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Hannah swung towards him. ‘I didn’t say——’
‘You didn’t have to.’ He gave her a quick smile, then looked back at the road. ‘That catch in your breath said it all.’
‘What catch in my breath?’
‘There’s a soft little sound you make when something pleases you.’ His fingers flexed lightly on the steering-wheel. ‘I think the first time I noticed was the night we bought Brian.’
‘Brian?’ she said, staring at him.
He grinned. ‘Brian the Lion, remember?’
‘Oh. Well, that was——’
‘You make the sound when I kiss you, too.’
Colour rushed to her cheeks. “That’s ridiculous,’ she snapped. ‘And you’re wasting your time if you think that kind of talk’s going to——’
‘The only thing I think is that we have to give ourselves a chance, Hannah. That’s why I’ve made these arrangements, so that you and I——’
‘There is no “you and I”,’ she said curtly. ‘There’s only a piece of paper no court in the world would hold me to. And you know it.’
He said nothing for a long time. When he spoke again, his voice was clipped.
‘You keep forgetting that other piece of paper, the one that says we’re husband and wife.’
Hannah stiffened. ‘That one is meaningless, too.’
‘Stop playing the innocent.’ Grant’s voice was iron-hard and unforgiving. ‘You went into this with your eyes wide open—and, if you saw only what you wanted to see, you’ve no one to blame but yourself.’
She glared at him, but said nothing. What could she say? It was hard to admit, but he was right.
How could she have thought Grant would have agreed to a celibate relationship? He was a virile man, in the prime of his life. Had she ever stopped to think about what he was supposed to do for the time they lived out their sham of a marriage?
It didn’t take much imagination to think of what the marriage would have been like if it had gone as she’d assumed. Grant would have lived a discreet private life, quite separate from the one he shared with her. He’d have had affairs, come home smelling of another woman’s perfume…
A dull knot of pain lodged in her breast. She turned her head to look at him from under the shelter of her downcast lashes, her gaze running over the straight nose, the firm mouth and chin, drifting to the dark hair that brushed the collar of his cotton shirt. Her fingers curled into her palms as she remembered the silken feel of it under her band—and suddenly she knew that she could not have survived hearing him come in late at night, knowing that he’d been…
The car coasted to a halt at the side of the road. ‘Look,’ Grant said quietly.
Hannah did, turning her face up to follow his pointing finger, eager to do anything to dispel the sudden clenching of her heart. A shadow swept towards them, borne on the wind, silent and almost supernatural.
‘It’s a golden eagle,’ Grant said, answering Hannah’s unspoken question. He shaded his eyes with his hand, watching as the eagle soared higher and higher until it was lost in the sun, and then he gave a deep sigh. ‘Hell, don’t you wish you had wings?’
Hannah’s throat constricted. Yes, she thought, oh, yes, I do wish I had wings. I would fly away home, where I’d be safe…
Safe? From what? She knew Grant wouldn’t hurt her. He wouldn’t force a woman to submit to him. A woman would go to him eagerly, her eyes and arms open, her mouth parted for his kisses, her breasts hard and aching for his caress.
‘There it is.’
She stared at him, too stunned by the images in her head to speak.
‘The house,’ he said, and now she could hear the excitement in his voice. ‘There it is, Hannah. Just ahead.’
It stood in graceful solitude on a cliff above them, backed by the deep green of the mountain and looking out over the valley thousands of feet below. The house was white stucco with a red-tiled roof and red shutters, and Hannah knew she had never seen a more beautiful place.
It was, just as Grant had promised, the perfect honeymoon hideaway.
‘Hannah?’ Grant cleared his throat. ‘Be honest. How does it look to you?’
She looked from the house to him. Like a dream, she thought, like the perfect place to be alone with the man you adore.
‘Tell me what you think.’ He reached out and smoothed a strand of dark hair from her cheek. ‘Do you like it?’
Still, she said nothing. A month, she thought, four long weeks alone in this perfect place with Grant.
‘I want you to like it,’ he whispered. ‘Hannah?’
The icy grasp of fear clutched at her chest, fear not of the man beside her but of the unknown that lay ahead. She pulled back sharply, away from the comforting warmth of his hand.
‘Please.’ She drew a trembling breath. ‘Let’s go back.’
‘Hannah. Hannah, listen——’
‘Don’t force me to stay with you, Grant. Let me go. Let me out of this—this nightmare.’
Their eyes met, hers filled with pleading, his grey and hooded. Then, slowly, a cold smile angled across his mouth.
‘You’re breaking my heart,’ he said sarcastically, and the car shot ahead.
The housekeeper and cook introduced themselves, then withdrew discreetly, leaving Grant and Hannah to explore the house themselves. Vivid Mexican tilework covered the floors; hand-woven blankets hung on the white-washed walls. The rooms were spacious and cool with their shutters drawn against the afternoon sun. They all opened on to a flower-and greenery-filled atrium where a miniature waterfall splashed over moss-covered stones into a pool designed to look as if it were set in a rocky hillside.
There were four bedrooms, each spacious and with its own private bath.
‘Which do you prefer?’ Grant asked.
More than ever, it seemed imperative to choose the one furthest from his.
‘I’m not sure,’ Hannah said carefully. ‘What about you?’
‘The one at the other end of the house seems fine.’
She nodded. ‘I—I think I like this one,’ she said, choosing the one they were in. Their eyes met. ‘All right?’
‘Fine. I’ll bring in the luggage. Why don’t you see if the cook’s made preparations for lunch?’
She did as he’d suggested, and th
en she strolled through the atrium and pretended to look at the flowers, when all she was really trying to do was keep away from Grant. Something had happened in those last moments in the car, but what? She felt as if she’d touched her hand to an electric socket, felt the threatening tingle of power emanating from it before snatching her fingers away just in time.
‘Señora?’ Hannah looked up. The housekeeper was standing in the dining-room doorway, smiling politely. ‘I have unpacked your things, señora. I hope I have put them away to your liking.’
Hannah nodded. ‘Thank you. I’m sure whatever you’ve done is fine.’
‘The señor asks me to tell you that he will join you for lunch in a few moments.’
Hannah touched the tip of her tongue to her lips. ‘I—I’m not very hungry,’ she said. ‘The heat—the long drive…’ Her voice trailed off. ‘Would you please tell the señor that I’ve gone to take a nap? Tell him—tell him I’ll see him later.’
Safe inside her room, she lay on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Anger had propelled her through the last few hours, but it had suddenly drained away, leaving her with a hollowness deep inside. She felt vulnerable, even frightened, as if her world were about to turn upside-down.
There was a light knock at the door.
‘Hannah?’ The door opened and Grant stepped into the room. Hannah scrambled up against the pillows. ‘Estrella says you’re ill.’
She shook her head. ‘Not ill. Just—just a little tired.’ ‘Would you like me to get you anything?’
‘Nothing, thank you.’
‘Some aspirin, perhaps. Or coffee?’
Hannah shook her head again. ‘I just want to be alone.’
Grant’s mouth twisted. ‘Forgive me,’ he said tightly, and the door swung shut.
She closed her eyes and lay there for a long time, deliberately trying to empty her mind of thought, but it was impossible. She felt as tense as a coiled spring. After a while she rose, walked to the window, and cracked the shutters.
The atrium was deserted in the afternoon heat. Hannah’s gaze went to the pool. It looked cool and inviting, and she thought of how good it would feel to slip into the water and work off some of the restless energy dammed up inside her.
