The Bride's Secret. HELEN BROOKS
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on giving everything she had inherited to charity. But to her it had been blood money—tainted, unclean—and she had only been able to breathe freely again when every last penny had gone, even though part of it had been from her mother’s estate.
‘Here we are. And look who’s waiting like an anxious mother hen,’ Hudson said softly, and nastily, as the sports car growled to a stop outside the hotel and Hudson cut the powerful engine.
Marianne looked, and then felt a pang of deep and mortifying guilt as she saw Keith’s worried face—which was made all the worse by the knowledge that Hudson’s cruel analogy wasn’t far off beam.
‘I suppose a goodnight kiss is out of the question?’ Hudson drawled with mocking amusement, his good humour apparently restored at the sight of Keith practically dancing in agitation as he raced down the steps towards them.
‘You’re a rotten swine,’ she hissed furiously.
‘I know...’ His voice carried a wealth of satisfaction.
As Keith reached them and opened the passenger door Hudson left the driver’s seat to stand just outside the car, his brawny arms leaning on the top of the vehicle as he watched Marianne alight.
‘Where have you been?’ Keith’s voice was several octaves higher than normal, his round, boyish face flushed and perspiring. ‘I expected you to be here when I got back this afternoon, and then I thought you’d at least be back for dinner.’
‘I’m sorry—’ Marianne began quickly, but the tirade continued.
‘I’ve been worried to death, and none of the others knew where you were.’ He was ignoring Hudson as though the big figure watching them with such obvious satisfaction didn’t exist. ‘Couldn’t you have phoned or something? Just a few words to say where you were?’
‘It was my fault, I’m afraid.’ Hudson’s voice was like smooth cream, and even a babe in arms would have been able to tell he was enjoying every minute. ‘We... had dinner with some friends.’
How could he make the truth sound so much like a lie? Marianne thought savagely. He’d done that on purpose—that brief pause which had made what followed sound even more unlikely. Oh, she hated him!
‘Isn’t that so, Annie?’ He made the pet name take on soft and unbelievable connotations as he shifted his big body lazily, his eyes glittering in the muted light from the hotel.
‘Yes, yes, it is.’ Well, it was. “They...these friends of Hudson’s had prepared us a meal,‘ she continued helplessly as Keith drew back slightly, disbelief written all over his face. ‘It—it would have been rude...I—I couldn’t really leave,’ she stammered.
‘And they didn’t have a phone?’ Keith asked tightly.
Oh, she wished he’d leave this until they were alone and she could explain properly, Marianne thought desperately, vitally aware of the entertainment value the little tableau was affording Hudson. Couldn’t Keith see he was playing right into the other man’s hands? Apparently he could’t
‘Well? Did they have a phone?’ Keith repeated snappily.
‘I...I don’t know.’ She stared at him unhappily. ‘Can’t we discuss this inside?’ she suggested quietly. ‘Please. Keith?’
‘Yes, they have a phone.’ The deep voice spoke again from the other side of the car. ‘We just didn’t think of it, I’m afraid. Enjoying ourselves too much, I guess,’ Hudson added smoothly.
She’d hit him. She would—she’d hit him. Marianne took a deep breath and prayed for calm. ‘Keith, I really can explain—’
‘We are shooting at five tomorrow morning, Marianne, and I would appreciate you being in the lobby at half past four.’ Keith had drawn himself up to his full five feet nine inches, quivering hot outrage in every line of his pink face. ‘It is important we catch the dawn light, so don’t be late,’ he added sharply.
‘No, of course I won’t, but if I could just explain—’
‘Goodnight, Marianne.’ He strode back into the hotel without looking back, his back stiff and his head upright.
‘Now look what you’ve done!’ She rounded on Hudson like a small virago. ‘I’ve never seen him like that. How could you?’
‘Easily; the man’s a fool,’ Hudson said drily. ‘Hasn’t he heard of the concept of fighting for what he wants? Or has everything dropped into his lap so readily he’s nothing more than spoonfed? Faint heart never won fair lady, and all that.’
‘You know nothing about Keith.’ She was angry, furiously angry, at his arrogance. ‘He’s a lovely man—gentle, good-natured—’
‘So is the average cocker spaniel,’ he returned coolly, and in her rage she didn’t notice how his mouth had thinned with her championship of the other man. ‘But the attributes that make a pet dog so worthy would soon pall in a lover, believe me.’
‘He is not my lover!’ she spat heatedly. ‘He never has been.’
‘He’d like to be.’ It was straight for the jugular, and so true she was lost for an answer. ‘And you know it,’ he added grimly as her fiery face spoke for itself. ‘So cut the twaddle.’
‘Is that why you behaved like this tonight?’ she asked hotly. ‘Because you know—?’ She could have kicked herself for the slip, and continued quickly, ‘Because you think he loves me?’
‘I think he imagines he’s in love with you,’ Hudson answered cynically. ‘Which is quite a different thing, as we both know. He doesn’t know you any more than I knew you—he loves the fantasy you project, like I did. With me, I guess it provided a kick to the holiday for you to have a little fling before you returned home to your fiancé, yes? With him, no doubt, it’s good to have the boss panting for you—gives you the edge over the rest of the girls.’
‘You’re disgusting,’ she bit out tightly, masking the pain and crucifying hurt his words had caused with superhuman effort.
‘Realistic is the word.’ He surveyed her coldly with dark, narrowed eyes, his black hair and the shadowed planes and angles of his face bleak in the moonlight. ‘Yes, I’m realistic about you now, Annie. I only get taken for a ride once; you’d better understand that.’
‘I didn’t take you for a ride,’ she protested shakily. ‘It wasn’t like that.’ She stared at him helplessly, her mouth tremulous.
‘No? Then what do you call it when you agree to marry one man, knowing there’s already another tucked away back home you’re promised to?’ he spat out menacingly. ‘Tell me; I’d really like to know.’
‘It wasn’t true, what Michael told you.’ She stared at him, her green-gold eyes reflecting a shaft of moonlight that turned her hair silver. ‘He had no right to say what he did.’
‘Wasn’t true?’ He laughed harshly. ‘Oh, come on, Annie, don’t disappoint me now; you can do better than that.’
‘It wasn’t,’ she insisted quietly. ‘I’m telling you the truth.’
Then what was true? That “goodbye, Hudson, thanks for the memories but I’ve decided the life of a lawyer’s wife is not for me” letter you left for me?‘ he asked grimly. ‘You’re telling me that you just got cold feet, that that was the reason you disappeared off the face of the earth for I don’t know how long? Do I look stupid, Annie? Do I?’ he added savagely, his face dark and cold.
How could she tell him? She stared at him as her mind raced. If she told him the truth, the whole truth, he could react one of three ways. It was clear he didn’t love her any more, so he might just acknowledge what she said and walk away.
Or—and here her heart thudded—he might pity her, feel some responsibility towards her, especially if he guessed she still loved him, and ask her to take up where