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Her voice brought him back from the darkness but it took a moment or two for him to get control sufficiently to reply, his voice cool and hard, 'As long as it takes to complete my business here.' It was cold and succinct, and certainly not a prelude to further conversation.
'Oh.' It wasn't really an answer but the temperature had dropped about twenty degrees since she had got into the car, and she couldn't nerve herself to say anything more.
It was another twenty minutes before Marianne spoke again, and then simply because the silent, brooding mood within the car had brought her to screaming pitch and she couldn't bear it a minute more without breaking.
And Hudson would just love that, she thought bitterly as she turned to glance at the dark, handsome face that had been at the forefront of her mind for two years. He was a brilliant strategist—as many an outwitted and broken criminal would testify—and when that attribute was added to a razor-sharp brain and ruthless determination it made him an adversary to be reckoned with. And that was what she was now to him, she reflected miserably—an adversary. It was as cold-blooded as that.
'How long will it take? To… to get where we're going?' she asked quietly. 'You do realise I can't go too far?'
'Worried?' His tone wasn't pleasant and neither was his face.
'Worried?' She forced a laugh that wasn't as confident as she would have liked. 'Don't be ridiculous; of course I'm not worried. But I have to get back for the shoot this evening, that's all. I happen to be working out here, in case you haven't noticed.'
'I'll deliver you back in good time, Annie, never fear,' he drawled mockingly. 'But in the meantime what could be more pleasant than two old friends enjoying some time together?' He glanced at her and his smile was one of hard, satisfied contempt as he saw the fiery colour flood her face. 'We're going to one of the larger weekly markets, actually; it was recommended as worth seeing by a friend of mine,' he continued expressionlessly. 'But we'll stop in a moment and have a bite to eat. You look in need of sustenance.' The last comment was very dry.
What he really meant was that she looked like something the cat had dragged in, Marianne thought unhappily, resisting the impulse to reach forward and peer into the little mirror above her head. She knew that already—she didn't need Hudson de Sance to rub it in, especially with him looking as cool as a cucumber.
She knew what he wanted from this meeting—to dot the i's and cross the t's with regard to any question marks he might still have about her abrupt departure two years ago. That formidable lawyer's brain wouldn't rest until it was satisfied.
But oh—she caught her breath as a shaft of pain so acute as to be paralysing speared through her—how could she say what she had to say when she still loved him so much? The last two years had been a day-by-day exercise in quelling all emotion and dealing ruthlessly with any weakness her feelings induced, and she had thought, foolishly, that she was beginning to win. But the moment she had seen him again she had known she was as smitten as ever—more, if possible, she corrected bitterly. She should have known you didn't recover from falling in love with Hudson—it was an incurable disease. She shut her eyes briefly and prayed for strength.
They ate in the shade of a little oasis of eucalyptus trees some way from
the road, the air hot and heavy and quite silent. She didn't ask from where he had obtained the small picnic-basket full of mouthwatering delicacies, or the deliciously iced fruit drink that was so thirst-quenching—all her energy and resources were taken up with telling herself she had to be strong against the insidious attraction of the man watching her so intently.
'You can take the hat off now.' He had been lying on one elbow for some minutes on the thick blanket he had brought from the car, and now he reached over to where she was sitting and tweaked the big straw hat off her head, taking her completely by surprise.
'Don't!' She made a grab for the inoffensive article, painfully aware that the neat, cool knot on top of her head that had been so tidy early that morning was now in tumultuous disarray, but he was too quick for her.
'It's shady here.' The grey eyes skimmed the cascade of pale golden curls that had worked loose from the severe restraint to tumble in silken strands about her neck and cheeks. 'You might as well take those grips and things out,' he suggested softly. 'Most of your hair is down already.'
'I don't want to,' she snapped hotly, knowing she must look as though she had been dragged through a hedge backwards. 'And may I have my hat back, please?' she asked severely.
'No.' Suddenly he was grinning at her, and she could have hit him as he continued, 'It's a monstrosity of a hat, and doesn't do a thing for you. You were never meant to wear hats, Annie.'
'The only tiling I wanted it to do for me was to keep my head covered, and it did that quite well,' she retorted tightly. 'Now, if you don't mind… ?' She glared at him as she held out her hand.
'I do mind.' He rolled closer so that he was almost touching her, and smiled up at her derisively as she stiffened. 'I mind very much. I like seeing your hair loose, like a cloud of spun gold. You used to wear it like that all the time in the old days.'
'It's not suitable when I'm working,' she said primly.
'You aren't working now,' he reminded her softly.
She stared down at him, a mixture of fear and excitement making her as stiff as a board and the clean, fresh male fragrance that emanated from his skin causing her stomach muscles to tighten until it hurt. He was dangerous, he was so dangerous, and she should have known better than to come with him like this…
'You're even more beautiful than you were two years ago,' he murmured huskily. 'How have you managed that, Annie? To grow in beauty and femininity when you're so rotten inside? There's no justice… '
Before she realised what was happening, he had pulled her down beside him and moved over her in one continuous, fluid movement, his body covering hers as he trapped her beneath him, his weight resting on his elbows. 'I don't want to want you but I do,' he continued almost thoughtfully, the rapid pulse in his throat belying the controlled voice. 'And I don't like that… weakness at all.'
'Hudson, stop this; let me go.' She didn't dare struggle, vitally aware of the big, powerful body covering hers and of the alien masculinity. 'I don't want this.'
'How many times did you make love with him, Annie? The one you left me for?' he asked grimly. 'And how many were there after him? How many were there before' if it comes to that?' he added tightly. 'Was I the only one who didn't have you? The only one who believed you when you said you wanted to wait until we were married? Did the others see you for what you are?'
She stared at his face, inches from hers. 'Let me go, now.'
'You know how to turn a man on; there's no doubt about that.' He looked down at her, his eyes glittering black and fierce in the tanned darkness of his face. 'And we came so close at times; do you remember?' He lowered himself slightly, his body stirring over hers as his fingers entwined themselves in the silky tangle of her hair. 'But you wanted to be married in white, you wanted it to mean something.' His sudden bark of a laugh was harsh and savage. 'Would it still mean something, Annie?' he asked bitterly.
A separate portion of her mind that wasn't taken up with the angry male body dominating hers was aware of the vivid blue of the sky above, the quiet, dusty vista beyond the shade of the eucalyptus trees, the still, sluggish air and the lightning movements of small, flat, large-eyed lizards who were darting back and forth just beyond the edge of the blanket, searching for crumbs from the picnic, and it made what was happening all the more unreal.
