Emily gulped, hating the sensation that was liquid heat seeping through her. She was as helpless as a moth drawn to the warmth and inevitable doom of a glowing flame. 'You do think a lot of yourself, don't you?'
'A less resilient soul would have had his confidence pounded into dust at the tender mercies of the Stapely clan,' he confirmed.
'You never tried to fit in,' she accused.
'I only make concessions for people who would do the same for me.'
The most constant of friends, but cross him and beware! This wasn't news to her. 'Why are you encouraging me to ring Dad, Luke?' She watched the cold smile curve his lips and wondered how she had been so dense. 'You want me to do your dirty work for you. If I ring Dad, saying you kidnapped me…'
"Die response would be gratifyingly extreme, I'd say.'
Emily stopped dead. 'You are so vindictive, so callous…you disgust me!' She mounted the stairs, wishing she could feel resigned to his coercion. But it hurt…it hurt badly.
The telephone was on the slate-topped wash-stand. She pushed aside the assorted pile of books that almost obscured it from view. Dialling her father's number, she tried to compose herself. She owed it to him at least to let him know she was alive. She'd been angry with him, and, though in the heat of that anger she might have wished him suffering, she never had been able to sustain any vindictive sentiments. She'd do that but not Luke's dirty work. The fact that he could manoeuvre her so cold-bloodedly incensed her, made her want to scream at him.
'Emily, is that you?' She heard the deep sigh of relief echo down the line. 'Where the hell are you? Are you with him…?'
She didn't need to ask who he meant. 'I'm fine, Dad…1 just need time to think.'
'Alone?'
'I have seen Luke,' she said carefully. The language that greeted this statement was colourful. With resignation Emily let the stream of abuse run its course.
'Come home, Emily… You don't have to marry Gavin, you don't have to marry anyone. But come home.'
Emily swallowed. It was as close as she'd ever heard her father come to pleading. 'That's not possible right now.' She'd expected to be chastised as if she were some wayward adolescent—that was the usual. She realised he must be really worried. She shook her head, trying to clear emotional fug that made it difficult to think clearly.
She raised her hand with the receiver in it and brushed it across her clammy forehead. A cry of surprise slipped from her lips as the instrument was extracted from her light clasp. She leapt to her feet, but Luke held it out of her reach and fended her off easily with one hand.
After a brief struggle she found he had somehow clamped her to his side, her hands caught between her own body and his. She continued to struggle wildly even though she knew the effort was futile; it was like being held by steel bands.
'You drew blood, you little cat,' he observed, his eyes flashing when she eventually subsided.
'Good,' she spat, seeing the discoloured marks on his hand. 'Give it back!'
Luke's eyes were focused on her lips, which were full, trembling with emotion. With an apparent effort he angrily tore them away. 'All in good time,' he said, his face dangerously lacking expression, completely under iron control once more. 'Charlie, are you still there?' he said, lifting his hand from the receiver. He held it a few inches away from his ear, his eyebrows shooting heavenwards. 'He is,' he confirmed to Emily, who kicked his shin. He grimaced and spoke into the phone once more. 'Static on the line; sorry about that. You really mustn't worry about Emily. I'll take very good care of her. I can see you've got the wrong impression, Charlie,' he said after a short pause. 'My intentions are entirely honourable, if that's what's worrying you. To be honest, I've been thinking for some time I should be settling down.'
Emily gave a whimper of pure disbelief and her body sagged against him. It was just as well that the story of her father's heart condition had been greatly exaggerated, she thought with bitter irony.
Luke gave a puzzled sigh. 'The great man hung up,' he announced, returning the receiver to its cradle. 'Was it something I said?'
Emily slid from his loosened grip. 'Well, I hope you're finally satisfied,' she said, feet apart, her hands resting on the curve of her slender hips. 'The great manipulator at work. I'm impressed.'
'It was nothing really,' he said sardonically.
'I suppose you had it all planned down to the last disgusting syllable.'
'Only the vague outline. I was winging it,' he replied with a complacent smile that sent the blood rushing to her head. 'I must admit I'm modestly pleased with the outcome. I love to hear Charlie gibber; it has a bizarre charm.'
Hot colour suffused her cheeks and rage exploded in the confines of her head. 'You are the most disgusting, loathsome, despicable, twisted piece of slime!'