Passionate Retribution

Inspiration obviously allowed for no preliminaries, because she found her hands flattened against the hard plane of his belly as he pressed forward, pinning her to the wall with his weight. She wasn’t aware of one hand sliding beneath her hair to cup her skull, but she found her movements being controlled by the touch of his fingers. She breathed his name, filled with an intense desire to escape; but the sound of her voice was lost against the movement of his mouth.

Luke was kissing her. The concept was too strange to grasp completely. She stood stock-still, counting the sound of her own laboured inhalations. The awareness of his heavy thighs pressing against her traumatised her already impaired nervous system.

‘Open your mouth, infant.’ His voice was tinged with heavy exasperation.

What the hell did he think he was doing, hauling her about like a doll and handing out ridiculous instructions as though she were some sort of puppet? She opened her mouth to tell him exactly what he could do, but he seemed to take this as compliance. The abrupt intimacy of his tongue colliding with her teeth, touching the moistness of her inner lip, was like a bolt of pure, intense excitement. It destroyed all coherent thought processes—and most physical responses too. The weakness was totally debilitating, and if his hands hadn’t slid across her back she would have slid to the floor at that moment.

Nothing in her life had prepared her for the black hole of pure sensation she found herself sinking into. Countering the sensation never entered her head; the intensity required total co-operation. She let the flow carry her along. She was absorbed in the texture of his lips against her tender mouth in a way that was totally alien. A kiss was something pleasant, if you were lucky in your partner, but something she had been able to stop without the wrenching feeling of loss she experienced when Luke raised his head.

She stared at him in a half-horrified, half-fascinated way before she registered the sound of her own father’s voice. The blue eyes held an ambiguous mingling of mockery and anger. Why should Luke be angry? she wondered. I should be angry…I am angry.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’

Luke moved to one side after winking at her, his expression contemplative but palpably unmoved by the ardent embrace. The realisation was painfully humiliating. ‘Charlie, I would have thought that was rather obvious,’ he said, smiling with silky provocation. His fingers strayed seemingly automatically to Emily’s bare shoulder, his fingers stroking her hot skin.

At any other time her father’s thunderstruck expression of total incredulity would have made her laugh. She felt just as stunned herself; her bemused brain was only just beginning to function. Her father’s mouth was open, his face suffused with a purplish glow that stood out in violent contrast to the leonine mane of silver hair he was so proud of. He wasn’t supposed to get over-excited, some sane portion of her brain recalled fuzzily.

‘Hello, Father,’ she said stupidly. The tableau had to be broken at some point and Luke appeared to be savouring each moment too much to be of any assistance. She couldn’t look at Luke—what little dignity she had left he’d managed to rip into shreds. She would murder him, slowly, painfully and with relish! she decided.

‘What are you doing with him…?’ His eyes touched Luke with an expression of loathing. He seemed to be noticing details that he hadn’t done previously: the torn, mud-stained dress, her tangled hair. Details that Emily had not until that moment been conscious of herself. The picture must be pretty damning.

She lifted a trembling hand to her lips, which felt bruised and tender—no doubt as Luke had intended. She felt a small bud of anger blossom dramatically as her breast swelled with a sense of victimisation. Did he imagine for one moment that she’d agree to such a transparently ludicrous ploy to extract her from her engagement and save face? As for his mauling her about in quite such a realistic fashion, she’d never forgive him, ever, even if it was for her father’s benefit.

Not that she was about to lose any sleep over a kiss, she told herself stubbornly. Lurking in her mind was a growing sense of unease at the devastating response of her normally co-operative senses. With forewarning, she told herself, throwing Luke a fulminating glance, I could have taken the thing in my stride. Luke smiled back at her, allowing the hard lines of his face to dissolve into something more warm, more intimate.

‘Emily was putting me out of my misery, Charlie,’ Luke said, a throb of emotion in his voice. Staring into the very blue eyes, Emily felt a twinge of pity for any female he turned the charm on, for it would be awfully difficult not to believe the apparent sincerity he could infuse into his expression.

‘I wasn’t talking to you,’ Charles Stapely snarled, his expression growing even uglier as Luke brushed the stray strands of hair from her brow tenderly.

Emily forced herself to accept his ministrations passively, but she longed to push his fingers away. The sensation was disagreeable; it made the muscles low in her belly clench in objection and she was filled with a restless sense of unease that she was sure was associated with the contact. She was going to stop this farce now—anything was preferable, she thought, shuddering.

His lips brushed her ear. ‘What do you prefer, infant victim?’ he murmured, his voice low but perfectly distinct. Their eyes met. ‘Or fallen woman,’ he mouthed silently but distinctly.

The internal battle was violent but brief. Luke had forced her into this absurd charade from the worst of motives, she had no doubt; but he had given her this choice. The sympathy, the knowing glances…

‘I realise this must be a shock, Father,’ she said. Luke smiled, complacent and unsurprised. He had known her weakness all along, the pity she couldn’t stomach. He foiled her attempt to move away by encircling her waist with his arm. His hand moved restlessly over her silk-clad midriff and she felt her thoughts telescope together, and her next comment slipped out of reach. It was at the same time a jarring but soothing sensation, Luke’s fingers over the soft fabric. Soothing…I must be mad, she decided as the thought surfaced.

‘The fact is, Charles, Emily knew how you would react to—’ his eyes sought hers for a brief moment as if they were exchanging some profound secret. ‘—us,’ he said, his expression sincere as he looked at the older man. Emily silently wondered at the proficient way he lied; the more outrageous the claim, the more convincing he appeared. If she hadn’t been busy loathing him she might almost have admired the talent. ’she got involved with Gavin to forget me, but some things…’

Emily gasped. That was going just a bit far even for her father to swallow. But, looking at Luke’s profile, she thought perhaps he didn’t want her father to be convinced; he was laying things on with a trowel, deliberately letting the older man know that he had in some way engineered this event—which, of course, he had. Things were slipping from her control like sand through her fingers. Luke was putting an alarming amount of effort into his part, and the malice he was directing at her father was painfully obvious.

While she wasn’t close to either of her parents, she felt uncomfortable at colluding with Luke to further his campaign.

‘In the circumstances, I can’t really continue with my engagement,’ she said softly. The way both men looked at her made her realise they had both forgotten her existence for a split-second. ’so glad to see I have your attention,’ she said sweetly, filled with a revitalising wrath. ’there was nothing intentional in this, Father, and with all due respect I feel I should discuss this with my…with Gavin first. I know you’ve gone to a lot of trouble and expense,’ she added drily, even if she had begged for a simple affair to announce her engagement. The lavish occasion had not been of her seeking. ‘It’s better to discover these things now,’ she said, wincing at the triteness of the phrase that rolled off her lips.

‘How true,’ Luke breathed blandly in her ear. ‘You are so deep, infant.’

Emily matched her expression to his, her features arranged in slavish adoration, a besotted smile on her lips. ’move it or lose it,’ she said, referring to his hand which had strayed to her behind.

Luke gave a deep growl of laughter and didn’t comply with her hissed command.

Her father hadn’t had the benefit of hearing the content of this brief interchange, but he had endured the apparent intimacy of the low-voiced murmers. He gave a bitter laugh, his expression a mixture of spite and scorn as he looked at his daughter.

‘Unintentional?’ he yelled scornfully. ‘If you believe that you’re even more stupid than I thought. You don’t suppose he—’he flicked Luke a look of abhorrence, ‘—would have wasted his time on you if you weren’t my daughter? A man like Gavin is worth a hundred of him. You’ll live to regret this, Emily, and in the not too distant future,’ he warned. ‘You won’t let the past die, will you?’ he said, his attention once more on the other man.

‘I always keep my promises, Charlie,’ Luke said softly. ‘Opportunities arise, and wasn’t it you who always advocated grabbing them with both hands?’

‘You admit it, then?’ Charles asked hoarsely.

‘Father, calm down, please,’ Emily said urgently. The distended vein that throbbed in his temple made her stomach tighten in alarm. She’d known even without Luke’s contribution just how angry her father was going to be; this had always been a damage-limitation exercise, but it was getting out of hand.

‘Shut up!’ He rounded on her. ‘I’ll deal with you, later.’

‘Your heart…’ she began anxiously. She had to tell him the truth. Perhaps that wouldn’t seem so bad after this charade. It was selfish of her to save her own pride at the risk of her father’s health, she decided, contemptuous of her own weakness in accepting Luke’s get-out clause.

‘There’s nothing wrong with my heart, you idiot,’ he spat back contemptuously.

Emily was immobilised by a thrust of confused pain. ‘But…’

‘I wouldn’t have thought you’d care if I dropped dead at your feet.’

Emily had seen the swift dart of panic in her father’s eyes, and the truculent observation did nothing to diminish an awful feeling that was solidifying in her head. ‘You just said there was nothing wrong with your heart.’

‘Why would you think there was, infant?’ Luke had been watching this interchange with sharp interest.

‘He has a heart condition.’

‘Don’t you dare discuss family matters with him!’ Was there a hint of desperation in the blustery tone?

I heard the doctor tell him. It was an accident; I wasn’t meant to. She spoke inaudibly, her lips moving silently. As she tried to unravel the impossibility of her awful suspicion, Emily had the feeling that her mental processes were not as acute as they might have been. ‘I wasn’t supposed to hear.’ She spoke out loud. Horror entered the eyes she fixed unwaveringly on her father’s face. ‘Was I?’ The timing had been so perfect, so convenient.

Belligerence entered Charles Stapely’s face. ‘You’ve been contaminated by that swine already…my own daughter.’

She’d been about to leave home, set up her own flat. The initial opposition had been fierce; her father had Victorian ideas about a female’s place and role in society. He wanted her where he could keep his eye on her, control her. Persuading him had been a futile task but short of incarceration he couldn’t prevent her; and, much to her surprise, he had suddenly capitulated, given her his blessing. She’d been on cloud nine—her first job as a probationary primary-school teacher and a small flat of her own.

Even after she’d overheard his conversation with the doctor he’d insisted with untypical generosity that she mustn’t let the frailty of his condition stop her living her life.

She’d had a few moments alone with the apparently eminent heart specialist. No, the only treatment possible was conservative, he’d told her, no surgery. Stress could contribute and hasten the inevitable, he’d agreed when she’d tentatively enquired. The words had shocked her, made her realise the gravity of her father’s condition.

He’d been grateful that she decided to stay, almost tearful; it was one less thing for him to worry about, he’d told her. At that time he’d sworn her to secrecy; one word of his condition and the bank could be compromised. He’d promised to take life easier, but she could understand and even admire his determination not to be an invalid.

‘You lied to me,’ she said slowly, her voice trembling with suppressed emotion. ‘It was all a fraud.’

‘It was for your own good. It wasn’t a lie,’ he protested, ‘just an exaggeration. You and Gavin were meant for one another. You had no need to waste your energies on some poky little flat and a job you didn’t need.’

Emily let out a shuddering breath; she’d wanted to be wrong. ‘Your good, you mean. I’ve heard this rumour that not all families are motivated by selfinterest—just now I find the notion hard to believe.’ Her expression hardened. She turned to Luke, who was watching the proceedings with undisguised interest. ‘Get me out of here,’ she commanded flatly. She had no intention of explaining the significance of the interchange. In one evening she had learnt that three of the people she had thought she knew best had all been deceiving her. Do I wear a label saying ‘gullible idiot’? she wondered resentfully.

‘I never thought you were a fool, until today.’ Charles Stapely’s expression was tight with contempt as he watched her lean into Luke’s body as if the strength of his tall frame was all that prevented her from sliding to the ground. ‘If you’re that stupid, he’s welcome to you. But if you suppose he’s going to marry you, think again—’