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'Getting on well with Hudson, are you?' he asked smoothly.
'Very well.' She looked straight at Michael then to find the pale blue eyes tight on her face. 'Do you know him?' she asked quietly as some sixth sense sent cold trickles down her spine. This was all about Hudson somehow; she felt it in her bones.
'I know of him.' Michael smiled but it didn't reach the unblinking orbs, and she realised then, as a warning bell began to clang stridently in her brain, that his smiles never did. His eyes were the eyes of a shark—empty, cold, dead… 'Oh, yes, I certainly know of him. He's a one-man vigilante for law and order in the States, an advocate for the all-American way.'
'Well, that's good, surely?' she replied warily, the fierce joy and excitement that had carried her into the house on wings beginning to die. 'We need order and laws, don't we?'
'Probably… for the masses,' Michael drawled slowly. 'Those content to be led all their lives, who want nothing more than a paltry monthly pay cheque that enables them to scrape through to the next month.' It was clear he didn't put himself in that category.
'And you're not like that?' She suddenly would have given the world to step back in time an hour and not be there. She was going to hear something she didn't want to hear; the hairs that were standing up on the back of her neck told her so. 'You're different?'
'How do you think I bought the place in Scotland, Marianne?'
Michael had been living in a hotel when he'd first met her mother, but a few weeks before the wedding he had bought what virtually amounted to a small castle, complete with acres of grounds housing a lake, deer—and had taken great delight in acting the feudal lord.
'I don't know,' she said quietly. 'I haven't thought about it'
'Use your imagination.' And then as she still stared at him with great, accusing eyes, he snapped, 'And don't look at me like that, damn you. You either make it or you don't in this world—there are only two choices—and to make it you take all the help you can get. I've… done favours for people, bent the rules a little, oiled wheels,' he finished softly, his eyes narrowed and hard.
'But you're an accountant,' she murmured naively. 'How—?'
'Hudson is going to get offered a case in the next little while, and if he takes it it could prove… uncomfortable for people who have been very good to me. If the dirt starts to fly it'll come my way too, and a little bit of dirt contaminates everything it comes into contact with—your mother, you—and if you're with Hudson… '
'What… what case?' she asked through numb lips.
'Things have been hotting up for some time, but eighteen months ago certain people decided I'd better leave the States and lie low—subpoenas have a nasty habit of rearing their heads when you least expect them,' he continued almost matter-of-factly.
'Does my mother know?' She couldn't believe the conversation was really taking place, not here, in her aunt's pretty little sitting room. 'Does she know why you left the States?'
'Of course not. I never discuss my business with anyone,' he drawled softly, his voice at odds with the intensity of the chillingly cold eyes. 'It is… personal.'
'Then why are you telling me?' she asked bewilderedly.
'Think, girl, think!' The words were harsh before he collected himself and continued in the same soft tone as before, 'It is clear from what you've told your mother that you have some influence with Hudson de Sance, and that is a bonus we could never have arranged if we had tried for years. If de Sance doesn't take the case it will come to nothing, end of story.' He smiled meaningfully.
'You're asking me to persuade him not to take it?'
she asked numbly. 'Is that what this is all about? You expect me to do that?'
'Exactly.' Now the soft voice was persuasive. It will be best for everyone concerned—you see that, surely? Me, your mother, you—even Hudson. It will not do his sterling reputation any good when it comes to light he's having an affair with the daughter of one of the men he's prosecuting. And it would come to light… '
'I am not your daughter, ' she shot back bitterly.
'The media won't see it like that,' he countered darkly.
'And it's not an affair, not like you mean. He… he wants me to marry him,' she said desperately. 'He loves me.'
'Does he? Does he indeed… ?' Michael nodded reflectively. 'Better and better.'
'I hate you.' She glared at him, her eyes blazing. 'You married my mother purely as a cover, didn't you? And you'll dump her as soon as it suits you. You don't love her; you're incapable of love. I bet you couldn't believe your luck when I began to date Hudson—'
'A gift from the lap of the gods,' he confirmed sardonically. 'And definitely not to be ignored. Now, if you're clever, Marianne, you'll use this for your own advantage. I can make you a very wealthy woman in your own right, and as Hudson's wife… '
'Even if I agreed to this, it wouldn't be just this one time, would it?' she said bitterly. 'You'd put Hudson in a terrible position, use emotional blackmail about me and my mother, threaten to blacken his name through me if he didn't agree to what you and your friends want He would never be free of you.'
It would be just this once; you have my word,' he said smoothly, but she saw the look in his eyes and knew she was right.
'Your word?' she repeated scathingly. 'You're despicable, filthy. I can't bear that my mother has allowed you to touch her.'
