No Need for Love

by Sandra Marton

  ‘You’re forgetting something.’ His hands tightened on her until she could feel the bite of each finger in her flesh. ‘No matter what lies you tell yourself, you know you want to make love with me.’

  ‘It’s not making love,’ she said in a shaken, angry whisper, ‘it’s—it’s having sex!’

  His eyes darkened, and his voice was as hard as the hands holding her. ‘Whatever you say.’

  ‘That’s what it is, isn’t it?’ She glared at him, her chin tilted at a proud angle. ‘It’s—it’s sex for pay, nothing else.’

  ‘Hannah!’ A muscle jumped in Grant’s jaw. ‘Goddammit, I’m warning you!’

  ‘I know you are. You’ve warned me. You’ll force me to uphold my end of our agreement or ruin me.’ The breath rasped in her throat. ‘Well, you’ll have to ruin me, then, Grant, because I’ve no intention of—of prostituting myself for you.’

  Silence fell between them. Hannah was shaking inside, but she forced herself to meet Grant’s furious glare without flinching. It seemed a long time before he lifted his hands from her shoulders with exaggerated care and gave her a cold smile.

  ‘Believe me, your eagerness to end our relationship is matched only by my own. You have my assurance that I won’t prolong things a day more than necessary.’

  Hannah’s chin lifted. ‘I’ve no intention of staying married to you. You might as well get that through your head.’

  ‘And you might as well remember what I told you last night. There’ll be no divorce.’

  ‘I’ll leave you anyway, and don’t bother reminding me that I have no job and no place to live——’

  ‘And no way to get back to San Francisco unless I pay for your ticket.

  ‘That’s not true.’ Her heart was thudding so loudly she was afraid he could hear it. ‘I have money of my own.’

  ‘You have fifty dollars in your purse.’ His smile was all teeth. ‘I took the liberty of checking this morning. That won’t get you very far, darling.’

  She stared at him. ‘I have credit cards.’

  ‘Not any more.’

  ‘You took them?’ Her eyes widened in shock. ‘You had no right!’

  ‘I have every right. You’re my wife.’

  ‘You—you…’ Her breath sputtered. ‘You bastard! You son of a bitch! You—you——’

  ‘Four weeks, Hannah.’ His voice was calm, which only infuriated her more. ‘That’s hardly a lifetime.’

  ‘No.’ She drew in her breath as she stared into his eyes. ‘But it’s more than enough time for me to hate you as I’ve never hated another human being in my lifer!

  She turned and started back towards the hotel, when Grant reached out and caught hold of her.

  ‘It doesn’t have to be that way,’ he said.

  Hannah swung around. ‘I should have known,’ she said furiously. ‘You can’t bear not getting your own way, can you, Grant?’ Her hands balled into fists. ‘And you’ll even keep me a prisoner to do it!’

  Grant’s mouth narrowed. ‘You have it all wrong.’ His hands slid down her arms until he was clasping her wrists. ‘What I’m doing is keeping you my wife.’

  Hannah stared at him in silence. He moved no nearer and made no attempt to draw her to him, but his nearness, and the memory of his touch, were enough.

  She gave a muffled cry, wrenched herself free, and flew across the sand to the relative safety of the hotel.

  CHAPTER TEN

  HOW easy it was to control your world, if you were Grant MacLean. Hannah watched with cool detachment as everyone scurried to do his bidding.

  Their luggage was packed and waiting in the lobby when they returned to the hotel; the bill was ready and presented discreetly for Grant’s signature and at almost the same moment a gleaming black Land Rover pulled up outside the doors.

  ‘Let’s go,’ Grant said briskly. His hand fastened around hers in a gesture that might look loving but was, in reality, a manacle.

  Hannah’s heart was racing, but she gave Grant a cool stare. Did he think she was going to make a scene? Well, she wasn’t. She had no intention of letting him see how angry and frightened she was. She would, instead, retaliate in the only way she could, and treat his power with contempt.

  ‘You don’t need to handcuff me,’ she said coldly.

  She wrenched her hand from his, marched to the Land Rover, and threw the door open. Once inside, she sat unmoving while he supervised the loading of their luggage, her face a mask that slipped only when the head porter bade them goodbye.

  ‘Vaya con Dios,’ he said with a polite smile.

  Hannah had to bite back the urge to tell him she was going not with God but with the devil.

  They made good time along the main road. Signs flashed by for the aeropuerto and Hannah had one instant of almost breathless hope that everything he’d said had been nothing but angry words said to upset her, but the signs were quickly behind them and they were heading up a narrow road that climbed into the mountains.

  They passed through a town, then through little villages. She kept waiting for Grant to slow the car and turn into one of them, but he kept his foot firmly on the accelerator. The road narrowed again, until it was only a dirt track, and still they climbed.

  Maybe he hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said he was taking her a million miles from anywhere. But why? What was he planning?

  She glanced at him cautiously, taking in the harsh profile, the narrowed mouth and jutting jaw. What had he said about his reasons for staying on in Mexico for the month? ‘We don’t really know each other.’ Did he really think that in four short weeks they would come to know each other? Did he think all it would take to get her into his bed was knowing that he liked dogs and helped little old ladies across the street?

  Hannah clasped her hands in her lap. She knew everything she needed to know about Grant MacLean. Grant MacLean got what he wanted, or else.

  That was what this was all about. She’d resisted his sexual advances…

  No. That was a lie.

  She shifted uneasily in her seat. She had responded to him; there was no point in pretending she hadn’t. But the fever in her blood had turned to ice once she’d understood what his intentions were.

  She’d thought he’d been as swept up in passion as she, but the truth was that her seduction had been nothing more than a detail of their arrangement. Sally had been quite right: Grant had no heart, he had only an ego a mile wide.

  She could not imagine ever feeling desire for him again, much less passion. The house he’d rented had eight rooms, he’d said. Hannah blew out her breath. Fine. She would avoid him. When he was in the kitchen, she’d be in the bathroom. When he was outside, she’d be inside. And whatever bedroom she chose would be as far from his as possible.

  Would he endure four weeks of that? She gave him another tight-lipped glance. No, she didn’t think_so. A week would probably be more than enough. By then, even Grant would be willing to admit failure. They would fly home, and he’d have to endure the raised eyebrows and speculative whispers that would surely greet the announcement that their whirlwind courtship had led straight to a whirlwind divorce.

  ‘I don’t give a damn what people think,’ he’d said, but it wasn’t true. He cared what people thought as much as anybody. More, perhaps, considering the size of his damned ego.

  ‘If the directions the agent gave us are accurate, we should be there soon.’

  She looked up. Grant was concentrating on the road ahead, his hands lying lightly on the steering-wheel. His tone was conversational.

  Hannah almost laughed. She hoped he enjoyed talking to himself.

  ‘And just take a look at that view. Damn, but it’s spectacular.’

  The man sounded just like a tourist. Her chin lifted. If he thought some pleasant chit-chat was going to change anything, he was——

  ‘—crazy.’ She swung towards him, and he flashed a quick smile. ‘Hell, I must have been, agreeing to rent a. house sight unseen, then finding out it’s ten t
housand feet straight up a mountainside.’

  Ten thousand feet? Surely he wasn’t serious?

  ‘Well, the agent swore the trip’s worth it.’ The engine hummed as he downshifted on the steepening grade. ‘He says the forest comes right up to the back door. And the view goes on forever. He says…’ Grant glanced past her and gave a long, slow whistle. ‘Wow!’ he whispered.

  Wow? Hannah’s jaw clenched. What did ‘wow’ mean?

  ‘Forever is right,’ he murmured. He chuckled softly. ‘I just hope this car has good brakes.’

  He was trying to get a reaction from her. Well, she wasn’t about to oblige. Still, she couldn’t resist taking one swift peek out of the corner of her eye.

  ‘Oh, God.’ She felt the blood drain from her face as she turned quickly back to the road and pressed her spine against the seat. ‘It’s not ten thousand feet,’ she whispered. ‘It’s ten million.’

  ‘It’s probably more like three thousand,’ Grant said agreeably. ‘We won’t need oxygen masks after all.’

  It was a joke, she knew. But, like all good jokes, it held a kernel of truth. The air did seem different here, now that she thought about it. She took a deep breath. Was it thinner? No. Not really. What it was, was cleaner. Sharper. It had a tang, like—like pine.

  For the first time, she lifted her eyes to the mountains rising all around them. The trees—pine, for the most part—were a deep, deep green, a colour that mirrored that of the emerald on her finger, and they pierced a sky that was a shade of blue she could not recall ever having seen before, unless in a child’s box of crayons.

  Beautiful, she thought.

  ‘Yes,’ Grant said softly, ‘it is, isn’t it?’

  Hannah swung towards him. ‘I didn’t say——’

  ‘You didn’t have to.’ He gave her a quick smile, then looked back at the road. ‘That catch in your breath said it all.’

  ‘What catch in my breath?’

  ‘There’s a soft little sound you make when something pleases you.’ His fingers flexed lightly on the steering-wheel. ‘I think the first time I noticed was the night we bought Brian.’

  ‘Brian?’ she said, staring at him.

  He grinned. ‘Brian the Lion, remember?’

  ‘Oh. Well, that was——’

  ‘You make the sound when I kiss you, too.’

  Colour rushed to her cheeks. “That’s ridiculous,’ she snapped. ‘And you’re wasting your time if you think that kind of talk’s going to——’

  ‘The only thing I think is that we have to give ourselves a chance, Hannah. That’s why I’ve made these arrangements, so that you and I——’

  ‘There is no “you and I”,’ she said curtly. ‘There’s only a piece of paper no court in the world would hold me to. And you know it.’

  He said nothing for a long time. When he spoke again, his voice was clipped.

  ‘You keep forgetting that other piece of paper, the one that says we’re husband and wife.’

  Hannah stiffened. ‘That one is meaningless, too.’

  ‘Stop playing the innocent.’ Grant’s voice was iron-hard and unforgiving. ‘You went into this with your eyes wide open—and, if you saw only what you wanted to see, you’ve no one to blame but yourself.’

  She glared at him, but said nothing. What could she say? It was hard to admit, but he was right.

  How could she have thought Grant would have agreed to a celibate relationship? He was a virile man, in the prime of his life. Had she ever stopped to think about what he was supposed to do for the time they lived out their sham of a marriage?

  It didn’t take much imagination to think of what the marriage would have been like if it had gone as she’d assumed. Grant would have lived a discreet private life, quite separate from the one he shared with her. He’d have had affairs, come home smelling of another woman’s perfume…

  A dull knot of pain lodged in her breast. She turned her head to look at him from under the shelter of her downcast lashes, her gaze running over the straight nose, the firm mouth and chin, drifting to the dark hair that brushed the collar of his cotton shirt. Her fingers curled into her palms as she remembered the silken feel of it under her band—and suddenly she knew that she could not have survived hearing him come in late at night, knowing that he’d been…

  The car coasted to a halt at the side of the road. ‘Look,’ Grant said quietly.

  Hannah did, turning her face up to follow his pointing finger, eager to do anything to dispel the sudden clenching of her heart. A shadow swept towards them, borne on the wind, silent and almost supernatural.

  ‘It’s a golden eagle,’ Grant said, answering Hannah’s unspoken question. He shaded his eyes with his hand, watching as the eagle soared higher and higher until it was lost in the sun, and then he gave a deep sigh. ‘Hell, don’t you wish you had wings?’

  Hannah’s throat constricted. Yes, she thought, oh, yes, I do wish I had wings. I would fly away home, where I’d be safe…

  Safe? From what? She knew Grant wouldn’t hurt her. He wouldn’t force a woman to submit to him. A woman would go to him eagerly, her eyes and arms open, her mouth parted for his kisses, her breasts hard and aching for his caress.

  ‘There it is.’

  She stared at him, too stunned by the images in her head to speak.

  ‘The house,’ he said, and now she could hear the excitement in his voice. ‘There it is, Hannah. Just ahead.’

  It stood in graceful solitude on a cliff above them, backed by the deep green of the mountain and looking out over the valley thousands of feet below. The house was white stucco with a red-tiled roof and red shutters, and Hannah knew she had never seen a more beautiful place.

  It was, just as Grant had promised, the perfect honeymoon hideaway.

  ‘Hannah?’ Grant cleared his throat. ‘Be honest. How does it look to you?’

  She looked from the house to him. Like a dream, she thought, like the perfect place to be alone with the man you adore.

  ‘Tell me what you think.’ He reached out and smoothed a strand of dark hair from her cheek. ‘Do you like it?’

  Still, she said nothing. A month, she thought, four long weeks alone in this perfect place with Grant.

  ‘I want you to like it,’ he whispered. ‘Hannah?’

  The icy grasp of fear clutched at her chest, fear not of the man beside her but of the unknown that lay ahead. She pulled back sharply, away from the comforting warmth of his hand.

  ‘Please.’ She drew a trembling breath. ‘Let’s go back.’

  ‘Hannah. Hannah, listen——’

  ‘Don’t force me to stay with you, Grant. Let me go. Let me out of this—this nightmare.’

  Their eyes met, hers filled with pleading, his grey and hooded. Then, slowly, a cold smile angled across his mouth.

  ‘You’re breaking my heart,’ he said sarcastically, and the car shot ahead.

  The housekeeper and cook introduced themselves, then withdrew discreetly, leaving Grant and Hannah to explore the house themselves. Vivid Mexican tilework covered the floors; hand-woven blankets hung on the white-washed walls. The rooms were spacious and cool with their shutters drawn against the afternoon sun. They all opened on to a flower-and greenery-filled atrium where a miniature waterfall splashed over moss-covered stones into a pool designed to look as if it were set in a rocky hillside.

  There were four bedrooms, each spacious and with its own private bath.

  ‘Which do you prefer?’ Grant asked.

  More than ever, it seemed imperative to choose the one furthest from his.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Hannah said carefully. ‘What about you?’

  ‘The one at the other end of the house seems fine.’

  She nodded. ‘I—I think I like this one,’ she said, choosing the one they were in. Their eyes met. ‘All right?’

  ‘Fine. I’ll bring in the luggage. Why don’t you see if the cook’s made preparations for lunch?’

  She did as he’d suggested, and th
en she strolled through the atrium and pretended to look at the flowers, when all she was really trying to do was keep away from Grant. Something had happened in those last moments in the car, but what? She felt as if she’d touched her hand to an electric socket, felt the threatening tingle of power emanating from it before snatching her fingers away just in time.

  ‘Señora?’ Hannah looked up. The housekeeper was standing in the dining-room doorway, smiling politely. ‘I have unpacked your things, señora. I hope I have put them away to your liking.’

  Hannah nodded. ‘Thank you. I’m sure whatever you’ve done is fine.’

  ‘The señor asks me to tell you that he will join you for lunch in a few moments.’

  Hannah touched the tip of her tongue to her lips. ‘I—I’m not very hungry,’ she said. ‘The heat—the long drive…’ Her voice trailed off. ‘Would you please tell the señor that I’ve gone to take a nap? Tell him—tell him I’ll see him later.’

  Safe inside her room, she lay on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Anger had propelled her through the last few hours, but it had suddenly drained away, leaving her with a hollowness deep inside. She felt vulnerable, even frightened, as if her world were about to turn upside-down.

  There was a light knock at the door.

  ‘Hannah?’ The door opened and Grant stepped into the room. Hannah scrambled up against the pillows. ‘Estrella says you’re ill.’

  She shook her head. ‘Not ill. Just—just a little tired.’ ‘Would you like me to get you anything?’

  ‘Nothing, thank you.’

  ‘Some aspirin, perhaps. Or coffee?’

  Hannah shook her head again. ‘I just want to be alone.’

  Grant’s mouth twisted. ‘Forgive me,’ he said tightly, and the door swung shut.

  She closed her eyes and lay there for a long time, deliberately trying to empty her mind of thought, but it was impossible. She felt as tense as a coiled spring. After a while she rose, walked to the window, and cracked the shutters.

  The atrium was deserted in the afternoon heat. Hannah’s gaze went to the pool. It looked cool and inviting, and she thought of how good it would feel to slip into the water and work off some of the restless energy dammed up inside her.