Keeping Luke's Secret

‘You accepted, of course?’ Jeremy looked at her searchingly as he seemed to sense her confused thoughts. ‘Leonie, you have to have accepted!’ he continued incredulously when she made no answer. ‘This is the story the press have been after for almost forty years! I take it she will—finally!—be revealing the identity of the father of her love-child? Of course she will,’ he instantly answered his own question. ‘There would be no point in the biography if she were to leave out that particular detail.’

Yet another reason for Leonie to hesitate about accepting the actress’s offer! For reasons unknown, Luke Richmond already disliked her enough, without holding her responsible for publicly revealing his paternity. And she had no doubts that he would!

‘I didn’t ask her.’ Leonie shook her head. ‘But I expect so. It isn’t that, Jeremy.’ She frowned. ‘I just—it isn’t really my thing, now, is it?’ she reasoned to herself as much as to Jeremy. ‘You said it yourself last week—we’re talking about the rich and the famous. I’m a historian—’

‘You could be a very rich historian with your name on this particular book,’ Jeremy pointed out determinedly.

A famous rich historian. Something she was sure she didn’t want to be.

She enjoyed her life exactly the way it was, lecturing at the university, going off on historical pilgrimages during the long weeks of holiday, puttering around in her small one-bedroomed flat during term time, occasionally going down to Cornwall to visit her parents on weekends, her grandfather in Devon on others.

Although that hadn’t happened too often during the three months she had been going out with Jeremy, their Saturday evening dinner together having become a regular thing, as had a visit to the theatre or cinema one evening during the week…

‘It would seriously cut into my spare time,’ she pointed out heavily. ‘Rachel has already suggested that as I lecture during the week the best thing for me to do is go down to her house in Hampshire for the weekends while we work on the book. If I work on the book,’ she added decisively.

‘Of course you must work on the book,’ Jeremy instantly came back. ‘You’re already calling the woman Rachel, for goodness’ sake!’ he teased softly, even as he reached across the table and took Leonie’s hand in his. ‘You aren’t worried about us, are you, Leonie?’ He looked at her searchingly.

She couldn’t prevent the slight blush that coloured her cheeks at his use of the word ‘us’. Obviously they had only been seeing each other for a few months, and she had no idea how Jeremy felt about her, but she did know that she liked him very much, enjoyed his company immensely. She couldn’t see him remaining interested in her if all she had to offer him was one evening of her time during the week.

‘Hey, it wouldn’t be for ever,’ he chided her gently. ‘A couple of months at the most, I would have thought. I can put up with that if you can?’ he teased softly. ‘Or is it something else that’s bothering you?’ he prompted shrewdly.

For some reason she was loath to mention Rachel’s son, the odious Luke Richmond. Probably because her antipathy towards him was almost as strong as his was towards her. And while he might have some idea of his own reason for feeling that way, she had no explanation for the way she felt. Except she didn’t feel in the least comfortable with the man…

She hadn’t asked Rachel—that would have appeared too rude!—but she had no idea whether Luke Richmond resided at his mother’s home on a permanent basis, or whether he had just been visiting for the weekend. But if he did live there, Leonie knew she would find going there every weekend in order to write this book, with the resentful Luke very much in evidence, totally intolerable.

‘I’m not sure I want to do this, Jeremy,’ she said with feeling. ‘I—I have an uneasy feeling about it.’ A totally inexplicable, but nevertheless very real, sense of unease. In fact, the feeling was so strong that she had wanted to run out of the house earlier today and never look back. Incredible, but true.

’Is Rachel Richmond still as beautiful as she looks in photographs?’ Jeremy prompted interestedly.

Leonie smiled as she remembered Rachel’s genuine warmth and beauty. ‘Oh, yes,’ she answered unhesitantly. ‘Perhaps there’s something to be said for remaining unmarried,’ she added jokingly. ‘Rachel certainly doesn’t seem to have developed any worry lines over the years!’

Jeremy shook his head ruefully. ‘I doubt she’s lived completely without male company all these years,’ he said dryly.

‘No, there’s Lu— Her son,’ she hastily corrected the familiarity; after all, he wasn’t a man who invited it!

‘I wasn’t exactly referring to that sort of male company,’ Jeremy teased, laughing as she grimaced her realisation of what he did mean. ‘Anyway, Leonie, you have to admit, it has to be a very tempting offer? One that deserves thinking about?’

Oh, it was tempting, all right, if only because Leonie knew it would be a challenge. As for thinking about it—she had a feeling she was going to do little else until she spoke to Rachel again the following week…

’You look surprised to see me,’ Luke Richmond drawled coldly as he stood on her doorstep, totally blocking out the sun that was trying to shine into the doorway of her basement flat.

Of course she was surprised to see him! For one thing, she had no idea how he had found out her home address when all his mother had was her telephone number at the university. For another, she hadn’t been expecting him. He hadn’t given any indication at his mother’s home yesterday that he had any desire ever to set eyes on her again, either!

Besides, she wasn’t exactly dressed to receive company, her denims old and faded, the pink tee shirt having shrunk in the wash, added to which her feet were completely bare.

‘Well?’ he rasped at her lack of response to his statement.

‘Well, what, Mr Richmond?’ she returned tartly. This was her home, and her time, and she did not appreciate having her Sunday afternoon interrupted by this man in this arrogant way. Although from the little she had learnt of him yesterday, she had a feeling he didn’t know how to behave in any other way!

Dark brows rose mockingly over pale green eyes. ‘Aren’t you going to invite me in? Or is that a problem for you?’ he added derisively.

Leonie’s frown deepened. ‘In what way would it be a problem for me, Mr Richmond?’ she returned impatiently.

He shrugged broad shoulders beneath the black jacket and green shirt he wore with black trousers. ‘Perhaps it might prove—inconvenient for you, if you already have someone in residence?’ His eyes narrowed speculatively.

Deep grey eyes flashed her anger at his obvious derision. ‘I live alone, Mr Richmond,’ she snapped, pointedly holding the door open wider so that he could walk inside.

‘I’ve never yet known that as a viable reason for not having the occasional—weekend house-guest,’ he drawled mockingly, his physical presence making the hallway seem extremely narrow.

And Leonie extremely uncomfortable!

Consequently her reply was sharper than usual. ’Don’t judge everyone by your own standards, Mr Richmond,’ she snapped.

His only physical response to her obvious sarcasm was a slight rising of his dark brows. ‘Can you really see Rachel accepting my taking a procession of women into her home?’ he scorned.

Leonie frowned. ‘You live in Hampshire with your mother…?’ It was a question she had wanted an answer to since yesterday!

He shrugged. ‘Most of the time. Like you, I have an apartment in London; I just rarely use it.’

‘How nice to have that luxury,’ Leonie snapped scathingly; it took most of her wages to keep even this small apartment in London—and she was sure that this man’s London home was much more luxurious than this.

‘I think so,’ Luke drawled. ‘Do you have a problem with my living arrangements?’ His gaze had narrowed ominously.

‘Not in the least,’ Leonie dismissed uninterestedly. ‘Would you like to come through to the sitting-room?’ She pushed open the door to the right of where they stood, leading the way into her sparsely furnished sitting-room.

His mouth twisted derisively as he followed her. ‘I thought you would never ask,’ he murmured dryly.

Leonie shot him a reproving glance before turning to check that the sitting-room was at least tidy; she usually cleaned the apartment on a Sunday, but she hadn’t got as far as this room yet today. Everything looked as neat as usual, only yesterday’s newspaper on the coffee-table out of place.

It was a deliberately uncluttered room, completely bare of photographs, the chairs and tables cane, coloured scatter rugs on the highly polished light-coloured wood floor, a couple of Monet prints on the cream walls.

She bent down to pick up the newspaper, tucking it under her arm. ‘Can I get you a coffee? Or anything?’ she offered awkwardly.

‘Coffee will be fine; it’s a little early in the day for “anything”,’ Luke Richmond drawled, looking dubiously at one of the cane chairs. ‘Is that thing strong enough to take my weight, do you think?’ he murmured ruefully.

‘If it isn’t, I’m sure buying me a replacement won’t be a problem for you,’ Leonie snapped rudely, her cheeks flushing deeply red as he looked across at her, brows raised mockingly.

Get a grip, Leonie, she instantly rebuked herself. Okay, so the man was rude and condescending, but that was no reason to lower herself to his level!

‘I’ll go and make some coffee,’ she muttered before hurrying from the room, only breathing easily again once she reached the warm brightness of her cream and yellow kitchen.

What was Luke Richmond doing here?

As if she really needed to ask!

Obviously his mother had told him of her decision to offer Leonie the chance to write her biography—and Luke was here to see that Leonie turned down that offer. That alone was enough to make her want to accept it!

Which, in her opinion, was a totally childish reaction. She was twenty-nine years old, with a doctorate in History, was a well-respected university lecturer, and, even if she did say so herself, her biography on her grandfather the previous year had been well received.

But, then, that was the real problem for Luke Richmond, wasn’t it?

‘Here we are.’ She put the laden coffee tray on the table a few minutes later, dismissively registering the fact that he seemed to have risked one of the cane chairs—and that so far the ‘thing’ hadn’t collapsed on him! ‘Cream and sugar?’ she offered politely once the coffee was poured into the cups.

‘Neither, thanks.’ Luke Richmond accepted the cup she offered him.

She should have already known that this man would be completely uncompromising, even when it came to how he drank his coffee!

She added a liberal amount of cream and sugar to her own coffee before sitting down in the chair opposite his; she was one of those people lucky enough to be able to eat and drink anything without putting on weight.

‘So, Mr Richmond,’ she murmured after taking a sip of her own coffee, ‘what can I do for you?’

‘Well, you can call me Luke, for a start,’ he bit out tersely. ‘“Mr Richmond” makes me sound like Methuselah!’

It also kept him on a formal level—which was exactly where Leonie wanted to keep him!

His gaze was narrowed as he looked round the room. ‘This is rather nice,’ he finally murmured admiringly. ‘Who was your interior designer?’

‘Leonora Winston,’ she answered with a derisive twist of her lips. ‘Interior designer’, indeed!—was this man on the same planet as her? As if she could afford an interior designer!

But then, Luke had been born to a mother who was one of the highest-paid actresses in the world, must have lived with her in Hollywood for most of his childhood, and the house Leonie had visited in Hampshire yesterday, although extremely comfortable and beautifully decorated, was more like a mansion than a family home…

Luke looked at her with glacial green eyes. ‘It wasn’t my intention to be insulting,’ he rasped.

‘I know that,’ Leonie sighed, putting down her empty coffee-cup. ‘And no insult was taken. It must be difficult for you to understand—well, just difficult,’ she amended awkwardly as she realised she was the one being insulting now.

‘I can assure you I haven’t always lived with a silver spoon in my mouth,’ Luke said.

‘No?’ Leonie prompted interestedly.

‘No,’ he confirmed dryly, adding nothing further to the statement.

Deliberately so, Leonie was sure, intriguing her in spite of herself…

‘Mr Richmond—’

‘I thought we had agreed on Luke—Leonie,’ he added pointedly.

She drew in a sharp breath. ‘All right—Luke.’ She nodded impatiently. ‘Did you just come here to comment on my decor and drink coffee, or are you going to tell me the reason why you’re here?’ she prompted agitatedly.

Luke looked at her consideringly, somehow managing to look relaxed and comfortable despite the fragility of the chair he sat in. Leonie found herself shifting uncomfortably under the full impact of that piercing gaze.

’Does intimidation usually work?’ she finally snapped irritably.

‘“Intimidation”?’ he repeated slowly, seeming to savour the word before giving a shake of his head. ‘I’m merely looking at you, Leonie.’

It was the way he was looking at her that was so unnerving—just like a professor she had once worked with who had liked to study antiquities minutely under a microscope!

‘You’re a very beautiful woman.’

Now he had unnerved her! What did the way she looked—or didn’t look—have to do with anything?

‘Mr Richmond—’

‘Ah-ah—Luke,’ he corrected lightly, hard amusement in those pale eyes now.

Leonie stood up impatiently, glaring down at him. ‘Would you stop playing games with me and just get to the point?’ she bit out angrily.

This sort of word-game might work with impressionable—and no doubt ambitious!—actresses, but it left Leonie cold. She was much more used to being treated with a certain amount of awe by her students, respect from her colleagues, and warm affection from her family; this man gave every impression of a cat playing with a mouse. And she was the mouse!

He was still looking at her consideringly. ‘Why do you play down your looks?’ he prompted curiously.

She gasped. ‘I—’

‘Your hair, for instance,’ he continued just as if Leonie hadn’t spoken. ‘It’s the most glorious colour, would look wonderful cascading down your back, and yet you choose to cut it so short it’s almost boyish.’ His gaze was narrowed on her thoughtfully. ‘You also have absolutely flawless skin. As for those eyes…!’ He shook his head. ‘A little make-up to enhance those looks and—’

‘When you have quite finished, Mr Richmond!’ Leonie cut in indignantly, colour high in those ‘flawless’ cheeks. ‘I’m a university lecturer, not some bimbo you—’ She broke off as she saw what she already knew to be a tell-tale narrowing of his eyes, breathing in deeply to quell her own anger. ‘I prefer to look exactly what I am, Luke,’ she said more calmly. ‘Which is a historian.’

‘Like your grandfather.’ He nodded, sitting forward. ‘What are you trying to prove, Leonie?’ The words were launched at her with the speed of a whiplash.

Leonie grew suddenly still, the colour fading from her cheeks, her chin high as she looked at him challengingly. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she murmured warily. How had he guessed? How?

Luke looked at her wordlessly for several long moments, and then he grinned.

A grin that owed very little to humour, and much more to a rather large feline who had just spotted his prey—Leonie!

‘You really mustn’t mind me, Leonie.’ Luke relaxed back in the chair with a suddenness that made the cane creak. ‘My mother, along with most of the fashionable set in Hollywood thirty years ago, sent her child to all sorts of therapists in an effort to ensure that I wouldn’t grow up with any sort of—hang-ups about who I was.’ His mouth was twisted derisively. ‘In the end I became almost as practised as they were in pushing the right buttons to elicit a reaction.’ He shrugged.

Leonie couldn’t help but feel a certain sympathy for those therapists; she didn’t doubt that Luke Richmond had proved a most uncooperative subject! Or that he had deliberately been ‘pushing her buttons’.

‘Your mother should have saved her money,’ she dismissed dryly, inwardly thinking it would have been better spent on teaching this man some manners!

He gave a mocking inclination of his head. ‘That’s exactly what she finally did.’ He smiled humourlessly. ‘And you already know the reason I’m here, Leonie.’ With a suddenness that totally threw Leonie offguard, he finally answered the question she had asked him five minutes ago.

Which, she was sure, was exactly what he’d meant to do.

She closed her eyes, shaking her head. This man was a nightmare, an absolute, unpredictable nightmare!

‘Oh, but you do, Leonie.’ He misunderstood the reason for the shake of her head, his voice hardly accusing.

Leonie drew in a deep breath before looking at him, feeling a shiver down her spine as he calmly returned her gaze. But, she suddenly realised hollowly, she had no idea whether that shiver was one of apprehension—or one of total awareness of him as a man!

Don’t be ridiculous, Leonie, she instantly admonished herself. This man might be as handsome as the devil himself but that was all he had to recommend him. Luke Richmond was cold, rude and, she didn’t doubt, completely ruthless if the situation warranted it.

Did this particular situation warrant it…?

Leonie had no idea!

‘I’m sure we’re both well aware by now that your mother has approached me with the idea of my writing her—’

‘Approached you?’ Luke cut in forcefully, once again sitting forward in his chair. ‘Don’t you have that a little mixed up, Leonie?’ he challenged accusingly.

‘Actually, no,’ she answered with something approaching gentleness; obviously whatever conversation this man had had with his mother since Leonie’s visit yesterday, it hadn’t included Rachel telling her son that she had been the one to do the approaching! ‘I very much doubt you’re going to believe me, but—your mother was the one who contacted me, Luke,’ she told him huskily.

He stood up abruptly, his face slightly pale as he strode over to the window that looked out on the little handkerchief of garden that was Leonie’s. Although Leonie very much doubted that he actually saw the small bushes or the pebbled square that made up that tiny garden…

‘What the hell is she playing at? What on earth, after all this time, does she hope to achieve?’ he muttered.

To himself, Leonie surmised, deciding that no answer was necessary. After all, she had no idea of Rachel Richmond’s motives, either. The truth concerning Rachel’s past had remained a secret for so long now, Leonie could see no reason herself why Rachel would suddenly want to change that…

Luke turned back sharply, narrowed eyes that were pale, icy green. ‘Exactly what did my mother say to you yesterday?’ he demanded coldly.

Leonie frowned. ‘Only that she thought it time the innuendos stopped…’ She trailed off as Luke’s expression darkened ominously.

‘In favour of…?’ he rasped harshly.

She grimaced. ‘The truth, I suppose,’ she revealed reluctantly, knowing that had to be the last thing this man wanted made public.

His mouth tightened angrily. ‘We’ll see about that!’ he snapped before striding across the room, turning to look at Leonie even as he wrenched the door open. ‘I would advise you not to hold your breath concerning this biography, Leonie!’ he rasped savagely in parting, the front door closing with a slam seconds later as he let himself out.

Whew!

Leonie sank down further into her own armchair, feeling suddenly exhausted, as if she had just escaped the eye of a hurricane.

A hurricane, she didn’t doubt, that was now on its way to Rachel Richmond…

CHAPTER THREE

‘YOU’LL have to excuse Luke, I’m afraid, Leonie,’ Rachel told her ruefully, the two women sitting in the older woman’s comfortable sitting-room six days later drinking coffee together. ‘He can be very protective.’

In this case Leonie wasn’t sure whom Luke was being protective of: himself or his mother. But at least Rachel seemed aware of Luke’s visit to Leonie the previous weekend…

‘He doesn’t appear—keen, on your biography being written.’ Leonie chose her words carefully, only too aware of how strongly against the idea Luke was. ‘I have to say, after thinking about it,’ Leonie continued evenly, ‘that I’m not—’

‘I know exactly what you’re going to say, Leonie,’ the actress gently interrupted her, placing her hand warmly on Leonie’s arm. ‘In the circumstances, I can’t exactly blame you.’ She gave a grimace. ‘But I can assure you I do have my reasons for doing what I’m doing,’ she added huskily.

Leonie couldn’t for the life of her imagine what they were. And she was equally sure that Luke didn’t appreciate what they were, either…

‘I’m sure you do.’ She nodded frowningly. ‘But I’ve thought over your—suggestion, and I don’t feel I could do you credit.’ She smiled. ‘I’m sure that someone else—’

‘No one else, Leonie.’ There was a steely edge to Rachel’s voice now, those green eyes bright as emeralds. ‘I happen to have settled on you.’

Leonie looked questioningly at the other woman. So far in their short acquaintance Rachel had been the height of graciousness, totally warm and extremely friendly. But obviously there was another side to this beautiful woman, a side that could be as forceful as her arrogant son…

Leonie sighed. ‘I’m fully aware of the compliment being paid me,’ she began firmly.

‘Not at all, Leonie,’ Rachel assured her smoothly.

‘But at the same time I feel it only fair to tell you—’ She broke off abruptly as the door was suddenly thrust open, Luke Richmond now standing in the doorway. Really, did the man never just come into a room—knock, even…?

She tensed expectantly, knowing from the furious look on that arrogant face that this situation hadn’t yet been settled between mother and son. In the circumstances, she doubted that it ever would be!

Couldn’t Rachel see what this suggested biography was doing to her son? Leonie couldn’t believe a woman as warm as Rachel could be that insensitive. So why was the other woman being so adamant?

One thing Leonie was all too sure of—she did not want to get caught in the firing line between mother and son!

‘Mr Richmond,’ she greeted lightly before either of the Richmonds could speak. ‘You’re just in time to hear me tell your mother—’

‘What a nice surprise, Luke,’ Rachel cut smoothly across Leonie’s reassuring words, standing to reach up and kiss her son warmly on the cheek. ‘I thought you were away this weekend.’

’Obviously,’ he drawled dryly, shooting Leonie a pointed glare. ‘This all looks rather cosy.’ He raised dark brows in the direction of the used coffee tray on the table.

‘The coffee is still fresh, I’ll ring for Janet and ask her to bring in another cup.’ His mother smiled, moving towards the bell beside the fireplace.

‘Really, Rachel, I’m sure Janet has enough to do.’ Luke rasped reprovingly.

Leonie looked at him curiously.

‘You’re very grouchy today, darling,’ his mother teased affectionately. ‘I’m sure Janet wouldn’t mind in the least.’

‘I mind,’ he bit out harshly. ‘Besides, I don’t want any coffee.’

‘Darling, why didn’t you just say that in the first place?’ Rachel sighed, resuming her seat, crossing one silky knee over the other.

The answer to that was all too obvious to Leonie; Luke just wanted to be difficult. In truth, she felt extremely uncomfortable at being a witness to this sharp exchange between son and mother.

She felt even more uncomfortable as she suddenly found herself the focus of those pale green eyes. ‘So we meet yet again, Dr Winston,’ Luke bit out dryly.