Subtle Revenge

Subtle Revenge

Carole Mortimer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

LORI fought against the darkness, knowing what it would bring, knowing she couldn’t face the nightmare again tonight. But it came anyway, bringing with it the desolation and loss she had never been able to accept.

The blackness cleared, giving way to a hazy greyness, as she saw her father’s anguished face, her mother’s grief, and finally Nigel’s contempt.

‘You should have told me,’ he accused, his handsome face flushed.

Then came her own voice, crying out to him, pleading with him not to condemn her for the past.

He looked at her with cold blue eyes, his suit superbly tailored, his blond hair neatly styled. ‘You know I can’t marry you now.’

‘No!’ This time she cried out in earnest, thrashing about in the bed as she tried to reach the man in her dream, the man she loved. ‘Nigel, I love you,’ she begged. ‘Don’t leave me. Everyone has left me, my father, my mother—you can’t leave me too!’

‘Watch me,’ he said in a chilling voice. ‘Watch me walk out of the door and never look back. And next time you aim for respectability make sure you tell the man involved the truth about yourself. Because if you don’t, I will.’

‘No! Nigel, please,’ she clutched on to his arm, feeling him flinch with the disgust with which he now held her, shaking her off. ‘Nigel, you love me!’

‘I loved Lori Parker, not Lorraine Chisholm. I could never love Lorraine Chisholm. Never!’ he added vehemently.

She fell at his feet, sobbing, clutching at his legs as he tried to walk away. ‘Nigel, don’t go!’ she sobbed.

‘I have to.’ He shook her off as if she were no more than a wearisome dog. ‘No decent man in his right mind would want to have you as his wife.’

No decent man, no decent man … As his wife, as his wife …

‘Lori, wake up!’ Someone was shaking her shoulder. ‘Lori, open your eyes. You’re having a bad dream. Lori!’ Again the shake on the shoulder, harder this time.

She forced herself through the realms of sleep, opening her eyes with effort, the greyness fading to give way to bright sunshine, the concerned face of her flatmate, Sally, gazing down at her worriedly.

‘Are you all right?’ Sally frowned. ‘You were screaming so loud I thought someone was attacking you!’

Lori raised herself up on her elbows, pushing the red-gold hair back from her face, blinking long lashes over shadowed brown eyes. ‘I should be so lucky,’ she said ruefully. ‘Just a nightmare.’

Sally moved back with a shrug, sitting on the single bed across from Lori’s. ‘It sounded real enough to me.’

‘Nightmares always do,’ Lori threw back the covers and swung her long legs to the floor. ‘They always seem very real too, that’s why they’re so frightening.’

Sally stood up, a small, slightly plump girl with straight blonde hair down to her shoulders. ‘This one sounded a real horror story,’ she grimaced.

‘It was.’ Lori stretched with feigned nonchalance. ‘But I’ve forgotten what it was about now,’ she lied, knowing that particular horror would never leave her.

‘You have?’ Sally seemed doubtful too.

‘Mm.’ Lori stood up, padding over to the dressing-table to take her clean underwear from the top drawer. She was a tall girl, five feet eight inches in her bare feet, and the masculine pyjamas made her look slimmer than ever, and if it weren’t for the rich cloud of red-gold hair that framed her beautiful face she could almost have looked boyish. Without her make-up she looked younger than her twenty-four years, her lashes naturally long and dark, her eyes a deep rich brown, her nose small and straight, her mouth a perfect bow, although she smiled little. She was aware of the fact that men were attracted to her combination of fiery appearance and icy manner, although very few of them ever got further than the first date.

‘Then you won’t remember who Nigel is?’ Sally queried softly.

‘Nigel?’ She froze, then quickly regained her composure, concentrating deeply on finding the green bikini briefs that matched the bra she had already found. ‘Nigel who?’ she mumbled.

‘I was hoping you could tell me that.’ Her friend and flatmate eyed her curiously. ‘You kept calling out his name in your sleep.’

‘But I don’t know anyone called Nigel.’ She had found the bikini briefs now, but her bent head afforded her a certain amount of protection against Sally’s curiosity.

‘Maybe you do, maybe you just think——’

‘Sally!’ she slammed the drawer shut with force. ‘I’m sure I would know whether or not I know anyone called Nigel—and I don’t!’

‘Sorry.’ The other girl looked abashed.

‘No,’ Lori sighed deeply, ‘I’m the one who’s sorry. I think—I think the nightmare must have upset me more than I realised.’ She looked at the other girl pleadingly.

‘They do take it out of you, don’t they,’ Sally agreed eagerly, as anxious as Lori to forget the subject now that she had seen how much it was upsetting her to talk about it. ‘It was probably thinking about Nikki’s wedding that made you sleep restlessly.’

‘Yes,’ she said dully. ‘I-I’ll use the bathroom first, shall I?’

‘Go ahead,’ the other girl invited goodnaturedly.

Sally couldn’t know just how right she was, it was Nikki’s wedding that had brought on the nightmare. The three girls worked together in a law firm, not actually together, but they spent most of their breaks together. Today was the day of Nikki’s wedding to Paul Hammond, the junior partner of the firm, and also Nikki’s boss, and what no one else could possibly realise was that five years ago next week should have been Lori’s own wedding day. If Nigel hadn’t walked out on her!

Nigel Phillips, heir to the Phillips fortune, junior partner in his father’s law firm where Lori had been employed five years ago. His father had bitterly disapproved of Lori from the start, and it had been he who supplied the information that had driven Nigel and herself apart. She had believed that after all that time her past couldn’t catch up with her, but as soon as Nigel learnt the truth about her he had broken their engagement, had cancelled the wedding. She had never fully recovered from the way he had let her down, and even though five years had passed August was still a traumatic month for her.

When Nikki had told her the date of her wedding and asked her to be a bridesmaid, her first instinct had been to refuse, and then her pride had made her say yes. Nigel might have made her wary of men, of becoming involved, but she couldn’t let him influence her life in any other way. Nikki would have been deeply hurt if she had refused, but she had paid for her determination to go to the wedding with a series of the recurring nightmares that had plagued her the last five years. Last night had been the worst, though, refusing to be shaken off as she sometimes managed to do. Poor Sally must have wondered what on earth was happening!

‘It’s all yours.’ She came out of the bathroom ten minutes later, a towel wrapped around her wet hair. Nikki had offered to take her to the hairdressers’ with Sally and herself, but as her hair always reverted to the fluffy red-gold cloud she had known it was a waste of time and effort, preferring to wash and style it herself.

‘I’m off now,’ Sally called out a few minutes later, dressed in casual denims and a blouse, the pale green dresses they were to wear at Nikki’s parents’ house. ‘I’ll see you soon.’

‘Okay.’ Lori went through to the lounge, similarly dressed, her hair partly dry. ‘And don’t let Nikki get nervous and change her mind,’ she teased, still looking a little strained.

‘Are you joking?’ Sally grinned. ‘It took her months to catch the poor unsuspecting man.’

It was true. Nikki had mooned about over Paul for almost six months before he had plucked up the courage to ask her out. His proposal had been a little quicker in coming, only four months, and Nikki had arranged the wedding at top speed before he changed his mind.

‘That poor, unsuspecting man happens to worship the ground Nikki walks on,’ Lori said dryly. ‘It seems incredible to me that the two of them had been in love with each other for months but neither thought the other one was interested,’ she shook her head.

‘That’s the English for you!’ Sally laughed before leaving.

Lori didn’t remember guarding her own feelings when she was younger, had never pretended to be anything but completely in love with Nigel. It was different now, now she was wary about caring for anyone, and only Sally and Nikki had become good friends over the last four years, since she had begun working for Ackroyd, Hammond, and Hammond. Ackroyd had been long dead, the senior Mr Hammond was retiring in the near future, and the younger Mr Hammond was Paul. Several other lawyers worked for the firm too, but they weren’t partners.

The elder Mr Hammond was Lori’s boss, a big bluff man who couldn’t have been happier about his son marrying Nikki. If only Charles Phillips could have felt the same way about his son marrying his secretary! Then there would have been no delving into the past, no opening of old wounds, and now she might have been Nigel’s wife, might even have his children. That had been Charles Phillips’ worry, of course, not so much her being Nigel’s wife, but the fact that his grandchildren would have Chisholm blood in their veins.

She leant her head weakly against the dressing-table mirror, letting its coolness soothe her. Normally she didn’t think of Nigel for days at a time, but today he wouldn’t be put from her mind. He had been ten years her senior, had seemed experienced and sophisticated to her awestruck gaze. When he had shown an interest in her too she had been ecstatic, little realising that her fragile beauty and obvious fascination made her an easy victim to such a man. But Nigel had seemed to surprise himself by falling in love with her, and had asked her to marry him only a few weeks after their first evening together.

All Nigel’s family had been horrified by his choice of bride—his snobby mother, his outraged father, and last his bitchy young sister Margot. But at least Margot had called her a gold-digger to her face. Charles Phillips had been much more underhand, producing his trump card only a week before the wedding.

Lori had stood and watched Nigel as the love drained from his eyes, while his face tightened with contempt, and in that moment her own hate had begun, mainly for Charles Phillips, but also for Jacob Randell, the man who had vindictively ruined her life in the first place, the reason for her father’s early death, her mother’s unhappy years before she too died prematurely.

She looked at herself in the mirror, seeing the thin face, the high cheekbones, but noticing none of the arresting beauty, the brown eyes seeming to have a golden ring around the iris, giving them a curiously catlike appearance. She was as slender as a model, had the sort of figure that showed clothes well, although she considered herself too thin when undressed, her hips and waist were very narrow, her legs long and slender, her breasts small and uptilting.

Still, she wouldn’t be the one being looked at today. Nikki would be the cynosure of all eyes. And so she should be, every girl deserved to be the belle of the ball on her wedding day!

Lori finished drying her hair and applying her make-up, determinedly not giving Nigel another thought. She had to be at Nikki’s in an hour, and she didn’t have the time to think of anything but getting ready for that.

All was chaos at the bride’s house, Mrs Dean sure that the flowers weren’t going to arrive on time, Mr Dean having locked himself in his study out of the way, much to his wife’s annoyance. Lori telephoned the florist, something no one else seemed to have thought of, apparently, ringing off to assure the bride’s mother that the flowers were on their way right now.

‘Thank goodness you’ve arrived!’ Nikki grabbed her, pulling her into her bedroom. ‘Do something with my hair!’ she wailed.

Lori frowned. ‘What’s wrong with it?’ It looked perfectly all right to her.

‘Nothing now, but look!’ Nikki picked up the veil and put it on her head, instantly flattening the feathered style of her black hair. ‘I forgot to take the headdress to the hairdressers so that they could work around it, and now I look a mess!’ Tears filled her deep blue eyes.

‘You don’t look a mess at all,’ Lori soothed her friend. ‘It only needs a little restyling, this bit brought forward more and this bit smoothed out,’ she suited her actions to her words, not making any drastic changes, just bringing the feathered fringe forward so that it was visible when the veil was put in place.

Nikki’s eyes shone with happiness now instead of tears. ‘I knew I could rely on you!’

Lori smiled. ‘That’s what chief bridemaids are for. And talking of bridesmaids, where’s Sally?’ she frowned.

‘Still at the hairdressers,’ Nikki grimaced.

‘What are they doing to her, giving her a transplant?’ Lori derided.

‘I hope not,’ Nikki groaned. ‘Her hair is already so thick it’s taking twice as long as mine to dry! I came back to help Mum, but I wish I hadn’t bothered!’ she sighed.

‘It’s a bit chaotic, isn’t it?’ Lori laughed.

‘Don’t underestimate, Lori, it’s bedlam! I wish now that we’d eloped!’

Lori laughed lightly. ‘I’m sure every bride wishes the same thing before the wedding. But just wait until you see the photographs. It will be something to remember the rest of your life.’

‘Mum keeps saying the same thing,’ Nikki grimaced. ‘I just wish it were all over.’

‘Enjoy it,’ Lori encouraged gently. ‘It’s a special day in your life, Nikki. Savour every minute of it.’

Her friend gave her a strange look, shrugging as some of the tension left her. ‘You’re right,’ she nodded. ‘This is my wedding day to Paul, why worry about the fact that Mum is having hysterics in the kitchen, Dad is locked in his study causing the hysterics, and the flowers haven’t arrived!’

‘Ah, now, the latter I can help you with,’ Lori smiled. ‘I’ve just seen the van from the florists pull up outside.’

Nikki rushed to join her at the window. ‘Thank heavens for that!’ she sighed her relief. ‘That’s one crisis over. Do you think Paul’s buttonhole arrived safely?’ she added worriedly.

‘It was coming from the same florist, wasn’t it?’ Lori waited for her friend’s nod of confirmation. ‘Then I’ll just go down and ask the lady if she went to Paul’s first.’

‘Why didn’t I think of that?’ Nikki said ruefully.

Lori gave a happy laugh at her friend’s almost dazed expression. ‘Because you’re too excited to think of anything but being Paul’s wife.’

‘Yes,’ Nikki gave a dreamy smile. ‘I can’t tell you how much I love him, how I’m longing to be married to him.’ She blushed prettily. ‘We’ve waited, you know, Lori.’

‘I do know.’ Lori squeezed her friend’s hand. ‘And that’s also what makes today so special. The permissive society and equal rights in bed for women are okay, but there’s nothing quite like a virginal bride.’

‘Will you be——’ Nikki broke off in embarrassment. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that.’

‘That’s all right,’ Lori dismissed huskily. ‘I am, and I will be—if I ever find the right man.’

‘Oh, you will,’ her friend said with certainty. ‘You’re too beautiful for the male population to ignore. I’m just glad Paul goes for black hair instead of redheads!’

Lori gave a throaty laugh. ‘I’d better go and check with the florist before she leaves.’

She found the middle-aged lady in the kitchen helping Mrs Dean drown her sorrows in a glass of sherry. Lori got confirmation about Paul’s buttonhole before leaving them to it.

‘I think your mother has decided to get drunk and let everyone take their chances,’ she told Nikki laughingly when she got back upstairs.

‘That’s all I need!’ her friend groaned. ‘And I thought she would be the calm one.’

‘Mothers aren’t supposed to be calm on their daughter’s wedding day, they’re supposed to cry a lot,’ Lori teased. ‘Now isn’t it time you changed into your dress? You don’t want to be cruel and keep Paul waiting at the church.’

‘It’s getting awfully late,’ Nikki frowned. ‘I wonder where Sally is?’

‘Now don’t start panicking about Sally,’ Lori instructed firmly. ‘She’ll be here, even if she has to leave with her hair still wet.’

‘That’s what I’m afraid of!’

‘Well, don’t. You’ll see, it will all work out.’

And it did. Mr Dean finally decided to come out of the study and change into his suit, Mrs Dean put on the pretty flowered suit she was to wear, and Sally arrived in good time to help Nikki change.

‘You look beautiful!’ Lori kissed the glowing bride warmly on the cheek, before they went downstairs to the cars waiting to take them to the church.

‘We’ll see you in a few minutes,’ Sally squeezed Nikki’s hand as Mr Dean came into the room.

The two bridesmaids were wearing identical pale green dresses, with small puff sleeves, a fitted bodice, gathered waist and flowing skirt to the floor, the tiny white roses in their hair matching the small posies they carried.

‘I love weddings,’ Sally grinned as they drove to the nearby church in the white Rolls-Royce.

‘This one is certainly very beautiful,’ Lori nodded, her hair looking a deeper red against the pale green gown.

‘Maybe it will prompt Dave to propose,’ the other girl said wistfully of the man she had been seeing the last two months.

Lori gave her a sharp look. ‘Do you think he might?’

‘No,’ Sally laughed. ‘But I live in hope.’

It was a beautifully warm day, the sun shining brightly, birds singing in the nearby trees. Lori felt herself get caught up in the occasion despite herself, and when Nikki arrived at the church on her father’s arm she could have cried at the other girl’s obvious happiness.

As was usual in churches it felt cold once they were inside, and Lori repressed a shiver as she and Sally followed Nikki and her father down the aisle, although the church looked completely different from when they had come here for the rehearsal earlier in the week. White flowers decorated the altar and sides of the church, and the whole place had a lighter, happier appearance.

Lori took Nikki’s bouquet as the service began, listening to the beauty of the words of the service. And yet something else penetrated the subconscious of her mind, a prickling sensation down her spine, something that made her feel uncomfortable. She began to slowly look about her, sensing that someone was watching her. Everyone she looked at seemed intent on the bride and groom, or the service book in front of them. And yet she still sensed that there were eyes on her, still felt that uncomfortable sensation down her spine.

And then she saw him!

She looked hastily away again, and yet the man’s face stayed imprinted in her brain. He was seated next to Mrs Hammond, a tall dark man with piercing grey eyes, an arrogant slash of a nose, lean cheekbones, a thinned mouth, his powerful physique looking magnificient in the grey morning suit, the shirt snowy white, a man of possibly thirty-eight, thirty-nine years of age.

She glanced back at him, finding those curiously light grey eyes still on her—and making no pretence of doing anything else. At twenty-four she was confident enough of her own attraction not to blush, meeting that arrogant gaze squarely for several seconds before slowly turning away. Those few seconds had given her chance to notice several other things about the man, like the sprinkling of grey in the darkness of his hair at his temples, the hardness of the grey eyes, the cynical twist to that almost sensual mouth.

His mouth quirked mockingly as she began to turn away, and for a moment her eyes widened. How dared he look at her so insolently! There were high wings of colour in her cheeks as she turned back to face the altar, but it was because of anger, not embarrassment, that her eyes sparkled like a cat’s. Rude, arrogant man!

And what was he doing sitting next to Ruth Hammond? Paul didn’t have a brother, she knew that, and his cousins had acted as ushers. But there he sat, with Ruth and Claude Hammond, almost like visiting royalty!

And he was still watching her, damn him! She didn’t need to turn to know those grey eyes were still watching her, could feel the man’s presence with ominous clarity. Ominous …? Now why should she have chosen a word like that? She had become adept, over the years, at putting down the wolves—even the apparently lethal kind, as this man appeared to be. He didn’t frighten her, and if he chose to follow up this single-minded interest he seemed to have in her he would find out that he didn’t attract her in least.

He was there again while the photographs were being taken, standing on the very edge of the crowd watching them, those light eyes still fixed on Lori. He seemed very tall out here in the sunlight, his hair pure black now, no grey distinguishable, his legs long and straight in the grey trousers, the jacket to the suit fitting snugly across his wide shoulders.

Lori’s head was back proudly, her hair a red-gold cloud in the light breeze, her eyes the colour of honey in the sunlight.

‘Luke!’ Paul called out. ‘Luke, come and join us.’

‘Not me,’ the man with the grey eyes spoke out lazily, his voice deep and controlled, the sort of voice that commanded attention.

‘Oh, come on, Luke,’ Paul cajoled.

‘Yes, come on, Luke,’ Nikki joined in the pleading, holding out her hand.

‘Do I get to stand next to the chief bridesmaid?’ he drawled, his gaze mocking as he saw Lori’s mouth tighten.

All the guests laughed—with the exception of Lori. And Jonathan Anderson, the best man. Jonathan was one of the junior lawyers in the firm of Ackroyd, Hammond and Hammond, and he had been trying, unsuccessfully, to date Lori for the last six months. His arm tightened possessively about her waist as they stood in the group for the photograph, moving closer to her.

‘Well, do I?’ Luke mocked.

Lori was breathing heavily, hating the way this man was humiliating her in front of all these people. She didn’t like attention drawn to her, a relic from the past, and she would never forgive this man for causing all the eyes to be on the both of them.

‘Of course you do,’ Nikki giggled.

‘Then I accept.’ He stepped forward, his movements fluid and forceful.

‘Lucky Lori,’ Sally murmured goodnaturedly. ‘Where have you been hiding him, Nikki?’

Wherever it was, Lori wished he had stayed there. He had taken Jonathan’s place now, his arm encircling her waist just as Jonathan’s had, his body hard and unyielding, his arm implacable.