KIM LAWRENCE - Passionate Retribution

‘No.’ She wasn’t about to display her naive credulity for his contempt. Besides, knowing Luke, he’d probably managed to get more than the bare bones of the incident. She waved away the handkerchief. ‘Nowhere to put it,’ she responded prosaically, then wished she hadn’t because it drew Luke’s glittering regard to her outfit. His eyes made her feel claustrophobic as they travelled at a leisurely pace over her slender but femininely curved—too curved for her own taste— body in the dress which covered too little of some of those curves.

‘Quite true,’ he agreed. His glance, returning to her face, held curiosity and something else she didn’t care to analyse, although it made the pit of her stomach dissolve. ‘I’ll keep it for you.’

‘I don’t need anything of yours, and that goes for any smart moves like the one you pulled in there,’ she ground out from between clenched teeth. If he thought he could divert her by doling out a dose of his particular brand of mesmeric sex appeal, he could think again. ‘I can’t believe you did it.’ She shook her head. ‘You just can’t resist stirring, can you?’ she accused hoarsely. The unmitigated nerve of the man, the undiluted arrogance, astonished her.

‘I simply provided your inspiration. You were going to run away.’

‘Sneer if you like, but running away is less painful at times. Besides, head-on collision doesn’t always solve the problem.’

‘Neither does running away; it just postpones the inevitable.’

‘Thank you for that little gem,’ she snapped. The accusation in his tone made her want to launch a frontal attack. ‘At least my father was bright enough to disguise the fact that he was manipulating me. The only difference with you is I know it. Still, it’s over with now.’ She could retreat and let the wounds heal, sort out what she wanted from life.

‘Oh, there are a lot more possibilities in this situation yet.’

Emily threw back her head, shaking her hair from around her shoulders. ‘Forget it, Luke, I’m sick of the lot of you. I’m going to spend some time alone,’ she told him, a flare of anger igniting dancing golden lights in her eyes. ‘And I’m not available for any more theatricals, even if my stomach could stand up to being mauled about by you.’

‘I don’t think you’ve thought this out too clearly,’ he said icily. He fixed his broad shoulders as if to ease some tension between his shoulder-blades.

‘Of course I’ve not thought it out, you idiot,’ she told him furiously. ’this is an emotional crisis, I’m devastated, hurt, my life is in ruins. Thinking,’ she snarled, ‘is not exactly easy at the moment. If it had been, I’d never have let you set up that little scene for your own sadistic purposes.’

‘I expect you’re not pleased at having all your plans upset. I mean, I’m sure this was one marriage where surprise was not on the menu,’ he said with a faint sneer. ‘You always did like your plans; I expect you’d timetabled the next twenty years. Your mistake was obviously telling pretty boy what he’d be doing with his life; he probably ran to your saintly sister in sheer panic.’

‘You know nothing about it,’ she snapped, her colour heightened. ’there’s nothing wrong with organising— we don’t all drift through life like some gypsy!’

He gave a deep laugh which she considered wildly inappropriate, and it only provided more proof of his total heartlessness, had such proof been necessary. ‘Plans are made to have spanners aimed at them, infant, haven’t you learnt that yet? Even if a man has slotted himself into a position which makes the rest of his life boringly inevitable, he doesn’t need it spelt out for him. You probably had the progeny production timed with mathematical precision.’

‘There’s nothing indecent in a commitment,’ she responded, stung by this unexpected assault. He made her sound as passionless as a computer! Gavin had never complained as she’d happily been involved in planning their future; she had been sure he’d wanted all the things she did. She gave a small sound of pain and bit her lip. Only he hadn’t; that much was now painfully obvious.

‘Why don’t you admit it, Emmy? Your Gavin was just a convenient body who happened to meet your criteria at a time in your life you’d decided you should get married.’

The accusation took her breath away. ‘I love Gavin,’ she declared fiercely.

Luke looked unimpressed by her passionate declaration. ’then perhaps you should have spent more time telling him so between the sheets and less organising him. Your only misjudgement was that the guy’s got slightly more guts than you’d anticipated. You began moulding him a bit too early, sweetheart, you should have waited until after the wedding.’

She felt tears of fury sting her eyelids and she blinked furiously; she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. ‘I hate you,’ she said, not finding inspiration for a more original retort. But the worst part of it was that there was a grain of truth in what he said, and she wasn’t blind enough to her own faults not to see it.

She liked and respected Gavin——at least she had; he was the only man she’d ever met whom she had considered spending her life with. She had been sure he would never bully her as her father did those around him. She had wondered whether the fact that her father was chairman of the bank and she his daughter had had anything to do with his assiduous courting.

‘You can hardly go around saying that, infant, considering we are an…item,’ Luke told her. His eyes watched the ripple of emotions running across her face, a sneer tugging at one corner of his mouth.

She made a sound of disgust in her throat. ‘Don’t get carried away with your fiction; that’s over as of now. There was never any need to go as far as to molest me publicly,’ she told him with a look of distaste. ‘If you had bothered to consult me I could have told you so.’

‘You prefer to be molested privately?’ he said with polite interest. ‘I could——’

‘Keep your hands to yourself, Luke,’ she cut in coldly. ‘I don’t find it amusing. I realise this is just a game to you, but it happens to be my life.’ And a mess it was too.

‘I take games very seriously,’ he told her. ‘For a planner you haven’t looked beyond the next hour, have you?’ he said, changing tack with bewildering abruptness.

Emily looked at him suspiciously. ’should I?’

‘Over and above the fact that your father has disowned you, you seem to be overlooking our deep and abiding passion.’

He was laughing at her, she realised; if her mind hadn’t been so confused, so cluttered with emotions, she would, she was sure, have understood what he was insinuating. ‘Enlighten me,’ she suggested testily.

‘Our relationship can’t fizzle out overnight.’

‘Relationship? We haven’t got a relationship,’ she asserted, panic in her voice.

He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘Or your stoical endurance of my passionate advances will have been in vain. Even stupid Charlotte will be able to see through the charade. It will be, Poor little Emily couldn’t even hold her man. He preferred the sister, you know.’

‘I’m not such a good liar as you so I’m afraid we might as well drop it,’ she said, half relieved that the idea was folding almost before it had begun. One good thing had emerged: she was free from the guilt-induced bond that had held her a self-imposed prisoner at Charlcot.

‘You underestimate my brilliance, infant.’

She closed her eyes and fantasised about wiping that irritatingly smug smile off his face. ‘Don’t call me that!’

‘What, a term of endearment? And to think I thought you liked it.’