The Bride's Secret

by Helen Brooks

  She wouldn't have believed she could experience such rhythmic, explosive rapture and not die from it, and as she began to move herself, welcoming him further, deeper, the last of Hudson's control was burnt up in the peaks of pleasure they were both experiencing.

  She wasn't aware of calling his name in the moment they both tipped over the pinnacle into a fiery world of colour and light and sensation, only of his fierce and savage cry of exultation as he made her wholly his and took her with him to the stars.

  Marianne came back slowly from the warm, satisfying completeness of that other world, an exhaustion so deep as to be paralysing drugging her senses as she lay in the curve of Hudson's arm, snuggled up against his warm, hairy body with her face on his furry chest as he kissed the top of her head and held her close.

  She must have slept, because when she next opened her eyes it was to a room filled with the half-light of dawn, and she was still encircled by Hudson's body, safe and secure and content She couldn't remember sleeping like that for years… The thought was there, in the soft golden moment before she became fully awake, but then her eyes shot open as she remembered. Hudson.

  She froze before moving carefully, experimentally, easing herself out of his protective embrace and sliding slowly towards the edge of the bed. What had she done? What had she done?

  She shouldn't have slept with him, not so… so completely, she told herself desperately. She should have let it be a physical mating, a fleshly thing. She shouldn't have given herself to him heart, soul and body, because he'd know—he would have sensed—her utter abandonment, and it would make their subsequent parting so much more difficult for him to accept Little chills of sick panic flickered up and down her spine. But how could she leave him now?

  'Where do you think you're going?'

  Hudson's voice was soft and satisfied, and Marianne froze again at the edge of the vast bed before turning slowly to face him, the edge of the duvet clutched against her breasts.

  'I… I need to go to the bathroom,' she managed at last.

  He raised himself into a leaning position on one elbow, his powerfully muscled chest causing her breath to catch in her throat as he drawled, 'Hurry back, sweetheart.'

  'Sweetheart'. She continued to sit there staring at him, noticing the tender amusement in his handsome face as he studied her confusion. He thought she was shy, embarrassed at all the intimacies of the night before, she thought helplessly, and perhaps if the situation had been different she might have been. But there was no room for maidenly modesty now. She was going to have to tell him; she should have told him years ago, because then it would have been cut and dried without all the equivocations and half-truths that had led them to where they were now. She'd made such a mess of it.

  'Annie?' The lazy amusement had died to be replaced with concern as he watched her face. 'What is it?'

  'I can't… I can't stay here,' she blurted feverishly.

  'Here? You mean in this hotel?' he asked intently. 'But you were staying here anyway; I don't see what's changed.'

  'No, not the hotel; I don't mean that' Marianne swallowed miserably. 'I mean… ' She closed her eyes, a hopeless sense of dark inevitability making the need to shut out his face paramount 'I mean here with you, as… as your wife.'

  She had expected an immediate response, perhaps a movement of his body as he reached out for her, but when the silence remained absolute she forced herself to open her eyes after long moments.

  Hudson was still watching her, and as her heart began to beat in wild, panic-stricken little jerks he said evenly, 'Before last night I might have allowed you to get away with that, but not now. You're mine, Annie, and I don't mean because of a marriage ceremony either. There is no power on this earth that will make me let go of you now. You wanted me every bit as much as I wanted you last night'

  'You said—you said if I wanted to leave—'

  'But you don't, not in here.' He hit his fist against his magnificent chest 'This is telling you something different maybe—' he touched his head lightly '—but in your heart and soul you are all mine because you want to be, because you gave yourself to me last night more sweetly than anyone has ever done before. And don't deny it, Annie. I'm not a fool so don't treat me like one.'

  'I… I can't stay with you, Hudson,' Marianne said flatly.

  'Oh, yes, you can, Annie.' He moved across the bed, careless of his nakedness, to catch her wrists in his hands as he knelt to face her on the rumpled covers. 'And you're going to, because I have no intention of letting you go,' he warned grimly.

  This was worse, a hundred times worse than she had ever visualised, but now all her options were gone and she knew it was only the truth that would do. And whatever he said, however he manipulated the words in that astute lawyer's brain of his, she would know from his face that he was secretly horrified at what he had inadvertently let himself in for. His career meant everything to him, she knew that, and however much he loved her, however much he cared, a tiny, hidden part of him would be relieved if she left.

  'You'll understand when I tell you,' she said shakily.

  'I said I don't need an explanation; we've gone beyond that—'

  'I have to tell you.' She cut across his quiet voice with a shrillness that silenced him. 'I should have told you before, long before, and then perhaps yesterday wouldn't have happened.'

  'I wouldn't bet on it,' he said darkly. 'I love you, Annie, and that involves more than a quick tumble in the hay or having the little woman ready with the slippers when I get home at night I'm committed to you for better or worse; I have been since the first day I saw you. I don't care what you've done or haven't done; there is nothing, nothing, that you could say or do that would make me love you any the less. So if you still want to tell me, knowing that, so be it'

  'Don't Please, please don't' The tears were running down her cheeks, the sense of loss already unbearable. 'Just… just listen, please, Hudson—without saying anything.'

  'I'll listen.' He settled back on the bed, folding her against the hard wall of his chest so she was sitting with her back against him, his arms round her waist 'Tell me.'

  The moment was here, time had run out, and she didn't know how to start. She stared blindly round the beautiful room, cool and shadowed in the early-morning light, her nerves stretched to breaking point What would he think of her when he knew?

  'You remember that night, when you asked me to marry you?' she said, trembling. 'And I said—'

  'You said "Yes, please, my darling",' Hudson said quietly.

  'But I wouldn't have said that if… if I'd known.' She shook her head, the vibration of his heart against her back telling her he was not as calm and controlled as he appeared. 'But I didn't.'

  'Known what?' he asked expressionlessly. 'What didn't you know?'

  'When I got back that night, after you'd asked me, Michael was waiting to talk to me,' she said in a low, tight voice. 'He… he told me things—things that meant—' She took a deep breath. 'He told me he was involved with people, criminals, and that if I married you they would force you to work for them, or ruin you if you said no. They'd… they'd use your relationship with me to involve you, discredit you. He was talking about the big case you took on to start with, but there would have been other things, I know it; they wouldn't have stopped at blackmailing you over just that. He… he was so pleased I'd met you; he said it was a gift from the lap of the gods.'

  She could still see Michael's face as he'd said it, the evil satisfaction in his narrowed eyes.

  'My mother didn't know—please believe that; she was totally innocent But… but I knew I had to leave her, and… and that I had to break all links with you, with Michael too,' she said stumblingly. 'I… I wrote the letters, one to you and one to my mother, and one to him too, and then I left France. There was never any other man, not ever. Not before I met you and not after.'

  She paused a moment 'I didn't know about the car crash until months later, but Michael dying wouldn't have made any difference
really. The men he worked for still exist; they know my name and they certainly know yours. You can't… you can't afford to have any link with someone like me. It would ruin you.'

  Hudson still hadn't moved or spoken, and now, as she ran out of words, she waited a few moments before twisting in his arms to look at him. 'Hudson? Do you understand what I've said?'

  And then she saw his face.

  It was alight with relief—fierce, vibrant, joyous relief. 'And that's it?' His voice was husky, shaken. 'That's all it is? He didn't attack you, hurt you physically? That's all it is?'

  'All?' She stared at him aghast, thinking he hadn't taken in what she had said. 'Hudson, they could ruin you; didn't you hear me? You have to be whiter than white, and I'm not.'

  'I heard you.' He stared at her for a moment before shouting out, I heard you, I heard you. Thank you, God. Thank you.'

  'Hudson.' He'd wake the whole hotel. 'Don't you realise what it could mean to your career, your name—?'

  Her words were cut off as his mouth came down on hers, and he kissed her like he'd never done before—not even in the midst of the wonderment of their wedding night—until her senses were reeling and her breath gone.

  'Do you know the horrors I've imagined?' he said hoarsely. 'The things that have kept me awake night after night since we met again? A hereditary disease, child abuse, rape, even AIDS—and a hundred and one variations on any of those themes. Some of the things I deal with in my work are past belief, and suddenly they could have all applied to you. It's sent me crazy… '

  'But this is terrible, isn't it?' She felt as though she was in a strange kind of vacuum, where black was white and white was blade and nothing made sense. 'Those people know my name, Hudson. They know Marianne McBride. Michael was involved up to the hilt with them, and if you marry me and the mud starts flying—'

  'I have married you.' He bent his head and kissed her gently on the mouth. 'Boy, have I married you.'

  His voice was sensual and thick, and as she caught a reflection of the night before in his eyes she blushed hotly, before saying, 'But as Marianne Harding, and if I get out of your life before they put all the facts together—?

  To hell with the facts.' He took her face in his hands, his eyes blazing down into hers with an intensity that took her breath clean away. 'Don't you know how much I love you?' he asked softly. 'How much you matter to me? I nearly went mad when you walked out on me two years ago, and in Morocco, when you left… ' He shook his head slowly. 'I never want to feel like that again. It was like the end of the world, and the worst thing was I couldn't make any difference to what was happening.' His voice spoke of the intense frustration and blinding pain he'd suffered.

  'I love you, Annie, and everything else, everything else, comes second to that. You're the only woman in the world for me, my woman. I want you as my wife, my best friend, my companion, the mother of my children. Hell!' He stared at her for a second, a spark of anger in his eyes. 'How could you weigh all that in the balance and think I would put my career—' the word carried a wealth of scorn '—first, for crying out loud? What made you think you could make that sort of decision for me anyway? Did you have so little faith in my love? Think I was so shallow?'

  'No, no, it wasn't that' How could she make him see? 'But if you fight them, if it comes to that, and you lose—your name, your position, everything—how will you feel then?' she asked painfully. 'They could ruin you, Hudson; you have to face that. And… and then you might begin to resent me. Oh—' she stopped him as he went to speak '—I know you wouldn't want to, wouldn't try to, but you might, and… and I don't think I could bear that. But it would be natural—'

  'Annie, I don't know what sort of men you've been used to being around, but believe me, no one I have any time for would think that was natural. You're as innocent in all this as I am, and as your mother was,' he added softly. 'I've seen plenty of low-lifes like Michael in my time; they're like ugly growths, and they can attach themselves to good folk as well as the other kind. They use people in any way they can and at any time, and are without mercy or conscience. I've fought them all my adult life and I know their tricks.'

  'That's what I mean,' she whispered desperately, tears threatening again. 'They've good reason to try to get back at you. They'd always be there, just outside the perimeter of our life, waiting—'

  'The hell they would,' he countered grimly. 'Do you seriously think I would allow you to live like that? They've taken two years of our lives; they aren't having a day more. Trust me, Annie.'

  She wanted to believe him, wanted to trust in his absolute assurance of his ability to take on Michael's cohorts and win, but by his own admission these men would use anything and anyone to win. 'Hudson, they're dangerous. You can't expect to keep a secret like me from them, not when they don't adhere to any rules of play—' she began urgently, only to stop as his finger reached out to stroke the words away, his touch unbelievably gentle.

  'I shan't be playing,' he said intently. 'And you are not, and won't be, a secret. I'm more proud of you than anything else in my life and I have no intention of not broadcasting that to the world. We aren't going to hide away, Annie, not for scum like Michael. They've touched your life through no fault of your own but they won't ever do so again; I'll make sure of that.'

  She stared at the glittering hardness of his narrowed eyes as he spoke, a chill slithering down her backbone. 'You wouldn't… You wouldn't do anything silly, would you?' she asked fearfully. 'I know you know a lot of people on both sides of the law—'

  'I'll keep within the law if that's what's worrying you.' He grinned suddenly and her Hudson was back, although the brief glimpse of the side he showed in the courtroom, to men like Michael, had been terrifying. 'And now you don't have to think any more about it You're my wife—I'm your husband—let me do the worrying, okay? From now on we face this and everything else together.'

  His wife. Marianne's throat was dry. His wife.

  'Okay?' he pressured softly. 'We're one now, agreed?'

  'Yes.' She smiled tremulously, a dawning hope that it was all really going to be all right rising up inside her. 'But—'

  'No—no "but"s,' he said levelly. 'Not one single damn "but" between us ever again. Promise?'

  She nodded wordlessly, her heart too full for speech.

  'And another thing,' he added, his voice deep and gritty and his eyes loving her. 'The next time you want to save me from ruin, please discuss it with me first, I'm a big boy and I can take most things, but I couldn't go through this again.'

  'Neither could I.' She tried to smile, she wanted to smile, but to her surprise she found she was crying again, the tears streaming down her face as her mouth quivered like a child's.

  He knew the time for words was over and drew her down into the covers with a hungry tenderness, his eyes silver-grey as they held hers and his mouth passionate as he kissed away the tears.

  Within seconds they were both on fire, relief and wonder adding an intensity to their love that was all-consuming. He moved over her, his lips claiming hers fiercely as his hands moulded her soft fullness into the hard, male planes of his body.

  'Annie, Annie… ' he muttered thickly. 'I could kill them for keeping us apart so long. They'll pay for what they've done.'

  Her arms wound round his neck, her body moving almost savagely as she kissed him back with a wildness that spoke of her hunger and, touchingly, her inexperience. His mouth was branding her with heat, and then he moved away slightly and traced her throat, the soft swell of her breasts, her stomach and beyond with tiny, nipping kisses until she trembled helplessly, mindless with pleasure as she gloried in his need of her.

  She arched and moaned against him, shaken beyond measure by the enchantment of his lovemaking, and her blatant need and desire took Hudson to the limit of his control as he moved against her convulsively.

  His possession was fierce and absolute and her surrender complete, her body moving with his as she invited a deeper and deeper joining of their bodie
s, their lives, their souls. And when the moment of release came they went together into a glorious, shimmering world of their own, transformed, renewed, until their oneness was beyond the stars, the universe…

  And afterwards, as they lay together in the warmth of their soft cocoon, the shadows of night fleeing before the brightness of the coming day, they talked and shared and made plans for the future that was now theirs to reach out and take. A future that would enfold children—warm, soft, vulnerable, precious little beings and products of their love—into their lives and hearts.

  'No more fears, Mrs de Sauce?' Hudson cupped her face gently in his big hands, his narrowed eyes searching hers.

  'No more fears.' And this time she could smile, her face glowing as she stroked her mouth against the hard, bristly side of his chin.

  'We're going to be happy, my love, more happy than you could ever imagine in your wildest dreams,' he promised softly. 'I won't allow anyone, or anything, to spoil, one more minute—one second—of our lives together. Trust me, my Annie—the best is yet to come.'

  EPILOGUE

  'The best is yet to come'…

  Marianne breathed in the warm, heady scent of a host of velvet-petalled roses as she reflected how often, in the last few years, she had acknowledged the truth of Hudson's promise to her that crystal-bright morning so long ago.

  And the best had been good, so good. Her eyes followed Hudson as he played with their sons in the pool, three miniature clones of their handsome father and all with Hudson's considerable will-power, which made for interesting days. She smiled to herself lazily. But she wouldn't have it any other way.