Subtle Revenge. Carole Mortimer

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,