'Such warmth, such compassion,' she heard Luke murmur. She looked at him, surprise widening her blank eyes as he draped his jacket across her shoulders. It held the soothing heat of his body. She gave an involuntary shudder.
His face was lacking the usual mockery as he met her cautious look. She nibbled her lower lip in quiet agitation. The involuntary action attracted his attention, his eyes sliding towards her, his mouth narrowed.
'It's not over yet,' he said abruptly, 'so don't fall apart.'
Emily swallowed and lowered her eyes, feeling a ridiculous anticlimax. Had she actually been holding her breath waiting for compassion, understanding? I must be losing my mind, she remonstrated with herself derisively. She didn't need that sort of support. She'd seen her parents' unconcern turn Charlotte into a creature pathetically eager to please, filled with a need to have a stronger person to cling to in times of stress. This had led her to lean heavily on Emily herself and a string of wildly unsuitable men, all of whom had in common a very high regard for themselves, which Charlotte had mistakenly assumed was strength. Emily, on the other hand, had deliberately avoided the trap of turning to casual relationships for solace; instead she'd become self-sufficient and unapologetically proud of her lack of dependence.
She shrugged off his jacket, her bones protesting as the cold replaced the soothing heat. All kindnesses from Luke should be greeted with suspicion—she'd almost forgotten this cardinal rule; he was passionate only in his need to inflict retribution. She didn't know the details of what her parents had done to earn his life-long enmity, and she had never delved into the family closet, seeing no point in rattling skeletons. But if he did have any gentler feelings they would never be wasted on a Stapely.
She recalled his bizarre accusation earlier; in some way he held her father personally responsible for his own mother's death, and a shiver crept up the length of her spine. There was a dark side to Luke, and she didn't want to see it.
'I'm not going to fall apart,' she told him with a quiet dignity. He accepted the garment she held out, a smile twisting his lips. 'Could you wait in the car? I want to speak to Gavin alone, and collect a few things,' she said with a prosaic practicality she was far from feeling. 'You can take me to a hotel.'
'I'll give you thirty minutes and then I'll come and get you.'
She accepted this ultimatum with an angry look, but didn't bite back with the childish retort that hovered on her tongue.
CHAPTER THREE
'We'll stay at my place tonight.'
Emily nodded, without noticing the discreetly satisfied smile of victory that curved Luke's mouth as he drove the low-slung, powerful car along the narrow country lanes. She couldn't even summon up enough interest to wonder much about the pillow she would lay her head on. She would find a hotel tomorrow—it was late.
She sat with her back rigidly in contact with the upholstered seat, her body unable to accept the luxury and relax. She couldn't stop reliving the inevitable interview with Gavin. It had been like talking to a stranger, not the man she had planned up to a few hours ago to spend the rest of her life with. Why was I going to marry him? she found herself wondering. Could her motivation really be as shallow and unemotional as Luke suggested? She couldn't, wouldn't believe that.
Gavin's response to her confession had been mixed. She had seen the small flash of relief as he'd assimilated her words—so small, that, if she hadn't been expecting it, steeling herself for it, she might have missed it. More surprising had been the anger, the pique. It had stilled the apology she had been going to make herself utter, to add to the reality of the affair before it had been born. His hypocrisy had been worse in some way than his betrayal. She could see that, even while he was glad of his painless escape, he was angry that she had had the temerity to be the one to admit seeking solace elsewhere.
Listening to him express his disappointment, his pain, she had almost forgotten that she was innocent and he was the one who had cheated. She had bitten her lip till blood tasted salty on her tongue to stop her angry, astringent response. His, his, his—did he care about anyone else? Herself, Charlotte? His handsome face had had such a sanctimonious expression that she'd wanted to fling the truth in his face, turn her retreat into an attack, but she had her pride. Better by far to be the one to pull the curtain over the episode.
'Did you see Charlotte?'
Pulled back to the present, she glanced at Luke's averted profile. The eyes of a startled night animal scuttling across the road caught the headlights, and he reacted automatically, slowing the pace to allow the night creature to escape.
'I decided not to.' That was the one person she hadn't been able to face; the mingled emotions of anger and, amazingly, compassion were too intricately mingled. She couldn't trust her reactions; she might well have blurted out the truth in her present chaotic state of mind. She couldn't accept the pain her sister had knowingly inflicted upon her.