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'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 ha been.'
'He'd like to be.' It was straight for the jugular, an so true she was lost for an answer. 'And you know 11 he added grimly as her fiery face spoke for itself. '! 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 walkaway.
Or—and here her head: 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 they left off in spite of the fact his feelings had died. If he did that, would the threat to him through her still remain? Probably, she thought grimly. From what she had heard, the sort of people Michael had been involved with had very long memories. And then the last two years would have been for nothing.
Or, thirdly—and she had to admit most likely—he simply wouldn't believe her anyway; he would think she was making up some fantastic story to cover her deceit And with Michael's death all chance of proving what she had to say was gone. Hudson was far more likely to believe
her stepfather's lies—he had had two years to let Michael's lie work its poison.
There was every reason for saying nothing and none for telling him the truth, except… Except she couldn't bear him to look at her with such contempt and scorn. She swallowed the lump in her throat She had missed him so much, so much, and she didn't know what to do about it…
'Don't bother trying to work out what to say.' He slid back into the car as he spoke, his voice hard. 'I wouldn't believe it anyway.' The driver's door shut with a savageness that was very final.
Well, that settled her answer. She watched him for a moment with misty eyes as he drove the car over to the small car park surrounded by bushes and flowering vegetation. He despised her, and she really couldn't Blame him. Perhaps if she told him the truth he wouldn't believe she and her pother had had no knowledge of Michael's involvement in such heavy crime anyway. He had fought such people all his working life and loathed them and the corruption they represented. Maybe him thinking she had been hiding a fiance in the background was light in comparison.
