Ethan Page 8

  His heart began to swell in his chest. So that was it. The secret fear. He smiled faintly, letting his gaze fall to her soft bow of a mouth as he began to realize how vulnerable she was, and why. "We'll take it one day at a time," he breathed as his head bent. "Do you re­member how I taught you to kiss—with your teeth and your tongue as well as your lips?"

  She did, but it wouldn't have mattered, because he was teaching her all over again. She felt the brush of his warm, hard lips over her own, felt them tug on her lower lip and then her upper lip, felt the soft tracing of his tongue between them and the gentle bite of his teeth as he coaxed her mouth to open and admit the slow, deliberate penetration of his tongue.

  A sound escaped her tight throat. Her body stiff­ened under his. The fingers of her uninjured hand be­gan to open and close, her nails making tiny scraping sensations even through his shirt to his throbbing chest.

  "Open my shirt," he said into her mouth.

  She hesitated and he kissed her roughly.

  "Do it," he bit off against her lips. "You've never touched me that way. I want you to.''

  She knew it was emotional suicide to obey him, but her fingers itched to touch his warm, dark skin. She felt his lips playing gently against her mouth while she fumbled the buttons out of the buttonholes until, fi­nally, her fingers could tangle in the thick dark growth of hair over his chest to find the warm, taut skin be­neath it.

  Unthinking, she drew back to look at where her fingers were touching, fascinated concentration in her soft green eyes as she registered the paleness of her long fingers against the darkness of his hair-matted skin.

  "Put your mouth against me," he said unsteadily. "Here. Like this." He caught the back of her head and coaxed her face against him. She breathed in soap and cologne and pure, sweet man as her lips pressed softly where he guided them.

  "Ethan?" she whispered uncertainly. This was un­familiar territory, and she could feel that his body was rigid with desire. He was shuddering with it.

  "There's nothing to be afraid of, Arabella," he said at her lips. "Let me lift you. . .God, baby!" he ground out, shuddering. His hips pinned hers to the tree, but she never felt the rough bark at her spine. Her arms went around him, both of them trembling as the inti­mate contact locked them together as forcefully as a blazing electric current.

  She was crying with the sheer impact of it, her arms holding him even as his full weight came down against her.

  "You can't get close enough to me, can you?" he groaned. "I know. I feel the same way! Move your legs, sweet. . . yes!"

  His leg insinuated its powerful length between hers, intensifying the intimacy of the embrace.

  "I want you." His hands caught her hips, moving them with slow, deliberate intent into his while his mouth probed hers. "I want you, Arabella. God, I want you so!"

  She was incapable of answering him. She felt him pick her up, but her eyes were closed. She was his. Whatever he wanted, whatever he did, she had no de­sire to stop him.

  She felt the wind in her hair and Ethan's mouth on hers. The strength of his arms absorbed the shock of his footsteps as he carried her back to the truck.

  He opened the door and put her in the passenger seat, sliding her to the middle of the cab so that he could fit facing her, his eyes intent on her flushed face.

  Arabella could hardly breathe for the enormity of what had just happened. She'd never expected Ethan to make such a heavy pass at her with Miriam in resi­dence. But it was because of Miriam, she was sure of it. He just didn't want to admit that his heart was still in bondage to the woman he couldn't satisfy. Her eyes fell to his opened shirt, to the expanse of his muscular chest, and lingered there.

  "Nothing to say?" he asked quietly.

  She shook her head slowly.

  "I won't let you pretend that it didn't happen." He tilted her face up to his. "We made love."

  Her cheeks went scarlet. "Not. . . not quite."

  "You wouldn't have stopped me." He traced her lower lip with a long, teasing forefinger. "Four years, and the intensity hasn't lessened. We touch each other and catch fire."

  "It's just physical, Ethan," she protested weakly.

  He caught her long hair in his hands and drew it around her throat. "No."

  "Miriam's here and you're frustrated because she

  didn't want you__ "

  He lifted an eyebrow. "Really?"

  She folded the arm in the cast and stared at it. "Shouldn't we go back?"

  "You were the one asking for cooperation," he re­minded her.

  "Was that why you kissed me?" she ventured.

  "Not really." He brushed his lips over her eyes, closing her eyelids gently. "You make me fee! like a man," he whispered huskily. "I'm whole again, with you."

  She didn't understand that. He'd said that he couldn't satisfy Miriam, but he was certainly no nov­ice. She was shaking from the intensity of his love-making.

  "What are you going to do about tonight?" She tried to change the subject. "Miriam will surely make a beeline for your bedroom."

  "Let me handle Miriam," he said. "Are you sure you want to go home?"

  She wasn't, but she nodded.

  He framed her face in his lean hands and made her look at him. "If your body was all I wanted, I could have had it four years ago," he reminded her gently. "You would have given yourself to me that day at the swimming hole."

  Her lips parted on a rush of breath. "I don't un­derstand."

  "That's obvious." He kissed her roughly and let her go, climbing down out of the cab. He shut the door, went around to get in himself, and started the truck with a jerky motion of his fingers.

  "You said it was just to get rid of Miriam, that we'd pretend to be involved," she began dazedly.

  He glanced at her, his pale eyes approving the swell of her mouth, the faint flush of her cheeks. "But we weren't pretending just now, were we?" he asked qui­etly. "I said we'd take it one day at a time, and that's how it's going to be. Just let it happen."

  "I don't want to have an affair," she whispered.

  "Neither do I." He put the truck in gear and pulled back into the ruts, bouncing them over the pasture. "Light this for me, honey."

  He handed her a cigarette and his lighter, but it took her three tries before her trembling fingers would manage the simple action. She handed him the ciga­rette and then the lighter, her eyes lingering on his hard mouth.

  "You've thought about sleeping with me, haven't you?" he asked unexpectedly.

  Why lie? she asked herself. She sighed. "Yes."

  "There's no reason to be embarrassed. It's a per­fectly natural curiosity between two people who've known each other as long as we have." He took a draw from the cigarette. "But you don't want sex outside marriage."

  She stared out the windshield. "No," she said hon­estly.

  He glanced at her and then nodded absently. "Okay."

  She felt as if she were struggling out of a web of vagueness. Nothing made sense anymore, least of all Ethan's suddenly changed attitude toward her. He wanted her, that was patently obvious. But wasn't it because he couldn't have Miriam? Or was there some reason that she'd missed entirely?

  Well, there was going to be plenty of time to figure it out, she supposed. Ethan sat beside her quietly smoking his cigarette while she shot covert glances his way and tried to understand what he wanted from her. Life was suddenly growing very complicated.

  Supper that night was a stilted affair, with Miriam complaining delicately about every dish and eating hardly anything. She glared at Arabella as if she wished her on Mars. Probably, Arabella mused, be­cause she'd seen the two of them when they came in from their ride in the truck. Arabella's hair had been mussed, her makeup missing, her lips obviously swol­len. It didn't take a mind reader to know that she and Ethan had been making love.

  And in that supposition, Arabella was right. Mir­iam did recognize the signs and they made her fu­rious. The way Ethan was looking at the younger woman under his thick dark
eyelashes was painful to her. Ethan had looked at her that way once, in the early days of their courtship. But now he had eyes only for Arabella, and Miriam's hope for a reconciliation was going up in smoke. Not that she loved Ethan; she didn't. But it hurt her pride that he could love some­one else, especially when that someone was Arabella. It had been because of Arabella that Ethan had never fallen completely under Miriam's spell. He'd wanted her, but his heart had always belonged to that young woman sitting beside him. Arabella would have known that, of course, even in the old days. That was why Miriam had fought the divorce. She'd known that Arabella and Ethan would wind up together, and she hadn't wanted it to happen. But all her efforts hadn't stopped it.

  Ethan didn't see Miriam's pointed glare. He was too busy watching the expression on Arabella's face. Her mouth had a soft swell where his had pressed against it, and it made him burn with pride to know how eas­ily she'd given in to him at the last. He was a man again, a whole, capable man again, and for the first time, Miriam's presence didn't unsettle him. She'd wounded his ego to the quick with her taunts and rid­icule about his prowess in the bedroom. But now he was beginning to understand that it wasn't strictly a physical problem. Not the way his body had reacted to Arabella earlier.

  Miriam saw his smug expression and shifted un­comfortably.

  "Thinking long thoughts, darling?" she taunted with a cold smile. "Or are you just reminiscing about the way we used to be together?"

  Ethan pursed his thin lips and studied her. The an­guish he felt from her taunts was suddenly gone. He knew now that the only failure was hers. She was conceited and cold and cruel, a sexless woman who basically hated men and used her beauty to punish them.

  "I was thinking that you must have had a hell of a childhood," he replied.

  Miriam went stark white. She dropped her fork and fumbled to pick it up again. "What in the world made you say such a thing?" she faltered.

  He went from contempt to pity in seconds. Every­thing suddenly became crystal clear, and he under­stood her better now than he ever had before. Not that it changed his feelings. He couldn't want her, or love her. But he hated her less.

  "No reason," he replied, but not unkindly. "Eat your beef. To hell with what they say about it, red meat's been sustaining human beings for hundreds of years in this country."

  "I do seem to have a rather large appetite these days," Miriam replied. She glanced at Ethan suspi­ciously and then dropped her eyes.

  Arabella had been watching the byplay with cold misery. Ethan was warming to the older woman, she could feel it. So what did she do now? Should she play up to him or not? She only wanted him to be happy. If that meant helping him get Miriam back, then she supposed she could be strong enough to do it.

  As if he sensed her regard, he turned his head and smiled at her. He laid his hand on the table, inviting hers. After a second's hesitation, she slid her fingers across the palm and had them warmly, softly en­folded. He brought them to his mouth and kissed them hungrily, oblivious to his mother's shocked delight and Miriam's bridled anger.

  Arabella colored and caught her breath. There had been a breathless tenderness in that caress, and the way he was looking at her made her body ripple with the memory of that afternoon.

  "Are we really going to sit through a nature special?" Miriam asked, breaking into the tense si­lence.

  Ethan lifted an eyebrow at her. "Why not? I like polar bears."

  "Well, I don't," Miriam muttered. "I hate polar bears, in fact. I hate living out in the country, I hate the sound of animals in the distance, I hate this house, and I even hate you!"

  "I thought you wanted to talk about a reconcilia­tion," Ethan pointed out.

  "How can I, when you've obviously been out in the fields making love with Miss Concert Pianist!"

  Arabella flushed, but Ethan just laughed. The sound was unfamiliar, especially to Miriam.

  "As it happens, it was in the truck, not in the fields," Ethan said with outrageous honesty. "And engaged people do make love."

  "Yes, I remember," Miriam said icily. She threw her napkin down and stood up. "I think I'll lie down. I'll see you all in the morning. Good night."

  She left, and Coreen sat back with a loud sigh. "Thank God! Now I can enjoy what's left of my meal." She picked up a homemade roll and buttered it. "What's this about making love in the pickup?" she asked Ethan with a grin.

  "We need to keep Miriam guessing," he replied. He leaned back in his chair and watched his mother. "You tell me what we were doing."

  "Arabella's a virgin," Coreen pointed out, noting Arabella's discomfort.

  "I know that," Ethan said gently and smiled in her direction. "That won't change. Not even to run Mir­iam off."

  "I didn't think it would." Coreen patted Arabella's hand. "Don't look so embarrassed, dear. Sex is part of life. But you aren't the kind of woman Miriam is. Your conscience would beat you to death. And to be perfectly blunt, so would Ethan's. He's a puritan."

  "I'm not alone," Ethan said imperturbably. "What would you call a twenty-two-year-old virgin?"

  "Sensible," Coreen replied. "It's dangerous to play around these days, and it's stupid to give a man the benefits of marriage without making him assume re­sponsibility for his pleasure. That isn't just old-fashioned morality, it's common sense. I'm a dyed-in­the-wool women's libber, but I'll be damned if I'd give my body to any man without love and commitment."

  Ethan stood up calmly, and pushed his chair to­ward his mother. "Stand on that," he invited. "If you're going to give a sermon, you need to be seen as well as heard, shrimp."

  Coreen drew back the hand holding the roll and Ethan chuckled. He bent and picked his little mother up in his arms and kissed her resoundingly on the cheek.

  "I love you," he said as he put her down again, flustered and breathless. "Don't ever change."

  "Ethan, you just exasperate me," she muttered.

  He kissed her forehead. "That's mutual." He glanced at Arabella, whose eyes were adoring him. "I have to make some phone calls. If she comes back downstairs, come into the office and we'll give her something else to fuss about."

  Arabella colored again, but she smiled at him. "All right."

  He winked and left the two women at the table.

  "You still love him, don't you?" Coreen asked as she sipped her coffee.

  Arabella shrugged. "It seems to be an illness with­out a cure," she agreed. "Despite Miriam and the ar­guments and all the years apart, I've never wanted anyone else."

  "It seems to be mutual."

  "Seems to be, yes, but that's just the game we're playing to keep Miriam from getting to him again."

  "Isn't it odd how he's changed in one day," Co­reen said suddenly, watching the younger woman with narrowed eyes. "This morning he was all starch and bristle when Miriam came, and now he's so relaxed and careless of her pointed remarks that he seems like another man." She narrowed one eye. "Just what did you do to him while the two of you were out alone?"

  "I just kissed him, honest," Arabella replied. "But he is different, isn't he?" She frowned. "He said something odd, about being whole again. And he did say that Miriam told him he couldn't satisfy her. Maybe he just needed an ego boost."

  His mother smiled secretively and stared down into her coffee. "Maybe he did." She leaned back. "She'll make another play for him, you know. Probably to­night."

  "I told him I thought she would, too," Arabella said. "But I couldn't get up enough nerve to offer to sleep with him." She cleared her throat. "He really is a puritan. I thought he'd be outraged if I mentioned it. I could sleep on a chair or something. I didn't mean. . ." she added, horrified at what his mother might think.

  "I know, dear. You don't have to worry about that. But I do think it might be a good idea if you spend some time in his room tonight. Miriam would think twice before she invaded his bedroom if she thought you were in it with him." She grinned. "It would damage her pride."

  "Ethan may damage my ears," Arabella said rue­fully.
"He won't like it. And what if Miriam tells you about it? You're a puritan, too, about having unmar­ried people sleeping together under your roof."

  "I'll pretend to be horrified and surprised and I'll insist that Ethan set a wedding date," Coreen prom­ised.

  "Oh, no, you can't!" Arabella gasped.

  Coreen got up and began removing crockery. She darted an amused glance at her houseguest. "Don't worry about a thing. I know something you don't. Help me get these things into the kitchen, would you, dear? Betty Ann went home an hour ago, so you can help me do dishes. Then, you can start making plans for later. Do you have a slinky negligee?"

  The whole thing was taking on the dimensions of a dream, Arabella thought as she waited in Ethan's room dressed in the risqué white negligee and pei­gnoir that Coreen had given her. How was she ever going to tell him that this was his mother's idea?

  She'd brushed her long hair until it shone. She was still wearing her bra under the low-cut gown because she couldn't unfasten the catch and Coreen had al­ready gone to bed. But it did make her breasts look sexier, and the way the satin clung to her body she felt like a femme fatale.

  She draped herself across the foot of Ethan's an­tique four-poster bed, the white satin contrasting vio­lently with the brown-and-black-and white plaid of his coverlet. The room was so starkly masculine that she felt a little out of place in it.

  There were a couple of heavy leather armchairs by the fireplace, and a few Indian rugs on the floor. The beige draperies at the windows were old and heavy, blocking out the crescent moon and the expanse of open land. The ceiling light fixture was bold and masculine, shaped like a wagon wheel. There was a tallboy against one wall and a dresser and mirror against another, next to the remodeled walk-in closet. It was a big room, but it suited Ethan. He liked a lot of space.

  The door began to open and she struck a pose. Per­haps this was Miriam getting a peek in. She tugged the gown off one shoulder, hating the ugly cast that ruined the whole effect. She put it behind her and pushed her breasts forward, staring toward the door with what she hoped was a seductive smile.

  But it wasn't Miriam. It was Ethan, and he stopped dead in the doorway, his fingers in the act of unbut­toning his shirt frozen in place.