The Bride's Secret

'Go and sit down, Annie,' he said patiently, his all-encompassing glance at her flushed face taking in her confusion and embarrassment. 'You're making me nervous.'

She went and sat—it was easier than arguing with him. Besides which the thought of a few more minutes with him, before the inevitable goodbyes were said, was too enticing to resist.

Of course, it wouldn't help the actual parting, once breakfast was over, that he looked so good this morning, Marianne thought dispiritedly as she watched the tall, lean figure across the room. And perhaps last night, painful though it was, had been the best way for them to say goodbye. If he was nice to her and she cried all over him… Oh, she couldn't, she thought, horror-stricken. No way.

Just before he came over to the table she saw one of the girls from Reception enter the dining room and walk over to him, exchanging a brief word before leaving again. She didn't think anything of it until, after he had seated himself, he said, 'The bellboy has fetched your luggage down as arranged.'

'Has he?' She stared at him in surprise. Was that what the girl from Reception had just told him? she asked herself, puzzled. But why tell Hudson about her luggage?

'And it is now sitting comfortably in the back of my vehicle,' he added smoothly, reaching across to pour himself a cup of coffee as though it were a perfectly normal conversation.

'What?' She'd misheard him; she must have. 'What did you say?'

'Your luggage is in the back of my Range Rover.' He took a sip of the fragrant brew and sighed appreciatively. 'This is damn good coffee—'

'Hudson?' She tried not to shout—she really did—and failed.

'Yes?' The devastatingly intent gaze was raised to fix on her wide green eyes, and she saw it was as hard as iron.

'Did you just say—' she took a deep pull of air and tried to speak calmly '—that my luggage is in a vehicle belonging to you?'

'Well, if you're going to be precise about it, it's in a vehicle hired by me,' he said affably. 'I thought a Range Rover was far more suitable for long journeys out here—the roads are less than good in certain areas—but if you'd prefer a car… ?'

'What I would prefer—' Again the deep gulp of air, but this time it didn't work and she could hear her voice rising shrilly as she continued, 'Is to know what on earth you're talking about. Why is my luggage in your Range Rover? Who told you to put it there? Because I certainly didn't. I'm leaving shortly—'

'I know.' Again the piercing eyes held hers. 'With me.'

'On a trip, if you must know,' she countered angrily, furious that he had extracted the information from her. 'It's a tour—'

'Taking in the five major cities of Morocco,' he finished calmly. 'Eat that papaw now I've brought it, Annie.'

'Blow the papaw.' She couldn't believe this; she really couldn't. Was he crazy or was it her? Because one of them definitely wasn't firing on all cylinders! 'Are you seriously telling me that you have taken it upon yourself to order that my luggage be given to you?' she hissed incredulously. 'Is that what you're saying?'

'Exactly.' He smiled, but it didn't reach the fathomless eyes as they moved consideringly over her flushed, angry face.

'Then un-order it now,' she commanded with scant regard for grammar. I've got a coach to catch this morning; it's due soon—'

'Wrong,' he said with smooth arrogance. 'Dead wrong.'

He was enjoying this, every minute of it, she thought angrily as she read the satisfaction he was making no effort to hide.

'Hudson, you'd better explain, and fast, before I empty this coffee jug over your head.' It wasn't an idle threat, and wiped the satisfaction away like magic, she noticed with some gratification.

'There is no coach,' he said hastily, reaching for the coffee jug and moving it to his side of the table. 'Marjorie cancelled it a few days ago, okay?'

'Marjorie?' What on earth had possessed Marjorie to cancel the coach? Marianne looked into Hudson's glittering eyes, and suddenly she knew.

'I was talking to Marjorie one evening a few nights ago,' Hudson continued easily, although she noticed he kept his hand on the coffee jug and his eyes didn't leave her furious face. 'She told me of your proposed trip, and as luck would have it I'd planned to do the same circuit myself.' One heavy eyebrow quirked at her but she ignored it.

'So… it seemed ridiculous—to Marjorie and myself—that you and I planned to do the trip separately, you in a hot bus and me in a great, spacious Range Rover. Follow so far?' he asked gently.

She glared at him and his hand tightened on the coffee jug.

'So Marjorie very kindly phoned on your behalf and cancelled your seat… They were very understanding,' he said approvingly.

'Where they?' she said grimly. 'And why didn't Marjorie tell me about this kindness? Or did it simply slip her memory?'

'We thought it would be better in the form of a surprise,' Hudson said coolly. 'Added to the fact that if I had asked you to travel round with me you would have said no. Marjorie… understands things like that.'