‘If she had thrown that bouquet,’ Luke’s voice was strangely close to her ear. ‘I’d catch it for you. Because you’re going to be the next bride, Lori. My bride.’
She couldn’t keep her silence after red-flagwaving like that! ‘Are you mad?’ she rasped, turning to him fully as the bridal car drove away and the crowd began to wander back into the ballroom of this fashionable London hotel now that the bride and groom had left.
‘I’m beginning to think I must be,’ but he didn’t sound too worried about it. ‘But you are going to marry me, Lori.’
‘I—Never!’ she almost shouted, running to catch up with the other guests, sure that he was a madman.
She was going to marry him, indeed! She had hardly spoken to the man, let alone—He was mad!
‘Lori, my dear,’ Claude Hammond approached her, ‘I’m glad to see you and Luke are getting on so well together.’
‘Oh, but—’
‘Brilliant man. Brilliant!’
That was high praise indeed, coming from this north-country man. Lori listened with more interest. If Claude Hammond said the man was brilliant then he must indeed be so. At what she had no idea.
‘With a father like that he was bound to be outstanding,’ Claude Hammond continued. ‘I’m proud to know him.’
‘A father like that?’ Lori prompted.
‘Mm, Jacob was the best.’
‘J-Jacob…?’ she echoed with a sickening jolt in her stomach. It couldn’t be—
‘Jacob Randell,’ Claude explained jovially. ‘Of course he made that one mistake with the Chisholm case, underestimated the man. But that was before your time.’
No, not before her time at all, she remembered it very well, both the case and Jacob Randell. He was a man with the ruthlessness of a viper, a cruelty that inflicted scars in his victims. And she remembered Michael Chisholm too. Her father…
CHAPTER TWO
THE court case had gone on for months—months and months, when both Lori and her mother had been as much in the public limelight as her father had. They had been hounded by photographers wherever they went. Even on the day her father had been buried…
‘Of course it was a shame the case couldn’t reach its proper conclusion,’ Claude Hammond continued with a shake of his head. ‘I’m sure Jacob would have got his conviction. Still, I mustn’t bore you with history, my dear,’ Claude smiled. ‘Especially on a day like today. Old fogeys like Jacob and myself can’t be of much interest to you.’ He patted her hand. ‘You go ahead and enjoy yourself. It’s early yet.’
Lori gazed after him with widely shocked eyes. Luke Randell was the son of the man she hated most in the world, the man who had caused her father to take his own life, who had been responsible for her mother’s subsequent failing health and prematurely young death, who had been the cause of all the misery in her life, including losing Nigel, the man she loved.
No one looking at her could have guessed quite the shock she had just received, the trauma. Her expression remained calm, her movements unhurried as she entered the door marked ‘Ladies’, but the memories suddenly crowded in on her.
Twelve years, twelve long miserable years, when her own and her mother’s name was changed to Parker. But the change of a name couldn’t eradicate the shame her mother felt, the fact that her husband had been accused of being a criminal, and that his suicide before he could be sentenced had seemed to confirm this.
For the next five years Lori had watched her mother shrivel up and die, had watched the life slowly fade from within her, her once happy carefree face no longer beautiful but ravaged with age, the pride she had taken in her youthful figure no longer there; she often did not even bother to dress at all towards the end. A heart attack, the doctor had diagnosed at her death at only thirty-eight, but Lori had known the real cause of death, and at seventeen she had sworn vengeance on Jacob P. Randell.
All her excellent capabilities as a secretary had been attained for the sole reason of eventually getting to work for Jacob P. Randell, of somehow being able to discredit him, of ruining him. She wasn’t even sure how she had thought she could do that, she had just felt that if he had been so wrong about her’ father—and he had been wrong—that there had to be other cases he had been wrong about, cases where he had got a conviction merely to further his career.
Before she had even qualified she had learned that Jacob P. Randell had retired, and her plans for revenge were foiled before they had even begun.
But he had a son, a son she hadn’t even known existed, a man who minutes ago had told her he intended marrying her! She hadn’t liked him from the beginning, even when she had had no idea who he was, of the devastating effect his father had had on her life. Luke Randell—she could hardly believe it, not after all this time.
She had left the idea of vengeance far behind her, had buried the bitterness she had for the past, knowing it could never be undone, that it was much too late to help her mother and father. But Nigel and herself—? It was too late for them too!
‘Lori, my dear,’ Ruth Hammond entered the powder-room to join her on another of the velvet stools in front of the ornate mirrors. ‘I thought for a moment you’d left without saying goodbye,’ she smiled.
Lori gathered herself together with effort. ‘I wouldn’t do that, Mrs Hammond,’ she returned the smile, only the strain in her eyes telling of her disturbed emotions.
She liked her employer’s wife, found the other woman had a cryptic wit and a quite surprising sense of fun, despite her sometimes uncomfortableness with her husband’s north-country bluntness. Being a southerner Ruth was a little more reserved, but her forthright husband believed in calling a spade a spade, sometimes with embarrassing repercussions. Lori found them an enchanting couple, and knew that they had a genuine affection for each other.
‘Claude and I would like you to come to lunch tomorrow. Could you manage that?’ Ruth raised finely shaped brows, still an attractive and energetic woman despite being sixty years of age. ‘There’ll just be the four of us,’ she added encouragingly.
‘Four of us?’ Lori echoed softly.
‘You, Claude and I—and of course, Luke,’ Ruth added coyly.
If the last was supposed to be an incentive it had the opposite effect. ‘I’m sorry,’ Lori shook her head, ‘I have to visit my aunt.’
A look of irritation crossed Ruth’s perfectly made up face. ‘Couldn’t you do that some other time?’
‘No, I’m afraid not.’ Her Aunt Jessie, Great-Aunt Jessie, would never forgive her if she missed one of her visits. The old lady had put herself into a nursing home two years ago, treating the place more like a hotel than anything else. In fact, Lori often thought her aunt ran the old people’s home instead of the Matron!
‘Damn!’ Ruth frowned. ‘Luke is only with us for the weekend, then he’s moving into his flat. Couldn’t you come for tea instead?’ she asked hopefully.
Once again Lori shook her head, glad she had a real excuse for refusing—if she hadn’t Ruth would soon have worn her down. And she never, ever, wanted to see Luke Randell again; she hated him for the bitter memories he had evoked.
‘I always spend the whole day with my aunt,’ she said truthfully.
‘Oh well, I don’t suppose it can be helped,’ Ruth murmured disappointedly. ‘I did so want you to meet Luke.’
‘I’ve already met him,’ Lori said coldly.
‘I meant away from the rush and bustle of the wedding. He’s been in America for several years, and he seems to have lost contact with a lot of his friends. Of course, we’ve been friends of the family since Luke was a child. But I thought perhaps you—well, if you can’t make it, you can’t.’ She stood up resignedly. ‘Do come back and join the party, Lori.’
‘In a moment,’ she nodded. ‘I just want to repair my make-up.’
Ruth smiled. ‘You don’t have much to worry about, you always look lovely. When you get to my age it becomes more than a repair job, it’s a total remake!’
Lori joined in the laughter, but her own humour faded as soon as the door closed behind the other woman. She had a suspicion, more than a suspicion, that Luke Randell had made the request for her to be invited to the Hammonds’. She was friendly with the other couple, enjoyed talking to Ruth when she came to the office to visit her husband, but she had never been invited to their home before.
So Luke Randell had been in America the last few years. Probably reflecting in his father’s undoubted glory, she thought bitterly.
Bitterness. It was something that she had tried to forget, especially after she had fallen in love with Nigel. After he had walked out of her life she had pulled herself together enough to move from the flat she had been renting, to get herself a new job as soon as possible. And she had tried not to let bitterness rule her life for a second time.
And now Luke Randell had suddenly appeared in her life, bringing back all the destructive memories, destroying the self-confidence she had built up over the years.
Well, she wouldn’t let him destroy her! She was Lori Parker, not Lorraine Chisholm, was a very competent and trusted personal secretary to an important London lawyer, and no human reminder from the past was going to ruin that for her.
She would make her excuses to leave the wedding reception as soon as possible, and after that she would never have to see Luke Randell again.
‘I thought you were going to hide in there all night, little kitten!’
She spun round to confront Luke Randell, finding him leaning against the wall, a suitable distance away, although obviously waiting for her. He pushed easily away from his lounging position, and Lori viewed him with new eyes as he walked confidently towards her.
On the surface he bore little resemblance to the man she remembered his father to be. His hair was black where his father’s had been silver; he was taller than his father too, his body not tending towards flabbiness as the other man’s had, his features vaguely similar, although much more strongly defined in the son, the ruthlessness not hidden behind a smooth charm in the younger man as it had been by his father’s benign, often sympathetic, expression. That hidden ruthlessness had been turned on her father with vicious cruelty once Jacob P. Randell had him off his guard, twisting his words until even he didn’t know what he was saying. It had been like watching a snake strike at an unsuspecting mouse, and her father’s final agony had been the taking of his own life. His imminent conviction had been obvious, thanks to Jacob P. Randell.
The day after her father’s death, away from prying eyes, Lori and her mother had read the letter her father had left for them. He had still claimed his innocence, although having already spent several months in a prison cell, he knew he couldn’t stand the years that stretched ahead of him in the same way. He preferred to die rather than live in that degradation.
‘Kitten?’ Luke prompted, standing in front of her now, his eyes narrowed on her pale face.
Lori looked up at him, pulling herself back from the past, and Luke Randell’s face swam back into focus. ‘I wasn’t hiding, Mr Randell,’ ice dripped from her voice. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me…’
‘No.’
She blinked up at him. ‘No?’
‘No.’ His hand was firm on her arm, and he frowned deeply as she snatched away from him. He folded his arms across his chest. ‘You’ve been running away from me all day,’ he drawled, ‘and up until now I’ve been letting you. I’ve finally caught up with you—and I’m not letting you get away. Why did you turn down Ruth’s invitation for lunch tomorrow?’
Her mouth tightened, and she looked round for Jonathan so that she could take advantage of his earlier offer of a lift home. ‘I already have an engagement for tomorrow,’ she told Luke Randall absently, unable to see Jonathan anywhere.
‘Break it,’ Luke instructed.
She looked at him scornfully. ‘I don’t do things like that, Mr Randall. My word is my bond. It’s a family trait,’ she added vehemently.
‘Very commendable,’ he drawled. ‘But I would like to see my future bride tomorrow. Maybe we could discuss the wedding?’
She gave him a pitying glance. ‘I think you’ve had too much champagne, Mr Randell.’
‘Luke,’ he encouraged softly. ‘And when I decided to marry you I hadn’t had any champagne.’
‘When you decided, Mr Randell?’ she deliberately used the formality. ‘I thought it was supposed to be a joint decision?’
‘It is,’ he shrugged, his shoulders broad, the muscles ripping across his chest. ‘You’re just a little longer making your mind up than I am.’
‘We only met today,’ she scorned disbelievingly, wondering that even Jacob P. Randell’s son should have so much arrogance.
‘That’s all it takes,’ he dismissed.
Lori sighed, knowing she had to get away, and soon. Her search for Jonathan was becoming almost frantic. If she really lost her temper with this man there was no telling what she would say!
Luke noticed her preoccupation, and his mouth quirked into a smile. ‘Kitten, I—’
‘Don’t call me that!’ she shuddered, hating the intimacy of a pet name from this man. ‘I don’t like it. Ah, Jonathan!’ she called to the other man as she finally spotted him. ‘Goodbye, Mr Randell.’ Just saying his name reminded her of exactly who he was—and the contempt and hatred she had for all his family.
No doubt a lot of women found him devastatingly attractive, would like his almost roguish behaviour, the promise of intimacy in his devilish grey eyes, but knowing what she did about him gave him no chance with her—even if his approach was the most original she had ever known! No doubt she was supposed to believe he really meant the marriage proposal, and would only find out if had all been a ‘joke’ once she had slept with him.
His narrow-eyed gaze levelled on Jonathan as the other man came towards them. ‘Your young friend again,’ he growled his displeasure. ‘A boy-friend?’
‘I—Yes.’ She was sure Jonathan would forgive her that exaggeration. After all, he was just waiting for the day she said yes to one of his invitations.
‘Your previous engagement for tomorrow?’ Luke quirked one dark brow.
She was tempted to say yes, but Ruth might already have told him about the visit to her aunt. ‘No.’
He nodded. ‘I thought not. I’m not giving up on you, kitten,’ he drawled confidently. ‘The Jonathans of this world don’t mean a thing to me. I doubt they mean anything to you either.’
Jonathan had almost reached them now, and Lori felt indignant on his behalf. He was a very good-looking man, not as dark as the devil like this man, but neither did he have his cold ruthlessness.
‘Lori!’ He had reached her side now, taking her hand in his, his pleasure at being with her evident. ‘Mr Randell,’ he greeted respectfully, obviously having learnt who the older man was, whose son he was. For the same reason Jonathan admired him Lori hated him.
‘I’m ready to leave now, Jonathan,’ she told him pointedly.
‘Hm? Oh—oh yes,’ he gave a light laugh. ‘Nice to have met you, sir,’ he shook Luke’s hand strongly.
Lori felt a sense of satisfaction at the sudden tightness of Luke Randell’s mocking mouth. Jonathan’s ‘sir’ had been meant as a show of respect, nevertheless the other man didn’t like it, obviously feeling his at least ten years’ seniority over the other man, being somewhere in his late thirties.
‘Likewise,’ Luke drawled, the very faintest trace of a transatlantic accent discernible in his irony. He turned to Lori. ‘We’ll meet again,’ was all he said to her, and yet she knew he meant it.
She met his gaze steadily for several seconds, seeing the determination in his jaw, the challenge in the light-coloured eyes as he waited for her reply. It sent a shiver of apprehension down her spine. She had been wrong about there being little similarity between father and son. The eyes, those grey steely eyes, were the same, containing a strange mixture of warmth and cruelty.
‘I doubt it,’ she snapped, nearing the end of her cont
rol, and looking to Jonathan to help her now. ‘Ready?’ she prompted him, her chin high, studiously avoiding looking at Luke Randell again.
‘Of course,’ Jonathan agreed readily.
Lori moved smoothly across the room at his side, unaware of the striking figure she made in the pale green dress, her movements graceful and fluid, her hair moving silkily as she walked.
She might have looked relaxed as she made her laughing goodbyes to the Hammonds, might have appeared calm as she followed Jonathan outside to his low sports car. But once she had sunk into the bucket-seat her breath left her in a hiss, her lower limbs felt trembly, her hands shook as she clenched them in her lap.
Jonathan noticed none of this as he climbed in beside her, his lean length fitting into the car from habit, his long legs only slightly cramped. ‘Do you realise who that was?’ he said excitedly, backing the car out of its parking space and accelerating into the busy traffic.
She might have known Jonathan would suffer from a case of hero-worship! Jacob P. Randell was set up as a prime example to all young lawyers, that one single blemish on his career when he had pushed the accused too far being forgotten at such times. Luke, as his son, came in for the same admiration.
‘Yes, I realise,’ she sighed, leaning her elbow against the window to put her hand up to her aching temple.
‘Luke Randell!’ he shook his head in disbelief. ‘Fancy having the great Jacob to live up to!’
‘I’m sure Mr Randell—Mr Luke Randell,’ she defined with distaste, ‘has more than lived up to his father’s hopes for him.’
‘He’s a lawyer too, you know,’ Jonathan was awestruck, not seeming to notice Lori’s aversion to the subject.
She hadn’t known, but it didn’t come as any surprise to her. What else could the son of such a famous man do? And he would be good at it too, would have the same presence in court that his father had, would take to the stage as if born to it.
Jonathan glanced at her. ‘I never knew there was a son, did you?’
Subtle Revenge Page 3
