No Need for Love

by Sandra Marton

  Grant nodded. ‘Oh, and one other thing.’ He strolled to the wardrobe on the far side of the room. ‘I’ve made wedding arrangements for next Thursday. Thursday afternoon, actually.’ He smiled as he pulled on his topcoat. ‘At one o’clock.’

  She sank down on the edge of a chair. ‘Next Thursday? Grant! My God! You—you shouldn’t have…’

  ‘Is there something wrong with Thursday?’

  Hannah looked up. He was watching her with an expectant smile, as if he’d asked her if she’d mind working late that evening.

  ‘The day’s not the problem. It’s——’

  ‘Good.’ He frowned. ‘Actually, there is one more detail. I’ve notified your landlord that you’ll be giving up your flat. And I called your bank and——’

  ‘What?’ She got to her feet and stared at him. ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I called your bank.’ He took her elbow and walked her out of the door and down the corridor. ‘I’ve arranged for some funds to be transferred into your account. I’ve no idea what you might wish to buy for yourself before our wedding, but——’

  ‘I don’t want your money!’

  ‘Don’t be silly.’ Frowning, he pressed the call button for the lift. ‘There must be purchases you’ll want to make before next Thursday.’

  ‘Not a one,’ she said coldly.

  ‘That’s nonsense, Hannah.’ The lift doors slid open and they stepped inside. ‘You need a trousseau. Luggage. Clothes for our honeymoon. Whatever.’

  ‘This is impossible!’ She stared at him as the lift dropped. It was a high-speed one, and Sally always joked that it got to the ground floor before her stomach did. Hannah had never agreed—until now. ‘I’m trying to tell you,’ she said sharply, ‘we don’t have to go on a——’

  ‘Of course we do. You’re the one who wanted our marriage to look as normal as possible, remember?’

  ‘Well, yes, but I never meant——’

  ‘Don’t look so stricken,’ Grant said, smiling at her as they stepped into the lobby. ‘I haven’t taken over completely.

  She glanced up at him as he took her arm and led her from the building, his step just brisk enough so she had to stretch her legs a bit to keep up, the feel of his hand on her elbow light but subtly controlling.

  ‘Haven’t you?’ she said, her tone chill.

  ‘Of course not.’ His smile broadened. ‘After all, I’m going to let you choose your own engagement-ring.’

  Hannah came to a stop. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she said. ‘I don’t need an engagement-ring.’

  ‘Of course you do,’ he said smoothly. His hand closed on hers and he drew her out to the street. ‘What would people think if I didn’t give you a ring?’

  She looked at him in dismay as he hailed a taxi, then handed her inside.

  ‘But you said—you said you didn’t care what people thought…’

  ‘And you said you did.’ He leaned forward and gave the driver an address, and then he sat back and smiled at her. ‘It’s all part of the same thing, Hannah. You can understand that.’

  ‘No,’ Hannah said, ‘actually—actually, I don’t understand it. We—I only said——’

  ‘You expressed a concern about appearances. And the more I thought about that concern, the more I realised you’re right.’

  ‘I am?’ she asked, puzzled. She could count the number of times he’d thought her ‘right’ on the fingers of one hand, and still have fingers left to hold a teaspoon.

  ‘There’s no harm in creating the appropriate illusion,’ he said.

  ‘Wait a minute,’ Hannah said. Her voice was shaking. ‘Just wait one damned minute, Grant!’

  ‘What’s the matter?’ He looked at her. ‘Have I done something wrong?’

  ‘Wrong? Wrong?’ She gave a sharp bark of laughter. ‘You—you’ve taken over my life, Grant! You’ve announced our wedding to your partners, to your family——’

  ‘I was simply trying to expedite things, Hannah.’

  ‘You—you called my landlord and cancelled my lease——’

  ‘Well, I’m an attorney. I thought it might be better if I handled it.’

  ‘You contacted my bank…’ Hannah drew a shuddering breath. ‘Dammit, Grant, I am not your property!’

  ‘You’re going to be my wife,’ he said, pleasantly enough but with a hint of steel lying just below the surface.

  ‘Being a man’s wife doesn’t make a woman his—his chattel!’

  ‘I agree. But it does give him the responsibility of taking proper care of her.’

  ‘Being responsible for someone does not grant you the right to make decisions for them,’ she said sharply. ‘I have made my own decisions for many years, and I’m not about to stop now!’

  He looked at her for a moment. ‘All right,’ he said softly. ‘Suppose we say that, from now on, I’ll take your opinions into consideration when making decisions that concern us both. How’s that?’

  ‘It’s not good enough. I’ll expect you to discuss things with me…’ Hannah’s voice faltered in bewilderment. ‘I mean, I’d expect you to do that. If—if I were going to marry you.’ She drew a deep breath. ‘But—but I’m not.’

  She waited, expecting—expecting what? she thought, as her eyes searched his face. Anger? Rage? Something like that. Instead, he scowled and thrust his hands deep into his pockets.

  ‘I see,’ he said.

  ‘You misunderstood me the other day,’ she said quickly. ‘I never said I’d agreed to your idea, only that I’d think about it.’

  ‘And, having thought about it, you’ve decided you don’t want a child after all.’

  ‘No. Oh, no.’ She put her hand on his arm. ‘Of course I want a child. But——’

  ‘You’ve decided that you wouldn’t want a child of mine, then.’

  ‘No. Grant, it’s nothing like that. I——’

  ‘Are you concerned that I might renege on my obligations? Is that the problem, Hannah?’

  Hannah shook her head. ‘Of course not. I know you’d—you’d give me a fine child. And I know you’d be a good father to it.’ Her eyes filled with tears and she put her hand to her breast. ‘As for me—oh. Grant, you can’t know what having a baby would mean to me. It would be—it would be…’

  ‘A dream come true,’ Grant said softly. ‘Then come dream with me, Hannah. We can make this work. I know we can.’

  Their eyes met and, for once, Hannah was silent. Come dream with me, he’d said.

  How could she argue against such a wonderful offer?

  The ‘appropriate illusion’ of an engagement-ring turned out to be a seven-carat emerald surrounded by diamonds. Grant had said she would choose her own ring and she did—after he’d specified emeralds of a certain cut and size to the smiling sales clerk in Tiffany’s.

  ‘Do you like it?’ he asked softly, once the ring was on Hannah’s left hand.

  Did she like it? Hannah stared into the deep green heart of the stone. He might as well ask if she liked the sun or the stars. They were all beautiful, all burning with unearthly fire.

  ‘Hannah?’

  She looked up at him. He was watching her with a peculiar intensity that made the breath catch in her throat.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Of course I like it. It’s—it’s very beautiful.’

  He nodded. ‘I thought emeralds, to bring out the green in your eyes,’ he said, so softly that she wasn’t certain she’d heard him. Their glances met, and for a heartbeat Hannah wondered why she had ever thought she’d never seen as deep a fire as the one gleaming in the heart of the emerald. But then Grant turned away, and when he spoke to the sales clerk his tone was brisk and unsentimental.

  ‘We’ll need wedding-bands, too,’ he said. ‘Wide ones, I think, in yellow gold.’

  When they had finished, he led Hannah out to the street and into another taxi.

  ‘Neiman-Marcus,’ he said to the driver.

  Hannah gave a little laugh. ‘Grant,’ she said, ‘really, don’t you
think we should go back to the office? I’ve work to finish.’

  ‘I told you,’ he said sharply, ‘you are not working for me any longer.’ He drew a breath, and when he spoke again his tone was soft and indulgent. ‘You need a dress to be married in, Hannah. I know it’s bad luck for the groom to see it, but——’

  ‘But in these circumstances, what does it matter?’ Her voice was flat. Did he really think he needed to remind her of that?

  Grant looked at her in silence, and then he nodded. ‘Exactly,’ he said crisply. ‘I’m glad you see it my way.’

  Was there another way to see things but Grant’s? Hannah didn’t think so. Moments later, standing in the exclusive store’s dress department, she felt like a bystander as he took even the selection of her wedding-dress out of her hands.

  ‘I think—something practical,’ she said to the sales clerk, ‘a wool suit, perhaps, in grey or beige. And nothing——’ She glanced at the obviously expensive clothing artfully draped in a nearby display and flushed. ‘Nothing too extravagant.’

  Grant laughed softly and slid his arm around her waist. ‘What the lady really wants,’ he said, ‘is a dress or a suit in a pale shade to complement her own colouring.’ His arm tightened around her. ‘Something special, to wear on our wedding-day.’

  The woman beamed. ‘Of course, sir. Madame? If you’ll come with me, please?’

  The dresses and gowns were dazzling, as were the discreet price tags attached to them.

  ‘No, that’s much too expensive,’ Hannah kept saying, until suddenly Grant was there, brushing aside her protests, choosing a lemon-yellow suit, a royal blue cashmere shirtwaister, and a pink silk coat-dress.

  ‘Try them all,’ he said. Hannah started to protest, but that touch of steel was in his voice again and in his eyes, as well, and she turned on her heel and marched into the dressing-room.

  ‘Madame is fortunate to have such a handsome and generous fiancé,’ the saleswoman murmured.

  Hannah smiled politely. Yes. Grant was handsome. And generous. And he never took ‘no’ for an answer. He would always get what he wanted, despite what he’d said a little while ago. Hadn’t he proved that with her from the beginning?

  ‘Madame looks lovely,’ the sales clerk purred. ‘Shall we step outside and show your fiancé this outfit?’

  Hannah let herself be led out of the dressing-room. Was she really ready for this? She’d all but handed herself over to Grant for the next three years—and three years was a long time. A very long time.

  ‘… three. Yes, I think so, don’t you, darling?’

  She blinked and looked up. Grant and the saleswoman were both smiling.

  ‘Don’t I what?’ Hannah asked.

  Grant’s smile broadened. ‘I said, three’s a lucky number, don’t you think?’

  She stared at him. ‘Grant——’

  ‘It is, absolutely. We’ll take all three.’ He flashed Hannah a dazzling smile. ‘That way, you can surprise me when I see you coming down the aisle next Thursday.’

  When they were alone again in a taxi, she turned quickly to him. ‘What aisle?’ she said in an angry whisper. ‘Surely you haven’t made arrangements for a church wedding?’

  Grant shook his head. ‘No.’ His mouth twisted. ‘I thought that might be going a little far.’

  ‘Well, I’m glad to hear—’

  ‘Marilyn suggested we hold the ceremony in their summer place, about an hour south of here.’ He frowned when she didn’t respond. ‘Hannah? Is there a problem?’

  Her fingers brushed across the florentined gold of her engagement-ring, tugged restlessly at the glowing emerald. Yes, oh, yes, there was. What was she letting herself in for? Marriage was a mistake in the best of circumstances—she knew that better than anyone. But to enter into one this way, knowing it was temporary and without meaning…

  Well, not exactly without meaning. They would have a child, if things worked out. But the marriage itself would never be real. They were living a falsehood, deluding everybody and even playing at deluding each other.

  ‘Is there?’

  She looked at Grant. His voice had gone flat; she knew that he sensed her hesitation.

  ‘I—I’m not sure,’ she murmured. ‘Maybe—maybe things are moving too quickly. I need time.’

  ‘Time for what?’ His tone was chill.

  ‘Well…just, you know. Time.’ She turned the engagement-ring on her finger, around and around.

  ‘Perhaps you’ll feel more comfortable when you see the contract.’

  She looked at him. ‘You mean you’ve drawn it up already?’

  Grant nodded. ‘Yes.’

  A wave of dizziness swept through her and she suddenly felt as if she were standing at the edge of a precipice.

  ‘When?’

  A little smile curved quickly across his mouth. ‘Sunday. I had some time on my hands, so…’ He shrugged. ‘It’s at the office.’

  They reached the building in the middle of the lunch hour, which meant that it was quiet and the offices empty. Hannah thought the receptionist gave her a funny smile as Grant hurried her past, but there was no time to dwell on that. Within minutes she was seated in his office, not on the straight-backed chair where she’d sat so many times during the past five months but on one of the leather couches. Grant sat opposite her, watching as she tried to read through the legal document he’d stuffed into her hands.

  ‘Whereas Hannah Lewis and Grant MacLean have agreed to enter into a state of legal matrimony…’

  She read on and on, until the dry words ran together in a blur, and then she looked up at him.

  ‘It’s longer than I expected.’

  He frowned. ‘It’s a contract, Hannah. I’ve tried to cover all the contingencies. What do you think? Have I left anything out? Do the provisions satisfy you?’

  Hannah’s brow furrowed as she bent over the contract again. What could she think? She had studied the basics of law, but he was the lawyer, not she. There were phrases here she didn’t fully understand, clauses and terms that were far too complex for her.

  ‘Basically,’ Grant said, ‘the contract spells out what we’ve already agreed on verbally. We’ll give ourselves three years to conceive——’

  ‘Three years? Three years was how long we said we’d stay together, after our baby is born.’

  ‘Of course. And we’ll give ourselves the same amount of time to get you pregnant.’

  A flush rose the length of Hannah’s body and travelled swiftly to her cheeks.

  ‘Must you say it that way?’ she said stiffly.

  Grant’s brows lifted. ‘Why? Does the word offend you?’

  ‘It just sounds so—so personal.’

  His voice was suddenly rough. ‘Don’t worry, Hannah, there’s nothing personal about this. I’m aware of your reservations.’

  She nodded. ‘I know you are. I just…’

  ‘Do you want to have your own attorney look it over?’

  She almost laughed. ‘I haven’t got an attorney. Besides, I’m not questioning the document. I’m sure you’ve done it properly. It’s just——’

  ‘Then sign it.’ She looked up. His voice was soft as silk; he was smiling and holding a pen out to her.

  The breath whooshed from her lungs, and she tossed the contract on the table between the couches and rose to her feet. ‘Grant,’ she said in an urgent tone, ‘I’ve been thinking. Maybe—maybe we ought to—to back off a little. Think things through again.’

  ‘No.’

  She spun around and looked at him. He had got to his feet, too, and was standing with his arms akimbo, the expression on his face so hawk-like and implacable that a shiver of apprehension swept over her.

  She swallowed drily. ‘There’s no rush, after all.’ ‘We made a deal, Hannah. You can’t renege now.’

  ‘I’m not trying to.’

  ‘Then why do you want to delay our wedding?’

  Our wedding. Our wedding. But it wasn’t a wedding, it was a sham. It wa
s a charade.

  ‘I need time,’ she said desperately. ‘Please, Grant, surely——’

  The telephone rang. They both stared at it, and then Grant snatched it up and barked an angry ‘hello’. Hannah turned swiftly for the door, pulled it open, and fairly flew into the safety of the outer office.

  This was never going to work. Never. It was impossible. It was—

  ‘Hannah?’ She looked up. Sally had appeared in the doorway, and the instant she saw her face she knew what would come next. ‘Oh, Hannah,’ Sally said, tears glistening in her eyes, ‘how exciting!’

  ‘Sally.’ Hannah took a step forward. ‘Before you say anything, I want to tell you that—that——’

  ‘I didn’t believe it, at first, when Mr Longworth told me.’ She dashed into the room, grabbed Hannah, and hugged her. ‘Oh, my gosh, what a ring!’ she said, dancing back a step. ‘I’m so happy for you!’

  ‘Sally. Wait. I’m not—we’re not—nothing’s really been——’

  ‘Mr Longworth said it would be all right if we closed down for the rest of the afternoon.’ Sally grinned. ‘None of us would get any work down anyway, considering.’

  Hannah felt behind her for the edge of her desk, took a step back, then leaned against it.

  ‘You and Mean Mac…’ Sally slapped her hands to her mouth. ‘Sorry,’ she said with a little laugh, ‘that just slipped out. When did it happen?’

  Hannah waved her hand in the air. ‘I—I don’t know, exactly. It just—it just did.’

  Sally nodded. ‘I always knew he had to have a heart.’ Her eyes widened. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Hannah. It’s just that——’

  ‘It’s just that you’re surprised.’ Hannah nodded. ‘I know.’ She gave the other girl a shaky smile. ‘Me, too.’

  ‘Yeah, I’ll bet. We’re all so happy for you. We didn’t have time to plan a party. A real one, I mean. But——’

  ‘Oh, that’s all right,’ Hannah said quickly. She hesitated. ‘Actually—actually, nothing’s definite yet.’ Sally’s smile became a puzzled frown, and Hannah hurried on. ‘The thing is, Grant and I haven’t actually——’

  ‘What my fiancée’s trying to say,’ Grant said as he stepped from his office and walked towards the women, ‘is that we haven’t quite agreed on the date.’ He put his arm around Hannah and smiled down at her. ‘I thought next Thursday, but she’s afraid that won’t give her enough time to get ready. Isn’t that right, darling?’ Hannah looked up at him, at those ice-grey eyes that were flashing a warning. He drew her closer into the hard warmth of his body. ‘And I’ve been assuring her that there’s not all that much to do. We’ve already given notice to her landlord, and I was just on the phone with that little girl from Estates and Trusts——’