Ethan
Diana Palmer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Contents

Cover

Title Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Copyright

Chapter One

Arabella was drifting. She seemed to be floating along on a particularly fast cloud, high above the world. She murmured contentedly and sank into the fluffy nothingness, aware somewhere of a fleeting pain that began to grow with every passing second until it was a white-hot throb in one of her hands.

“No!” she exclaimed, and her eyes flew open.

She was lying on a cold table. Her dress, her beautiful gray dress, was covered with blood and she felt bruised and cut all over. A man in a white jacket was examining her eyes. She groaned.

“Concussion,” the man murmured. “Abrasions, contusions. Compound fracture of the wrist, one ligament almost severed. Type and cross-match her blood, prep her for surgery, and get me an operating room.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“Well?” The other voice was harsh, demanding. Very male and familiar, but not her father’s.

“She’ll be all right,” the doctor said with resignation. “Now will you please go outside and sit down, Mr. Hardeman? While I can appreciate your concern—” and that was an understatement, the physician thought “—you can do her more good by letting us work.”

Ethan! The voice was Ethan’s! She managed to turn her head, and yes, it was Ethan Hardeman. He looked as if they’d dragged him out of bed. His black hair was rumpled, apparently by his own fingers. His hard, lean face was drawn, his gray eyes so dark with worry that they looked black. His white shirt was half-unbuttoned, as if he’d thrown it on, and his dark jacket was open. He’d all but crushed the brim of the creamy Stetson in his hand.

“Bella,” he breathed, when he saw her pale, damaged face.

“Ethan,” she managed in a hoarse whisper. “Oh, Ethan, my hand!”

His expression tautened as he moved closer to her, despite the doctor’s protests. He reached down and touched her poor, bruised cheek. “Baby, what a scare you gave me!” he whispered. His hand actually seemed to be trembling as he brushed back her disheveled long brown hair. Her green eyes were bright with pain and welcome, all mixed up together.

“My father?” she asked with apprehension, because he’d been driving the car.

“They flew him to Dallas. He had an ocular injury, and they’ve got some of the top men in the field there. He’s all right, otherwise. He couldn’t take care of you, so he had the hospital call me.” Ethan smiled coldly. “God knows, that was a gut-wrenching decision on his part.”

She was in too much pain to pick up on the meaning behind the words. “But…my hand?” she asked.

He stood up straight. “They’ll talk to you about that later. Mary and the rest will be here in the morning. I’ll stay until you’re out of surgery.”

She caught at his arm with her good hand, feeling the hard muscle tighten. “Make them understand…how important my hand is, please,” she pleaded.

“They understand. They’ll do what can be done.” He touched her cracked lips gently with his forefinger. “I won’t leave you,” he said quietly. “I’ll be here.”

She grabbed his hand, holding it, feeling his strength, drawing on his strength for the first time in recent memory. “Ethan,” she whispered as the pain built, “remember the swimming hole…?”

His expression closed up. He actually flinched as her face contorted. “My God, can’t you give her something?” he asked the doctor, as if the pain were his own.

The doctor seemed to understand at last that it was more than bad temper driving the tall, angry man who’d stormed into the emergency room barely ten minutes ago. The look on those hard features as he’d held the woman’s hand had said everything.

“I’ll give her something,” the doctor promised. “Are you a relative? Her husband, perhaps?”

Ethan’s silver eyes cut at him. “No, I’m not a relative. She’s a concert pianist, very commercial these days. She lives with her father and she’s never been allowed to marry.”

The doctor didn’t have time for discussion. He settled Ethan with a nurse and vanished gratefully into the emergency room.

* * *

Hours later, Arabella drifted in and out of the anesthesia in a private room. Ethan was there again, staring angrily out the window at the pastel colors of the sky at dawn, still in the same clothes he’d been wearing the night before. Arabella was in a floral hospital gown and she felt as she probably looked—weak and wrung out.

“Ethan,” she called.

He turned immediately, going to the bedside. He did look terrible, all right. His face was white with strain and bridled anger.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Tired and sore and groggy,” she murmured, trying to smile at him. He looked so fierce, just as he had when they were younger. She was almost twenty-three now, and Ethan was thirty, but he’d always been worlds ahead of her in maturity. With Ethan standing over her, it was hard to remember the anguish of the past four years. So many memories, she thought drowsily, watching that dear face. Ethan had been her heart four years ago, but he’d married Miriam. Ethan had forced Miriam into a separation only a little while after they married, but she’d fought Ethan’s divorce action tooth and nail for almost four years. Miriam had given up, at last, this year. Their divorce had only become final three months ago.

Ethan was a past master at hiding his feelings, but the deep lines in his face spoke for themselves. Miriam had hurt him dreadfully. Arabella had tried to warn him, in her own shy way. They’d argued over Miriam and because of it, Ethan had shut Arabella out of his life with cold cruelty. She’d seen him in passing since then because she and his sister-in-law were best friends, and visits were inevitable. But Ethan had been remote and unapproachable. Until last night.

“You should have listened to me about Miriam,” she said groggily.

“We won’t talk about my ex-wife,” he said coldly. “You’re coming home with me when you’re able to get around again. Mother and Mary will look after you and keep you company.”

“How’s my father?” she asked.

“I haven’t found out anything new. I’ll check later. Right now, I need breakfast and a change of clothes. I’ll come back as soon as I’ve got my men started at home. We’re in the middle of roundup.”

“What a time to be landed with me,” she said with a deep sigh. “I’m sorry, Ethan. Dad could have spared you this.”

He ignored the comment. “Did you have any clothes in the car with you?”

She shook her head. The slight movement hurt, so she stopped. She reached up with her free hand to smooth back the mass of waving dark brown hair from her bruised face. “My clothes are back in the apartment in Houston.”

“Where’s the key?”

“In my purse. They should have brought it in with me,” she murmured drowsily.

He searched in the locker on the other side of the room and found her expensive leather purse. He carried it to the bed with the air of a man holding a poisonous snake. “Where is it?” he muttered.

She stared at him, amused despite the sedatives and the growing pain. “The key is in the zipper compartment,” she managed.

He took out a set of keys and she showed him the right one. He put the purse away with obvious relief. “Beats me why women can’t use pockets, the way men do.”

“The stuff we carry wouldn’t fit into pockets,” she said reasonably. She laid back on the pillows, her eyes open and curious. “You look terrible.”

He didn’t smile. He hardly ever had, except for a few magical days when she was eighteen. Before Miriam got her beautiful hands on him. “I haven’t had much sleep,” he said, his voice sharp and cutting.

She smiled drowsily. “Don’t growl at me. Coreen wrote to me last month in Los Angeles. She said you’re impossible to live with these days.”

“My mother always thought I was impossible to live with,” he reminded her.

“She said you’d been that way for three months, since the divorce was final,” she replied. “Why did Miriam finally give in? She was the one who insisted on staying married to you, despite the fact that she stopped living with you ages ago.”

“How should I know?” he asked abruptly, and turned away.

She saw the way he closed up at the mention of his ex-wife’s name, and her heart felt heavy and cold. His marriage had hurt her more than anything in her life. It had been unexpected, and she’d almost gone off the deep end when she’d heard. Somehow she’d always thought that Ethan cared for her. She’d been too young for him at eighteen, but that day by the swimming hole, she’d been sure that he felt more than just a physical attraction for her. Or maybe that had been one more hopeless illusion. Whatever he’d felt, he’d started going around with Miriam immediately after that sweet interlude, and within two months he’d married the woman.

Arabella had mourned him bitterly. He’d been the first man in her life in all the important ways, except for the most intimate one. She was still waiting for that first intimacy, just as she’d waited most of her adult life for Ethan to love her. She almost laughed out loud. Ethan had never loved her. He’d loved Miriam, who’d come to the ranch to film a commercial. She’d watched it happen, watched Ethan falling under the spell of the green-eyed, redheaded model with her sophisticated beauty.

Arabella had never had the measure of self-confidence and teasing sophistication that Miriam had. And Miriam had walked off with Ethan, only to leave him. They said that Ethan had become a woman-hater because of his marriage. Arabella didn’t doubt it. He’d never been a playboy in the first place. He was much too serious and stoical. There was nothing happy-go-lucky or carefree about Ethan. He’d had the responsibility for his family for a long time now, and even Arabella’s earliest memories of him were of a quiet, hard man who threw out orders like a commanding general, intimidating men twice his age when he was only just out of his teens.

Ethan was watching her, but his scrutiny ceased when she noticed him standing beside the bed. “I’ll send someone to your apartment in Houston for your things.”

“Thank you.” He wouldn’t talk to her about Miriam. Somehow, she’d expected that reaction. She took a deep breath and started to lift her hand. It felt heavy. She looked down and realized that it was in a small cast. Red antiseptic peeked out from under it, stark against her pale skin. She felt the threat of reality and withdrew from it, closing her eyes.

“They had to set the bones,” Ethan said. “The cast comes off in six weeks, and you’ll have the use of your hand again.”

Use of it, yes. But would she be able to play again as she had? How long would it take, and how would she manage to support herself and her father if she couldn’t? She felt panic seeping in. Her father had a heart condition. She knew, because he’d used it against her in the early days when she hadn’t wanted the years of study, the eternal practice that made it impossible for her to go places with her friends Mary and Jan, Ethan’s sister, and Matt, his brother whom Mary had later married.

It was astonishing that her father had called Ethan after the wreck. Ever since Arabella had blossomed into a young woman, her father had made sure that Ethan didn’t get too close to her. He’d never liked Ethan. The reverse was also true. Arabella hadn’t understood the friction, because Ethan had never made any serious advances toward her, until that day she and Ethan had gone swimming at the creek, and things had almost gone too far. Arabella had told no one, so her father hadn’t known about that. It was her own private, special secret. Hers and Ethan’s.

She forced her mind back to the present. She couldn’t let herself become maudlin now. She had enough complications in her life without asking for more. She vaguely remembered mentioning to Ethan that day she and he had gone swimming together, when she was eighteen. She hoped against hope that he’d been too worried to pay attention to the remark, that she hadn’t given away how precious the memory was to her.

“You said I’d stay with you,” she began falteringly, trying to make her mind work. “But, my father…?”

“Your uncle lives in Dallas, remember?” he asked curtly. “Your father will probably stay there.”

“He won’t like having me this far away,” she said doggedly.

“No, he won’t, will he?” He pulled the sheet up to her chin. “Try to sleep. Let the medicine work.”

Her wide green eyes opened, holding his. “You don’t want me at your house,” she said huskily. “You never did. We quarreled over Miriam and you said I was a pain in the neck and you never wanted to have to see me again!”

He actually winced. “Try to sleep,” he said tersely.

She was drifting in and out of consciousness, blissfully unaware of the tortured look on the dark face above her. She closed her eyes. “Yes. Sleep…”

The world seemed very far away as the drugs took hold at last and she slept. Her dreams were full of the old days, of growing up with Mary and Matt, of Ethan always nearby, beloved and taciturn and completely unattainable. No matter how hard she tried to act her age, Ethan had never looked at her as a woman in those early days.

Arabella had always loved him. Her music had been her escape. She could play the exquisite classical pieces and put all the love Ethan didn’t want into her fingers as she played. It was that fever and need that had given her a start in the musical world. At the age of twenty-one, she’d won an international competition with a huge financial prize, and the recognition had given her a shot at a recording contract.

Classical music was notoriously low-paying for pianists, but Arabella’s style had caught on quickly when she tried some pop pieces. The albums had sold well, and she was asked to do more. The royalties began to grow, along with her fame.

Her father had pushed her into personal appearances and tours, and, basically shy in front of people she didn’t know, she’d hated the whole idea of it. She’d tried to protest, but her father had dominated her all her life, and she hadn’t had the will to fight him. Incredible, that, she told herself, when she could stand up to Ethan and most other people without a qualm. Her father was different. She loved him and he’d been her mainstay when her mother had died so long ago. She couldn’t bear to hurt her father by refusing his guidance in her career. Ethan had hated the hold her father had on her, but he’d never asked her to try to break it.

Over the years, while she was growing up in Jacobsville, Ethan had been a kind of protective but distant big brother. Until that day he’d taken her swimming down at the creek and everything had changed. Miriam had been at the ranch even then, starting on a layout with a Western theme for a fashion magazine. Ethan had paid her very little notice until he’d almost lost control with Arabella when they started kissing, but after that day he’d begun pursuing Miriam. It hadn’t taken long.

Arabella had heard Miriam bragging to another model that she had the Hardeman fortune in the palm of her hand and that she was going to trade Ethan her body for a life of luxury. It had sickened Arabella to think of the man she loved being treated as a meal ticket and nothing more, so she’d gone to him and tried to tell him what she’d heard.

He hadn’t believed her. He’d accused her of being jealous of Miriam. He’d hurt her with his cold remarks about her age and inexperience and naiveté, then he’d ordered her off the ranch. She’d run away, all the way out of the state and back to music school.

How strange that Ethan should be the one to look after her. It was the first time she’d ever been in a hospital, the first time she’d been anything except healthy. She wouldn’t have expected Ethan to bother with her, despite her father’s request. Ethan had studiously ignored Arabella since his marriage, right down to deliberately disappearing every time she came to visit Mary and Coreen.

Mary and Matt lived with Matt and Ethan’s mother, Coreen, at the big rambling Hardeman house. Coreen always welcomed Arabella as if she were family when she came to spend an occasional afternoon with her friend Mary. But Ethan was cold and unapproachable and barely spoke to her.

Arabella hadn’t expected more from Ethan, though. He’d made his opinion of her crystal clear when he’d announced his engagement to Miriam shortly after he’d started dating the model. The engagement had shocked everyone, even his mother, and the rushed wedding had been a source of gossip for months. But Miriam wasn’t pregnant, so obviously he’d married her for love. If that was the case, it was a brief love. Miriam had gone, bag and baggage, six months later, leaving Ethan alone but not unattached. Arabella had never learned why Miriam had refused the divorce or why Miriam had started running around on a man she’d only just married. It was one of many things about his marriage that Ethan never discussed with anyone.

Arabella felt oblivion stealing her away. She gave in to it at last, sighing as she fell asleep, leaving all her worries and heartaches behind.

Chapter Two

When Arabella woke up again, it was daylight. Her hand throbbed in its white cast. She ground her teeth together, recalling the accident all too vividly—the impact, the sound of broken glass, her own cry, and then oblivion rushing over her. She couldn’t blame the accident on her father; it had been unavoidable. Slick roads, a car that pulled out in front of them, and they’d gone off the pavement and into a telephone pole. She was relieved to be alive, despite the damage to her hand. But she was afraid her father wasn’t going to react well to the knowledge that her performing days might be over. She refused to think about that possibility. She had to be optimistic.

Belatedly she wondered what had become of the car they’d been driving. They’d been on their way to Jacobsville from Corpus Christi, where she’d been performing in a charity concert. Her father hadn’t told her why they were going to Jacobsville, so she’d assumed that they were taking a brief vacation in their old home town. She’d thought then about seeing Ethan again, and her heart had bounced in her chest. But she hadn’t expected to see him under these circumstances.

They’d been very close to Jacobsville, so naturally they’d been taken to the hospital there. Her father had been transferred to Dallas and had called Ethan, but why? She couldn’t imagine the reason he should have asked a man he obviously disliked to look after his daughter. She was no closer to solving the mystery when the door opened.

Ethan came in with a cup of black coffee, looking out of sorts as if he’d never smiled in his life. He had a faint arrogance of carriage that had intrigued her from the first time she’d seen him. He was as individual as his name. She even knew how he’d come by the name. His mother Coreen, a John Wayne fan, had loved the movie The Searchers, which came out before Ethan was born. When Coreen became pregnant, she couldn’t think of a better name for her firstborn son than the first name John Wayne had been given in the movie. So he became Ethan Hardeman. His middle name was John, but few people outside the family knew it.

Arabella loved looking at him. He had a rodeo rider’s physique, powerful shoulders and chest that wedged down to narrow hips, a flat belly and long, muscular legs. His face wasn’t bad, either. He was tanned and his eyes were deep-set and very gray, although sometimes they looked silver and other times they had the faintest hint of blue. His hair was dark and conventionally cut. His nose was straight, his mouth sensuous, his cheekbones high and his chin faintly jutting with a slight cleft. He had lean hands with long fingers and neatly trimmed flat nails.

She was staring at him again, helplessly she supposed. From his blue-checked Western shirt to his gray denims and black boots, he was impeccably dressed, elegant for a cowboy, even if he was the boss.

“You look like hell,” he said, and all her romantic dreams were pushed aside at once.

“Thank you,” she replied with a little of her old spirit. “That kind of flattery is just what I needed.”

“You’ll mend.” He sounded unruffled; he always did. He sat down in the armchair next to the bed and leaned back with one long leg crossed over the other, sipping his coffee. “Mother and Mary will be in to see you later. How’s the hand?”

“It hurts,” she said simply. She used the good one to brush back her hair. She could hear Bach preludes and Clementi sonatinas in the back of her mind. Always the music. It gave her life, made her breathe. She couldn’t bear to think that she might lose it.

“Have they given you anything?”

“Yes, just a few minutes ago. I’m a little groggy, but I don’t hurt as much as I did,” she assured him. She’d already seen one orderly run for cover when he walked in. All she needed was to have Ethan bulldoze any more of the staff on her behalf.

He smiled faintly. “I won’t cause too much trouble,” he assured her. “I just want to make sure you’re being treated properly.”

“So does the staff,” she murmured dryly, “and I hear at least two doctors are thinking of resigning if I’m not released soon.”

He looked the least bit uncomfortable. “I wanted to make sure you got the best care possible.”

“I did, never fear.” She averted her eyes. “From one enemy to another, thanks for the T.L.C.”

He stiffened. “I’m not your enemy.”

“No? We didn’t part as friends all those years ago.” She leaned back, sighing. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out for you and Miriam, Ethan,” she said quietly. “I hope it wasn’t because of anything I said…”

“It’s past history,” he said curtly. “Let it drop.”

“Okay.” He intimidated her with those black stares.

He sipped his coffee, allowing his eyes to wander down the length of her slender body. “You’ve lost weight. You need a rest.”

“I haven’t been able to afford that luxury,” she told him. “We’ve only begun to break even this year.”

“Your father could get a job and help out,” he said coldly.

“You don’t have the right to interfere in my life, Ethan,” she said, staring back at him. “You gave that up years ago.”

The muscles in his face contracted, although his gaze didn’t waver. “I know better than you do what I gave up.” He stared her down and drank some more coffee. “Mother and Mary are fixing up the guest room for you,” he told her. “Matt’s off at a sale in Montana, so Mary will be glad of the company.”

“Doesn’t your mother mind having me landed on her?”

“My mother loves you,” he said. “She always has, and you’ve always known it, so there’s no need to pretend.”

“Your mother is a nice person.”

“And I’m not?” He studied her face. “I’ve never tried to win any popularity contests, if that’s what you mean.”

She shifted against the pillows. “You’re very touchy these days, Ethan. I wasn’t looking for ways to insult you. I’m very grateful for what you’ve done.”

He finished his coffee. His gray eyes met hers and for an instant, they were held against their will. He averted his gaze instantly. “I don’t want gratitude from you.”

That was the truth; not gratitude or anything else—least of all love.

She let her eyes fall to her hand in its cast. “Did you call the hospital at Dallas to ask about my father?”

“I phoned your uncle early this morning. The eye specialist is supposed to see your father today; they’re more optimistic than they were last night.”

“Did he ask about me?”

“Of course he asked about you,” Ethan replied. “He was told about your hand.”

She stiffened. “And?”

“He didn’t say another word, according to your uncle.” Ethan smiled without humor. “Well, what did you expect? Yours hands are his livelihood. He’s just seen a future that’s going to require him to work for a living again. I expect he’s drowning in self-pity.”

“Shame on you,” she snapped.

He stared at her, unblinking. “I know your father. You do, too, despite the fact that you’ve spent your life protecting him. You might try living your own way for a change.”

“I’m content with my life,” she muttered.

His pale eyes caught and held hers, and he was very still. The room was so quiet that they could hear the sound of cars outside the hospital, in the nearby streets of Jacobsville.

“Do you remember what you asked me when they brought you in?”

She shook her head. “No. I was hurting pretty badly just then,” she lied, averting her eyes.

“You asked if I remembered the swimming hole.”

Her cheeks went hot. She pleated the material of the hospital gown they’d put her in, grimacing. “I can’t imagine why I’d ask such a question. That’s ancient history.”

“Four years isn’t ancient history. And to answer the question belatedly, yes, I remember. I wish I could forget.”

Well, that was plain enough, wasn’t it, she thought, hurt. She couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze. She could imagine the mockery in his eyes. “Why can’t you?” she asked, trying to sound as unconcerned as he did. “After all, you told me yourself that I’d asked for it, that you’d been thinking about Miriam.”

“Damn Miriam!” He got up, upsetting the coffee cup in the process, splattering a few drops of scalding coffee onto his hand. He ignored the sting, turning away to stare out the window at Jacobsville, his body rigid. He lifted the cup to his lips and sipped the hot liquid again to steady himself. Even the mention of his ex-wife made him tense, wounded him. Arabella had no idea of the hell Miriam had made of his life, or why he’d let her trap him into marriage. It was four years too late for explanations or apologies. His memories of the day he’d made love to Arabella were permanent, unchanged, a part of him, but he couldn’t even tell her that. He was so locked up inside that he’d almost forgotten how to feel, until Arabella’s father had telephoned him to tell him that Arabella had been injured. Even now, he could taste the sick fear he’d felt, face all over again the possibility that she might have died. The world had gone black until he’d gotten to the hospital and found her relatively unhurt.

“Do you hear from Miriam anymore?” she asked.

He didn’t turn around. “I hadn’t since the divorce was final, until last week.” He finished the coffee and laughed coldly. “She wants to talk about a reconciliation.”

Arabella felt her heart sink. So much for faint hope, she thought. “Do you want her back?”

Ethan came back to the bedside, and his eyes were blazing with anger. “No, I don’t want her back,” he said. He stared down at her icily. “It took me years to talk her into a divorce. Do you really think I have any plans to put my neck in that noose again?” he asked.

“I don’t know you, Ethan,” she replied quietly. “I don’t think I ever did, really. But you loved Miriam once,” she added with downcast eyes. “It’s not inconceivable that you could miss her, or want her back.”

He didn’t answer her. He turned and dropped back down into the armchair by the bed, crossing his legs. Absently he played with the empty coffee cup. Loved Miriam? He’d wanted her. But love? No. He wished he could tell Arabella that, but he’d become too adept at keeping his deepest feelings hidden.

He put the cup down on the floor beside his chair. “A cracked mirror is better replaced than mended,” he said, lifting his eyes back to Arabella’s. “I don’t want a reconciliation. So, that being the case,” he continued, improvising as he began to see a way out of his approaching predicament, “we might be able to help each other.”

Arabella’s heart jumped. “What?”

He stared at her, his eyes probing, assessing. “Your father raised you in an emotional prison. You never tried to break out. Well, here’s your chance.”

“I don’t understand.”

“That’s obvious. You used to be better at reading between the lines.” He took a cigarette from the pack in his pocket and dangled it from his fingers. “Don’t worry, I won’t light it,” he added when he saw the look she gave him. “I need something to do with my hands. What I meant was that you and I can pretend to be involved.”

She couldn’t prevent the astonished fear from distorting her features. He’d pushed her out of his life once, and now he had the audacity to want her to pretend to be involved with him? It was cruel.

“I thought you’d be bothered by the suggestion,” he said after a minute of watching her expression. “But think about it. Miriam won’t be here for another week or two. There’s time to map out some strategy.”

“Why can’t you just tell her not to come?” she faltered.

He studied his boot. “I could, but it wouldn’t solve the problem. She’d be dancing in and out of my life from now on. The best way, the only way,” he corrected, “is to give her a good reason to stay away. You’re the best one I can think of.”

“Miriam would laugh herself sick if anyone told her you were involved with me,” she said shortly. “I was only eighteen when you married her. She didn’t consider me any kind of competition then, and she was right. I wasn’t, and I’m not.” She lifted her chin with mangled pride. “I’m talented, but I’m not pretty. She’ll never believe you see anything interesting about me.”

He had to control his expression not to betray the sting of those words. It hurt him to hear Arabella talk so cynically. He didn’t like remembering how badly he’d had to hurt her. At the time, it didn’t seem that he’d had a choice. But explaining his reasoning to Arabella four years too late would accomplish nothing.

His eyes darkened as he watched Arabella with the old longing. He didn’t know how he was going to bear having to let her walk out of his life a second time. But at least he might have a few weeks with her under the pretext of a mutual-aid pact. Better that than nothing. At least he might have one or two sweet memories to last him through the barren years ahead.

“Miriam isn’t stupid,” he said finally. “You’re a young woman now, well-known in your field and no longer a country mouse. She won’t know how sheltered you’ve been, unless you tell her.” His eyes slid gently over her face. “Even without your father’s interference, I don’t imagine you’ve had much time for men, have you?”

“Men are treacherous,” she said without thinking. “I offered you my heart and you threw it in my teeth. I haven’t offered it again, to anyone, and I don’t intend to. I’ve got my music, Ethan. That’s all I need.”

He didn’t believe her. Women didn’t go that sour over a youthful infatuation, especially when it was mostly physical to begin with. Probably the drugs they’d given her had upset her reasoning, even if he’d give an arm to believe she’d cared that much. “What if you don’t have music again?” he asked suddenly.

“Then I’ll jump off the roof,” she replied with conviction. “I can’t live without it. I don’t want to try.”

“What a cowardly approach.” He said the words coldly to disguise a ripple of real fear at the way she’d looked when she said that.

“Not at all,” she contradicted him. “At first it was my father’s idea to push me into a life of concert tours. But I love what I do. Most of what I do,” she corrected. “I don’t care for crowds, but I’m very happy with my life.”

“How about a husband? Kids?” he probed.

“I don’t want or need either,” she said, averting her face. “I have my life planned.”

“Your damned father has your life planned,” he shot back angrily. “He’d tell you when to breathe if you’d let him!”

“What I do is none of your concern,” she replied. Her green eyes met his levelly. “You have no right whatsoever to talk about my father trying to dominate me, when you’re trying to manipulate me yourself to help you get Miriam out of your hair.”

One silvery eye narrowed. “It amazes me.”

“What does?” she asked.

“That you hit back at me with such disgusting ease and you won’t say boo to your father.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” she said. She laced her fingers together. “I’ve always been a little in awe of my father. The only thing he cares about is my talent. I thought if I got famous, he might love me.” She laughed bitterly. “But it didn’t work, did it? Now he thinks I may not be able to play again and he doesn’t want anything to do with me.” She looked up with tear-bright eyes. “Neither would you, if it wasn’t for Miriam hotfooting it down here. I’ve never been anything but a pawn where men were concerned, and you think my father is trying to run my life?”

He stuck the hand that wasn’t holding the cigarette into his pocket. “That’s one miserable self-image you’ve got,” he remarked quietly.

She looked away. “I know my failings,” she told him. She closed her eyes. “I’ll help you keep Miriam at bay, but you won’t need to protect me from my father. I very much doubt if I’ll ever see him again after what’s happened.”

“If that hand heals properly, you’ll see him again.” Ethan tossed the unlit cigarette into an ashtray. “I have to get Mother and Mary and drive them in to see you. The man I sent for your clothes should be back by then. I’ll bring your things with us.”

“Thank you,” she said stiffly.

He paused by the bedside, his eyes attentive. “I don’t like having to depend on other people, either,” he said. “But you can carry independence too far. Right now, I’m all you’ve got. I’ll take care of you until you’re back on your feet. If that includes keeping your father away, I can do that, too.”

She looked up. “What do you have in mind to keep Miriam from thinking our relationship is a sham?”

“You look nervous,” he remarked. “Do you think I might want to make love to you in front of her?”

Her cheeks went hot. “Of course not!”

“Well, you can relax. I won’t ask you for the ultimate sacrifice. A few smiles and some hand-holding ought to get the message across.” He laughed bitterly as he looked down at her. “If that doesn’t do it, I’ll announce our engagement. Don’t panic,” he added icily when he saw the expression on her face. “We can break it off when she leaves, if we have to go that far.”

Her heart was going mad. He didn’t know what the thought of being engaged to him did to her. She loved him almost desperately, but it was obvious that he had no such feeling for her.

Why did he need someone to help him get Miriam to leave him alone? she wondered. Maybe he still loved Miriam and was afraid of letting her get to him. Arabella closed her eyes. Whatever his reason, she couldn’t let him know how she felt. “I’ll go along, then,” she said. “I’m so tired, Ethan.”

“Get some rest. I’ll see you later.”

She opened her eyes. “Thank you for coming to see me. I don’t imagine it was something you’d have chosen to do, except that Dad asked you.”

“And you think I care enough for your father’s opinion to make any sacrifices on his behalf?” he asked curiously.

“Well, I don’t expect you to make any on mine,” she said coolly. “God knows, you disliked me enough in the old days. And still do, I imagine. I shouldn’t have said anything to you about Miriam—”

She was suddenly talking to thin air. He was gone before the words were out of her mouth.

* * *

Ethan was back with Coreen and Mary later that day, but he didn’t come into the room.

Coreen, small and delicate, was everything Arabella would have ordered in a custom-made mother. The little woman was spirited and kind, and her battles with Ethan were legendary. But she loved Arabella and Mary, and they were as much her daughters as Jan, her own married daughter who lived out of state.

“It was a blessing that Ethan was home,” Coreen told Arabella while Mary, Arabella’s best friend in public school, sat nearby and listened to the conversation with twinkling brown eyes. “He’s been away from home every few days since his divorce was final, mostly business trips. He’s been moody and brooding and restless. I found it amazing that he sent Matt on his last one.”

“Maybe he was out making up for lost time after the divorce was final,” Arabella said quietly. “After all, he was much too honorable himself to indulge in anything indecent while he was technically married.”

“Unlike Miriam, who was sleeping with anything in pants just weeks after they married,” Coreen said bluntly. “God knows why she held on to him for so long, when everyone knew she never loved him.”

“There’s no alimony in Texas,” Mary grinned. “Maybe that’s why.”

“I offered her a settlement,” Coreen said, surprising the other two women. “She refused. But I hear that she met someone else down in the Caribbean and there are rumors that she may marry her new man friend. That’s more than likely why she agreed to the divorce.”

“Then why does she want to come back?” Arabella asked.

“To make as much trouble as she can for Ethan, probably,” Coreen said darkly. “She used to say things to him that cut my heart out. He fought back, God knows, but even a strong man can be wounded by ceaseless ridicule and humiliation. My dear, Miriam actually seduced a man at a dinner party we gave for Ethan’s business associates. He walked in on them in his own study.”

Arabella closed her eyes and groaned. “It must have been terrible for him.”

“More terrible than you know,” Coreen replied. “He never really loved her and she knew it. She wanted him to worship at her feet, but he wouldn’t. Her extramarital activities turned him off completely. He told me that he found her repulsive, and probably he told her, too. That was about the time she started trying to create as many scandals as possible, to embarrass him. And they did. Ethan’s a very conventional man. It crushed him that Miriam thought nothing of seducing his business associates.” Coreen actually shuddered. “A man’s ego is his sensitive spot. She knew it, and used it, with deadly effect. Ethan’s changed. He was always quiet and introverted, but I hate what this marriage has done to him.”

“He’s a hard man to get close to,” Arabella said quietly. “Nobody gets near him at all now, I imagine.”

“Maybe you can change that,” Coreen said, smiling. “You could make him smile when no one else could. You taught him how to play. He was happier that summer four years ago than he ever was before or since.”

“Was he?” Arabella smiled painfully. “We had a terrible quarrel over Miriam. I don’t think he’s ever forgiven me for the things I said.”

“Anger can camouflage so many emotions, Bella,” Coreen said quietly. “It isn’t always as cut-and-dried as it seems.”

“No, it isn’t,” Mary agreed. “Matt and I hated each other once, and we wound up married.”

“I doubt if Ethan will ever marry anyone again,” Arabella said, glancing at Coreen. “A bad burn leaves scars.”

“Yes,” Coreen said sadly. “By the way, dear,” she said then, changing the subject, “we’re looking forward to having you with us while you recuperate. Mary and I will enjoy your company so much.”

Arabella thought about what Coreen had said long after they left. She couldn’t imagine a man as masculine as Ethan being so wounded by any woman, but perhaps Miriam had some kind of hold on him that no one knew about. Probably a sensual one, she thought miserably, because everyone who’d seen them together knew how attracted he’d been to Miriam physically. Miriam had been worldly and sophisticated. It was understandable that he’d fallen so completely under her spell. Arabella had been much too innocent to even begin to compete for him.

A nurse came in, bearing a huge bouquet of flowers, and Arabella’s eyes glistened with faint tears at their beauty. There was no card, but she knew by the size and extravagance of the gift that it had to be Coreen. She’d have to remember to thank the older woman the next day.

It was a long night, and she didn’t sleep well. Her dreams were troubled, full of Ethan and pain. She lay looking up at the ceiling after one of the more potent dreams, and her mind drifted back to a late-summer’s day, with the sound of bees buzzing around the wildflowers that circled the spot where the creek widened into a big hole, deep enough to swim in. She and Ethan had gone there to swim one lazy afternoon…

She could still see the butterflies and hear the crickets and July flies that populated the deserted area. Ethan had driven them to the creek in the truck, because it was a long and tiring walk in the devastating heat of a south Texas summer. He’d been wearing white trunks that showed off his powerful body in an all-too-sensuous way, his broad shoulders and chest tapering to his narrow hips and long legs. He was deeply tanned, and his chest and flat belly were thick with curling dark hair. Seeing him in trunks had never bothered Arabella overmuch until that day, and then just looking at him made her blush and scamper into the water.

She’d been wearing a yellow one-piece bathing suit, very respectable and equally inexpensive. Her father’s job had supported them frugally, and she was working part-time to help pay her tuition at the music school in New York. She was on fire with the promise of being a superb pianist, and things were going well for her. She’d come over to spend the afternoon with his sister Jan, but she and her latest boyfriend had gone to a barbecue, so Ethan had offered to take her swimming.

The offer had shocked and flattered Arabella, because Ethan was in his mid-twenties and she was sure his taste didn’t run to schoolgirls. He was remote and unapproachable most of the time, but in the weeks before they went swimming together, he’d always seemed to be around when she visited his sister. His eyes had followed Arabella with an intensity that had disturbed and excited her. She’d loved him for so long, ached for him. And then, that day, all her dreams had come true when he’d issued his casual invitation to come swimming with him.

Once he’d rescued her from an overamorous would-be suitor, and another time he’d driven her to a school party along with Jan and Matt and Mary. To everyone’s surprise, he’d stayed long enough to dance one slow, lazy dance with Arabella. Jan and Mary had teased her about it mercilessly. That had started the fantasies, that one dance. Afterwards, Arabella had watched Ethan and worshipped him from afar.

Once they were at the swimming hole, the atmosphere had suddenly changed. Arabella hadn’t understood the way Ethan kept looking at her body, his silver eyes openly covetous, thrilling, seductive. She’d colored delicately every time he glanced her way.

“How do you like music school?” he’d asked while they sat in the grass at the creek’s edge, and Ethan quietly smoked a cigarette.

She’d had to drag her eyes away from his broad chest. “I like it,” she said. “I miss home, though.” She’d played with a blade of grass. “I guess things have been busy for you and Matt.”

“Not busy enough,” he’d said enigmatically. He’d turned his head and his silver eyes had cut at her. “You didn’t even write. Jan worried.”

“I haven’t had time. I had so much to catch up on.”

“Boys?” he questioned, his eyes flickering as he lifted the cigarette to his thin lips.

“No!” She averted her face from that suddenly mocking gaze. “I mean, there hasn’t been time.”

“That’s something.” He’d crushed out the cigarette in the grass. “We’ve had visitors. A film crew, doing a commercial of all things, using the ranch as a backdrop. The models are fascinated by cattle. One of them actually asked me if you really pumped a cow’s tail to get milk.”

She laughed delightedly. “What did you tell her?”

“That she was welcome to try one, if she wanted to.”

“Shame on you, Ethan!” Her face lit up as she stared at him. Then, very suddenly, the smile died and she was looking almost straight into his soul. She shivered with the feverish reaction of her body to that long, intimate look, and Ethan abruptly got to his feet and moved toward her with a stride that was lazy, graceful, almost stalking.

“Trying to seduce me, Bella?” he’d taunted softly, all too aware of how her soft eyes were smoothing over his body as he stopped just above her.

She’d really colored then. “Of course not!” she’d blurted out. “I was…just looking at you.”

“You’ve been doing that all day.” He’d moved then, straddling her prone body so that he was kneeling with her hips between his strong thighs. He’d looked at her, his eyes lingering on her breasts for so long that they began to feel tight and swollen. She followed his gaze and found the nipples hard and visible under the silky fabric. She’d caught her breath and lifted her hands to cover them, but his steely fingers had snapped around her wrists and pushed them down beside her head. He’d leaned forward to accomplish that, and now his hips were squarely over hers and she could feel the contours of his body beginning to change.

Her shocked eyes met his. “Ethan, what are you…” she began huskily.

“Don’t move your hips,” he said, his voice deep and soft as he eased his chest down over hers and began to drag it slowly, tenderly, against her taut nipples. “Lock your fingers into mine,” he whispered, and still that aching, arousing pressure went on and on. He bent, so that his hard, thin mouth was poised just above hers. He bit softly at her lower lip, drawing it into his lips, teasing it, while his tongue traced the moist inner softness.

She moaned sharply at the intimacy of his mouth and his body, her eyes wide open, astonished.

“Yes,” he said, lifting his face enough to see her eyes, to hold them with his glittering ones. “You and me. Hadn’t you even considered the possibility while you were being thrown at one eligible man after another by Jan’s ceaseless matchmaking a few months ago?”

“No,” she confessed unsteadily. “I thought you wouldn’t be interested in somebody my age.”

“A virgin has her own special appeal,” he replied. “And you are still a virgin, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she managed, wondering at her inability to produce anything except monosyllables while Ethan’s body made hers ache all over.

“I’ll stop before we do anything risky,” he said quietly. “But we’re going to enjoy each other for a long, long time before it gets to that point. Open your mouth when I kiss it, little one. Let me feel your tongue touching mine…”

She did moan then, letting his tongue penetrate the soft recesses of her mouth. The intimacy of it lifted her body against his and he made a deep, rough sound in his throat as he let his hips down over hers completely.

He felt her faint panic and subdued it with soft words and the gentle caress of his lean, strong hands on her back. Under her, the soft grass made a tickly cushion while she looked up into Ethan’s quiet eyes.

“Afraid?” he asked gently. “I know you can feel how aroused I am, but I’m not going to hurt you. Just relax. We can lie together like this. I won’t lose control, even if you let me do what comes next.”

She felt the faint tenderness of her lips as she spoke, tasted him on them with awe. “What…comes next?” she asked.

“This.” He lifted up on one elbow and traced his fingers over her shoulder and her collarbone, down onto the faint swell of her breast. He stroked her with the lightest kind of touch, going close to but never actually touching the taut nipple. She couldn’t help her own reaction to the intimate feel of his lean fingers on her untouched body. She shuddered with pure pleasure, and the silver eyes above her watched with their own pleasure in her swift response.

“I know what you want,” he whispered softly, and holding her gaze, he began to tease the nipple with a light, repetitive stroke that made her arch with each exquisite movement. “Have you ever done this with a man?”

“Never,” she confessed jerkily. She shivered all over and her fingers bit into his muscular arms.

His face changed at her admission. It grew harder and his eyes began to glow. He lifted himself away a few inches. “Pull your bathing suit down to your hips,” he said with rough tenderness.

“I couldn’t!” she gasped, flushing.

“I want to look at you while I touch you,” he said. “I want to show you how intimate it is to lie against a man’s body with no fabric in the way to blunt the sweetness of touching.”

“But, I’ve never…” she protested weakly.

His voice, when he spoke, was slow and soft and solemn. “Bella, is there another man you want this first time to be with?”

That put it all in perspective. “No,” she said finally. “I couldn’t let anyone else look at me. Only you.”

His chest rose and fell heavily. “Only me,” he breathed. “Do it.”

She did, amazed at her own abandon. She pulled the straps gingerly down her arms and loosened the fabric from her breasts. His eyes slid down with the progress of the bathing suit and when she was nude from the waist up, he hung there above her, just looking at the delicate rise of her hard-tipped breasts, drinking in their beauty.

She gasped and his eyes lifted to hers, as they shared the impact of the first intimate thing they’d ever done together.

“I didn’t think it would be you, the first time,” she whispered shakily.

“That makes us even,” he replied. His hand moved, tracing around her breast. His hips shifted, and she felt his pulsating need with awe as she registered his blatant masculinity.

His hand abruptly covered her breast, his palm taking in the hard nipple, and she moaned as his mouth ground down into hers.

Her body was alive. It wanted him, needed him. She felt her hips twist instinctively upward, seeking an even closer contact. He groaned, and one long, powerful leg insinuated itself between hers, giving her the contact she wanted. But it wasn’t enough. It was fever, burning, blistering, and she felt her hands go to his hips, digging in, her voice breaking under the furious crush of his mouth. His hands slid under her, his hair-roughened chest dragged over her soft breasts while his hips thrust down rhythmically against hers and she felt him in a contact that made her cry out.

The cry was what stopped him. He had to drag his mouth away. She saw the effort it took, and he stared down at her with eyes that were frankly frightening. He was barely able to breathe. He groaned out loud. Then he’d arched away from her and gotten jerkily to his feet, to dive headfirst into the swimming hole, leaving a dazed, shocked Arabella on the bank with her bathing suit down around her hips.

She’d only just managed to pull it up when he finally climbed out of the water and stood over her. She was at a definite disadvantage, but she let him pull her to her feet.

He didn’t let go of her hand. His fingers lifted it to his mouth, and he put his lips to its soft palm. “I envy the man who gets you, Bella,” he said solemnly. “You’re very special.”

“Why did you do that?” she asked hesitantly.

He averted his eyes. “Maybe I wanted a taste of you,” he said with a cynical smile before he turned away from her to get his towel. “I’ve never had a virgin.”

“Oh.”

He watched her gather up her own things and slip into her shoes as they went back to the pickup truck. “You didn’t take that little interlude seriously, I hope?” he asked abruptly as he held the door open for her.

She had, but the look on his face was warning her not to. She cleared her throat. “No, I didn’t take it seriously,” she said.

“I’m glad. I don’t mind furthering your education, but I love my freedom.”

That stung. Probably it was meant to. He’d come very close to losing control, and he didn’t like it. His anger had been written all over his face.

“I didn’t ask you to further my education,” she’d snapped.

And he’d smiled, mockingly. “No? It seemed to me that you’d done everything but wear a sign. Or maybe I just read you too well. You wanted me, honey, and I was glad to oblige. But only to a certain point. Virgins are exciting to kiss, but I like an experienced woman under me in bed.”

She’d slapped him. It hadn’t been something she meant to do, but the remark had stung viciously. He hadn’t tried to slap her back. He hadn’t said anything. He’d smiled that cold, mocking, arrogant smile that meant he’d scored and nothing else mattered. Then he’d put her in the truck and driven her home.

The next week he’d been seen everywhere with Miriam, and Arabella overheard Miriam telling the other model about her plans for Ethan. Arabella had gone straight to Ethan, despite their strained relationship, to tell him what Miriam had said before it was too late. But he’d laughed at her, accused her of being jealous. And then he’d sent her out of his life with a scorching account of her inadequacies.

Four years ago, and she could still hear every word. She closed her eyes. She wondered if his memories were as bitter and as painful as her own. She doubted it. Surely Miriam had left him with some happy ones.

Finally, worn out and with her wounds reopened, she slept.

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