Ethan Page 6

  Her hand. She glanced down at it, seeing the help-

  lessness of it emphasized by the cast. Threads of mu-

  sic drew through her mind. She could hear the keys,

  feel the chords, the melody, the minors, the subdom-

  inants.

  She closed her eyes and heard Clementi's Sonatina, its three movements one of the first pieces she'd mas­tered when she began as an intermediary student. She smiled as it was replaced in her thoughts by the exqui­site English Suite by Bach, and Finlandia by Grieg.

  "I said, here are the kittens. Where were you?" Ethan asked quietly.

  She opened her eyes, and realized as she did that her fingers might never feel those notes again. She might never be able to play a melody in more than a parody of her former ability. Even the pop tunes would be beyond her. She'd have no way to support herself. And she certainly couldn't expect her father to do it, not when he wouldn't even phone or come near her. At least Ethan had managed to save some of her earn­ings, but they wouldn't last long if her father hadn't paid off the debts.

  There was panic in her eyes, in her pale face.

  Ethan saw it. He tapped her gently on the nose, the antagonism dying out of him all at once when he saw her tormented expression. He had to stop baiting her. It wasn't her fault that Miriam had crippled him as a man. "Stop trying to live your life all at one time. There's nothing to panic about."

  Her eyes met his. "That's what you think."

  "Let tomorrow take care of itself." He went down on one knee. "Now this is worth seeing."

  He gestured for her to kneel down beside him, and all her cares were lost in the magic of five snow-white, newborn kittens. Their mother, too, was a snow-white shorthair with deep blue eyes.

  "Why, I've never seen a cat like this!" she ex­claimed. "A white cat with blue eyes!"

  "They're pretty rare, I'm told. Bill found them in his barn, and he's not a cat fancier."

  "And they were going to be put to sleep." She groaned. "I'll rent them an apartment if my father gives me any trouble," she said firmly. She smiled at the mother cat and then looked longingly at the kit­tens. "Will she let me hold one?"

  "Of course. Here." He lifted a tiny white kitten and placed it gently in Arabella's hand, which she held close to her body to make sure it didn't fall. She nuz­zled its tiny head with her cheek, lost in the magic of the new life.

  Ethan watched her, his eyes indulgent and without mockery. "You love little things, don't you?"

  "I always have." She handed back the kitten with obvious reluctance, taking the opportunity to stroke it gently. "I always thought that one day I'd get mar­ried and have children, but there seemed to be one more concert, one more recording date." She smiled wistfully. "My father was determined to make sure that I never had the chance to get serious about any­one."

  "He couldn't risk losing you." Ethan put the kit­ten back down, stroking the mother's head gently be­fore he rose, bringing Arabella up with him. He brushed back her long, loose dark hair with both hands. Then, in the silence of the barn, which was only broken by an occasional movement or sound from the horses nearby, his hands moved to frame her face. "I used to take you riding. Remember?"

  "Yes. I haven't been on a horse since. Ethan, why wouldn't you let your mother sell the horse I used to ride here?" she asked suddenly, remembering what Coreen had said about it.

  He shifted restlessly. "I had my reasons."

  "And you won't tell me what they were?"

  "No." He searched her eyes slowly, hungrily. He felt his heartbeat increasing as the nearness of her be­gan to affect him, just as it had the night before. "It's been a hell of a long time since you and I have been alone together," he said quietly.

  She lowered her eyes to his broad chest, watching its heavy rise and fall. "Years," she agreed nervously.

  He touched her hair gently, trailing it through his fingers, feeling the silkiness of it. "Your hair was long, then, too," he recalled, catching her soft eyes. "I pil­lowed you on it in the grass when we made love by the old swimming hole."

  Her heart went wild. It was all she could do to hold on to her self-control. "We didn't make love," she said through her teeth. "You kissed me a few times and made sure I didn't take it seriously. It was to 'fur­ther my education,' didn't you say?"

  "You were grass-green and stupid about men," he said curtly. "You felt my body against yours. You may have been a kid then, but you sure as hell ought to know by now how dangerous the situation was get­ting when I called a halt."

  "It doesn't make any difference now," she said miserably. "As I said, you made sure I didn't take it seriously. I was just being my usual stupid self. Now can we go back to the house?"

  He slid his hands roughly into her hair and held her face up to his pale, glittering eyes. "You were eigh­teen," he said shortly. "A virginal eighteen with a fa­ther who hated my guts and had complete control of your life. Only a heartless fool would have seduced you under those circumstances!"

  She stared at him, shocked by the fury in his eyes, his voice. "And you were nobody's fool," she agreed, almost shaking with mingled fear and hurt. "But you don't have to pretend that you cared about my feel­ings, not after the things you said to me. . .!"

  His hands contracted and he drew in a sharp breath. "God in heaven, how can you be so blind?" he groaned. His gaze fell to her mouth and he drew her face up toward his, his lips parting. "I wanted you!"

  The words went into her mouth. He was fitting his lips with exquisite slowness to her own in a silence thick with tense emotion. But even as his mouth brushed against hers, even as she felt the sharp intake of his breath and felt the pressure of his hands on her face, a sound broke the spell and froze him in place.

  It was the loud roar of a car driving up outside. Ethan's head lifted abruptly and the look in his eyes was almost feverish. His hands had a faint tremor as he drew them away from her face, and he was breath­ing roughly. So was she. She felt as if her legs wouldn't even support her.

  Her eyes asked the question she didn't dare.

  "I've been alone a long time," he said curtly, and he gave her a mocking smile. "Isn't that what you'd like to believe?"

  Before she could answer, he let go of her and turned toward the front of the barn.

  "I'm expecting a buyer this morning," he said gruffly. "That must be him."

  He went down the wide aisle ahead of her, almost grateful for the diversion. He'd lost his head just then, gotten drunk on the exquisite promise of Arabella's mouth under his. He hadn't realized how vulnerable he'd become since she'd been here. He was going to have to be more careful. Rushing her would accom­plish nothing; he should be thankful that his buyer had interrupted.

  But when he reached the yard, the visitor wasn't his buyer at all. It was a taxi, and getting out of the back seat, all leggy glamour and red lipstick, was Miriam Hardeman. If she wasn't going to be a houseguest, obviously nobody had thought to inform her of it, because the cabdriver was slowly getting six expensive suitcases out of the trunk of the car.

  Ethan's face went stiff as Arabella joined him and he felt as if he were breaking out in a cold sweat. Mir­iam. Just the sight of his ex-wife was enough to shake his self-confidence to its foundations. He schooled his face to show nothing as he turned toward Arabella and held out his hand, silently commanding her coopera­tion, as she'd promised it.

  Beside him, Arabella stared at the newcomer as if she were a particularly vicious disease. Which, in fact, was a fair analogy. She let Ethan's hand envelop hers and she held on for dear life. They were in it together now, for better or worse.

  Chapter Five

  Mriam raised a delicately etched eyebrow as Ethan and Arabella joined her. She stared hard at Arabella, almost incredulously, her eyes sharp and immediately hostile. She noticed that Ethan and the younger woman were holding hands, and for a minute, she seemed to lose a little of her poise. Then she smiled, almost as if by force of will, because there was no joy in her dark green
eyes.

  "Hello, Ethan." She tossed back her long auburn hair nervously. "I hope you got my telegram?"

  He stared back at her, refusing to be taunted. "I got it."

  "Pay the cab driver, would you?" she persisted. "I'm flat broke. I hope you don't mind my staying here, Ethan, because I blew my last dollar on this outfit and I just can't afford a hotel."

  Ethan didn't say a word, but his expression grew even more remote.

  Arabella watched Ethan pay the driver, then her eyes darted to Miriam. The woman was perfection it­self. Flaming red highlights in her long auburn hair, dark green, witchy eyes, an exquisite face and figure. But she was showing her age a bit, and she was heav­ier than she had been. What Coreen had said about pregnancy came home with full force. Yes, Miriam could be pregnant, all right. That would explain that slight weight gain, mostly in her waist.

  "Hello, Arabella," Miriam said as she studied the younger woman coldly. "I've heard enough about you over the years. I remember you, of course. You were only a child when Ethan and I married."

  "I've grown up," Arabella said quietly. She stared after Ethan with soft longing. "At least, Ethan thinks so."

  Miriam laughed haughtily. "Does he, really?" she asked. "I suppose a very young woman would appeal to him, since she wouldn't know what she was miss­ing."

  That was an unexpected taunt. Arabella didn't un­derstand it, or the way Ethan looked when he came back, after gesturing for one of his passing cowboys to carry Miriam's luggage up to the house.

  "Tell her why you won't get involved with experi­enced women, Ethan, dear," Miriam murmured sar­castically.

  Ethan stared at her with the intimidating look that Arabella hated. It even seemed to work on Miriam.

  "Arabella and I go back a long way. We were in­volved before you and I were, Miriam," he added, staring levelly at his ex-wife.

  Miriam's eyes blazed. "Yes, I remember your mother saying that," she replied.

  The expression on Miriam's face did Ethan more good than anything had in years. He drew Arabella close against his side, giving her a quick, pleased glance when she let her body go lax against him. "You weren't expected until next week," he told Miriam.

  "I just finished a modeling assignment down in the Caribbean and I thought I'd stop by on my way back to New York," Miriam replied. She fidgeted with her purse, nervously it seemed.

  Arabella stared at Miriam from the shelter of Ethan's hard arm. It was almost rigid around her, which told her plenty about how he was reacting to the woman's presence. She didn't understand the under­currents. If he still loved Miriam, she didn't see why he couldn't just say it. Why this pretense, when Mir­iam was obviously still jealous of him?

  "How long do you want to stay?" Ethan asked. "We're pretty busy right now and I hope you under­stand that Arabella and I consider our time together precious."

  Miriam lifted an eyebrow. "How convenient that you should turn up just now, Arabella. You've been pursuing your career for several years, I believe?"

  "Bella was injured in a wreck. Naturally I want her where I am," Ethan replied with a cool smile. "I hope you'll enjoy spending your evenings talking to Mother."

  "I'll manage," Miriam said irritably. "Well, let's go up to the house. I'm tired and I want a drink."

  "You won't drink here," Ethan said firmly. "We don't keep liquor in the house."

  "Don't keep. . .!" Miriam gasped. "But we always had a full liquor cabinet!"

  "You did," Ethan corrected. "When you left, I had the bottles thrown out. I don't drink."

  "You don't do anything," Miriam said with a nasty inflection. "Especially in bed!" she lashed out.

  Ethan's arm tightened around her. Arabella was beginning to catch on, or she thought she was. She felt her hair bristling as she stared at the older woman with pure fury. Ethan didn't need defending, and he'd probably be furious that she dared say anything, but this was too much! Miriam had run around on him; what did she expect when he was repulsed by it? Even love would have a hard time excusing that kind of hurt.

  Ethan himself was having to bite his tongue. He knew how Miriam would love to provoke him into losing his temper, to give her an excuse to tell Ara­bella all their dark secrets. He didn't want that, not until he'd had time to tell her himself. His pride de­manded that much.

  But Arabella got in the first words, her face lifted proudly as she faced the older woman without flinch­ing. "You may have had problems in bed," Arabella said quietly, clinging to Ethan's hand. "Ethan and I don't." Which was the gospel truth, but not the way Miriam took it. Ethan smothered a shocked gasp. He hadn't expected her to sacrifice her reputation for him, certainly not with such surprising courage.

  Miriam shuddered with fury. "You little. . .!"

  The word she'd used was dying on the air even as Ethan broke into it, his face fiercely angry at the way Arabella was trembling despite her brave front. "The road is that direction," Ethan indicated. "I'll send a cab after you. No way are you going to exercise your vicious tongue on my future wife!"

  Miriam backed down immediately. Arabella didn't do anything; she was too shocked at being referred to as Ethan's future wife.

  "I'm sorry," Miriam said on a swallowed breath. "I suppose I did lay it on with a trowel." She glanced at Ethan, curious and nervous now, unusually so. "I. . .I guess it shocked me to think you'd gotten over me."

  "I meant what I said," he replied, his voice cut­ting. "If you stay here, it's on my terms. If I hear so much as one sharp word to Bella, off you go. Is that clear?"

  "It had better be, isn't that what you mean, Ethan?" Miriam forced a smile. "All right, I'll be the perfect houseguest. I thought we were going to talk about a reconciliation."

  "Perhaps you did," Ethan said calmly. "Bella and I are going to be married. There's no room in my life for you now or ever."

  Miriam seemed to go pale. She straightened, ele­gant in her pale gray suit, and smiled again. "That's pretty blunt."

  "Blunt is the only way to be with you," Ethan said. "After you," he said, standing aside to let her enter the house.

  Arabella was still stunned, although she had the presence of mind to wonder if Miriam's outburst hadn't been prompted by fear rather than anger. Which made her wonder why Miriam was so afraid of having Ethan involved with another woman. Ethan took her hand in his, feeling its soft coldness.

  "You're doing fine," he said quietly, so that Mir­iam couldn't hear. "Don't worry, I won't let her sav­age you."

  "I didn't mean to say that___ "

  He smiled gently, despite his drawn features. "I'll explain it to you later."

  "You don't have to explain anything to me," she said, her eyes level and unblinking. "I don't care what Miriam says."

  He drew in a deep breath. "You're full of sur­prises."

  "So are you. I thought you were going to save the engagement threat as a last resort," she murmured.

  "Sorry. This seemed the best time. Come on. Chin up."

  She managed a smile and, holding tight to his lean hand, followed him into the house.

  Coreen was unwelcoming, but she was too much a lady to show her antagonism for Miriam outright. She camouflaged it behind impeccable manners and cold courtesy. The only time a smile touched her lips was when Ethan sat down close beside Arabella on the sofa and drew her against him with a possessive arm.

  It had thrilled Arabella earlier when Ethan had de­fended her so fiercely. Perhaps it had just been his distaste for Miriam's manners, but it was nice to think that he cared enough to stand up for her. She curled up on the sofa against him, drinking in his nearness, lov­ing the scent and feel of him so close. This was the one nice thing that had come out of Miriam's visit. Ara­bella could indulge her longing for Ethan without giving herself away. What a pity that he was only pre­tending, to keep Miriam from seeing how vulnerable he was.

  She glanced up at him, watching his lean face as he listened with coolly polite interest to Miriam's mono­logue about her travels. He was so tense,
and she felt that what Miriam had said about him in bed had hurt him. She remembered what Coreen had said about his finding Miriam repulsive and she wondered if that was what Miriam had been referring to. Odd that he'd gone so white at the reference. Well, a woman like that could do plenty of damage even to a strong man's pride. She had a vicious tongue and no tolerance for other people. It wasn't the kind of attitude that kept a marriage together, especially when she'd never given Ethan any kind of fidelity. That must have cut his heart to pieces, loving her as he had.

  "What are you doing down here, Arabella?" Mir­iam asked eventually. "I thought you were in New York."

  "I was touring," Arabella replied. "I was on my way back from a charity performance when the car was wrecked."

  "She was coming back here," Ethan inserted smoothly with a warning glance at Arabella. "She'd gone with her father. I should have driven her my­self."

  Arabella let out an inaudible sigh at the way she'd almost slipped up. Miriam would hardly believe that she and Ethan were engaged if Arabella was living in New York and they never saw each other.

  "Will you be able to use your hand again, or is your career up the creek?" Miriam asked with a pointed smile. "I guess Ethan wouldn't want you to do any­thing except have babies anyway."

  "As I recall," Ethan said coldly, "you were quite emphatic about not wanting any. That was after I married you, of course," he added meaningfully.

  Miriam shifted restlessly. "So I was. Is there any­thing to do around here? I hate television," she said, quickly changing the subject.

  "Ethan and Arabella and I like to watch the nature specials," Coreen said. "In fact, there's a fascinating program about polar bears on tonight, isn't there, dear?" she asked Ethan.

  Ethan exchanged a glance with his mother. "There is, indeed."

  Miriam groaned.

  It was the longest day Arabella could remember. She managed to dodge Miriam by staying with Ethan, even when he went out to check on the roundup. He usu­ally took a horse, but in deference to Arabella's in­jured wrist, he was driving the ranch pickup.