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'Who's expecting us?' Marianne asked suspiciously.
'Hassan and his wife.' It was said with studied patience.
'You didn't tell me Idris's brother lived in Marrakesh.' Marianne slanted her eyes at him in the shadowed drive but could read nothing from the poker-face in front of her. 'They're expecting us for a meal, is that it? But won't they have assumed we'd go to our hotel and change first? And I couldn't eat anything, not after all that food at the fair,' she added quickly.
'You won't have to eat anything.' Hudson eyed her steadily.
She didn't trust him when he was quiet and patient—like now. 'What does that mean?' she asked doubtfully.
'They've offered to put us up for the night, that's all,' Hudson drawled easily. 'Idris happened to mention to Hassan we were coming this way, and Hassan would have considered it the gravest insult if we had gone to a hotel. Moroccans are tremendously hospitable,' he added—so innocently that Marianne's qualms intensified. 'They take such things very seriously.'
She stared at him for a long moment before saying flatly, 'Why didn't you tell me we weren't staying at a hotel?'
'Is it important?' he countered evenly. 'It's just for a night.'
'I think so.' She drew back slightly in her seat to survey him better. 'It makes me wonder what else you haven't told me.'
'Don't make this into a drama, Annie,' he said coolly, immediately making her feel ridiculous for having objected. 'And, if we're talking about who hasn't told who what, I hardly think you're in a position to object to anything I might have done, do you?' He looked at her sardonically, his gaze cold.
'That's not fair.' She knew she was blushing and it made her voice sharp.
'On the contrary,' he said tightly, a touch of ice chilling the deep tones. It's damn fair. Now, it's late and Hassan is expecting us, so if you're ready… ?'
He left the vehicle before she could reply, walking round the bonnet and opening her door as she sat quietly seething at his high-handedness. She glanced at his outstretched hand without moving, and then raised her gaze slowly to his where their eyes met and held for a full thirty seconds.
Fait accompli, she told herself irritably as she registered iron in the inflexibility of the grey gaze. It was too late to change things now, and there was no valid reason to do so anyway besides a gut feeling she couldn't explain. But this was all too… She balked at the word 'intimate' and substituted 'cosy' instead. A hotel was neutral somehow; she still had control over things in that environment. But as Idris's brother's guest…
She climbed out of the Range Rover without availing herself of Hudson's help—earning an exasperated frown in the process—and kept her head high and her back straight as Hudson pulled their cases out before walking across the pebbled drive to the ornate front door.
He didn't look to see if she was behind him, although her feet on the scrunchy stones probably told him she was, and again his male arrogance rankled, as did his next words… 'I trust you don't intend to make a scene in front of Hassan and his wife?' he asked as he turned to face her at last.
'Of course I don't' She glared at him, her eyes fiery. 'It's very kind of them to offer us beds for the night; I just hope it hasn't put them out too much.'
'Receiving guests runs in the blood of most Moroccans,' Hudson said coolly. 'They are a very gracious people.' There was an inflexion in the deep voice, just the merest something, that insinuated he did not consider that attribute to be one of her virtues, but as he swung round and rang the bell in that instant the chance to challenge him on it was lost. Which was probably just as well.
The door was opened almost immediately—with a swiftness that suggested the occupants were already aware of their arrival—and the man standing there was so like Idris it could only be Hassan, his brother. They were more like twins than mere brothers.
'Hudson, my friend.' Hassan's smile was wide and gold-toothed. 'Welcome, welcome. And this must be your Annie, yes? She is even more beautiful than Idris led me to believe. Come in, come in. Kalia is waiting to meet you both.'
'Yo
ur Annie'? There wasn't time to dwell on Hassan's words, but the portent in them was at the back of Marianne's mind during all the introductions to Hassan and his delightful family, and the hour following when they sat talking and drinking cups of the very sweet green tea flavoured with mint that the Moroccans favoured.
Hassan and Kalia were treating her as Hudson's girlfriend—it became more and more apparent as the hour progressed—but, other than cutting into the conversation and making a definite statement to the contrary, Marianne really didn't know how to dissuade them of the notion. She tried a couple of tactful hints, the implication of which seemed to pass unnoticed, but as Hudson himself was giving credence to their supposition—more by what was unsaid than said—she finally admitted defeat and decided to let them think what they liked.
They were Hudson's friends, after all—she would probably never see them again in her life—and if he wanted Hassan and Kalia to think they were a couple she really didn't see the harm in it Until they were shown to their sleeping quarters, that was.
'I hope you will find your rooms comfortable.' Hassan smiled and nodded as the little maid who had served them all tea gestured for them to follow her. 'Please tell Sorai if there is anything you need. It is our desire that your stay be comfortable.'
Rooms. Marianne expelled a silent sigh of relief as she and Hudson followed the slim girl who, unlike her employers, wore traditional Moroccan dress. As the minutes had lengthened she had begun to have the suspicion—unworthy now, she recognised with a little stab of guilt—that Hudson had his own, distinctly carnal reasons for allowing Hassan and Kalia to assume they were a couple. That would teach her to keep her imagination under control.
'What's this?'
The maid had opened the door to a suite of rooms—in which Marianne had assumed there would be two bedrooms'—and left, after showing them the bell-cord in case they required anything.
'A bedroom?' Hudson suggested lazily, glancing round the sumptuous room appreciatively. 'Rather a nice one too, I might add.'
But… ' Marianne stared aghast at the most enormous bed she had ever seen in her life. 'Where's the other bedroom?
