Passionate Retribution

The blue eyes she loved so much, the ones that seemed to see inside her head, were glittering with feverish intensity. 'It hurt to know that despite how close I had thought we were at times you could still distrust me so totally.' The beads of sweat that shone on his brow increased the impression of the phenomenal strain he seemed to be feeling. She saw the muscles in his throat stand out as he swallowed an invisible constriction. 'I didn't come after you tonight just because of the baby, or at your father's bidding. I came because…because I had to.’ His hands, for once clumsy and ill co-ordinated, fumbled as they moved up the length of her arms and down her back, tightening painfully around her ribs. His head dropped to lie against the angle of her shoulder, his breath hot on the skin of her neck. 'God, you feel…' A ragged cry was wrenched from deep inside him as his mouth moved across her skull. She felt the pressure of his lips through the cap of her hair.

Her own movements were made difficult by the violent tremors which began to afflict her entire body. The same tremors, she realised with a dawning wonder, that were shaking Luke's larger frame with equal fury. His body was all hard muscle, taut, so strong, yet he was trembling.

Hesitantly her arms went up around him, moving over his broad back—at first tentatively, but with growing confidence as she grew greedy for the closeness, the sharing of something she could find no name for. She'd been saying his name repeatedly in a tone half between a sob and a question when she became aware of his stillness.

Luke raised his head from its resting place. 'How could you think I was in love with Beth after we had made love?' he demanded angrily.

What was he saying? She hardly noticed the cruel grip of his fingers as they dug into her upper arms. 'I was just there and you kept harping on about propinquity. You made no secret of the fact that half my attraction was due to my being a means of revenge. Then after Beth turned up you virtually rubbed my nose in the great power that special woman had over you.'

'A special woman,' he said thickly. 'You, Emily Ruth Stapely—the only woman I have ever loved.' He gave a sudden deep laugh at the totally incredulous expression on her face. 'You look as though you're about to say this is so sudden.'

'You hate my father, despise my family,' she protested weakly.

He didn't attempt to deny it. 'That's one reason I put myself through hell trying to deny the obvious. Don't you think I tried to dislike you, believe every rotten thing I accused you of? Me, fall for a Stapely? Even when you were a kid I knew you were different, and you have no idea how terrifying you were at sixteen, all seductive promise and endless trust.' He shook his head. 'I'm ashamed to say how tempting you were, little one. I had to keep reminding myself that despite outward appearances you were still a child. I was pretty disgusted with myself. Why the hell do you think I stayed clear for four years? I could only trust my good intentions at a safe distance,' he recalled wryly. He smiled at her and there was no hidden agenda, just warmth and passion and possession. 'I feel as if in some strange way the outcome was never in question.'

He ran his fingers down the side of her face, the tips rough against the silky texture. 'Why do you think I came back in time for your party? It wasn't coincidence. Maybe I was in love with you even then,' he reflected in a startled tone. 'I didn't want to fall in love with a Stapely. My hate for your family has coloured my every waking moment. I didn't want to see you as an individual who was as much a victim of your birth as I was.'

His thumb blotted a solitary tear that ran down the smoothness of her cheek. 'I was in this tropical paradise,' he recalled, 'Then a single line in a letter from a friend in England stole my peace of mind away.' His eyes raked her face. 'Your wedding plans. I knew it was totally unreasonable but I was furious. I spent the next week carping, ranting about the ridiculous idea of the whole affair. I couldn't get it out of my head. When Bernie Cavanaugh, who is a very shrewd lady, asked me if it was marriage in particular, the bridegroom, or you being other than single which bothered me so much, I had no answer, so she said it might be a good idea if I found out before it was too late.

'I didn't think when you walked in on that farcical, furtive scene, I just acted on pure instinct. I knew I had to get you away from that bloody family of yours if we were going to get anywhere. I played up to your preconceptions about me. If I'd actually told you the truth, you'd either have run a mile or laughed in my face. I just knew I had to have you, and if that involved fulfilling my role as unscrupulous bastard I was going to do it. To be honest, I still had hopes that I could work through this obsession, that I could rid my bloodstream of the ridiculous craving. But I admitted defeat fairly swiftly,' he told her self-consciously. 'I took comfort from the fact that your physical response to me was no illusion. I thought if we were together long enough I could teach you to love me too. I know my methods were hardly scrupulous…'