Passionate Retribution

A flood of joy was spilling out of her; a new confidence swelled and grew as he spoke. 'I'm glad you didn't find a cure for the obsession,' she said firmly. Her eyes glowed as she placed her hands on either side of his face. 'I love you, Luke, and I feel ashamed I didn't have the guts to tell you so. I misjudged you, but when you've been fed information about a person all your life the ideas are hard to dislodge.' Her face creased in anguish. 'You never told me, never even hinted. I thought I was a form of retribution, Luke, a pawn in some deadly game. You spoilt me for anyone else when I fell for you at sixteen. You must know that.'

His eyes darkened in anguish. 'Emily, I told you in every way I could.'

'Except in words.'

He nodded in acquiescence. 'Except in words. Perhaps we were both afraid of rejection.'

The concept of Luke feeling as vulnerable and unsure as she had, suffering the same torture, was shattering. 'I'll always be my father's daughter, Luke; you'll never be able to forget that,' she said with a shade of unease that dimmed the joy she'd felt.

'My wife first,' he said with the arrogant tilt to his head which she loved. But the melting tenderness was new, and it was for her. 'I'm not marrying your father. Do you realise that in his own way he was acting as matchmaker today? In the circumstances he can't object to our marriage, can he? Actually, he admitted a few things today that almost explain…not excuse, but explain. He was in love with my mother.' He gave an ironic grin as Emily's jaw fell open. 'My reaction exactly. She apparently would have none of it, but he had hopes until my father came along. I look like my father, it seems. End of story.'

'That's no excuse,' she objected. 'If this baby—' she touched her stomach '—were another man's, you wouldn't take out your frustration on him.'

'No, Emily I wouldn't,' he agreed quietly. 'That's an impressive piece of faith, infant.' The pleasure he felt at her swift response rounded the gravelly edges of his voice. 'But I'd never let another man steal you from me,' he warned her huskily.

'You didn't follow me,' she reminded him.

'Pride,' he said in a clipped tone, 'has made the last months a living hell. I'd almost given up fighting, waiting for you to make the first move. Hell, Emmy, no proper explanation…you just ran. I thought you couldn't stand the sight of me. I knew, though, that you couldn't have been so sweet, so wonderful when we made love if there were nothing. I clung on to that and waited stubbornly for you to make the first move. I'd have done anything to make you mine, and I still would.' Anguish, the shadow of nightmares, twisted his features. 'It's been a nightmare wanting you, trying to convince myself you weren't worth all the agonies. I thought you might have found someone else… Emmy, I was touched, flattered that I was your first. But it's the last I want to be.'

His lips were hungry, drinking her in like a man who'd spent days in a desert. She pressed eagerly closer, feeling the same urgency flood her veins.

When they eventually broke apart, they were both gasping for air. 'The baby, Emmy—how do you feel about it?' Luke asked.

'When I thought it was all I had of you, or ever would have, the baby was everything to me. Now you and the baby are my world. And you?'

'I'm filled with a proprietorial delight at the prospect of watching you grow fat and gorgeous with the seed of life we began.' He shifted his weight and leant back, pulling her half on top of him. 'Is there much evidence of occupation yet?' he asked curiously, stroking her flat belly.

'I'll let you decide that, darling,' she said with a small, provocative smile.

'I think I can handle that,' he murmured receptively, and the hungry prowling of his eyes over her body made her quiver in anticipation. 'Em, back in Scotland, a million years or so ago, I thought you might be holding back because of my line of work. You know, war zones.'

'Civil wars, famine,' she added stoically. 'I don't want to change you, tie you down,' she said, trying to ignore the cold fingers of dread that clutched at her heart. To lose Luke… But to tether him was equally unthinkable.

'I'm not addicted to danger, Emily. To be honest, being a voyeur, an observer, on the depths of human misery can have a seriously numbing effect on the body—not to mention the mind. My life has been out of balance and I reached my limit a while back. I've curtailed my activities in that field recently.'

Emily's eyes grew soft and dark as she was filled with a rush of tenderness. 'What happened?'

He shook his head. 'Not now, honey,' he said roughly. 'I don't want anything dark to get in the way. Let's just say I had nightmares for a good six months, and pictures that played incessantly in my head. As a photographer, reporter, or whatever, the main feeling is of impotence. Sometimes we help by focusing the world's eyes on atrocities, but on the immediate level we can only watch. You can't afford to lose that protective veneer of objectivity. I'm telling you this, love, in case you're afraid I'll do anything to jeopardise what we have,' he explained, tenderly touching her soft mouth with his fingertip, tracing the outline.