by Helen Brooks
'You aren't working now,' he reminded her softly.
She stared down at him, a mixture of fear and excitement making her as stiff as a board and the clean, fresh male fragrance that emanated from his skin causing her stomach muscles to tighten until it hurt. He was dangerous, he was so dangerous, and she should have known better than to come with him like this…
'You're even more beautiful than you were two years ago,' he murmured huskily. 'How have you managed that, Annie? To grow in beauty and femininity when you're so rotten inside? There's no justice… '
Before she realised what was happening, he had pulled her down beside him and moved over her in one continuous, fluid movement, his body covering hers as he trapped her beneath him, his weight resting on his elbows. 'I don't want to want you but I do,' he continued almost thoughtfully, the rapid pulse in his throat belying the controlled voice. 'And I don't like that… weakness at all.'
'Hudson, stop this; let me go.' She didn't dare struggle, vitally aware of the big, powerful body covering hers and of the alien masculinity. 'I don't want this.'
'How many times did you make love with him, Annie? The one you left me for?' he asked grimly. 'And how many were there after him? How many were there before' if it comes to that?' he added tightly. 'Was I the only one who didn't have you? The only one who believed you when you said you wanted to wait until we were married? Did the others see you for what you are?'
She stared at his face, inches from hers. 'Let me go, now.'
'You know how to turn a man on; there's no doubt about that.' He looked down at her, his eyes glittering black and fierce in the tanned darkness of his face. 'And we came so close at times; do you remember?' He lowered himself slightly, his body stirring over hers as his fingers entwined themselves in the silky tangle of her hair. 'But you wanted to be married in white, you wanted it to mean something.' His sudden bark of a laugh was harsh and savage. 'Would it still mean something, Annie?' he asked bitterly.
A separate portion of her mind that wasn't taken up with the angry male body dominating hers was aware of the vivid blue of the sky above, the quiet, dusty vista beyond the shade of the eucalyptus trees, the still, sluggish air and the lightning movements of small, flat, large-eyed lizards who were darting back and forth just beyond the edge of the blanket, searching for crumbs from the picnic, and it made what was happening all the more unreal.
'You seemed so young then, so unsure and gentle and dreamy-eyed,' he mused softly. 'I had the feeling I had to treat you like fragile porcelain, that I mustn't frighten you in any way by rushing you. I was so conscious I was years older than you—not just numerically but in the ways of the world.' He paused, and then, 'How you must have laughed at me, Annie,' he added with sinister control, his face darkening and his mouth a thin, hard line.
'No, no, I didn't,' she protested shakily, terrified of what he was going to do. It wasn't like that; you know it wasn't.'
'Did you tell him all about me? Laugh about me together?' he asked menacingly. 'The ruthless and cynical Hudson de Sance fooled by a little slip of an English girl?'
'No, I told you, it wasn't like that,' she repeated desperately.
'What was it like, then?' he bit back savagely. Tell me, Annie. I'd really like to know, to understand'
There it was again, that blindingly brilliant lawyer's brain that couldn't bear to think it hadn't sensed or known what was beneath its nose, she thought despairingly. That was what this was all about at root level. He was over her—of course he was—men like Hudson didn't wait two years for anyone. But her supposed deceit that had fooled him so completely was still rankling like a festering sore in that stunningly intelligent mind.
She began to struggle but stopped almost instantly, her twisting only making her aware of the hard and powerful male lines of his big frame as she came into intimate contact with his body. And there was something else she was hotly, and humiliatingly, aware of too—she wanted him desperately. If he began to make love to her it wouldn't be rape. And then he proved that very point.
He bent his head, his mouth hard on hers, possessive, his hands clasping either side of her head as she tried to turn her face away and his body touching the length of her. She tried—she really, really tried—to hide what effect he was having on her shaky equilibrium but it was useless; the moment their mouths had fused it had been fire meeting fire. She was lost, utterly lost.
In the old days, when he had first met her, his lovemaking had been warm and coaxing in deference to her innocence, and later, even when he'd asked her to marry him, she had always sensed he was exercising an enormous control over his desire for her, his demands always tempered by the knowledge of her youth. Now there was no such restraint.
His mouth was heated as it plundered hers, demanding its right to probe and explore, and as sensation shot through every part of her body she could feel herself melting for him, becoming fluid and soft and moist. She wanted to draw back, to tell him that this was wrong, that he was wrong, that she wasn't the accomplished lover and woman of the world he seemed to think she was, but she couldn't His lips and hands wouldn't let her.
He moved his body over hers in a deliberate fuelling of her passion as he kissed her, and although she could hear the soft little moans of desire that were whimpering in her throat she was unable to stem them, her will to resist quite gone.
'You want me, Annie. In spite of everything you want me.' His voice was soft and husky against her lips, but there was a note of triumph there too that she recognised with a little jolt of her heart. This was premeditated, she told herself frantically—a cold-blooded exercise on his part to show her he only had to touch her and the old magic was as powerful as it had ever been.
But he wanted her badly—that much was genuine, as his body was showing her only too clearly, his arousal huge. Yes, he wanted her—in a physical sense. But the essence of his previous relationship with her—the tender passion, the joy and love and laughter—were gone. She had killed it. And this was crazy; no good could come out of it; she had to stop…
'You're hurting me.' He wasn't and they both knew it.
'Hurting you? I couldn't hurt you if I tried; you proved that two years ago.' He raised his head to look down into the green-gold eyes staring up at him, the pupils big and dilated. 'And I told you before, physical force is not my style. But then, we both know you are enjoying this as much as me, don't we?' His fingers casually brushed the soft swell of her breasts, her nipples taut and hard under the cotton top she was wearing, and she knew her body was giving the 'go' signal in a manner as old as time.
'I can't touch your heart—if you have one,' he added cynically. 'But I can find out if taking you now will get rid of the annoying physical desire I have for your body.'
He made it sound as unimportant as if he were trying out a new remedy for an irritating attack of influenza, and as his mouth sought hers again, impatiently now, she began to fight him with all her might, twisting and turning in earnest as the hurt and pain and humiliation cut deep. She couldn't give in—must not.
'I don't want this, Hudson,' she panted desperately as she tried to roll from under the powerfully muscled frame holding hers so securely. 'I want you to stop. Do you hear me?'
'Why?' There was desire in his face—she could read that all too clearly in the dark red colour flaring across the high cheekbones and the naked hunger in his eyes—but the softness, the gentleness, the caring that had characterised his dealings with her in the past was totally absent. 'And why should it concern me what you want anyway?' he added cruelly. 'I haven't exactly noticed tears of regret and remorse for your conduct in the past.'
If only he knew—oh, if only he knew how much she had cried…
'If you behave like a cheap tease, or worse, then you should expect to be treated like one; isn't that the way it goes?' he suggested with chilling softness. 'I want you, Annie, and you want me—your body is telling me that, whatever your mouth says to the contrary. I've waited two years; I'm not prepar
ed to wait a moment longer. And, however many others there've been, you'll remember this time.'
'I haven't slept around; you're making a mistake,' she gabbled frantically as he made to lower his head again. She dared not let him kiss her again because she knew, to her shame, that she wouldn't be able to resist him if he began to make love to her a second time.
Her breasts were still tight and heavy and begging for his touch, and the dull, sweet ache at the core of her that had grown into a wild, hot pain was almost too powerful to resist She was fighting herself as much as him—more, maybe—and it was that which was frightening her to death. If she was joined to him, in tody as well as heart, she wouldn't be able to let him walk away without telling him the truth; she knew it. She wouldn't be able to bear it.
'I don't believe you.' His eyes were on her lips, their dark grey depths glittering and sensuous. 'You're lying, sweet Annie.'
'No, I'm not' She was crying now, tears of pain and desire and love. 'There… there hasn't been anyone. I've never… I didn't sleep with… with him, with anyone—'
'You ran away with him, disappeared for months on end without a word to anyone, and you expect me to believe you weren't living together?' he asked incredulously. 'What the hell do you take me for?' But he had raised himself slightly, the menacingly male body no longer touching her softness.
'That's how it was.' She had to think quickly, provide some reason—some excuse—that would let him still believe she had left him for someone else but that she wasn't available for a light affair with every Tom, Dick or Harry, as he seemed to assume.
'And Keith?' he asked grimly. 'What about him?'
'I told you, we're just friends.' She tried to dry her tears with her fingertips, her hands trembling. 'It's the truth, Hudson.'
'Annie, you wouldn't know the truth if it stood up and bit you.' His eyes narrowed still further, becoming grey pinpoints of steel in the darkness of his face. 'There's something wrong here, something not right; I can feel it,' he said grimly. 'I don't know what it is, but I do know you can't fool me any more; that time is past But… there's no reason for you to lie about your virginity—if you are saying you're a virgin?' he asked slowly.
She nodded quickly, her face flaming with humiliation. 'I am.'
'Curiouser and curiouser, as Lewis Carroll would have said. 'She could see the astute, formidable mind ticking over as he absorbed this new information. She kept absolutely still, knowing that the desire that was still hot and fierce between them needed only a slight fanning of the banked-down flames to flare into a raging inferno that would consume them both. 'Right—explain.' He rolled away suddenly, sitting up with his back against the trunk of a tree as he surveyed her with cool, dark eyes.
'Explain?' It was the one thing she couldn't do, and she stared at him for a second before struggling into a sitting position herself, knowing the tears wouldn't exactly have enhanced her already bedraggled appearance. She must look such a sight!
'Here.' He flung a crisp white handkerchief into her lap, but stayed where he was, his gaze intent 'And don't even think of lying,' he warned softly, his voice even and controlled. 'Because rest assured I shall know. I listen to people perjuring themselves too often to mistake.'
'I… I can't really explain. I can't, Hudson. It's over now, we've both got different lives; can't we just leave it at that and… and… ?'
'And what?' he asked grimly as her gaze faltered beneath the stony eyes along with her stumbling voice. 'What do you suggest we do?'
'And part as friends?' she asked hopefully, her voice shaking.
'Annie, that is the most absurd thing you are ever likely to say.' He shook his head slowly, his mouth taut 'Quite the most absurd.'
'I don't see why,' she said quickly. 'You liked me once—'
'I didn't like you,' he countered softly. 'I loved you, Annie, and this is something quite different. Love and hate are first cousins, did you know that? Perhaps not, but through loving you I learnt what hate is too—and believe me when I say you are not my friend. I want an explanation, Annie, and I want it fast.'
'I… I know.' She longed to tell him the truth, to put the burden of the decision on him, to let him take the pain and disappointment and bitterness and share it with her, but she couldn't. His career was his life—he had once told her that the only thing he had ever wanted to be was a lawyer, that he couldn't have imagined being anything else, and, knowing Hudson as she did, she knew, whatever he did, he would have to be the best at it.
Oh, she wished Michael Caxton had never been born…
'Michael told you there was someone else—'
'Are you going back to your original line that that is untrue?' he interrupted caustically, his face darkening.
'No, not exactly,' she said carefully, keeping her eyes fixed on his with superhuman control. His face was a little thinner, leaner, than two years ago, although he had been superbly fit then, and the slight weight loss made him look even more dangerous, sexier… 'It's just that I had no intention of settling down with anyone else when I left you,' she said quietly, the ring of honesty in her voice unmistakable to his trained ears. It wasn't like that. I wanted… I needed to cut all the ties from the past and make a new life for myself, concentrate… concentrate on my career.'
'Are you telling me you ran out on this other guy too?' Hudson asked flatly. 'That you dumped both of us?'
'I'm telling you I went to London by myself,' she said firmly. 'I wanted to make my own way, without any emotional commitments—'
'Without me, you mean.' He stared at her, the grey eyes that were so piercingly intuitive tight on her pale face. 'Now, why do I believe the first part and not the second?' he said thoughtfully, almost to himself. 'Why did you leave him behind, Annie? Wouldn't he play ball and follow you like an obedient little dog, or (fid he dump you when he found out about me? Is that why you cut off all contact with your family? Did they spill the beans about your sordid little fling in France and it made you angry with them?'
'If you want to believe that, believe it' She could feel herself struggling in the sticky spider's web her lies had woven—she wasn't used to lying, and this was proving she wasn't any good at it either. She couldn't think quickly enough.
'So you didn't marry him, you didn't play house, and there's no one else on the scene at the moment? And, if I read you right, you're saying you deliberately keep it that way? Yes?'
'Yes.' She licked dry lips and his eyes followed the action.
'Why?' he asked grimly, his gaze still on her mouth.
'Why?' she repeated vacantly, her mind spinning.
'You are a beautiful young woman of twenty-five living by yourself in a city full of young men. You are intelligent, witty, and you have proved you can get a good job and keep it. Why are you content to act like an old-age pensioner with a houseful of animals to replace any social life? You haven't got a houseful of cats and dogs, have you?' he asked suddenly.
'No, I haven't.' She felt a spurt of angry adrenalin flood her system at the sad picture he was painting of her.
'Then I come back to my original question—why?' he repeated with silky persistence. 'You enjoyed our lovemaking as far as it went; I know that, Annie. And you were there with me today every inch of the way until you got cold feet. If it's like you said, if you got rid of this other guy too, what stops you making any sort of emotional commitment to a man? Have you been hurt? Abused, perhaps? Is that it? Did he abuse you sexually? Or someone else in your past? A friend of your mother's, perhaps?' he asked softly.
'No!' She was mortified at the way his mind was going.
'Don't look so embarrassed,' he said mildly. 'I deal with such things every day in my work—'
'I told you, I haven't… I haven't slept with anyone,' she interrupted wildly, her face fiery.
'You don't have to have done to have been hurt in some way.' It was a statement, not a question, and as he spoke he rose to his feet and walked over to her, drawing her up by her hands.
'
You're trembling,' he murmured softly, drawing her against the hard wall of his chest as his hands began stroking her slender back, his touch slow and sensuous. 'Do I frighten you that much?'
If it had been fear that held her in its grip she could have coped, she thought helplessly. But it wasn't fear that was sending tiny little shivers flickering down every nerve and sinew and making her breathing shallow. He was wearing an expensively delicious aftershave, but beneath it was the scent of clean male skin, and pressed as she was into his shirt-front she could feel the primitive roughness of thick body hair beneath the silk, and it was driving what lucid thought remained clear away. He was so big, so male.
'I don't like secrets, Annie.' She couldn't see his face, folded as she was against his body, but his voice was flat and controlled. 'Put it down to the lawyer in me, or just that I'm an inquisitive so-and-so who doesn't know when to accept defeat, but I've never been able to let go until I've got to the bottom of anything I don't understand. And I don't understand this—or you. It would be simpler all round if you just spilled the beans now.'
'I… I can't.' She kept her face hidden. 'I can't'
'No—you won't he corrected her evenly. 'You won't win if you fight me—no one does,' he warned softly. 'You must realise that?'
'I don't want to fight you.' She took a deep breath and prayed for strength to appear composed and calm. 'I told you, I just want to put the past behind us and part as friends. We have separate lives now. You're happy. I'm… I'm happy.'
'And I told you, you are the last person on this earth I would consider a friend,' he said expressionlessly.
It hurt, crucifyingly, causing her to jerk away so suddenly he was surprised into letting her go, and she kept her eyes lowered as she took a step backwards away from him and said, 'I… I have been hurt in the past—threatened, manipulated—but I can't discuss it with you or anyone else. Please, can't we just leave it at that?'
'Was it this man you went back to when you left me?' he asked softly, standing absolutely still as he spoke.
