The Bride's Secret

'You're not going to sulk, are you?' Hudson asked softly. 'I appreciate you might have cause, but it's going to make the next few days wearisome for us both.' He smiled lazily.

'You appreciate I might have cause?' she asked in amazement 'That's not what you said at the hotel.' She eyed him crossly.

'I still had to get you into the Range Rover then.' It was so like his brand of sweeping arrogance that she stared at him for a moment or two before she could formulate a reply that was coherent.

'Is that some kind of apology?' she asked shortly.

'Do you want it to be?' he murmured sardonically.

'I—You… Oh, I'm not discussing this any more,'

she finished hotly, snapping her gaze from him and staring angrily out of the windscreen. ' You're impossible.'

'Yes, it is an apology, Annie.' The vehicle slowed and then stopped, and he turned slightly in his seat to face her, his grey eyes narrowed and his firm mouth trying to hide the amusement she could read in the twist of his lips. 'Now, is that better?'

'You don't mean it, do you?' Marianne accused warily.

'Damn it all, woman, I can't win.' The tone was one of mocking reproach. 'If I don't apologise I'm in the wrong, and if I do you accuse me of lying. Isn't that right?'

'If you meant it—'

'I mean it, I mean it,' he interrupted, but there was a glint of laughter at the back of his eyes. 'Look, I'll apologise properly and try to convince you I'm suitably chastened.'

He had taken her lips before she realised his intention, his hands moving to either side of her head to hold her face still. The firm, sensuous mouth was demanding and she wanted to melt against him, to return the kiss, but she dared not, so she fought the desire—hard. She remained perfectly still with her eyes tightly shut, telling herself that if she allowed this now—if she responded now—the next few days would turn into… What? Paradise? Yes, very probably, but then the return to the real world at the end of it would be unbearable. And it would have to come.

'Stop fighting me.' It was a soft murmur against her lips and cut into the whirling confusion of her thoughts. 'You want me to kiss you—admit it. I know it and you know it.'

'I do not' Now she did move, but it was to jerk away so violently that her head would have banged on the side window if it hadn't been open. 'You said this would be a trip of convenience, that's all, just keeping each other company,' she reminded him fiercely. 'Didn't you? And that means no lovemaking, Hudson.'

' Annie, I was only kissing you, for crying out loud—'

'Didn't you?' she insisted hotly. 'A platonic excursion?'

'That's what you want?' He looked at her steadily, his heavily lashed eyes searching her flushed face. 'What you really want?'

'Yes, that's what I want,' she said tremulously, the anger and fight dying at the look on his face.

'So be it' And then, perversely, she was mortified when he nodded coolly, as though making love to her was something he could quite happily take or leave, and started the engine again.

'You don't mind?' she asked stiffly, her face burning.

'I'm devastated.' His voice was light, mocking, and the dark profile gave nothing away as she glanced at him. 'But I'll survive.'

The powerful and comfortable Range Rover made short work of the seventy or so miles to Fez, and, after stopping en route for an early lunch, they arrived at Morocco's most colourful ancient city in the early afternoon when the air was hot and languid.

They made their way to the older city, founded almost twelve hundred years ago and separated from the newer, modern European section by a muddy but life-giving river, and joined the throng streaming through the huge gates in the walls of the old city.

Marianne was enchanted by what she saw—robed Berbers and Arabs in turbans and burnouses, veiled women, hordes of bright-eyed children, flocks of sheep and goats, pack animals laden with bales of goods, and even an occasional water cart. It was like stepping back a thousand years in time, and she took photograph after photograph as more sights met her fascinated eyes.

'Keith would have loved this.' She meant nothing more by the remark than that Keith's artistic flair would have thoroughly appreciated and revelled in the wonderful pictures in front of them, but Hudson's face chilled at the mention of the other man's name.

'Then I'm heartbroken he's not here to see it,' he drawled with caustic sarcasm, his mouth hardening and his eyes cold.

'I only meant—' She stopped abruptly. She didn't have to explain herself to Hudson and she didn't intend to, she thought militantly. It was he who had manoeuvred her presence on this trip, without any consideration of what she wanted at all. She was blowed if she was going to start apologising for an innocent enough comment. 'Have you already reserved accommodation?' she asked tightly. 'It looks very busy.'

'Fez is a commercial centre as well as sometimes being referred to as the centre of Moroccan thinking,' Hudson said evenly, without replying to her question about accommodation. 'There are many schools here, as well as the Karouine University which is more than one thousand years old and famed throughout the Moslem world, so it's always a hive of activity with students and suchlike.'

'It's fascinating.' She eyed him determinedly. 'You've booked something in advance, then?' she pressed again.