Grant nodded. ‘Oh, and one other thing.’ He strolled to the wardrobe on the far side of the room. ‘I’ve made wedding arrangements for next Thursday. Thursday afternoon, actually.’ He smiled as he pulled on his topcoat. ‘At one o’clock.’
She sank down on the edge of a chair. ‘Next Thursday? Grant! My God! You—you shouldn’t have…’
‘Is there something wrong with Thursday?’
Hannah looked up. He was watching her with an expectant smile, as if he’d asked her if she’d mind working late that evening.
‘The day’s not the problem. It’s——’
‘Good.’ He frowned. ‘Actually, there is one more detail. I’ve notified your landlord that you’ll be giving up your flat. And I called your bank and——’
‘What?’ She got to her feet and stared at him. ‘What did you do?’
‘I called your bank.’ He took her elbow and walked her out of the door and down the corridor. ‘I’ve arranged for some funds to be transferred into your account. I’ve no idea what you might wish to buy for yourself before our wedding, but——’
‘I don’t want your money!’
‘Don’t be silly.’ Frowning, he pressed the call button for the lift. ‘There must be purchases you’ll want to make before next Thursday.’
‘Not a one,’ she said coldly.
‘That’s nonsense, Hannah.’ The lift doors slid open and they stepped inside. ‘You need a trousseau. Luggage. Clothes for our honeymoon. Whatever.’
‘This is impossible!’ She stared at him as the lift dropped. It was a high-speed one, and Sally always joked that it got to the ground floor before her stomach did. Hannah had never agreed—until now. ‘I’m trying to tell you,’ she said sharply, ‘we don’t have to go on a——’
‘Of course we do. You’re the one who wanted our marriage to look as normal as possible, remember?’
‘Well, yes, but I never meant——’
‘Don’t look so stricken,’ Grant said, smiling at her as they stepped into the lobby. ‘I haven’t taken over completely.
She glanced up at him as he took her arm and led her from the building, his step just brisk enough so she had to stretch her legs a bit to keep up, the feel of his hand on her elbow light but subtly controlling.
‘Haven’t you?’ she said, her tone chill.
‘Of course not.’ His smile broadened. ‘After all, I’m going to let you choose your own engagement-ring.’
Hannah came to a stop. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she said. ‘I don’t need an engagement-ring.’
‘Of course you do,’ he said smoothly. His hand closed on hers and he drew her out to the street. ‘What would people think if I didn’t give you a ring?’
She looked at him in dismay as he hailed a taxi, then handed her inside.
‘But you said—you said you didn’t care what people thought…’
‘And you said you did.’ He leaned forward and gave the driver an address, and then he sat back and smiled at her. ‘It’s all part of the same thing, Hannah. You can understand that.’
‘No,’ Hannah said, ‘actually—actually, I don’t understand it. We—I only said——’
‘You expressed a concern about appearances. And the more I thought about that concern, the more I realised you’re right.’
‘I am?’ she asked, puzzled. She could count the number of times he’d thought her ‘right’ on the fingers of one hand, and still have fingers left to hold a teaspoon.
‘There’s no harm in creating the appropriate illusion,’ he said.
‘Wait a minute,’ Hannah said. Her voice was shaking. ‘Just wait one damned minute, Grant!’
‘What’s the matter?’ He looked at her. ‘Have I done something wrong?’
‘Wrong? Wrong?’ She gave a sharp bark of laughter. ‘You—you’ve taken over my life, Grant! You’ve announced our wedding to your partners, to your family——’
‘I was simply trying to expedite things, Hannah.’
‘You—you called my landlord and cancelled my lease——’
‘Well, I’m an attorney. I thought it might be better if I handled it.’
‘You contacted my bank…’ Hannah drew a shuddering breath. ‘Dammit, Grant, I am not your property!’
‘You’re going to be my wife,’ he said, pleasantly enough but with a hint of steel lying just below the surface.
‘Being a man’s wife doesn’t make a woman his—his chattel!’
‘I agree. But it does give him the responsibility of taking proper care of her.’
‘Being responsible for someone does not grant you the right to make decisions for them,’ she said sharply. ‘I have made my own decisions for many years, and I’m not about to stop now!’
He looked at her for a moment. ‘All right,’ he said softly. ‘Suppose we say that, from now on, I’ll take your opinions into consideration when making decisions that concern us both. How’s that?’
‘It’s not good enough. I’ll expect you to discuss things with me…’ Hannah’s voice faltered in bewilderment. ‘I mean, I’d expect you to do that. If—if I were going to marry you.’ She drew a deep breath. ‘But—but I’m not.’
She waited, expecting—expecting what? she thought, as her eyes searched his face. Anger? Rage? Something like that. Instead, he scowled and thrust his hands deep into his pockets.
‘I see,’ he said.
‘You misunderstood me the other day,’ she said quickly. ‘I never said I’d agreed to your idea, only that I’d think about it.’
‘And, having thought about it, you’ve decided you don’t want a child after all.’
‘No. Oh, no.’ She put her hand on his arm. ‘Of course I want a child. But——’
‘You’ve decided that you wouldn’t want a child of mine, then.’
‘No. Grant, it’s nothing like that. I——’
‘Are you concerned that I might renege on my obligations? Is that the problem, Hannah?’
Hannah shook her head. ‘Of course not. I know you’d—you’d give me a fine child. And I know you’d be a good father to it.’ Her eyes filled with tears and she put her hand to her breast. ‘As for me—oh. Grant, you can’t know what having a baby would mean to me. It would be—it would be…’
‘A dream come true,’ Grant said softly. ‘Then come dream with me, Hannah. We can make this work. I know we can.’
Their eyes met and, for once, Hannah was silent. Come dream with me, he’d said.
How could she argue against such a wonderful offer?
The ‘appropriate illusion’ of an engagement-ring turned out to be a seven-carat emerald surrounded by diamonds. Grant had said she would choose her own ring and she did—after he’d specified emeralds of a certain cut and size to the smiling sales clerk in Tiffany’s.
‘Do you like it?’ he asked softly, once the ring was on Hannah’s left hand.
Did she like it? Hannah stared into the deep green heart of the stone. He might as well ask if she liked the sun or the stars. They were all beautiful, all burning with unearthly fire.
‘Hannah?’
She looked up at him. He was watching her with a peculiar intensity that made the breath catch in her throat.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Of course I like it. It’s—it’s very beautiful.’
He nodded. ‘I thought emeralds, to bring out the green in your eyes,’ he said, so softly that she wasn’t certain she’d heard him. Their glances met, and for a heartbeat Hannah wondered why she had ever thought she’d never seen as deep a fire as the one gleaming in the heart of the emerald. But then Grant turned away, and when he spoke to the sales clerk his tone was brisk and unsentimental.
‘We’ll need wedding-bands, too,’ he said. ‘Wide ones, I think, in yellow gold.’
When they had finished, he led Hannah out to the street and into another taxi.
‘Neiman-Marcus,’ he said to the driver.
Hannah gave a little laugh. ‘Grant,’ she said, ‘really, don’t you
think we should go back to the office? I’ve work to finish.’
‘I told you,’ he said sharply, ‘you are not working for me any longer.’ He drew a breath, and when he spoke again his tone was soft and indulgent. ‘You need a dress to be married in, Hannah. I know it’s bad luck for the groom to see it, but——’
‘But in these circumstances, what does it matter?’ Her voice was flat. Did he really think he needed to remind her of that?
Grant looked at her in silence, and then he nodded. ‘Exactly,’ he said crisply. ‘I’m glad you see it my way.’
Was there another way to see things but Grant’s? Hannah didn’t think so. Moments later, standing in the exclusive store’s dress department, she felt like a bystander as he took even the selection of her wedding-dress out of her hands.
‘I think—something practical,’ she said to the sales clerk, ‘a wool suit, perhaps, in grey or beige. And nothing——’ She glanced at the obviously expensive clothing artfully draped in a nearby display and flushed. ‘Nothing too extravagant.’
Grant laughed softly and slid his arm around her waist. ‘What the lady really wants,’ he said, ‘is a dress or a suit in a pale shade to complement her own colouring.’ His arm tightened around her. ‘Something special, to wear on our wedding-day.’
The woman beamed. ‘Of course, sir. Madame? If you’ll come with me, please?’
The dresses and gowns were dazzling, as were the discreet price tags attached to them.