Passionate Retribution

by Kim Lawrence

  Luke gave a sudden grin, devilish lights reflected in his eyes. ‘I gather you have a few reasons to be less than happy with Daddy, Em. The thought had occurred to me that Charlie will be tormented by images of sordid goings-on in the heather.’

  Emily felt the colour seep beneath her skin, his words had conjured up an image so shocking and unexpected. Luke was staring at her, his expression broodingly speculative. She registered the dark shadows beneath his eyes and the shadow of stubble that covered his cheeks and jaw. It gave him an air of attractive dissipation, although she knew it probably just indicated incipient exhaustion. Luke kept himself in superb condition; he couldn’t survive at the pace he set himself if he didn’t exhibit some self-control. She was thinking along the lines of exercise and diet… Women, that was another matter. Did her cousin usually take women up to his Scottish retreat? If he did, did he expect…? Her eyes opened wide in sudden sharp alarm.

  ‘Are you actually suggesting that we—?’ She broke off, searching for the correct terminology to cover this problem.

  ‘I’m anxious to inflict some mental anguish of a severe degree on your family, Emily, but I’m not willing to exert myself that much, infant.’

  The swing of her arm was pure reflex. She registered the darkening mark along his cheek, wondering if he would retaliate. He appeared quite unmoved by her tears and she was furious with her uncontrollable response.

  ‘You always were a bully.’

  ‘And you were always a pampered brat,’ he replied dispassionately. She froze when he grasped her chin, forcing her to look up into his eyes. ‘You were always trying to get attention, I seem to recall.’

  She tried to jerk away, a hot denial on her lips.

  ‘You have a very selective memory, infant. Oh, I quite forgot, you’re a mature woman these days,’ he drawled mockingly. ’strange, I doubt that—despite outer appearances.’ His unoccupied hand rose to trace carelessly the outline of her breast from the fabriccovered under-curve to the bare upper slope.

  The casual intimacy induced an instantaneous physical response of her flesh, which she endured with confused misery. She swallowed a constnction in her dry throat, aware of the rasp of fabric against her sensitised flesh. The bodice of her dress seemed suddenly painfully tight.

  ‘The sort of attentions you gave me were delightful interludes. Like throwing me in the lake in November.’ She breathed deeply, regaining a little equilibrium now that his hand was no longer in contact with her flesh, even though his cool fingers seemed to have left an imprint like a brand on her skin. ‘Or pushing my face in the dirt,’ she added, warming to her theme. ‘And—’

  ‘All of which were preferable to indifference.’

  He must have seen the dawning of awareness flicker in her eyes.

  ‘Y-you were incredibly awful to me,’ she faltered.

  ‘I believe the punishment usually fitted the crime.’

  ‘Children may have few rights to speak of,’ she replied, barely coping with an odd breathlessness that was afflicting her, ‘but I’m an independent agent now. And I have no intention of going anywhere with you except away from the immediate precincts of Charlcot.’

  ‘How long before you’re back?’ he sneered. ‘Living at home at twenty has to limit your emotional development to some extent, even when the said home has all the anonymity of a hotel.’ He gave her a look of mild contempt. ‘A five-star hotel, of course. No wonder you still act like a spoilt brat.’

  ‘The way I live my life has got nothing to do with you.’

  ‘Live?’ he drawled sarcastically.

  ‘I would have left home,’ she began, stung by the contempt. It was easy for him—nothing had ever been there to hold him back. She envied his freedom. I’m free now, she reminded herself: no fiancé, no terminally ill father to be mollified. Should I be celebrating? A bubble of hysteria rose in her throat.

  Luke was watching her closely…was that concern? No, it couldn’t be, she decided. ‘Emily…’ He spoke her name angrily, with an urgency that made the wild laughter die abruptly.

  ‘So it’s true.’ Her mother’s strident voice broke the brief strained silence

  Emily sighed, feeling suddenly weary. She hadn’t heard her father bring in reinforcements Here we go again! she thought. As if he’d picked up the energy draining from her, Luke interposed himself between her mother and herself. Not out of any wish to preserve her sanity, she thought, assailed by a strange nebulous hunger. More likely he didn’t want her to end the farce before he had extracted all the spiteful revenge he possibly could from the situation.

  Her mother was as cold as her father had been hot; the gist of her words indicated that she wasn’t surprised at Emily’s behaviour. Emily listened to her whole life being described as a deliberate series of actions geared to give her parents the utmost degree of distress. She had the impression that her mother felt somehow vindicated by this final example of her ungrateful behaviour.

  She stood frozenly dazed as her mother swept out of the room, dismissing her youngest child, her thoughts concentrated only on minimising the scandal attached to an engagement broken almost before it had been born.

  ‘Such warmth, such compassion,’ she heard Luke murmur. She looked at him, surprise widemng her blank eyes as he draped his jacket across her shoulders. It held the soothing heat of his body. She gave an involuntary shudder.

  His face was lacking the usual mockery as he met her cautious look. She nibbled her lower lip in quiet agitation. The involuntary action attracted his attention, his eyes sliding towards her, his mouth narrowed.

  ‘It’s not over yet,’ he said abruptly, ’so don’t fall apart.’

  Emily swallowed and lowered her eyes, feeling a ridiculous anticlimax. Had she actually been holding her breath waiting for compassion, understanding? I must be losing my mind, she remonstrated with herself derisively. She didn’t need that sort of support. She’d seen her parents’ unconcern turn Charlotte into a creature pathetically eager to please, filled with a need to have a stronger person to cling to in times of stress. This had led her to lean heavily on Emily herself and a string of wildly unsuitable men, all of whom had in common a very high regard for themselves, which Charlotte had mistakenly assumed was strength. Emily, on the other hand, had deliberately avoided the trap of turning to casual relationships for solace; instead she’d become self-sufficient and unapologetically proud of her lack of dependence.

  She shrugged off his jacket, her bones protesting as the cold replaced the soothing heat. All kindnesses from Luke should be greeted with suspicion—she’d almost forgotten this cardinal rule; he was passionate only in his need to inflict retribution. She didn’t know the details of what her parents had done to earn his life-long enmity, and she had never delved into the family closet, seeing no point in rattling skeletons. But if he did have any gentler feelings they would never be wasted on a Stapely.

  She recalled his bizarre accusation earlier; in some way he held her father personally responsible for his own mother’s death, and a shiver crept up the length of her spine. There was a dark side to Luke, and she didn’t want to see it.

  ‘I’m not going to fall apart,’ she told him with a quiet dignity. He accepted the garment she held out, a smile twisting his lips. ‘Could you wait in the car? I want to speak to Gavin alone, and collect a few things,’ she said with a prosaic practicality she was far from feeling. ‘You can take me to a hotel.’

  ‘I’ll give you thirty minutes and then I’ll come and get you.’

  She accepted this ultimatum with an angry look, but didn’t bite back with the childish retort that hovered on her tongue.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ‘WE’LL stay at my place tonight.’

  Emily nodded, without noticing the discreetly satisfied smile of victory that curved Luke’s mouth as he drove the low-slung, powerful car along the narrow country lanes. She couldn’t even summon up enough interest to wonder much about the pillow she would lay her head on. She would find a
hotel tomorrow—it was late.

  She sat with her back rigidly in contact with the upholstered seat, her body unable to accept the luxury and relax. She couldn’t stop reliving the inevitable interview with Gavin. It had been like talking to a stranger, not the man she had planned up to a few hours ago to spend the rest of her life with. Why was I going to marry him? she found herself wondering. Could her motivation really be as shallow and unemotional as Luke suggested? She couldn’t, wouldn’t believe that.

  Gavin’s response to her confession had been mixed. She had seen the small flash of relief as he’d assimilated her words—so small, that, if she hadn’t been expecting it, steeling herself for it, she might have missed it. More surprising had been the anger, the pique. It had stilled the apology she had been going to make herself utter, to add to the reality of the affair before it had been born. His hypocrisy had been worse in some way than his betrayal. She could see that, even while he was glad of his painless escape, he was angry that she had had the temerity to be the one to admit seeking solace elsewhere.

  Listening to him express his disappointment, his pain, she had almost forgotten that she was innocent and he was the one who had cheated. She had bitten her lip till blood tasted salty on her tongue to stop her angry, astringent response. His, his, his—did he care about anyone else? Herself, Charlotte? His handsome face had had such a sanctimonious expression that she’d wanted to fling the truth in his face, turn her retreat into an attack, but she had her pride. Better by far to be the one to pull the curtain over the episode.

  ‘Did you see Charlotte?’

  Pulled back to the present, she glanced at Luke’s averted profile. The eyes of a startled night animal scuttling across the road caught the headlights, and he reacted automatically, slowing the pace to allow the night creature to escape.

  ‘I decided not to.’ That was the one person she hadn’t been able to face; the mingled emotions of anger and, amazingly, compassion were too intricately mingled. She couldn’t trust her reactions; she might well have blurted out the truth in her present chaotic state of mind. She couldn’t accept the pain her sister had knowingly inflicted upon her.

  ‘How will you feel if Gavin marries her?’

  ‘Don’t skirt around the issue, as if you’re worried about my feelings; just get straight to the point,’ she responded with tight-lipped irony, her brown eyes suffused with outrage at this insensitive question. ‘I expect you hover around accidents waiting for the ambulance, revelling in all that pain and gore.’

  ‘Society does have a certain morbid fascination with disaster,’ he agreed calmly. ‘I expect I’m as guilty as most; it’s difficult to know where empathy ends and thrill-seeking begins. But in this case there can be no cause for error. I have no sympathy for you, Emily; in fact I think it’s fortunate that fate has stepped in to stop you living out the cosy little family fantasy you’ve constructed.’

  She caught her breath and counted very slowly to ten. ‘How silly of me. Until you pointed it out I hadn’t quite appreciated my good fortune.’

  ‘Any time,’ he said, throwing a provoking grin over his shoulder before pulling out on to the dual carriageway.

  Emily didn’t trust herself to speak—his smugness was almost intolerable. Sleep crept over her swiftly and she wasn’t conscious of Luke stopping the car and easing her limp body into a more comfortable position.

  She hovered in the grey area between consciousness and repose, unwilling to make the transition. A loud roar and a sudden flash of lights snapped her awake. ‘What…?’

  ‘Motorbikes heading for the local orthopaedic ward, if I’m not mistaken.’

  Emily stifled a yawn and stretched her limbs, stiff from being too long in one position. She looked out of the window. The motorway was anonymous and surprisingly quiet. ‘Have I been asleep long?’ She felt appalling—dry, stale mouth and incipient throbbing headache.

  ‘Four hours.’

  She stiffened, and her eyes swivelled in the direction she’d so far avoided. Luke didn’t take his eyes from the clear stretch of carriageway in front of him. ‘Pardon?’ She quelled the spasm of panic—she must have misheard him. From Charlcot to Luke’s warehouse conversion in London would have taken an hour and a half, and that estimate was generous.

  ‘Four hours, Emily, accompanied by the sweet music of your snores.’

  ‘I don’t snore,’ she responded automatically.

  ‘Is that what Gavin told you, infant?’

  Emily frowned and threw off the last remnants of sleep. She wasn’t in the mood to be side-tracked. ‘You said four hours.’

  ‘This conversation is taking a somewhat circular route, Emmy. I don’t expect sparkling wit, but——’

  ‘Don’t try being smart with me,’ she snapped. ‘Where the hell are we? We’re not going to your flat.’

  He shot her a sideways glance of infuriating complacence. ‘I didn’t say we were.’

  She felt the heat travel up her neck and spill into her cheeks. If he hadn’t been driving, she’d have…’ You did,’ she contradicted from between clamped teeth. ’spend the night at your place, your London flat, you said. Where are you taking me?’ she demanded.

  ‘My place,’ he agreed blandly. ‘I didn’t specify which place. I hate to sound boastful, but I have a farmhouse in Tuscany, no running water and a view to die for——’

  ‘I wish you would,’ she snarled.

  He clicked his tongue. ‘As I was saying, the place in Tuscany, a modest but upwardly mobile apartment in New York, and my Scottish retreat.’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’ He wasn’t doing this! She stared at him with wild-eyed horror; not even Luke would pull a stunt like this.

  He threw her a look of injured innocence. ‘Would I lie?’

  ‘You’re taking me to Scotland.’

  ‘Would you have preferred New York?’ he asked with a note of sympathy. ’maybe one day, if you mend your manners.’

  She let out a groan of sheer frustration and rage ‘I’d prefer you to stop this car instantly!’

  He winced and rubbed his ear. ’the word fishwife immediately springs to mind.’

  ‘The words dangerous lunatic follow closely.’

  He laughed then, sounding so relaxed and at ease that only a sense of self-preservation stopped her hitting out at him physically. A car smash would be the end to a perfect day!

  ‘Aren’t you over-reacting just a mite?’ he observed, moving into the outside lane to overtake a monstrous articulated lorry.

  ‘Over-reacting?’ she squeaked. ‘I can see it’s most unreasonable of me, but I tend to get overwrought…’

  ‘And emotional…’

  She examined his perfect profile with loathing. ‘…And emotional,’ she agreed with irony, ‘when kidnapped.’

  ‘A strong word,’ he said in a tone which still suggested he was treating the whole affair with a flippancy that made her want to scream.

  ‘An accurate word.’

  ‘I said my place and you made no protests,’ he reminded her.

  ‘Your place being London, not some god-forsaken spot north of the border. I made it perfectly clear that I had no intention of going to Scotland.’

  ‘You don’t care for the country?’

  ‘I don’t care for you.’ For a split-second his eyes met hers; the intensity of the colour of the iris was always a surprise. The expression that flickered into the dense, drowning blue was elusive but violently intense. It washed over her like some insidious drug and the words of protest stilled in her throat. ‘Keep your eyes on the road,’ she managed hoarsely. She endured another few excruciating seconds before he obliged her. She slumped back in the seat feeling drained and furious.

  ‘This is absurd, Luke.’ She tried to inject a note of sanity into the proceedings. ‘It’s generally considered unacceptable to hijack a person.’

  ‘I was going to Scotland. I saw no reason to alter my plans for you, infant.’

  ‘I wasn’t asking you to; I didn�
�t ask you to interfere.’

  A grim smile curved his lips. ‘It was a pleasure,’ he asserted obliquely, leaving her to wonder whether the pleasure he had discovered had been in infuriating her father or the liberties he had taken with herself.

  ‘I won’t go with you.’

  ‘You are with me,’ he pointed out patiently.

  His attitude made her feel as if she was hitting her head against a particularly solid wall. ‘Have you no conscience? You’ve kidnapped me! It’s uncivilised,’ she choked.

  The glance he flicked her was brief and starkly savage. ‘I’m sorry if you find my methods crude… often they are the most effective. Being civilised can be damnably time-consuming,’ he observed.

  One look at his profile made it obvious that she was wasting her time. With a sound of frustration, tears flooding her eyes, she gripped the door-handle and rattled it.

  ‘Seventy miles an hour and she decides to make a leap for freedom.’ The eyebrows shot heavenwards. ’smooth move, Emmy. Just thank your stars for central locking.’

  ‘This is criminal. I’ll have you arrested,’ she threatened him wildly. She brushed her hand over her face, blotting the stray spots of dampness where her eyes had overflowed. ‘I’ll tell my father,’ she added miserably.

  ‘I’m relying on it.’

  Emily shot him a startled glance. ’so that’s what this is all about,’ she said flatly. ‘You’re prepared to go to a lot of trouble just to needle my father.’

  ‘Needle?’ he said, not bothering to deny her accusation. ‘I think you underestimate your importance, infant. You’re his ewe lamb,’ he sneered. ’the apple of his eye. The prospect of you sharing my humble abode and all it implies should have a most satisfactory effect.’

  ‘So glad I could be of use,’ she said witheringly. ‘I don’t suppose my feelings enter into your machinations?’

  ‘I think the change of scene should do you good.’

  ‘Give me strength!’ she groaned. ‘I’ve had a gut full of people knowing what my best interests are; roughly translated, it means I’m supposed to do what I’m told. Well, you might be able to get me to your hovel but don’t expect me to stay. The first opportunity I have I’ll be off, and I’ll report you to the authorities.’