Passionate Retribution. KIM LAWRENCE

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СКАЧАТЬ shock swept through her veins, interwoven with a snowballing sense of panic, when without warning Luke turned towards her, trapping her between the wall and his body. Impressions were bombarding her brain as she tried to think beyond the immediate impact which made her laboriously gasp for air, her head growing immediately light.

      He was a large man, not heavily built but muscular and hard. She hadn’t actually appreciated the physical proportions of his tall, rangy frame previously. He was close enough without being in actual physical contact for her to be aware of the heat of his body and the male odour which emanated from him, a clean smell, not tainted by the over-use of scents and potions. Unconsciously her hands went out, palms outwards to preserve her own space.

      ‘You’re hyperventilating,’ he observed impatiently, looking down into her alarm-filled face.

      ‘What are you…?’

      ‘Inspiration, remember? That’s what I’m here to provide. And if you want to get out of this mess with some of your precious pride intact, just follow my lead,’ he told her harshly. He bent his dark head and she closed her eyes with a sense of impending doom.

      Inspiration obviously allowed for no preliminaries, because she found her hands flattened against the hard plane of his belly as he pressed forward, pinning her to the wall with his weight. She wasn’t aware of one hand sliding beneath her hair to cup her skull, but she found her movements being controlled by the touch of his fingers. She breathed his name, filled with an intense desire to escape; but the sound of her voice was lost against the movement of his mouth.

      Luke was kissing her. The concept was too strange to grasp completely. She stood stock-still, counting the sound of her own laboured inhalations. The awareness of his heavy thighs pressing against her traumatised her already impaired nervous system.

      ‘Open your mouth, infant.’ His voice was tinged with heavy exasperation.

      What the hell did he think he was doing, hauling her about like a doll and handing out ridiculous instructions as though she were some sort of puppet? She opened her mouth to tell him exactly what he could do, but he seemed to take this as compliance. The abrupt intimacy of his tongue colliding with her teeth, touching the moistness of her inner lip, was like a bolt of pure, intense excitement. It destroyed all coherent thought processes—and most physical responses too. The weakness was totally debilitating, and if his hands hadn’t slid across her back she would have slid to the floor at that moment.

      Nothing in her life had prepared her for the black hole of pure sensation she found herself sinking into. Countering the sensation never entered her head; the intensity required total co-operation. She let the flow carry her along. She was absorbed in the texture of his lips against her tender mouth in a way that was totally alien. A kiss was something pleasant, if you were lucky in your partner, but something she had been able to stop without the wrenching feeling of loss she experienced when Luke raised his head.

      She stared at him in a half-horrified, half-fascinated way before she registered the sound of her own father’s voice. The blue eyes held an ambiguous mingling of mockery and anger. Why should Luke be angry? she wondered. I should be angry…I am angry.

      ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

      Luke moved to one side after winking at her, his expression contemplative but palpably unmoved by the ardent embrace. The realisation was painfully humiliating. ‘Charlie, I would have thought that was rather obvious,’ he said, smiling with silky provocation. His fingers strayed seemingly automatically to Emily’s bare shoulder, his fingers stroking her hot skin.

      At any other time her father’s thunderstruck expression of total incredulity would have made her laugh. She felt just as stunned herself; her bemused brain was only just beginning to function. Her father’s mouth was open, his face suffused with a purplish glow that stood out in violent contrast to the leonine mane of silver hair he was so proud of. He wasn’t supposed to get over-excited, some sane portion of her brain recalled fuzzily.

      ‘Hello, Father,’ she said stupidly. The tableau had to be broken at some point and Luke appeared to be savouring each moment too much to be of any assistance. She couldn’t look at Luke—what little dignity she had left he’d managed to rip into shreds. She would murder him, slowly, painfully and with relish! she decided.

      ‘What are you doing with him…?’ His eyes touched Luke with an expression of loathing. He seemed to be noticing details that he hadn’t done previously: the torn, mud-stained dress, her tangled hair. Details that Emily had not until that moment been conscious of herself. The picture must be pretty damning.

      She lifted a trembling hand to her lips, which felt bruised and tender—no doubt as Luke had intended. She felt a small bud of anger blossom dramatically as her breast swelled with a sense of victimisation. Did he imagine for one moment that she’d agree to such a transparently ludicrous ploy to extract her from her engagement and save face? As for his mauling her about in quite such a realistic fashion, she’d never forgive him, ever, even if it was for her father’s benefit.

      Not that she was about to lose any sleep over a kiss, she told herself stubbornly. Lurking in her mind was a growing sense of unease at the devastating response of her normally co-operative senses. With forewarning, she told herself, throwing Luke a fulminating glance, I could have taken the thing in my stride. Luke smiled back at her, allowing the hard lines of his face to dissolve into something more warm, more intimate.

      ‘Emily was putting me out of my misery, Charlie,’ Luke said, a throb of emotion in his voice. Staring into the very blue eyes, Emily felt a twinge of pity for any female he turned the charm on, for it would be awfully difficult not to believe the apparent sincerity he could infuse into his expression.

      ‘I wasn’t talking to you,’ Charles Stapely snarled, his expression growing even uglier as Luke brushed the stray strands of hair from her brow tenderly.

      Emily forced herself to accept his ministrations passively, but she longed to push his fingers away. The sensation was disagreeable; it made the muscles low in her belly clench in objection and she was filled with a restless sense of unease that she was sure was associated with the contact. She was going to stop this farce now—anything was preferable, she thought, shuddering.

      His lips brushed her ear. ‘What do you prefer, infant victim?’ he murmured, his voice low but perfectly distinct. Their eyes met. ‘Or fallen woman,’ he mouthed silently but distinctly.

      The internal battle was violent but brief. Luke had forced her into this absurd charade from the worst of motives, she had no doubt; but he had given her this choice. The sympathy, the knowing glances…

      ‘I realise this must be a shock, Father,’ she said. Luke smiled, complacent and unsurprised. He had known her weakness all along, the pity she couldn’t stomach. He foiled her attempt to move away by encircling her waist with his arm. His hand moved restlessly over her silk-clad midriff and she felt her thoughts telescope together, and her next comment slipped out of reach. It was at the same time a jarring but soothing sensation, Luke’s fingers over the soft fabric. Soothing…I must be mad, she decided as the thought surfaced.

      ‘The fact is, Charles, Emily knew how you would react to—’ his eyes sought hers for a brief moment as if they were exchanging some profound secret. ‘—us,’ he said, his expression sincere as he looked at the older man. Emily silently wondered at the proficient way he lied; the more outrageous the claim, the more convincing he appeared. If she hadn’t been busy loathing him she might almost have admired the talent. ’she got involved with Gavin to forget me, but some things…’

      Emily gasped. СКАЧАТЬ