Subtle Revenge

He smiled down at her as he felt her stiffen, a roguish smile, the coldness gone from his eyes, the cynicism from his mouth.

Lori pointedly ignored him, looking over at the photographer as he organised the bride and groom, the two bridesmaids, best man, and Luke in the photograph. A disgruntled Jonathan stood at Sally’s side, and he grimaced as he caught Lori’s gaze.

As the photographs continued to be taken Luke remained at her side, his hand never moving from the slender curve of her waist, accepting her haughtiness, but unaffected by it.

‘Bride and groom only now,’ the photographer requested briskly, having done this so many times now it was rather boring for him.

His words were all the encouragement Lori needed, and she evaded that confining arm to slip away into the crowd, noting with satisfaction as the man called Luke was waylaid by Claude Hammond. He had obviously intended talking to her, and as she didn’t like anything about him she had no wish to talk to him.

Nevertheless, his silent admiration continued at the reception, his fixed gaze starting to become embarrassing. He had no right to look at her like that, to mentally strip her with his eyes. And they were such all-seeing eyes, slightly narrowed, their expression enigmatic.

‘Damned cheek!’ Jonathan muttered at her side.

Lori continue to smile at him, taking the glass of champagne he held out to her. She didn’t need any explanation as to the reason for his anger, the resentful glances he was still shooting at the dark-haired man across the room spoke for him.

‘Who the hell is he?’ he snapped, standing in front of her and effectively blocking her view of the room behind him.

She shrugged. ‘I have no idea. A friend of the Hammonds’, I suppose,’ she infused uninterest into her voice, although her own curiosity about the man was quite strong.

‘Mm,’ Jonathan nodded. ‘Nikki seems to know him too,’ he added questioningly.

‘She’s never mentioned him.’

‘Hm,’ Jonathan said again, turning to look at Luke, who was now deep in conversation with Paul. ‘Interesting-looking chap.’

Dangerous, she would have said. Ominous and dangerous? Considering she had never even spoken to the man he had made a deep impression on her!

She might not have spoken to him, but he had said enough with those eyes, was still saying it!

‘Like to dance?’ Jonathan offered.

‘Thank you,’ she nodded, smiling up at him.

Jonathan was a dear, she knew he was, and yet something held her back from going out with him. He reminded her too much of Nigel, the same blond hair, the same good looks. The same determination to succeed! She knew that, like Nigel, he would never think of taking Lorraine Chisholm for his wife.

They moved well together, both tall, the red cloud of Lori’s hair drawing attention to the beauty of her face, a beauty Jonathan seemed fascinated by, for he gazed down at her with admiring eyes.

Lori chuckled as they continued to dance together as each successive melody was played. ‘I think we’re supposed to change partners, or at least take a break occasionally,’ she teased.

‘I know,’ he muttered. ‘But if we stop that man called Luke is going to ask you to dance, and I don’t intend giving him the chance.’

She frowned, glancing round. Yes, there were those steady grey eyes on her still, more searching now, as if something about her puzzled the man. Heavens, he couldn’t have recognised her, could he! She felt her panic rising, and then dismissed it. It wasn’t possible that after all this time someone should recognise her. Charles Phillips had only discovered the truth because he had had someone delve into her past; she bore little resemblance to the bewildered young girl she had been all those years ago.

No, it couldn’t be because he recognised her, her years of disguise had been too effective. Maybe he was just trying to unnerve her. Sad to say, he had succeeded!

‘Let’s sit this one out,’ she requested stiffly of Jonathan.

‘Oh, but——’

‘If he asks, Jonathan, I shall simply refuse,’ she told him haughtily.

‘You will?’ he still looked uncertain.

‘Yes, I will.’ She moved out of his arms, turning to walk into the hard wall of a masculine chest.

Strong hands came up to steady her, grasping her upper arms, the fingers long and tapered, a hidden strength within them. ‘Lori,’ drawled a deeply familiar voice.

She had known it was him the second before impact with his chest, had detected the slight smell of his aftershave, had vaguely seen the strong line of his square jaw.

‘Thank you—Luke,’ she nodded coolly, making to move out of his grasp. His hands remained, not hurting, but not gentle either.

‘Dance with me,’ he requested huskily.

‘I——’

‘We were just about to go through to the buffet,’ Jonathan cut in purposefully, taking one of Lori’s hands and putting it in the crook of his arm. ‘If you’ll excuse us,’ he gave the other man a smug smile before moving away. ‘Saved by the bell—or in this case, food,’ he muttered as they followed the stream of people into the room that contained the buffet dinner.

‘You aren’t very subtle, Jonathan,’ she smiled at his undoubted jealousy of the other man.

‘With that type subtlety doesn’t work,’ he scowled. ‘I can be subtle if I have to be.’

Lori knew that; she had once gone to court with him when his own secretary had been on holiday. She had been amazed at the change that had come over him, amazed and dismayed. He had been totally remorseless in his attack on the defendant, reminding Lori of another courtroom, another lawyer. Jacob P. Randell. Just the name made her shiver!

She saw the man called Luke several times during the evening, mostly with the Hammonds, once or twice with Sally on the dance floor, the latter blushing prettily as he spoke to her, a fact Dave viewed with a scowl on his petulantly handsome face. Not that Lori thought a little jealousy would do that young man any harm—he was altogether too sure of Sally for her liking, and she feared for her friend’s deeply committed love.

But Luke didn’t approach her again, pointedly so, seeming to move away if she should happen to approach the group he was talking to, his gaze always fixed firmly in the opposite direction if she should unavoidably look at him.

She knew what he was doing, of course, and her anger towards him grew. He surely didn’t think she was idiot enough to become interested in him merely because he was suddenly ignoring her? She had stopped playing those sort of games years ago, if she had ever played them, and she certainly wasn’t going to be drawn into that sort of trap.

‘Dance, my dear?’ The elderly Mr Hammond, her own personal boss, stood in front of her, his hair still as dark as his son’s, his step still as youthful, although he perhaps looked a little tired lately. The excitement of the wedding, she supposed. Lori had been his personal secretary for the last two years, and although she might have been a little young for the promotion she had made sure he never regretted giving her that chance.

‘I’d love to.’ She moved gracefully into his arms, finding he moved easily across the dance floor despite his portly figure. ‘The wedding went beautifully, Mr Hammond.’

He looked pleased. ‘I thought so.’

Lori knew that the Deans and the Hammonds had paid jointly for their children’s wedding arrangements, the Rolls-Royces and this costly reception, that Ruth Hammond had insisted her only son should be married in style. Poor Nikki and Paul would much rather have had a much quieter wedding, but to please the two mothers they had agreed to this extravagant affair.

‘Nikki looked beautiful,’ the elder Mr Hammond said with pride. ‘I couldn’t have chosen better myself.’

Nikki had been floating on cloud nine all through the wedding, and Paul wasn’t far behind her. The happy couple had eyes only for each other, which, after all, was the way it should be.

‘And now, with your permission, I’ll pass you on to my young friend.’ Mr Hammond had stopped dancing while Lori was so deep in thought, releasing her. ‘I know he’s been longing to meet you all day. Luke …?’ he prompted with a fatherly smile.

Lori viewed her tormenter of the day with angry eyes, the gold around the irises seeming to make them glow. Mr Hammond viewed the two of them with an indulgent smile, obviously very pleased with himself.

‘Lori?’ Luke mocked her.

She swallowed her anger. He was a friend of the Hammonds’, how much of a friend she didn’t know, but she could hardly be impolite to him in front of her employer.

‘Very wise,’ he taunted as she moved stiffly in his arms to the music, the elder man having rejoined his wife at their table.

‘I beg your pardon?’ She bent her head back to look at him, at once wishing she hadn’t, finding he was much too close. He was so close she could see the exact smoky grey colour of his eyes, the thickness of his dark brows and lashes, the fullness of his mouth, the lower lip sensually so as he gazed back at her.

‘I could be an important friend of Claude’s,’ he drawled in answer to her question.

Lori turned away, angry that he could read her thoughts so easily. And did he have to hold her so tightly?

‘Yes, I have to,’ he told her softly.

She blinked up at him dazedly. Could he read her every thought, for goodness’ sake!

‘More or less,’ he derided, smiling as she gasped. ‘It’s those eyes of yours,’ he continued softly. ‘At first they just look brown, then you notice that the gold circles make them change colour with your mood. Like right now. You’re angry, your eyes have gone the colour of honey. You have the eyes of a cat, Lori,’ he laughed throatily. ‘Like the sleek ginger tabby I had as a child. I loved making that cat purr, Lori.’

‘How fascinating,’ she said with saccharine sweetness.

His thumb-tip moved rhythmically over her wrist. ‘You aren’t as calm as you sound,’ he mocked, his thumb stopping pointedly on her fast pulse. ‘Enigmatic like a cat too,’ he murmured. ‘Do you scratch like a cat too when cornered, little kitten?’

She looked at him with cold eyes. She knew his bold manner and rugged good looks would appeal to a lot of women, but for her he held no attraction. ‘I never put myself in a position where I can be cornered, Mr—Luke. Although I’ve always admired the cat as a species.’

‘So have I. Even more so now,’ he drawled. ‘But I think I would enjoy having you purr more than I would have you scratch me.’

Lori pulled away from him, taking exception to the innuendo this time. ‘I never purr. Now if you’ll excuse me, I think Nikki and Paul are about to leave.’ She walked away, a tall graceful woman. It would have irked her immensely to know that several of the people watching her thought she had the sensuous grace of a cat!

‘Thank you for everything you did to help, Lori.’ Nikki came over to hug her, ecstatically happy, looking very beautiful in the stunning lemon dress she had chosen to wear for the flight to Barbados. ‘Hasn’t it all been wonderful?’ she glowed.

‘Wonderful,’ Lori nodded, kissing her friend warmly on the cheek. ‘Now off you go and join your impatient bridegroom.’

‘What are you going to do about poor Luke?’ Nikki giggled, needing no champagne to make her intoxicated, although she had probably had some of the bubbly wine too. ‘He’s quite smitten, you know.’

Now was her chance to find out more about him. ‘But, Nikki, wh——’

‘Come along, darling.’ Paul’s arm came about his new wife’s waist. ‘Sorry to interrupt, Lori,’ he kissed her on the cheek, ‘but the car is waiting to take us to the airport.’

‘Sorry, Lori,’ Nikki looked regretful, ‘but we’ll talk when I get back,’ she promised before she was pulled away by her husband.

Lori sighed her dismay. The new husband and wife were to be away for a month, so Nikki was going to be no help at all where the man called Luke was concerned.

‘She’s quite right, you know,’ he spoke softly behind her, startling her. Although she didn’t know why—he was starting to be her nemesis! ‘I am smitten,’ he looked down at her with serious grey eyes. ‘So what are you going to do with me?’

‘Nothing!’ she snapped, turning away. ‘Except ignore you.’

‘I’m afraid I’m not very ignorable,’ he derided softly.

Lori maintained a stony silence, watching as Nikki tearfully gave her bouquet of roses to her mother, and the two of them hugged each other tightly before Nikki got into the car with Paul.

‘If she had thrown that bouquet,’ Luke’s voice was strangely close to her ear. ‘I’d catch it for you. Because you’re going to be the next bride, Lori. My bride.’

She couldn’t keep her silence after red-flagwaving like that! ‘Are you mad?’ she rasped, turning to him fully as the bridal car drove away and the crowd began to wander back into the ballroom of this fashionable London hotel now that the bride and groom had left.

‘I’m beginning to think I must be,’ but he didn’t sound too worried about it. ‘But you are going to marry me, Lori.’

‘I—Never!’ she almost shouted, running to catch up with the other guests, sure that he was a madman.

She was going to marry him, indeed! She had hardly spoken to the man, let alone—He was mad!

‘Lori, my dear,’ Claude Hammond approached her, ‘I’m glad to see you and Luke are getting on so well together.’

‘Oh, but——’

‘Brilliant man. Brilliant!’

That was high praise indeed, coming from this north-country man. Lori listened with more interest. If Claude Hammond said the man was brilliant then he must indeed be so. At what she had no idea.

‘With a father like that he was bound to be outstanding,’ Claude Hammond continued. ‘I’m proud to know him.’

‘A father like that?’ Lori prompted.

‘Mm, Jacob was the best.’

‘J-Jacob …?’ she echoed with a sickening jolt in her stomach. It couldn’t be——

‘Jacob Randell,’ Claude explained jovially. ‘Of course he made that one mistake with the Chisholm case, underestimated the man. But that was before your time.’

No, not before her time at all, she remembered it very well, both the case and Jacob Randell. He was a man with the ruthlessness of a viper, a cruelty that inflicted scars in his victims. And she remembered Michael Chisholm too. Her father …

CHAPTER TWO

THE court case had gone on for months—months and months, when both Lori and her mother had been as much in the public limelight as her father had. They had been hounded by photographers wherever they went. Even on the day her father had been buried …

‘Of course it was a shame the case couldn’t reach its proper conclusion,’ Claude Hammond continued with a shake of his head. ‘I’m sure Jacob would have got his conviction. Still, I mustn’t bore you with history, my dear,’ Claude smiled. ‘Especially on a day like today. Old fogeys like Jacob and myself can’t be of much interest to you.’ He patted her hand. ‘You go ahead and enjoy yourself. It’s early yet.’

Lori gazed after him with widely shocked eyes. Luke Randell was the son of the man she hated most in the world, the man who had caused her father to take his own life, who had been responsible for her mother’s subsequent failing health and prematurely young death, who had been the cause of all the misery in her life, including losing Nigel, the man she loved.

No one looking at her could have guessed quite the shock she had just received, the trauma. Her expression remained calm, her movements unhurried as she entered the door marked ‘Ladies’, but the memories suddenly crowded in on her.

Twelve years, twelve long miserable years, when her own and her mother’s name was changed to Parker. But the change of a name couldn’t eradicate the shame her mother felt, the fact that her husband had been accused of being a criminal, and that his suicide before he could be sentenced had seemed to confirm this.

For the next five years Lori had watched her mother shrivel up and die, had watched the life slowly fade from within her, her once happy carefree face no longer beautiful but ravaged with age, the pride she had taken in her youthful figure no longer there; she often did not even bother to dress at all towards the end. A heart attack, the doctor had diagnosed at her death at only thirty-eight, but Lori had known the real cause of death, and at seventeen she had sworn vengeance on Jacob P. Randell.

All her excellent capabilities as a secretary had been attained for the sole reason of eventually getting to work for Jacob P. Randell, of somehow being able to discredit him, of ruining him. She wasn’t even sure how she had thought she could do that, she had just felt that if he had been so wrong about her’ father—and he had been wrong—that there had to be other cases he had been wrong about, cases where he had got a conviction merely to further his career.

Before she had even qualified she had learned that Jacob P. Randell had retired, and her plans for revenge were foiled before they had even begun.

But he had a son, a son she hadn’t even known existed, a man who minutes ago had told her he intended marrying her! She hadn’t liked him from the beginning, even when she had had no idea who he was, of the devastating effect his father had had on her life. Luke Randell—she could hardly believe it, not after all this time.

She had left the idea of vengeance far behind her, had buried the bitterness she had for the past, knowing it could never be undone, that it was much too late to help her mother and father. But Nigel and herself——? It was too late for them too!

‘Lori, my dear,’ Ruth Hammond entered the powder-room to join her on another of the velvet stools in front of the ornate mirrors. ‘I thought for a moment you’d left without saying goodbye,’ she smiled.

Lori gathered herself together with effort. ‘I wouldn’t do that, Mrs Hammond,’ she returned the smile, only the strain in her eyes telling of her disturbed emotions.

She liked her employer’s wife, found the other woman had a cryptic wit and a quite surprising sense of fun, despite her sometimes uncomfortableness with her husband’s north-country bluntness. Being a southerner Ruth was a little more reserved, but her forthright husband believed in calling a spade a spade, sometimes with embarrassing repercussions. Lori found them an enchanting couple, and knew that they had a genuine affection for each other.

‘Claude and I would like you to come to lunch tomorrow. Could you manage that?’ Ruth raised finely shaped brows, still an attractive and energetic woman despite being sixty years of age. ‘There’ll just be the four of us,’ she added encouragingly.

‘Four of us?’ Lori echoed softly.

‘You, Claude and I—and of course, Luke,’ Ruth added coyly.

If the last was supposed to be an incentive it had the opposite effect. ‘I’m sorry,’ Lori shook her head, ‘I have to visit my aunt.’

A look of irritation crossed Ruth’s perfectly made up face. ‘Couldn’t you do that some other time?’

‘No, I’m afraid not.’ Her Aunt Jessie, Great-Aunt Jessie, would never forgive her if she missed one of her visits. The old lady had put herself into a nursing home two years ago, treating the place more like a hotel than anything else. In fact, Lori often thought her aunt ran the old people’s home instead of the Matron!

‘Damn!’ Ruth frowned. ‘Luke is only with us for the weekend, then he’s moving into his flat. Couldn’t you come for tea instead?’ she asked hopefully.

Once again Lori shook her head, glad she had a real excuse for refusing—if she hadn’t Ruth would soon have worn her down. And she never, ever, wanted to see Luke Randell again; she hated him for the bitter memories he had evoked.

‘I always spend the whole day with my aunt,’ she said truthfully.

‘Oh well, I don’t suppose it can be helped,’ Ruth murmured disappointedly. ‘I did so want you to meet Luke.’

‘I’ve already met him,’ Lori said coldly.

‘I meant away from the rush and bustle of the wedding. He’s been in America for several years, and he seems to have lost contact with a lot of his friends. Of course, we’ve been friends of the family since Luke was a child. But I thought perhaps you—well, if you can’t make it, you can’t.’ She stood up resignedly. ‘Do come back and join the party, Lori.’

‘In a moment,’ she nodded. ‘I just want to repair my make-up.’

Ruth smiled. ‘You don’t have much to worry about, you always look lovely. When you get to my age it becomes more than a repair job, it’s a total remake!’

Lori joined in the laughter, but her own humour faded as soon as the door closed behind the other woman. She had a suspicion, more than a suspicion, that Luke Randell had made the request for her to be invited to the Hammonds’. She was friendly with the other couple, enjoyed talking to Ruth when she came to the office to visit her husband, but she had never been invited to their home before.

So Luke Randell had been in America the last few years. Probably reflecting in his father’s undoubted glory, she thought bitterly.

Bitterness. It was something that she had tried to forget, especially after she had fallen in love with Nigel. After he had walked out of her life she had pulled herself together enough to move from the flat she had been renting, to get herself a new job as soon as possible. And she had tried not to let bitterness rule her life for a second time.

And now Luke Randell had suddenly appeared in her life, bringing back all the destructive memories, destroying the self-confidence she had built up over the years.

Well, she wouldn’t let him destroy her! She was Lori Parker, not Lorraine Chisholm, was a very competent and trusted personal secretary to an important London lawyer, and no human reminder from the past was going to ruin that for her.

She would make her excuses to leave the wedding reception as soon as possible, and after that she would never have to see Luke Randell again.

‘I thought you were going to hide in there all night, little kitten!’

She spun round to confront Luke Randell, finding him leaning against the wall, a suitable distance away, although obviously waiting for her. He pushed easily away from his lounging position, and Lori viewed him with new eyes as he walked confidently towards her.

On the surface he bore little resemblance to the man she remembered his father to be. His hair was black where his father’s had been silver; he was taller than his father too, his body not tending towards flabbiness as the other man’s had, his features vaguely similar, although much more strongly defined in the son, the ruthlessness not hidden behind a smooth charm in the younger man as it had been by his father’s benign, often sympathetic, expression. That hidden ruthlessness had been turned on her father with vicious cruelty once Jacob P. Randell had him off his guard, twisting his words until even he didn’t know what he was saying. It had been like watching a snake strike at an unsuspecting mouse, and her father’s final agony had been the taking of his own life. His imminent conviction had been obvious, thanks to Jacob P. Randell.

The day after her father’s death, away from prying eyes, Lori and her mother had read the letter her father had left for them. He had still claimed his innocence, although having already spent several months in a prison cell, he knew he couldn’t stand the years that stretched ahead of him in the same way. He preferred to die rather than live in that degradation.

‘Kitten?’ Luke prompted, standing in front of her now, his eyes narrowed on her pale face.

Lori looked up at him, pulling herself back from the past, and Luke Randell’s face swam back into focus. ‘I wasn’t hiding, Mr Randell,’ ice dripped from her voice. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me …’

‘No.’

She blinked up at him. ‘No?’

‘No.’ His hand was firm on her arm, and he frowned deeply as she snatched away from him. He folded his arms across his chest. ‘You’ve been running away from me all day,’ he drawled, ‘and up until now I’ve been letting you. I’ve finally caught up with you—and I’m not letting you get away. Why did you turn down Ruth’s invitation for lunch tomorrow?’