Название: Passionate Retribution
Автор: KIM LAWRENCE
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
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Her eyes focused on his face, surprised by his question and the unusual tone in his voice. ‘I don’t want him.’
‘You love him?’
‘Don’t be absurd—I was about to marry him!’
‘Not the same thing; people marry for lots of reasons.’
He brushed a stray leaf from the dark fabric of his trousers, and watched her from beneath his thick lashes, the only concession in his features to anything not abrasively masculine.
‘Charlotte loves him,’ she said in a choked voice.
‘At least you can allow the full wrath of Charlie to fall on her head; you, sweetheart, are in the clear. You are the injured party and Charlotte is the bad guy… You do realise she won’t be able to survive the guilty bliss at the expense of her sister’s? the martyrish instinct is too deeply ingrained.’
She frowned at his sneering tone but realised the truth in his words. She felt a certain savage satisfaction. ‘Good!’
‘Who says charity begins at home?’ he remarked drily.
‘Am I supposed to make a present of him, giftwrapped? I’m the injured party here,’ she reminded him, her eyes flashing.
‘And I’m sure you’ll be universally sympathised with once the sordid details get out. Sweet revenge on big sister, and it’s not even as if you love him, is it?’
His words were like a slap in the face; they ricocheted around the small clearing. ‘How dare you——?’ she began.
‘Save the schoolmarm tone for those who are intimidated by it, infant,’ he advised softly. ‘Your sister just filched your property and the boyfriend just trampled all over your pride, and it hurts like hell; but you’re not reacting like a girl whose heart is broken, so don’t expect any sympathy from me.’
He was the most insensitive, wantonly cruel man on the face of the earth, she decided. ‘I must say I find it amusing to hear you speak about love as if you’re the expert. Thirty-two and unmarried might make some people draw conclusions,’ she suggested outrageously.
Luke took this slur on his manhood unblinkingly. ‘I could see over the potted palms,’ he said softly, recalling the recent scene in the conservatory and the advantage of his six feet three compared to her average stature. ‘Pretty boy——is that what made you pick him out to propagate the species?’
‘I’m not as preoccupied with a pretty face as you appear to be.’
‘That’s a rather bizarre avenue for you to take just to avoid a simple question,’ he said, standing up in that fluid way he had of moving. The grace and co-ordination of a jungle cat, she realised, momentarily diverted; strength masked by totally misleading indolence. Looking at his face, seeing no sign of anger at her comment, just an even more frightening absence of expression that was inhumanly cold, she wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly aware of the chill of the night.
‘Could you be asking me to offer proof of my masculinity?’ he asked, as though he were discussing the weather.
‘L-Luke!’ she stuttered, alarmed at his response to her unthinking gibe. It had never occurred to her that Luke was in any way effeminate; the idea was incredibly absurd! She’d just been hitting back without considering the fact that this target was unlikely to sit still and take the abuse. ‘Now who’s being absurd?’ she said, trying to sound firm and in control of the situation.
‘Male vanity is a very tender thing, Emmy,’ he purred, taking, much to her alarm, another step in her direction. ‘It should be nurtured.’
‘Tender my foot; you’re as fragile as the average steel bar, and about as insensitive too.’ The idea that she could pierce his impenetrable hide made her realise he had to be reacting like this just to frighten her. If she had been less distracted she’d have realised this straight away. She knew him, of course, but it occurred to her that the knowledge she had was quite superficial.
He’d been at school when she had been a small child—with her own brother, Paul, but not of course at the same school. A second-class school was as far as her father’s obligation to his adoptive cousin’s child went. It wasn’t as if she’d actually been real family, he was fond of reminding them at frequent intervals. Luke’s mother’s background had been a mystery. How had she repaid their generosity? With Luke, a cruel but, in her father’s eyes, predictable outcome to such a foolish action. She had rejected all the advantages bestowed upon her and had chosen to raise her son single-handed, turning her back on the adoptive parents who had rejected her. It had of course been a source of intense frustration to her parents when Luke, the cuckoo in the nest, had outshone their own cosseted heir in every field. Both young men had gone on to the same university, but Luke had gone on a scholarship and her brother had scraped in.
Her brother, while not her favourite person, was still her brother and her attitude to Luke owed much to his resentment. He’d slaved away, at least so he’d told them, and Luke had mixed with undesirable elements, getting involved in numerous dissident activities, and had still managed to emerge the other side with a first. The details to her young mind had meant little, but she could understand the seething frustration and dislike her brother had felt.
In retrospect, she was glad Luke had incredibly refused the offer of a post in the merchant bank her grandfather had created. He had never fitted snugly into her world; their relationship was tenuous; he was a connection rather than family. Even without the blood tie it made him the proverbial black sheep, who hadn’t had the decency to be a failure. At the time it had caused a minor furore. ‘After all we’ve done for him’ and ‘bad blood will out’ had been two phrases she recalled being bandied about a good deal. But at least Paul hadn’t had to start his career under the shadow of his cousin’s flair and undoubted ability.
At the time it had been decided and, she suspected, fervently hoped that Luke would regret his arrogant assumption that he could make his own way without the cushioning secunty of the family. He hadn’t, of course, and, though his visits were not frequent, he kept in touch as much to flaunt his success as his unconventional lifestyle which was anathema to her tradition-bound household.
It hit her in that split-second as she opened her mouth to denounce Luke’s tactics and total lack of feeling. The corrosive impact of all she had lost in a few moments made her fight for air and go deathly pale. All her dreams…plans. And the humiliation. How long had they…? She tormented herself with the knowledge that while she had discussed the wedding plans with Charlotte, her sister had been…She closed her eyes, a deep cry of distress wrenched from her throat.
‘Don’t faint!’ The voice sounded faintly impatient and the hands that forced her into a sitting position and pushed her head between her knees were ruthlessly efficient but not very gentle.
Emily took several deep gulps and the singing in her ears retreated to the distance. She raised her head cautiously.
‘I never had you pegged as the swooning sort.’
She glared hazily at the harsh features of her companion and swore. ‘It’s not every day I find my boyfriend prefers my sister. I realise vulnerability isn’t a familiar term to you,’ she snarled. Considering that the first СКАЧАТЬ