'I wish you hadn't troubled yourself on my account,' she told him, rubbing her wrist where his fingers, despite their light hold, seemed to have left a mark on her skin. She half expected to see the smudge of bruises but her flesh looked as creamily flawless as earlier.
'I shall be exemplary, an example of upright smug superiority, as befits a Stapely.'
'You are not a Stapely,' she reminded him.
'How kind of you to remind me.' A cynical smile curved his lips. 'Having seen what being a Stapely means at close quarters, I've always seen that as a cause for celebration. I seem to remember you usually accompanied that gibe with the delightful spectacle of your tongue.' His contemplative glance touched her mouth.
'I grew out of that habit,' she retorted. Did he imagine he could make her feel guilty for her childish cruelty? she wondered. All the same, it was aggravating to acknowledge that there was a sense of guilt, though heaven knew why—her infantile missiles had always glanced off him. 'I'm grown-up these days.'
The blue eyes seemed more intense as they unblinkingly examined the proof to substantiate this claim. 'Is that why you're marrying, Emmy, to prove the fact?'
Emily realised she'd been holding her breath, waiting for him to speak. Her hand went to cover her bare throat where a pulse was throbbing almost painfully. She rubbed the skin, a faint frown flitting across her face; she was curiously unsettled by the inspection. 'I feel no need to prove things, Luke, especially not to you.'
'Why especially not me?' he shot back swiftly. 'Am I special, Emmy?' His deep voice seeped honeyed mockery.
'I realise you imagine the world revolves around you but—and I know this will come as a shock—some of us make life's major decisions without considering your opinion.' Emily's lips tightened; her barbed comments had brought an almost humorous glint to his eyes.
'You're so passionate, infant, incoherently intense. Are you sure it's you who aren't the proper Stapely?' he drawled mockingly. 'Isn't there something a tad common about impulsive displays of emotion?'
'I believe the notion of a mix-up at the hospital was discussed,' she couldn't prevent herself commenting drily. There was little intimacy in her family and never had been; she had learnt early on that impetuous displays of warmth and affection were received, at best, awkwardly.
'What's he like, then, love's young dream?' He turned the subject, only a glimmer of a smile acknowledging her wry comment. His eyes remained beacons of cynicism.
'Am I to suppose you are for one minute interested?' Her withering look had no visible effect upon him. 'You're so bloody patronising,' she muttered, chewing her lower lip.
He raised one dark, eloquent brow and plucked another grape. 'I asked because I am mildly interested at the sort of man who has finally made you fly the nest—or rather move from one prettily feathered nest,' he amended, 'to another. Want one?' he added, holding a juicy fruit to her lips. He shrugged as she shook her head, and swallowed it himself. 'I am assuming he's not a pauper.'
'I don't know why you would assume that,' she replied coldly. Only Luke could imply that a person was an avaricious little schemer with that infuriating smile. 'What has money to do with it?' she enquired haughtily.
'Oh, not a thing,' he agreed blandly, 'when one is filthy rich.' He enlarged on the subject with smiling disdain. 'I mean, it would never occur to you to do anything as tasteless as to fall in love with a poor man, would it, sweetheart?'
He wasn't going to ruin her night, she told herself, aware of anger building steadily. He's doing it deliberately, she told herself; don't take the bait. 'I take it you've decided to despise my fiancé without having even met him,' she observed with frigid scorn.
'Some things in life have a sort of inevitability, Em. The day you decided to let your father run your life, you set a certain sequence in motion. I feel as if I've known Gavin most of my life.'
'My father does not run my life.'
'Come off it, Em; you've never set foot outside the cocooned abnormality of this mink-lined asylum. You've been toeing the party line ever since you could walk. Did Daddy pick out the bridegroom—or just give you a list of candidates?'
Emily sank her nails into the flesh of her soft palms to release some of the anger that made her want to lash out. How dared he breeze in here assuming he knew her every motivation? An encounter with Lucas bloody Hunt served to make her realise her good fortune in finding Gavin. He was the antithesis of Luke, she realised, mentally comparing the two men.
'Oh, I found Gavin all on my own,' she said breezily.
'Impressive. And what does Gavin do?'
Why do I feel defensive? Why shouldn't Gavin work in her family's merchant bank? she told herself, her chin tilting a few more degrees to an aggressive angle. 'Gavin works at the bank.'