No Need for Love

by Sandra Marton

  ‘Yes, that’s fine. Thank you. Did he say when he’d be here?’

  ‘At seven, madam.’

  That gave her plenty of time to shower and change, she thought as she entered her bedroom. To paint some life into her face, to slip into one of the expensive gowns that hung in her wardrobe—and to assume the role of the wife she would never be.

  Her throat tightened. ‘I can’t do this any more,’ she whispered into the silence of her bedroom.

  But she would have to. The lie they were living would end when Grant chose to end it, and not a moment sooner.

  Hannah came down the stairs at two minutes to seven, just in time to greet Grant and his guests as the lift doors opened. Her brows lifted a little when she saw Messrs Longworth, Hart and Holtz step forward, their wives on their arms.

  ‘Hannah,’ a chorus of male voices said, and they all clustered around, greeting her with hearty kisses on the cheek, while their wives eyed her and gave each other strange little smiles. Well, after all, Hannah thought, it wasn’t every day one of the partners married his legal assistant. If only they knew…

  ‘Hello,’ she said pleasantly, after introductions were made. ‘How lovely to see you all.’ She peered past them to the lift doors, which had whisked shut. ‘Where’s Grant?’

  ‘Riding up with the next batch,’ Mrs Holtz said. There was another round of funny smiles as the women dumped their minks and sables into Hodges’ arms. ‘There were simply too many of us to arrive together!’

  Everyone laughed harder than they should have, Hannah thought, but she went on smiling.

  ‘I’m sure you know your way into the living-room. Why don’t you go ahead and let Hodges serve you drinks? I’ll wait here for the others.’

  The men all started across the foyer, but Mrs Hart’s breathless voice stopped them in their tracks.

  ‘Oh, we’ll wait with you,’ she said—and just then the lift doors slid open, and everything grew still.

  Stepping into the foyer were the primary members of the Hungarian delegation—but left behind in the lift, so that they took centre-stage, were Grant and Magda Karolyi, she clutching his arm and gazing up into his face with unconcealed adoration, he smiling down into hers.

  ‘… and then,’ Grant said into the silence, ‘Stevens said, “Well, Your Honour, I would have brought them all into the courtroom, but I figured the place would get a little crowded. So I left them at home, in the fishbowl. But you’re welcome to drop by and check for yourself, any time.”’

  Magda threw back her head and laughed, exposing perfect white teeth. ‘Darling, that’s absolutely marvellous! And, of course, you von the case!’

  Grant smiled modestly. ‘Of course.’

  Magda giggled like a schoolgirl. ‘How vonderful!’ Her dark chocolate eyes glowed. ‘Oh, it’s so good to see you again, darling. You can’t imagine how I’ve missed you.’

  ‘Grant?’ Hannah swallowed. ‘Grant,’ she said again, and the couple in the lift looked away from each other and stared at her as if she was the last person either of them had expected to see.

  Grant recovered first. ‘Hannah.’ He smiled as he drew Magda forward. Hannah’s heart missed a beat. He was smiling at her as he had done in the days when she was his assistant: pleasantly, politely—and impersonally. ‘Hannah, you remember Magda, don’t you?’

  Hannah tore her eyes from him. ‘Yes,’ she said slowly. ‘Of course.’ She took a breath. ‘How are you, Ms Karolyi?’

  ‘Oh, you must call me Magda,’ the blonde said. ‘If you call me Ms Karolyi, then I must call you Mrs MacLean.’ She gave Grant a sidelong glance from beneath impossibly long lashes. ‘And vy should I spend the evening reminding myself that you are married to this beautiful man?’

  Everyone laughed gaily, including Hannah. But her laugh began and ended a fraction of an instant too late, so that it hung in the air like a forgotten party balloon. After a moment, Mr Longworth cleared his throat.

  ‘Well,’ he said in a jolly voice, ‘well, well, well. Have you told your wife what it is we’re celebrating, Grant?’

  Grant’s smile was slow and knowing as he looked at Hannah. ‘No,’ he said softly, ‘I haven’t. But then, Hannah’s a bright girl, Charlie. I’m sure she’s figured it out.’

  Longworth launched into a little speech about finally concluding the Hungarian deal, but Hannah knew the truth. Grant’s message had been clear. It was over. The charade he’d forced her into was finished. I’m tired of playing, Hannah, his eyes said. And I don’t give a damn who knows.

  Well, that was fine with her, she thought. But why the public announcement? What right had he to make her look like a fool? None of these people, not even the voluptuous blonde hanging on Grant’s arm, was stupid. Something was happening; they knew it, just as Hannah knew that they were all waiting for her reaction.

  Well, she thought grimly, they were in for a disappointment. She would be a lady. She would endure this evening, pretend complete indifference to what was going on under her nose. And at the night’s end she would pack her things—her things, nothing Grant had bought her—and walk out with her head high.

  She owed that much to herself.

  Three hours later, as she began pouring coffee in the library, Hannah was ready to admit that her plan, though intellectually sound, wasn’t working.

  She couldn’t seem to concentrate on anything but Grant and the woman who clung to him like a shadow, who was now seated close beside him on a small sofa far from everyone else. If it hadn’t been for Hodges, Hannah’s guests would have gone without drinks and food. And she had no idea why.

  Why did she keep looking at Grant and Magda? It was like approaching the scene of an accident along the road.

  I won’t look, you told yourself.

  But you did. You did, because you just couldn’t keep from doing it, no matter how painful the result—just as she couldn’t keep from looking towards those two heads, one dark, one fair, bent towards each other.

  Grant wasn’t just making a fool of her, he was making one of himself. Didn’t he care? She knew what he always said, that he didn’t give a damn what people thought, but surely…?

  Magda’s laughter tinkled across the room like a scale played on a poorly tuned piano. Grant laughed, too. He’d been laughing all night. Had he ever laughed so much before? Not with her, surely.

  … all so surprised!’ Hannah blinked. Mrs Hart was smiling at her. ‘Such a sudden thing, your marriage, wasn’t it, dear?’

  Hannah smiled stiffly in return. ‘May I pour you some coffee?’

  Grant was laughing again. If she tried, she could even pick up bits and pieces of his conversation.

  ‘… and then the poor bastard said, “Where’s my litigant?” Can you imagine?’

  Magda chuckled sexily. ‘Who could win against you, darling?’ she purred. ‘You are such a formidable man!’

  Grant chuckled. ‘Oh, I can think of times I’m a pushover,’ he said.

  Coffee slopped over Mrs Hart’s cup and into the saucer. ‘Sorry,’ Hannah said.

  ‘No!’ Hannah could almost picture Magda batting her lashes. ‘You, a pushover? Never, darling.’

  ‘I am, for a beautiful woman,’ Grant said.

  ‘Oops!’ Hannah smiled brightly at Mr Longworth. ‘I’m so sorry! I didn’t burn you, did I?’

  The voices coming from the little sofa dropped until they were inaudible. Well, Hannah thought, Grant and Magda deserved each other. They were both of a kind, all looks and no heart. But Magda was in for a surprise. She was probably already picking the colour of her bridesmaids’ dresses, but no one, not even a blonde with abundant cleavage, would ever get Grant to the altar once their divorce was—was—

  ‘Sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me this evening. Here, let me blot that up…’

  But she’d surely get Grant into her bed, and probably long before that divorce decree had even——

  Hannah grabbed at a napkin. ‘I’m so sorry!’

  Grant w
as a man with a strong sexual appetite, and it was obvious he found Magda attractive. Attractive wasn’t quite the word. He found her stimulating. Exciting. Just look at how he was practically purring as she leaned into him——

  ‘Lord! I’m all thumbs tonight. Did I burn you? Good. Good. Let me just——’

  Why was he letting her do that? Her breast was practically in the crook of his elbow…

  Hannah sprang to her feet. ‘I—I——’ She stared wildly at the faces watching her, then reached down and snatched up the half-full cream pitcher. ‘We need more cream,’ she said. ‘I’ll just—I’ll just go and…’

  She rushed out the door, then stood in the shadows, shaking. Why? Why did it matter to her what Grant did with that woman? The answer came at once. She had told herself she wouldn’t let his behaviour embarrass her, but it was doing exactly that. He was embarrassing her, when he was the one who ought to hang his head in shame. What if the people in that room knew the truth, that Grant had contracted with her for a child, that she’d refused his advances?

  If they knew, they’d feel differently. By God, if Magda Karolyi knew the truth, she’d feel differently! No woman, not even this one, would make such stupid cow eyes at a man as cold-blooded, as self-centred, as heartless as Grant MacLean.

  Magda’s laughter rang out again. ‘Oh, Grant, you are so charming!’

  Charming? Hannah spun on her heel. ‘Enough,’ she said, as she marched into the library and straight for the little sofa. Someone reached out a hand but she brushed past it. ‘Grant.’ Her voice rang out, loud and clear in the sudden silence.

  Grant looked up, still smiling at whatever Magda had been saying. ‘Yes?’ he said, a bit impatiently. ‘What is it, Hannah?’

  ‘What does Magda know about us?’

  His brows drew together. ‘What?’

  The blonde leaned towards him, her breasts almost spilling from her dress. ‘What is she talking about, darling?’

  Grant smiled. ‘Nothing to worry your lovely head about.’

  ‘Nothing?’ Hannah said sharply. She took a step forward. ‘Nothing?’ she repeated with barely suppressed rage.

  ‘Oh, good,’ Magda said, happily oblivious to what was going on, ‘you have the creamer. I should like some, if you please.’

  There was a moment of seemingly endless silence. Hannah could feel every eye in the room on her. A shiver of anticipatory pleasure coursed through her blood.

  ‘Of course,’ she said, very calmly, ‘you can have it all.’ And she up-ended the pitcher directly on to that overblown décolletage.

  Magda shrieked, leaped to her feet, and began to sputter in Hungarian. ‘You are a crazy woman!’ she finally managed in English.

  Hannah smiled. ‘Indeed,’ she said, and with her head held high she turned and marched from the room.

  It wasn’t until she was safely in her rooms that her composure crumpled. She fell back against the door. Lord! What had she done? Grant had not humiliated her half as much as she’d humiliated herself. She’d set out to salvage her pride, and instead she’d—she’d…

  ‘Hannah?’

  The knock at the door, and the determined sound of Grant’s voice, were almost simultaneous.

  ‘Go away,’ she said.

  ‘Open the door, Hannah.’

  He sounded as if he might break it down. Hannah sighed, reached for the knob, and yanked it open.

  ‘We’ve nothing to say to each other, Grant.’

  He walked past her, surprisingly cool for a man who’d just endured such a nasty little scene.

  ‘Our guests asked me to say goodnight.’

  Her cheeks coloured. ‘Did they?’

  He peered at a painting on the wall as if he’d never seen it before. ‘That was one hell of a performance you just gave.’

  Hannah’s chin lifted. ‘If you or your—your ladyfriend expects an apology——’

  ‘I told Magda to buy herself a new dress and send you the bill.’

  ‘Me?’ Hannah laughed, although she didn’t feel much like laughing. ‘That was a waste of time, Grant. I couldn’t afford to pay it—even if I wanted to.’

  ‘Of course you can,’ he said mildly. ‘There’s plenty of money in your account.’

  ‘There’s plenty of money in Hannah MacLean’s account, you mean.’ She strode past him to the bedroom, switched on the light and opened the wardrobe closet and pulled it open. ‘But not in Hannah Lewis’s,’ she said, as she began tossing her things on the bed.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘What does it look as if I’m doing?’

  Grant shrugged and leaned back against the wall, his arms folded over his chest.

  ‘There’s no rush, Hannah. You don’t have to get your things moved out tonight. It can wait till morning.’

  Her throat constricted, although why should it? She’d known what he was doing, that he was telling her to get out of his life. And that was what she wanted, what she’d wanted all along.

  ‘What can’t wait until morning is an explanation.’

  ‘There’s nothing to talk about.’

  His tone hardened. ‘I want an explanation of what happened in that library.’

  Hannah’s face burned. ‘I told you, I’m not going to apologise. Anyway, you made your point.’

  ‘Did I?’

  ‘Yes. But it wasn’t necessary. You knew I wanted to end this—this marriage. You didn’t have to—to…’ Her voice broke. Dammit! She wasn’t going to break down in front of him. And there was no reason. No reason at all.

  ‘Hannah.’ Grant’s hands closed lightly on her shoulders. ‘Hannah, turn around and look at me.’

  ‘No.’

  Slowly, gently, he turned her towards him. When she looked down, he put his hand under her chin and urged her head up.

  ‘If you’re glad our relationship is over, why are you so upset?’ he asked softly.

  ‘Why am I…? You—you humiliated me. You——’

  ‘Is that the only reason?’

  ‘Yes. Of course. I have my pride too, you know. You’re not the only one…’

  But he was. He was the only one, the only man she would ever love. She had loved him all along, despite the lies she’d told herself.

  A sob burst from her throat.

  ‘Go away,’ she whispered. ‘Grant, please, if you ever had any respect for me…’

  ‘What I hoped,’ he said, his hands framing her face, ‘was that maybe you were upset because I’d made you jealous.’

  ‘Jealous?’ Hannah sniffed. ‘Me? Why on earth would I be——?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said, very softly. ‘Maybe because you love me.’

  His eyes were boring into hers. She wanted to look away from him, but how could she, when he was holding her face between his hands?

  ‘This is ridiculous,’ she said. ‘If you think you can humiliate me more than—than I’ve already humiliated myself——’

  He stopped her words with a gentle kiss. When he drew back, he was smiling.

  ‘I’m even wondering if perhaps you love me as much as I love you.’

  Hannah’s eyes grew wide.

  ‘Did you hear me, sweetheart? I love you. I love you as I never dreamed it possible to love anyone.’

  Her heart skipped a beat, then began to race like an engine out of control.

  ‘Grant,’ she said shakily. ‘Do you—do you mean it?’

  ‘I don’t even know when it happened. Maybe it was when you snatched that black nightgown out of my hands. Maybe it was when you served me a cup of the worst coffee any man’s ever endured, or when you gave yourself to me that night, beside the pool.’

  ‘But—but tonight…’

  ‘Hell.’ He shook his head. ‘Tonight was the act of a desperate man. We couldn’t talk without resorting to accusations. And you turned to ice when I tried to tell you how I felt before.’

  ‘When?’ Hannah breathed. ‘When before?’

  ‘That morning, in Mexico. I started to ask
you to go with me to a little town where we could be properly married, without any nonsense about contracts or——’

  ‘But that was why you’d asked me to marry you in the first place. So you could have a child.’

  Grant sighed and rubbed his cheek against her hair. ‘That’s true. I’d thought about having a child on and off for a long time—but it was always in the abstract. Hell, having a child meant getting involved with a woman, and I’d no wish to do that ever again. But then you came along—and suddenly the idea of having a baby seemed very enticing.’

  ‘But not too enticing.’ She looked at him. ‘You only wanted a marriage with a built-in divorce clause.’

  ‘And so did you.’

  Hannah nodded. ‘I told myself it was the only arrangement that suited me——’

  ‘Yes, darling.’ He smiled. ‘Neither of us was willing to admit we’d fallen in love.’

  ‘I know in my heart that I’d never have agreed to marry you for any reason but love.’

  Grant gathered her close. ‘You do love me, then,’ he said softly, and Hannah tilted her head up to him and smiled.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ she whispered. ‘I knew it that night, in Mexico. When you set me free, I looked into my heart—and realised I’d loved you for a long, long time.’

  ‘But if you knew how you felt, why did you want to end things?’

  Hannah sighed. ‘Once I knew I loved you, how could I have lived with you, then given you up when you tired of me?’

  ‘Hannah, sweetheart.’ Grant drew her close and kissed her. ‘I’ll never tire of you, not if we both live to be a hundred.’

  Tears rose in Hannah’s eyes; she smiled through them and looped her arms around his neck. ‘Poor Magda. What must she think?’

  Grant grinned. ‘Don’t feel sorry for her, love. She enjoyed herself tonight; I suspect she likes playing the role of sex goddess more in public than she’s capable of performing it in private.’

  ‘And your partners.’ Hannah buried her face in his shoulder. ‘And their wives. Just imagine what they must be saying.’

  ‘Yup. They probably haven’t had this much excitement in decades.’ He laughed softly. ‘We’ll make it up to them, and to Magda, too, by inviting them all to our wedding. A real wedding, darling. You will marry me again, won’t you?’