She didn't need any reminder to recall the afternoon they'd spent. She shivered as the erotic, sensuous pictures played in her head, and her hands came up to grip his forearms which encircled her. A slow smile curved her lips as her eyes fell on the tumbled bedclothes. He bent his head and his mouth moved over her nape.
The weeks they had been together had made her aware of a sensual side of her nature that was both shocking and delightful. She greedily relished her role as eager pupil—all she had withheld was the verbal confirmation of her love. The restraint was painful but necessary. Whatever happened in the future, she had her memories, and she hugged them to herself, determined not to be robbed.
'Are you nervous?' he asked.
'What do you care?' she flung at him. He didn't try to stop her pulling away. She stared at him with dark- eyed resentment; his words had spoilt the sweetness of the moment.
'You have to see them some time.'
'Of course I do; that's what I'm here for, isn't it?' she accused bitterly. As if she needed reminding. 'At least it's on neutral territory. I should be glad, in the circumstances, for any small mercy. I don't suppose even you and Dad can brawl in public.' Tonight was the first time she had seen her family since Luke had informed them of the engagement. No matter what went on in private, the recriminations and bitterness, in public at least the Stapelys would simulate acceptance of the situation.
'I've not noticed you complaining,' he observed, his sensuous mouth betraying the cruelty she knew he was capable of.
'Perhaps I'm making the best of what is, after all, a temporary arrangement,' she responded coolly. 'Someone like you is all right for short-term passion, but you're hardly equipped for anything more intense. Not with your gypsy blood.' Her teeth gouged a groove in her full lower lip to stop it trembling.
'You mean my uncertain parentage,' he said, his voice hardening. 'I've always enjoyed the latitude that allowed me. I didn't have to be saddled with a pompous, pretentious, narrow-minded, avaricious bastard.' He shot her a look of dark dislike. 'What is it with you? You seem more comfortable when we're flinging insults at one another.'
She took a deep breath. She hadn't meant anything of the sort, but his casual vitriol was sincere. 'I've heard you described in equally glowing terms,' she said drily. 'And it's what we do best, isn't it, fling insults?'
'I wouldn't say that,' he said throatily. The smoky purr made her knees grow weak. 'Did you defend my honour?' he wondered drily.
'Why should I?' she retorted, holding on to the dressing-table to steady herself. 'They are my family; you're…'
'The poor relation to be displayed on suitable occasions to illustrate the open-hearted generosity of the glorious Stapelys.'
'You always seemed well able to take care of yourself,' she muttered mutinously. Had she fared so much better? She had a brother with whom she had nothing in common, a sister who stole her fiancé—as it happened a favour—and parents who had never hidden the fact that she was a major disappointment. Parents to whom her wishes, her desires had never been anything other than an inconvenience. 'Families aren't all they are cracked up to be. Maybe I envied you. I think you're just twisted by self-pity; the great laid- back Lucas Hunt is consumed by mean, petty self- interest.'
The leap of emotional response in his eyes made a frisson of unease crawl the length of her spine. 'Maybe you are the loser,' he agreed surprisingly. 'I doubt if you were ever on the receiving end of any genuine emotion. I had my mother for at least part of my childhood and, although by your standards we were poor, at least I learnt how to give and receive affection.' He gave a shrug, his lip curling. 'You, on the other hand, never had the lessons, and they do say if you've never had love you're never able to function fully. I mean, it gives pause for thought when a woman is still a virgin at twenty.'
'Was!' she yelled, incredibly wounded by the denouncement of her character. It was her ability to love that was inflicting such torment at that precise moment.
'I stand corrected,' he drawled.
'I'd hardly equate an afternoon of sex with you as an emotional high,' she yelled.
'Is that a fact?' he said with narrow-eyed interest. 'What exactly would you call it?' he enquired silkily.
'A technical learning experience,' she shot back.
He dived for her, his features a dark, angry blue. 'You really can be a prize little bitch.'
'Blame the genetic pool,' she said with flippancy born of a sense of extreme loss. 'It seems to be a fixation of yours.' She twisted to free herself from his grasp. Luke despised her so much that every time she began to think they could at least be friends his prejudices swirled to the surface like oil on a pool.
'I blame you, you vindictive little wretch,' he snarled. 'Why am I letting you do this to me?' The words were wrenched from him. She could hardly believe the throb of uncharacteristic frustration. It made her stare at him in wide-eyed confusion. What was she doing to him? What did he mean? She saw no answer in his face, only anger that before her eyes transformed into sensual desire. 'You're a sensual little witch.' He made the throaty observation an accusation.