Passionate Retribution

Her eyes were wide, almost black with horror. This was indeed refined cruelty. 'We didn't…1 didn't,' she said, shaking her head in denial. 'Luke…' The plea and confusion in her voice made his jaw tighten.

'I know that, infant, and so do you. But what we both also know is that you thought about it.' He paused, allowing this to sink in fully. 'It's a little like the old problem: is adultery any less adultery when it remains in the imagination of two people?'

'Two…?' she echoed in a numb voice.

'You can't imagine I didn't know what you were thinking, offering, Emily,' he said harshly. 'A strange intimacy builds up gradually amid all that unspoken conspiracy of desire; even without words your intentions were incredibly articulate. It may surprise you to know I imagined it some too.'

This was so impossibly awful! She hadn't known mortification actually had a physical taste. He hadn't been able to stomach the thought at the time of sleeping with a Stapely, that much was obvious. Given his relentless pursuit of vengeance it was the only explanation of the fact that he'd never encouraged her to fulfil her cravings.

She gave a sudden groan and clutched her stomach, the knowledge that flashed through her brain actually manifesting itself in physical pain. She'd never escaped her juvenile fixation; it had matured with her. She was still in love with Luke—all the denial was never going to change that fact. He loathed her…enough to marry her. The bizarre irony of this fact made her laugh, straightening up as she did so.

'You really would sink that low?' Beads of sweat stood out on the marble paleness of her wide brow, and a nerve leapt in his cheek as his eyes ran assessingly over her.

'You have to think like scum to catch scum,' he said brutally. 'I think you'd better think over my proposal, Emily. The idea does have its merits…if you're honest.'

Honest! He could say the word without flinching. 'You're blackmailing me, Luke.'

'When I want something I'm prepared to go as far as required,' he said tautly.

'You really hate me that much? Or am I just insignificant, merely in the way?'

The curve of his mouth promised sensual delights, but his eyes were bitterly ironic, tired, weary eyes. 'Infant,' he said softly, his hand running through his hair not totally steady, 'I think you're essential to my plans.' He smiled, a mocking smile that seemed to be aimed at himself rather than her.

'You mean you need my collusion to deliver the ultimate punishment,' she accused, sure now that she was permanently off balance. She would never take anything at face value again!

'I think you should consider my proposal.'

'Ultimatum.'

Luke looked at her from beneath hooded eyelids. He made a circular motion with his head, rubbing his neck as if to relieve unseen knots in the columns of muscle and sinew. 'I won't argue with that,' he said shortly. He extended the motion, outlining the concave shape of his belly below the ridge of his ribs. She saw the bank of flesh across his waist and the beginning of the scar that ran across his back to terminate just to the right of his spine.

Completely distracted, she licked her dry lips, recalling the occasion she'd asked him about his wound, the one that had kept him so close during that fateful summer. He'd shown her then the line of puckered flesh, purple still from recent surgery to remove the shrapnel that had strayed perilously close to his spine.

He'd taken her reaction to be one of horror, whereas in reality the physical evidence of his pain had not repelled her at all. It was the reminder of how close to death or permanent disability he had come that had made her grow cold with fear. The fact that he'd had pain had made her feel, even then, impotently angry that she hadn't been able to share or cushion his hurt. Suddenly she felt sixteen again, bewildered and afraid of the sensations evoked and her inability to govern them.

When she eventually raised her eyes, the thread of her argument had long since eluded her. His expression transfixed her; his eyes were filled with a blind, piercing hunger, pagan in its unsophisticated rawness and far removed from anything she'd imagined a human face could portray.

'I'll never submit to blackmail.'

She wanted to feel the contours of the sharply defined cheekbones beneath her fingers, trace the jawline, surrender to the erotic clamour of his compelling eyes. She gave a small cry filled with a hopelessness that suddenly swamped her. He was capable of carrying out any threat, which meant he'd inevitably discover the true state of her feelings. Ignoring the sound of her own name as he called her with an urgency that made no impact, she ran outdoors.

The horizon had a crystal clarity where all the shades of blue met in one glorious colour, obliterating the line between sky and sea. Emily stared at the panorama without actually seeing it; none of the azure shades had the same inspired depth as Luke's eyes.