She was unaware her shoulders had slumped wearily with her thoughts, or that her face was pale with exhaustion under the big straw hat she had pulled on as protection against the fierce Moroccan sun, so when he said, his voice soft, 'Have you finished here?' she looked at him warily, mistrusting the sudden mellowing.
'Why?' she asked suspiciously, her back straightening.
'Just a yes or no will suffice.'
'It probably would, but it's not as simple as that,' she said testily. 'We can't work through the heat of the afternoon, but Keith wants to take some shots of the girls in evening wear later when the sun begins to set and it's a few degrees cooler.'
'So you are finished for the moment,' he stated quietly. 'Good. In that case you can accept a lift back to the hotel with me.' The dark eyebrows quirked as he smiled mockingly.
It was said so tongue-in-cheek, it wasn't meant to be taken seriously, and she frowned at him as she said, her voice tart, 'And how long would it take this time?'
'A drive-and-a-picnic long?' he drawled easily, completely unabashed by her fierceness. 'The goodies are all onboard.'
'I don't think so.' She glared at him, more to hide the thudding of her heart and the sudden weakness in her legs than anything else. He had sought her out again—for whatever reason.
'You'd prefer me to carry you off kicking and screaming?' he asked casually. 'Is that wise?'
'You wouldn't dare.' She glanced quickly over her shoulder to the others, her gaze taking in the long stretch of beach dotted here and there with holiday-makers intent on making the most of the sun, along with the ever hopeful vendors of knick-knacks made of ornamental brass and copper, and others selling rugs and leather goods.
'No? Try me.' It was cool and threatening. 'You think your boyfriend would try to rescue you from the dragon?' he continued sardonically. 'Funny, but I don't see that guy as a white knight myself.'
'I don't know why you are doing this,' she said shakily, 'but even you must see it's pointless. Anything between us was finished two years ago—you admitted that yourself last night—'
'Wrong.' He straightened against the car as he spoke, removing the sunglasses so the full force of the deadly grey gaze was exposed, his eyes cold and glittering in the golden sunshine. 'You walked out on an agreement, Annie, and in my book that makes it far from finished,' he said levelly. 'Now, are you going to tell that bozo that you're occupied this afternoon, or do I have to do it?'
'I will.' He was right; they had to get this sorted out once and for all—she owed him that at least. But she couldn't tell him the truth, so she would have to lie—again. And she had been foolish last night, very foolish, in contesting Michael's fabrication about another man. He hadn't believed her, but it had been enough to get that formidable lawyer's brain ticking over—which was probably why he was here today, she told herself wretchedly.
It had been weakness on her part, because she couldn't bear him to think ill of her when he was here, face to face, in front of her, but he had to. It was the only way and she knew it There was no future for them—there never had been; anything they might have shared had been dealt a fatal blow eighteen months before she'd met him when her mother had married Michael. Any lawyer's wife—but especially Hudson de Sance's—couldn't have the slightest shadow hanging over her reputation or credibility. If she had stayed with him then she would have been a millstone round his neck, dragging him down. And nothing had changed. However much she wished it had.
Keith was straight-faced and tight-lipped when she explained she was going for a drive with Hudson, but, in view of the fact he had told them all earlier they had the afternoon off, he couldn't very well object. Nevertheless, he made her feel incredibly guilty, yet again, as she left the others—Marjorie slipping in a sly wink and thumbs-up sign when Keith wasn't looking—and returned to the car.
It wasn't fair, she told herself silently as she reached the road. She had never, in all the months she had been working for him, encouraged this attention by so much as a word or gesture he could misconstrue. In fact for the last little while in particular she had tactfully made it clear—on numerous occasions—that she wasn't interested in anything of a personal nature.
'Didn't like it much, did he?' Hudson's deep voice couldn't hide his satisfaction—not that he tried to, Marianne thought nastily—and she glared at him angrily as she settled herself in the passenger seat of the beautiful sports car.
'Is that why you asked me? To get under Keith's skin?' she snapped accusingly. 'I consider that pathetic in the extreme.'
'Would I?' The wicked grey eyes were laughing at her, which made her all the madder. How could he get under her skin so quickly?
'You know darn well you would,' she bit back sharply.
'Annie, your lack of faith in the nobleness of my actions is like a sword-thrust into the heart.' He eyed her mockingly.
She said something rude which surprised them both, and then clapped her hand over her mouth as she turned bright pink. 'Oh, you horrible man… '
'Er, excuse me, but it was you who just swore, and very succinctly too, I might add,' Hudson murmured drily, his mouth curving as he noted her distress. 'I don't know who has been teaching you such dreadful phrases, but if we weren't so far from the hotel I'd take you back and wash out your mouth with soap and water,' he added with righteous disapproval.
'I don't normally… I mean… ' She was floundering, and if it hadn't been for the fact that she looked as though she was going to burst into tears he would have let her continue for a little while longer.
'Relax, Annie, I've heard a lot worse,' he said softly, unable to keep all amusement out of his voice. He worked with women who could utter the most extreme profanities without turning a hair, let alone blush at the mild swear word she had uttered.
That had been one of the things that had bowled him over two years ago—her gentle innocence in a world that he knew, only too well, was neither gentle nor innocent. Only she hadn't been, had she? All amusement fled as the thought hammered home. She'd played him for a sucker and then calmly walked away when things had got too hot She'd chosen the other man over him.
He felt the red-hot rage that always accompanied such thoughts grip his mind and shoot down to his stomach, causing powerful muscles to clench and contract as he fought the anger.
And then she had disappeared—so completely that even he, with all his contacts, legitimate and otherwise, had been unable to find her. How long had she been with this other guy? And what had gone wrong with the marriage plans? Had he dumped her? Was that it? Or had she got bored with him too? Damn her…
'How long are you staying in Tangier?'