No Need for Love

‘What I was doing,’ he said, his eyes locked on her face, ‘was making love to my wife.’

‘You mean, you were trying to seduce me.’

His brow furrowed. ‘Forgive me,’ he said in a soft, dangerous voice, ‘but I don’t quite see the distinction.’

Hannah gathered the bedspread more closely around herself. ‘We agreed there’d be no—no sex between us, but you——’

‘What the hell are you babbling about?’ Grant rolled to the edge of the mattress, got to his feet, and slapped his hands on his hips. ‘How did you expect to have this baby, Hannah? By going out to look in a cabbage patch, or waiting for the stork to drop one into your lap?’

Her face coloured. ‘The way we agreed, of course. Artificial insemination, Grant. We said——’

The rude, harsh sound of his laughter roared through the rooms. She felt a flush of shameful colour rise under her skin and flood her face as he laughed and laughed.

‘Let me get this straight,’ he gasped. ‘You thought—you really thought—that I’d agreed to—to make love to a test-tube?’

‘Yes: Angry tears rose in her eyes. ‘Yes, of course. That’s what you said. That’s what we discussed. We——’

His laughter became a snarl of rage, and Hannah cried out as he grabbed hold of her and dragged her across the bed.

‘You thought I’d agree to put a ring on your finger, give you my name—hell, give you my child—and do it all without ever touching you?’ he said through clenched teeth.

Hannah grimaced as she tried to wrench free. ‘That was our deal.’

‘No.’ His lips drew back from his teeth. ‘No, Hannah, it was not our deal. What kind of woman are you?’

‘Not the kind who sleeps with a man because she’s—she’s signed a scrap of paper!’

Grant’s face twisted with fury. ‘You make that sound like a morality lesson. But what kind of morality is it that makes you think it’s better to conceive a child in a test-tube rather than in a man’s arms?’

‘That was your idea, not mine. You’re the one who proposed it!’

He grabbed her shoulder as she started to turn away. ‘No, I did not! What did you plan on telling our child when it was old enough? That it was conceived in a glass dish?’

Hannah swung her feet to the floor. ‘Get out,’ she said in a trembling voice. ‘Do you hear me, Grant? Get out of this room!’

‘With pleasure.’ He stalked to the door, then swung around and faced her. ‘Tomorrow——’

‘Tomorrow, you can start the annulment proceedings.’

‘No.’

‘Why not? You’re the attorney, not I.’

‘No annulment.’ His nostrils flared. ‘And no divorce. Not until you’ve conceived my child.’

She stared at him in disbelief. ‘You can’t be serious.’ A cold smile angled across his mouth. ‘No?’

‘You can’t hold me to—to a piece of paper that says that——’

‘Try me.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she whispered, her eyes riveted to his stony face.

‘You’ve agreed to stay married to me until we conceive a child—or until our agreement expires.’

‘But that’s—that’s three years,’ she said desperately. ‘No court would—would hold me to such a thing.’

Grant’s eyes narrowed. ‘Perhaps not.’

‘Well, then——’

‘Get a lawyer and challenge the agreement, if you don’t like it.’

‘I couldn’t afford the cost of—’

‘No. You couldn’t.’ He smiled unpleasantly. ‘Especially when you add the risk of me winning the countersuit for punitive damages and costs.’

‘What damages? What costs?’

‘The emerald on your finger. Every piece of clothing in those very expensive pieces of luggage. The mental cruelty I’ll have suffered because of your breach of contract.’ He smiled. ‘I can be a very convincing victim, Hannah, a wealthy, successful man who wanted an heir and was duped by a beautiful woman into signing an agreement——’

‘No one would believe that,’ she said, her voice shaking.

‘—an agreement she now refuses to honour.’ He laughed softly. ‘Hell, think of the legal ground we’d break! The case could take years.’ His smile vanished in the blink of an eye. ‘And could cost millions.’

‘You bastard!’ Hannah had gone white. ‘You know I can’t——’

His smile was smug. ‘Then you’re stuck, aren’t you, darling?’

‘I’ll—I’ll tell everyone about you,’ she said, her voice rising. ‘I’ll tell them what kind of man you are, that you’re blackmailing me——’

‘Try it—if you can get anybody to listen. My guess is that they’ll be too busy laughing.’

“They’ll laugh at you, too, Grant. Have you thought of that?’

‘Ah, but that’s the difference between us, sweetheart.’ His mouth twisted. ‘I don’t give a damn what anybody thinks of me, remember?’

She stared at him in horror as he walked slowly, almost insolently, to the bedroom door, and then she shrieked his name and flew after him.

‘You can’t do this!’

He turned and pulled her into his arms. ‘There’s only one way out of this,’ he said roughly, and he kissed her, not with passion but with rage. When he was finished, he flung her from him so that she fell back against the wall. ‘Think it over. When you reach a decision, I’ll be waiting.’

‘Never,’ she screamed as he strode into the sitting-room. ‘Do you hear me, Grant? Never!’ She reached out and slammed the door shut. ‘Never,’ she whispered, and then she threw herself on the bed, rolled on to her belly, and sobbed her heart out.

CHAPTER NINE

NIGHT came at last, and Hannah fell into an exhausted sleep, never stirring until morning when the freshening wind snatched at the bedroom shutter and slammed it against the window-frame.

‘Grant?’ she said, scrambling up against the pillows.

Her whisper was greeted by a silence that was only broken by the pounding beat of her heart. A quick gla

nce assured her that the door between the sitting-room and bedroom was still closed. After a moment, she threw aside the blanket, pulled on her robe, and padded to the balcony.

The breeze, fragrant with the scent of the sea, blew her hair back from her face as she opened the door and stepped outside. Hannah sank down into a wicker rocker, tucked her feet up beneath her, and laid her head back.

How beautiful this place was. The sun was a golden disc in the blue sky; the beat of the sea was like the whisper of the planet’s heart.

Paradise, Grant had called it. Yes. That was what it would seem to the other honeymooning guests who slept safe in each other’s arms. Hannah smiled bitterly. It was a pretty safe bet that no other couple in the hotel had spent the night as she and her groom had, lying cold and apart, separated not just by a wall but by an anger so great it bordered on hate.

Hannah shuddered. A few short weeks ago she’d been content with her life. If it had no emotional highs, neither did it have any terrible lows. She’d had a good job, an apartment of her own—things that might not seem like much but were more than enough to satisfy her needs.

Now—now she had nothing. No job, no home, certainly not the warm, sweet future she’d let Grant convince her lay ahead.

She choked. No. That wasn’t quite accurate. She had something, all right, she had Grant’s wedding-band on her finger and his promise—his threat—that he would not let her go until she had lived up to their agreement.

And she would never do that. Never.

She dropped one bare foot to the floor and set the rocker in motion. How could he ever have thought she’d agreed to the sort of marriage he’d described? Only a woman with no self-respect would go to a man’s bed night after night knowing that he wanted her for no other reason than to fulfil the terms of an impossible contract, knowing that he felt nothing for her except his need for a woman’s body.

Not that she wanted him to have feelings for her. Hannah stood up and padded softly to the balcony railing. She certainly had none for him, unless you counted the insane sexual need for him whenever he touched her, and last night’s ugly scene had eliminated that forever.