realised that too late, too late…!
‘Shall we go and get your ring tomorrow?’
‘Tomorrow?’ She swallowed hard.
‘There’s no reason to wait,’ he shrugged. ‘Poor Paul and Nikki have some shocks in store for them when they get back today—Claude in hospital, and now our engagement.’
‘Could we—could we keep it to ourselves for a while?’ Lori looked at him appealingly.
He frowned. ‘Why?’
‘Because—well, because we haven’t known each other very long,’ she smiled jerkily. ‘I thought perhaps we could—’
‘I want everyone to know you belong to me. One person in particular,’ he added grimly.
She knew instantly who he meant. ‘Jonathan,’ she said slowly. ‘But you know he means nothing to me, Luke,’ she frowned.
‘I won’t be sure of that until you’re mine, until I’ve banished every other man from your heart and your body! And I will banish them, Lori,’ he rasped, ‘if it takes me our lifetime together.’
‘Luke,’ she moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, swallowing hard, ‘there are no other men, there never were, not in my heart, and not—not in my body.’ She knew now that she couldn’t have loved Nigel, had known none of this fevered longing with him, hadn’t felt one tenth of the despair at losing him that she felt just at the thought of never seeing Luke again. ‘I—I lied to you about that,’ she blushed.
‘Why?’ he asked gruffly.
‘Because I—I—’
‘Because I was arrogant,’ he said ruefully. ‘But maybe you shouldn’t have told me the truth, kitten,’ he grimaced.
Her eyes widened. ‘Why not?’
He glanced at her, a fire burning in the depths of his eyes. ‘Because I intended taking you home with me and showing you exactly how much I love you. Now I think we’d better wait.’
‘No!’ Colour flooded her cheeks at his surprised expression. ‘No, Luke,’ she repeated calmly. ‘I’d like to come home with you.’ Her tone was pleading.
His breath caught in his throat. ‘You’re sure?’ A fierce light gleamed in his eyes.
‘Very sure,’ she nodded eagerly, wondering if she could possibly be the same woman who had so coldly, c
alculatedly, decided Luke should fall deeply in love with her. Instead she was the one who was a slave to that love.
Luke put his foot down on the accelerator. ‘Let’s hope I don’t get booked for speeding,’ he muttered as he liberally broke the speed limits all the way back to London.
Lori laughed happily at his side, her hand touching his arm, her eyes glowing with a recklessness she had never known before. She felt no sense of nervousness, not even when they entered his totally male-orientated apartment. The very size of it was enough to overwhelm her; it was big enough to have fitted the tiny flat she shared with Sally inside at least four times.
But she didn’t care about that; she cared only for the promise in Luke’s eyes, the deep desire as he looked down at her in the darkness, framing her face with his hands, kissing each eyelid, the tip of her nose, and finally—achingly, her mouth, seeming to draw the very soul from the depths of her body.
She stood on tiptoe to open her mouth to his, her fingers curled into the hair at his nape, her breasts pressed against the hardness of his chest, and he shuddered against her.
As Lori winced Luke raised his head with a groan, seeing how reddened her chin had become. ‘I need a shave,’ he realised ruefully. ‘Or I’ll mark you all over this beautiful body of yours.’ He took her hand in his to lead her through to his bedroom, closing the door on the outside world, the moonlight streaming through the huge window their only form of light. ‘Two minutes,’ he promised, ‘then we’ll have all night.’
He left the door to the adjoining bathroom open, and Lori stood in the darkness watching him as he stripped off the shirt, his torso strong and powerful, before deftly shaving the growth of beard from his face.
A huge shower gleamed invitingly behind him, and she suddenly had the urge to stand beneath the cleansing spray, to wash all the emotions of the day from her body before she and Luke began their discovery of the night.
It took her only a matter of seconds to strip the clothes from her body, knowing as she gently pushed the bathroom door open wider that she had nothing to be ashamed of, sure of it as Luke gasped at the surge of desire that flooded his body.
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