The Bride's Secret

by Helen Brooks

  Of course, it wouldn't help the actual parting, once breakfast was over, that he looked so good this morning, Marianne thought dispiritedly as she watched the tall, lean figure across the room. And perhaps last night, painful though it was, had been the best way for them to say goodbye. If he was nice to her and she cried all over him… Oh, she couldn't, she thought, horror-stricken. No way.

  Just before he came over to the table she saw one of the girls from Reception enter the dining room and walk over to him, exchanging a brief word before leaving again. She didn't think anything of it until, after he had seated himself, he said, 'The bellboy has fetched your luggage down as arranged.'

  'Has he?' She stared at him in surprise. Was that what the girl from Reception had just told him? she asked herself, puzzled. But why tell Hudson about her luggage?

  'And it is now sitting comfortably in the back of my vehicle,' he added smoothly, reaching across to pour himself a cup of coffee as though it were a perfectly normal conversation.

  'What?' She'd misheard him; she must have. 'What did you say?'

  'Your luggage is in the back of my Range Rover.' He took a sip of the fragrant brew and sighed appreciatively. 'This is damn good coffee—'

  'Hudson?' She tried not to shout—she really did—and failed.

  'Yes?' The devastatingly intent gaze was raised to fix on her wide green eyes, and she saw it was as hard as iron.

  'Did you just say—' she took a deep pull of air and tried to speak calmly '—that my luggage is in a vehicle belonging to you?'

  'Well, if you're going to be precise about it, it's in a vehicle hired by me,' he said affably. 'I thought a Range Rover was far more suitable for long journeys out here—the roads are less than good in certain areas—but if you'd prefer a car… ?'

  'What I would prefer—' Again the deep gulp of air, but this time it didn't work and she could hear her voice rising shrilly as she continued, 'Is to know what on earth you're talking about. Why is my luggage in your Range Rover? Who told you to put it there? Because I certainly didn't. I'm leaving shortly—'

  'I know.' Again the piercing eyes held hers. 'With me.'

  'On a trip, if you must know,' she countered angrily, furious that he had extracted the information from her. 'It's a tour—'

  'Taking in the five major cities of Morocco,' he finished calmly. 'Eat that papaw now I've brought it, Annie.'

  'Blow the papaw.' She couldn't believe this; she really couldn't. Was he crazy or was it her? Because one of them definitely wasn't firing on all cylinders! 'Are you seriously telling me that you have taken it upon yourself to order that my luggage be given to you?' she hissed incredulously. 'Is that what you're saying?'

  'Exactly.' He smiled, but it didn't reach the fathomless eyes as they moved consideringly over her flushed, angry face.

  'Then un-order it now,' she commanded with scant regard for grammar. I've got a coach to catch this morning; it's due soon—'

  'Wrong,' he said with smooth arrogance. 'Dead wrong.'

  He was enjoying this, every minute of it, she thought angrily as she read the satisfaction he was making no effort to hide.

  'Hudson, you'd better explain, and fast, before I empty this coffee jug over your head.' It wasn't an idle threat, and wiped the satisfaction away like magic, she noticed with some gratification.

  'There is no coach,' he said hastily, reaching for the coffee jug and moving it to his side of the table. 'Marjorie cancelled it a few days ago, okay?'

  'Marjorie?' What on earth had possessed Marjorie to cancel the coach? Marianne looked into Hudson's glittering eyes, and suddenly she knew.

  'I was talking to Marjorie one evening a few nights ago,' Hudson continued easily, although she noticed he kept his hand on the coffee jug and his eyes didn't leave her furious face. 'She told me of your proposed trip, and as luck would have it I'd planned to do the same circuit myself.' One heavy eyebrow quirked at her but she ignored it.

  'So… it seemed ridiculous—to Marjorie and myself—that you and I planned to do the trip separately, you in a hot bus and me in a great, spacious Range Rover. Follow so far?' he asked gently.

  She glared at him and his hand tightened on the coffee jug.

  'So Marjorie very kindly phoned on your behalf and cancelled your seat… They were very understanding,' he said approvingly.

  'Where they?' she said grimly. 'And why didn't Marjorie tell me about this kindness? Or did it simply slip her memory?'

  'We thought it would be better in the form of a surprise,' Hudson said coolly. 'Added to the fact that if I had asked you to travel round with me you would have said no. Marjorie… understands things like that.'

  'Oh, does she? So the tour people were understanding, Marjorie was understanding, and clearly the bellboy was pretty understanding too. How much did you tip him to steal my luggage, Hudson? And what did you pay the others?'

  '"Steal" is a nasty word, Annie,' he murmured reproachfully.

  'It's a nasty act,' she shot back tightly. 'As well you know.'

  'Don't be difficult, sweetheart.' The endearment was matter-of-fact but still hit her like a blow. 'I've explained the circumstances, and you will be far safer with me than alone with a crowd of strangers. This is all for the best.'

  'I wouldn't exactly be alone with a crowd, now, would I?' she bit out testily. 'Besides which, that whole argument is crazy—'

  'You're saying you wouldn't feel safe with me?' His tone was reproving but his eyes were wicked, and her fingers longed to take the bowl of papaw and throw it at him.

  'What about your—?' She stopped abruptly. 'Your friend?' she continued tightly. 'I presume you've told her?'

  'My friend?' His expression was innocently puzzled.

  He knew; he knew exactly to whom she was referring! 'The… lady with the red hair,' she spelt out grimly, allowing the slightest pause that gave the word 'lady' unpleasant connotations. As if he didn't know.

  'You mean Jasmine,' he supplied helpfully, his face earnest.

  'Jasmine—right Well, won't Jasmine object to our taking off into the great unknown together?' she asked stiffly, the name like acid on her lips. 'Won't she find it a bit… odd?'

  'Why should she?' he enquired with infuriating innocence. 'She knows we are friends… old friends.'

  'You said I could never be your friend.' She hadn't meant to say it, to betray the hurt it had caused, but somehow it just popped out, laced with all the pain she was feeling.

  'There you are, then,' he said softly, his face shuttered and closed. 'We aren't even friends so there is nothing for her to worry about, is there? We will be merely fellow travellers, nothing more. Now, that croissant must be quite cold by now; would you like me to get you a warm one?' he asked evenly.

  'No, I would not' She couldn't believe she was in the middle of such a situation and that he was almost making her feel unreasonable by objecting to it She had the maddening feeling she was allowing herself to be bullied, swept along by a will far stronger than hers and a mind that was certainly far more astute. And Marjorie… What on earth had he said to Marjorie to make her agree to enter into such a conspiracy? She knew the beautiful model was somewhat giddy, and thinking had never exactly been Marjorie's forte, but this! This was… well, it was…

  'Eat up, then.' His grey eyes were intent on her face and he didn't smile as he spoke, watching her with a look that made her heart thud frantically again. He was so handsome—stunning, even—and she loved him so much. That in itself made any suggestion of three or four days alone with him too dangerous to consider.

  'I intend to.' She forced a cool smile that was the best piece of acting she had ever done. 'And then you can take my luggage out of your Range Rover and I shall decide whether to fly home immediately or spend another few days here. Either way, there is no chance of us travelling together, so you might as well accept that now.' She eyed him firmly as the smile faded.

  'No way,' he stated with soft determination. 'You're coming.'

  'You're craz
y—'

  'Not at all.' He settled back in his seat as he spoke, his mouth smiling but his eyes cold. 'I am in complete control of my mind and my emotions and you know it I want a companion to travel with and you are at hand; I see no problem with that'

  'Well, unfortunately for your wonderful plans, I do!' she bit back.

  'You will travel with me, Annie.' He hadn't moved a muscle, but she felt as though he had reached out and gripped her mind as his eyes narrowed, pinpoints of glowing black fire deep in the depths of them. 'You want to see Morocco—so do L It would be foolish to allow past history to interfere with what is only, after all, a brief interlude in our lives. We will be travelling together, exploring the sights, okay? You will be quite safe.' The last was said with heavy mockery, and immediately her hackles rose to meet it 'I'll give you a written guarantee if you want'

  'I'm not frightened of you, Hudson,' she said tightly.

  'Good That's settled, then.' His tone was suddenly impatient Clearly he considered there had been enough discussion on the subject and it was finished, and his next words confirmed this when he said, 'I presume you've already settled your account, and so have I. Now, I would suggest that you avail yourself of a cooked breakfast in addition to the fruit and croissant. I want to leave shortly, and I'm not sure when we will stop for lunch.'

  She wasn't going to win this one. Not so much because Hudson had forced her into a corner—although that was bad enough—but because she wanted, desperately, to go with him. The thought was shocking but she acknowledged the truth of it.

  She had thought, through all the long night hours when the rest of the world had been asleep and she had felt herself shrivel down into a little speck of empty nothingness, that she wouldn't see him again. And now he was offering her a few days of being with him, watching him, hearing him, before they had to part.

  It was crazy—she was crazy—to agree to this incredible plan, but she was going to. She wasn't strong enough to fight both him and herself. But oh, she knew already she was going to regret it.

  'Comfortable?'

  'Yes, thank you,' Marianne replied with a certain stiffness that wasn't lost on the big man at her side as the Range Rover sped along the road in the gathering heat of the May morning.

  'You're not going to sulk, are you?' Hudson asked softly. 'I appreciate you might have cause, but it's going to make the next few days wearisome for us both.' He smiled lazily.

  'You appreciate I might have cause?' she asked in amazement 'That's not what you said at the hotel.' She eyed him crossly.

  'I still had to get you into the Range Rover then.' It was so like his brand of sweeping arrogance that she stared at him for a moment or two before she could formulate a reply that was coherent.

  'Is that some kind of apology?' she asked shortly.

  'Do you want it to be?' he murmured sardonically.

  'I—You… Oh, I'm not discussing this any more,'

  she finished hotly, snapping her gaze from him and staring angrily out of the windscreen. ' You're impossible.'

  'Yes, it is an apology, Annie.' The vehicle slowed and then stopped, and he turned slightly in his seat to face her, his grey eyes narrowed and his firm mouth trying to hide the amusement she could read in the twist of his lips. 'Now, is that better?'

  'You don't mean it, do you?' Marianne accused warily.

  'Damn it all, woman, I can't win.' The tone was one of mocking reproach. 'If I don't apologise I'm in the wrong, and if I do you accuse me of lying. Isn't that right?'

  'If you meant it—'

  'I mean it, I mean it,' he interrupted, but there was a glint of laughter at the back of his eyes. 'Look, I'll apologise properly and try to convince you I'm suitably chastened.'

  He had taken her lips before she realised his intention, his hands moving to either side of her head to hold her face still. The firm, sensuous mouth was demanding and she wanted to melt against him, to return the kiss, but she dared not, so she fought the desire—hard. She remained perfectly still with her eyes tightly shut, telling herself that if she allowed this now—if she responded now—the next few days would turn into… What? Paradise? Yes, very probably, but then the return to the real world at the end of it would be unbearable. And it would have to come.

  'Stop fighting me.' It was a soft murmur against her lips and cut into the whirling confusion of her thoughts. 'You want me to kiss you—admit it. I know it and you know it.'

  'I do not' Now she did move, but it was to jerk away so violently that her head would have banged on the side window if it hadn't been open. 'You said this would be a trip of convenience, that's all, just keeping each other company,' she reminded him fiercely. 'Didn't you? And that means no lovemaking, Hudson.'

  ' Annie, I was only kissing you, for crying out loud—'

  'Didn't you?' she insisted hotly. 'A platonic excursion?'

  'That's what you want?' He looked at her steadily, his heavily lashed eyes searching her flushed face. 'What you really want?'

  'Yes, that's what I want,' she said tremulously, the anger and fight dying at the look on his face.

  'So be it' And then, perversely, she was mortified when he nodded coolly, as though making love to her was something he could quite happily take or leave, and started the engine again.

  'You don't mind?' she asked stiffly, her face burning.

  'I'm devastated.' His voice was light, mocking, and the dark profile gave nothing away as she glanced at him. 'But I'll survive.'

  The powerful and comfortable Range Rover made short work of the seventy or so miles to Fez, and, after stopping en route for an early lunch, they arrived at Morocco's most colourful ancient city in the early afternoon when the air was hot and languid.

  They made their way to the older city, founded almost twelve hundred years ago and separated from the newer, modern European section by a muddy but life-giving river, and joined the throng streaming through the huge gates in the walls of the old city.

  Marianne was enchanted by what she saw—robed Berbers and Arabs in turbans and burnouses, veiled women, hordes of bright-eyed children, flocks of sheep and goats, pack animals laden with bales of goods, and even an occasional water cart. It was like stepping back a thousand years in time, and she took photograph after photograph as more sights met her fascinated eyes.

  'Keith would have loved this.' She meant nothing more by the remark than that Keith's artistic flair would have thoroughly appreciated and revelled in the wonderful pictures in front of them, but Hudson's face chilled at the mention of the other man's name.

  'Then I'm heartbroken he's not here to see it,' he drawled with caustic sarcasm, his mouth hardening and his eyes cold.

  'I only meant—' She stopped abruptly. She didn't have to explain herself to Hudson and she didn't intend to, she thought militantly. It was he who had manoeuvred her presence on this trip, without any consideration of what she wanted at all. She was blowed if she was going to start apologising for an innocent enough comment. 'Have you already reserved accommodation?' she asked tightly. 'It looks very busy.'

  'Fez is a commercial centre as well as sometimes being referred to as the centre of Moroccan thinking,' Hudson said evenly, without replying to her question about accommodation. 'There are many schools here, as well as the Karouine University which is more than one thousand years old and famed throughout the Moslem world, so it's always a hive of activity with students and suchlike.'

  'It's fascinating.' She eyed him determinedly. 'You've booked something in advance, then?' she pressed again.

  'Yes, I've booked something in advance, Annie.'

  He didn't elaborate, and some perverse little niggle compounded of pride and anger wouldn't let her enquire further. He had expected her to sleep with him—the seduction scene back in the Range Rover outside Tangier had proved that—but that was one thing she wouldn't be persuaded into. He'd already made it clear that in his reckoning she owed him for letting him down so badly, and this was obviously the time he intended to collect. Wel
l—tough. She was here as his travelling companion, nothing more. He didn't love her, he didn't even seem to like her, and if he thought that she—

  'You'll frighten the camels if you glare at them like that.'

  'What?' She turned to glance his way as the deep, darkly amused voice spoke again. 'What did you say?'

  'That frown is giving you a gargoyle fierceness that could well start a stampede,' he murmured imperturbably, indicating a group of tethered camels outside the car window. 'Have pity on them.'

  'I was not frowning,' she protested quickly, ignoring his sceptical shake of the head and turning to stare at the vibrant scene outside the Range Rover. 'I was just looking, that's all.'

  'That's your normal sightseeing face?' he asked in mock horror.

  'And, even if I was, I don't intend to allow anyone to tell me not to,' Marianne stated firmly. 'My face is my own business.'

  'Anyone' smiled lazily before drawing into a parking space and switching off the engine. 'A little walk will make you feel better,' Hudson said comfortingly, in the tone one used to deal with a tired and fractious child who was being deliberately difficult.

  Marianne gritted her teeth. 'I'm fine, thank you, but a walk would be lovely.' She was quite pleased with the coolness of her voice.

  'You look very beautiful in virginal white with your hair loose and your face freshly scrubbed; have I told you that?' he asked huskily, his voice dropping an octave or two and the warm, heady fragrance of him reaching out to entrap her as he leant across and touched the silken curls. 'Like a fallen angel.'

  'A fallen angel? I hardly think so,' Marianne responded quickly.

  'A green-eyed, rumpled, sexy angel,' he continued thickly, 'with the body of a goddess and a certain way of looking at a man that sets him on fire and makes him imagine—' He stopped abruptly.

  'What?' she asked with breathless nervousness.

  'How it would be.' His fingers entwined further into her hair, moving her head forward until her face was a breath away from his, her lips half-open and her heart thudding crazily. 'How it would be in my bed, the shower, the back of my car, a cornfield—Hell, you've no idea of the places I've imagined, Annie. I don't even know if some of them are physically possible but it'd be fun trying. Do fallen angels ever think like that?' he murmured softly.