Subtle Revenge. Carole Mortimer

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?’

      Her mouth tightened, and she looked round for Jonathan so that she could take advantage of his earlier offer of a lift home. ‘I already have an engagement for tomorrow,’ she told Luke Randall absently, unable to see Jonathan anywhere.

      ‘Break it,’ Luke instructed.

      She looked at him scornfully. ‘I don’t do things like that, Mr Randall. My word is my bond. It’s a family trait,’ she added vehemently.

      ‘Very commendable,’ he drawled. ‘But I would like to see my future bride tomorrow. Maybe we could discuss the wedding?’

      She gave him a pitying glance. ‘I think you’ve had too much champagne, Mr Randell.’

      ‘Luke,’ he encouraged softly. ‘And when I decided to marry you I hadn’t had any champagne.’

      ‘When you decided, Mr Randell?’ she deliberately used the formality. ‘I thought it was supposed to be a joint decision?’

      ‘It is,’ he shrugged, his shoulders broad, the muscles ripping across his chest. ‘You’re just a little longer making your mind up than I am.’

      ‘We only met today,’ she scorned disbelievingly, wondering that even Jacob P. Randell’s son should have so much arrogance.

      ‘That’s all it takes,’ he dismissed.

      Lori sighed, knowing she had to get away, and soon. Her search for Jonathan was becoming almost frantic. If she really lost her temper with this man there was no telling what she would say!

      Luke noticed her preoccupation, and his mouth quirked into a smile. ‘Kitten, I——’

      ‘Don’t call me that!’ she shuddered, hating the intimacy of a pet name from this man. ‘I don’t like it. Ah, Jonathan!’ she called to the other man as she finally spotted him. ‘Goodbye, Mr Randell.’ Just saying his name reminded her of exactly who he was—and the contempt and hatred she had for all his family.

      No doubt a lot of women found him devastatingly attractive, would like his almost roguish behaviour, the promise of intimacy in his devilish grey eyes, but knowing what she did about him gave him no chance with her—even if his approach was the most original she had ever known! No doubt she was supposed to believe he really meant the marriage proposal, and would only find out if had all been a ‘joke’ once she had slept with him.

      His narrow-eyed gaze levelled on Jonathan as the other man came towards them. ‘Your young friend again,’ he growled his displeasure. ‘A boy-friend?’

      ‘I—Yes.’ She was sure Jonathan would forgive her that exaggeration. After all, he was just waiting for the day she said yes to one of his invitations.

      ‘Your previous engagement for tomorrow?’ Luke quirked one dark brow.

      She was tempted to say yes, but Ruth might already have told him about the visit to her aunt. ‘No.’

      He nodded. ‘I thought not. I’m not giving up on you, kitten,’ he drawled confidently. ‘The Jonathans of this world don’t mean a thing to me. I doubt they mean anything to you either.’

      Jonathan had almost reached them now, and Lori felt indignant on his behalf. He was a very good-looking man, not as dark as the devil like this man, but neither did he have his cold ruthlessness.

      ‘Lori!’ He had reached her side now, taking her hand in his, his pleasure at being with her evident. ‘Mr Randell,’ he greeted respectfully, obviously having learnt who the older man was, whose son he was. For the same reason Jonathan admired him Lori hated him.

      ‘I’m ready to leave now, Jonathan,’ she told him pointedly.

      ‘Hm? Oh—oh yes,’ he gave a light laugh. ‘Nice to have met you, sir,’ he shook Luke’s hand strongly.

      Lori felt a sense of satisfaction at the sudden tightness of Luke Randell’s mocking mouth. Jonathan’s ‘sir’ had been meant as a show of respect, nevertheless the other man didn’t like it, obviously feeling his at least ten years’ seniority over the other man, being somewhere in his late thirties.

      ‘Likewise,’ Luke drawled, the very faintest trace of a transatlantic accent discernible in his irony. He turned to Lori. ‘We’ll meet again,’ was all he said to her, and yet she knew he meant it.

      She met his gaze steadily for several seconds, seeing the determination in his jaw, the challenge in the light-coloured eyes as he waited for her reply. It sent a shiver of apprehension down her spine. She had been wrong about there being little similarity between father and son. The eyes, those grey steely eyes, were the same, containing a strange mixture of warmth and cruelty.

      ‘I doubt it,’ she snapped, nearing the end of her control, and looking to Jonathan to help her now. ‘Ready?’ she prompted him, her chin high, studiously avoiding looking at Luke Randell again.

      ‘Of course,’ Jonathan agreed readily.

      Lori moved smoothly across the room at his side, unaware of the striking figure she made in the pale green dress, her movements graceful and fluid, her hair moving silkily as she walked.

      She might have looked relaxed as she made her laughing goodbyes to the Hammonds, might have appeared calm as she followed Jonathan outside to his low sports car. But once she had sunk into the bucket-seat her breath left her in a hiss, her lower limbs felt trembly, her hands shook as she clenched them in her lap.

      Jonathan noticed none of this as he climbed in beside her, his lean length fitting into the car from habit, his long legs only slightly cramped. ‘Do you realise who that was?’ he said excitedly, backing the car out of its parking space and accelerating into the busy traffic.

      She might have known Jonathan would suffer from a case of hero-worship! Jacob P. Randell was set up as a prime example to all young lawyers, that one single blemish on his career when he had pushed the accused too far being forgotten at such times. Luke, as his son, came in for the same admiration.

      ‘Yes, I realise,’ she sighed, leaning her elbow against the window to put her hand up to her aching temple.

      ‘Luke Randell!’ he shook his head in disbelief. ‘Fancy having the great Jacob to live up to!’

      ‘I’m sure Mr Randell—Mr Luke Randell,’ she defined with distaste, ‘has more than lived up to his father’s hopes for him.’

      ‘He’s a lawyer too, you know,’ Jonathan was awestruck, not seeming to notice Lori’s aversion to the subject.

      She hadn’t known, but it didn’t come as any surprise to her. What else could the son of such a famous man do? And he would be good at it too, would have the same presence in court that his father had, would take to the stage as if born to it.

      Jonathan