His pregnant mistress

by Carol Marinelli

  'What?' Incredulous eyes snapped to hers.

  'I was going to bring up the baby alone, whatever happened to Richard. I always intended to be the sole carer...'

  'Who needs a man in their life?' he jeered. 'What the hell's the point of rotting up a kid with a male perspective on life? Is this one of your half-baked hippy schemes that you roped Richard into, Mia? One of the trendy bandwagons you decided to jump on board...'

  He shook his head. 'You don't fool me for a moment, Mia Stewart. You had this planned down to the last detail, didn't you? This was your last little stab at the Carvelle fortune.' She opened her mouth to argue but he overrode her in an instant. 'Well, bring it on, Mia.' The hands that beckoned her were anything but welcoming, his unusually pale face sav­age in the fluorescent hospital light. 'Bring it on, be­cause I'm ready for you—more ready than you'll ever know.'

  'What's that supposed to mean?' In an instinctive gesture her hands cradled her stomach, pulling her knees up, protecting the one thing on God's earth that was hers and hers alone. 'You don't scare me, Ethan, and as hard as it may be for you to believe your wealth doesn't intimidate me either. I don't want a cent from the Carvelles.'

  She let out a low, mirthless laugh . 'I don't want them anywhere near me, in fact, but I will not deny this child its father. I will not lie here and tell you it's not Richard's child just to make things easier for me. This is Richard's baby and I'll never be ashamed of that fact.'

  Something in her voice seemed to reach him, some­thing in the proud jut of her chin, the glittering anger in her eyes halted his angry retort. His eyes drifted down to her stomach, staring at the firm mound under the sheet, one hand moving to his face, covering his mouth for a second. Then he closed his eyes and for an appalling moment she thought he was going to break down, that the impervious mask that was Ethan Carvelle was about to slip, but he recovered quickly, dragging his eyes back to her. repeating a question that she still hadn't answered, but from the hoarseness in his voice, the slight grey tinge creeping into his features, Mia knew his world had been rocked, knew he was actually starting to believe that the baby she was carrying might be Richard's.

  'Why didn't we know?' His voice was raw and he cleared his throat, fixing her with his black stare, but it wasn't quite so assured now. 'If what you're saying is true, why the hell didn't Richard say anything? He never even implied you were anything more than friends...'

  'During one of your weekly phone calls?' Mia re­torted nastily, but she was beyond caring now, the implication that she was in this only for the money too abhorrent not to reciprocate with harsh words of her own. 'Or perhaps he should have included it in one of the regular emails you fired to each other...'

  Seeing the pain in his eyes, she realized she'd gone too far; the day of Richard's funeral was hardly the time to point out the void between them, the tragedy of a relationship reduced to stilted birthday and Christmas cards. And, Mia thought reluctantly, given the rapidly unfolding circumstances, given the Carvelle name and all its implications, Ethan's reac­tion was probably merited.

  It wasn't his fault that she loved him.

  'I'm sorry, that was uncalled for.' After the longest pause she found her voice.

  'It's the truth.' Ethan shrugged.

  'But this really was a very much wanted baby.'

  Maybe Mia's gloves were off, but Ethan's were still firmly tied on, every word a painful punch to her already fragile soul.

  'Please.' His voice was dripping with sarcasm as he hit her while she was down. 'So wanted that none of his family even knew about it, so wanted we didn't even know he was dating you, so wanted that a baby wasn't even on the agenda till he was dying...'

  'He wasn't supposed to die!' Agony rasped in every word, her strained voice overriding his power­ful one on emotion alone, forcing a quiet, forcing him to stop his tirade to stand stock-still as Mia continued. 'He wasn't supposed to die,' she said again, but Ethan remained unmoved.

  'He had cancer, Mia. The doctors gave him eigh­teen months, two years at most. So what the hell was he doing having children? What the hell was he doing bringing a child into the world he would surely never be there to watch grow up? It just doesn't add up.'

  'We don't all live by your rules, Ethan; we don't all walk around with a mental calculator weighing up the pros and cons, checking for longevity and distant projections. Richard knew he might never see his child grow up and I knew it too, but it was a risk we were prepared to take’

  'You really talked about it?' His voice told her the preposterousness he felt in her actions. The incredu­lity in his eyes as he stared back at her only distanced him further, yet she ached to reach him, to drag him beside her, to reach an understanding while somehow avoiding the truth.

  'We talked about it for weeks, Ethan, for weeks.'

  'So it wasn't an accident, a one-night stand...'

  'This was a wanted baby, Ethan.'

  'Oh, I bet it was,' Ethan hissed. 'It's what you've been wanting for years, isn't it, Mia?'

  'Ethan, please, you don't understand...'

  'Don't I?' Ethan snapped, his face menacingly close as the doctor melt ed away. 'Save the tears, Mia. You've got what you wanted, or most of it.’

  'Meaning?'

  'You couldn't quite manage to hook the Carvelle surname for yourself, but you'd use a dying, confused man to ensure you snaked your way in some how. But you've picked the wrong family, Mia. If you think for one second my parents are going to be the pushover Richard clearly was, then I' m about to burst your bub­ble, darling...'

  His lips sneered around the word, no sentiment intended as he spat the endearment. 'They'll wrap you up so tightly in legal red tape you'll be pulling your pension before you see a single cent for your efforts.'

  'You bastard.'

  'No.' Ethan shook his head, his eyes glittering with rage, his face taut, his breath hot on her cheeks, his hand moving to her stomach and holding the swollen flesh for a moment, shuttering his eyes for a second as if it physically hurt to touch her, to feel the life within her.

  'That's what this little one is; that's the level you'd stoop to, to get what you want.'

  'This was never about money.'

  'Good,' Ethan quipped, 'because you'll die waiting before my parents come around. No smiling, cooing baby will melt their cold hearts.'

  'I don't need the Carvelles' money,' Mia hissed. 'I have a life, a home, a career I'm proud of and I'll do just fine on my own.'

  She thought that was the end of it, almost thought she'd seen the last of him, that Ethan would walk off now, but still he stood, his eyes narrowing as he stared down at her.

  'So what now?'

  'You get on with your life and I'll get on with mine,' Mia snapped, but even as the words came out she sensed their futility, knew that now Ethan knew it was Richard's child she was carrying he couldn't just walk away.

  'I don't expect you to understand, Ethan,' she said more softly. 'I don't expect you to understand what Richard and I shared, but all I ask is that you believe me when I say that this had nothing to do with money and every thing to do with love. He wasn't supposed to die...'

  Tears brimmed in those aquamarine pools, and the colour was so vivid, so reminiscent of the beautiful land she inhabited, for a tiny second there he felt as if he had come home.

  Home, not just to the tropical paradise of Cairns, where lush green trees reached for a sky that blended with the ocean, but home to the capricious, captivat­ing spirit of Mia, and so alien was the feeling that welled inside him, so physical the pain that suddenly gripped him, it took a second for Ethan to register it as need.

  A need so pure he could feel it, a yearning almost for the balmy, safe haven he had found all those years ago, for the time spent in each other's arms and minds, when the world had seemed at peace, when there was nothing he wouldn't have done for her; and he ached, ached to reach over to catch the splash of tears that rolled down her cheeks, to pull her in his arms and make her world safe. But he coul
dn't.

  Couldn't allow himself to fall under her spell again, couldn't go through it again and expect to come out the other side. He had to be strong here, had to remain impervious to her charms, hold onto his head and for­get about his heart.

  'But he did die,' Ethan said finally. 'Richard did die, Mia, and if you're telling the truth, if this is his child, then we've got a hell of a lot to talk about!'

  She could feel the tiny hairs rising on the back of her neck, the chilling feeling that suddenly everything had become impossibly complicated, fin ally admitted to herself that today wasn't going to bring closure, that things had, in fact, just started.

  'Wait here,' he ordered, jangling her car keys in his pocket and pinning her with his eyes. 'I'll go and get your car, but don't even think about discharging yourself and jumping in a taxi, Mia. Believe me, I'll find you.'

  CHAPTER THREE

  She should go.

  Every sensible thought told Mia to just demand the drip be taken down, pack up her few things, jump in a taxi and get the hell out of there.

  Ethan Carvelle had no say here. He couldn't de­mand she stay at the hospital; he had nothing to do with this.

  Time and again she pushed down the cot side of the trolley, picked up a cotton swab, ready to pull the blessed drip out herself. It was her life, her choice if she walked out of the hospital this very moment; his idle threats bore no weight in the real world. Ethan Carvelle counted for nothing here.

  But time and again she pulled the side of the trolley back up, leant against the pillows in utter defeat as the fluid dripped into her veins, knowing it was only herself she was kidding.

  Ethan Carvelle counted for everything.

  He had since that day seven long, lonely years ago when he had walked into that restaurant. Every pore, every inch of her skin had screamed for him since then, since that one sweet moment when he had not only taken her virginity, but altered her whole per­spective, shifted the lens, made the world sharper somehow, invigorated her, exhausted her, engulfed her.

  And maybe she could leave now, could get up and walk away, but the action would be merely physical. Her mind, her soul, her heart were constantly with him and she begged for resolution, needed this chance of closure as much as Ethan clearly did.

  Needed to tell him how much he had hurt her, needed this time together before she closed this painful chapter for good and moved on.

  And it had to be closed, Mia reminded herself; there was too much water under the bridge for anything else.

  She sensed his presence before she saw him.

  Felt the tension in the room lift a notch as the doc­tor removed her drip and the nurse helped her out of her gown, and tried t o ply her shaking body into the beastly black dress.

  'I'll take it from here.'

  He stood at the entrance to the cubicle, supremely in control, trapping her with his gaze as the medical personnel drifted off.

  ‘I can dress myself, thank you.'

  But pride had no place in this cramped hospital cubicle; shaking hands and his unwavering gaze made the simplest task impossible. With only one stocking on it was easier to rip it off than attempt the other, forcing bare feet into way-too-high heels, then reluc­tantly taking his hand as she lowered herself off the trolley.

  'Have you got everything?'

  'Apart from my pride.' Angry eyes met his. 'How dare you demand I stay till you return? How dare you exert your authority on the hospital staff and talk about me as if I were some sort of unhinged person? I nearly went, you know.'

  'But you didn't,' Ethan pointed out, not remotely fazed by her outburst. 'Turn around; your zip's undone.'

  And if she hadn't been seven months pregnant she'd have reached her hand behind her back and pulled it up herself in one lithe movement, but pregnancy allowed for no such luxuries, and pulling her dress to her waist and half doing the blessed zip up then twisting it around as she had done this morning clearly wasn't an option right now.

  Instead, burning with shame, she stood stock still, refusing his order to turn around, her breath catching in her throat when Ethan gave an easy shrug and moved behind her, pil­ing her blonde curls unceremoniously on top of her head and lifting her h and to hold them.

  'It's stuck.' She could feel his breath on her neck, feel his warm fingers as they tugged at the treacherous zipper that had chosen the worst possible time to give in on her. Okay, it wasn't a maternity dress, just a simple linen shift, and maybe Mia had been pushing her luck choosing to wear it today, but never had she envisaged this outcome.

  When she had put it on t his morning, not for a single second had it entered her head that Ethan Carvelle would be dressing her later. Undressing her maybe.

  The honest admission, even if it was only to her­self, caused a deep blush to darken her cheeks, spreading over her neck and down to her swollen breasts. As his hands made contact with her spine it was as if he'd reached into her body and touched her somewhere deep in side, her whole body involuntarily quivering as slowly he worked the zip upwards, press­ing one hand onto her exposed flesh, past the black of her bra strap, up between her shoulder blades, her arms trembling as she held her hair out of t he way, eyes closing as he moved to the tiny hook and eye at the top of the neckline, his touch more than she could bear and be expected to breathe.

  'That's fine.' Pulling away too sharply, she shook her head slightly, his bland, utterly unmoved expres­sion only serving to exacerbate her palpable tension. 'Can I go home now?'

  'Of course.'

  'You collected my car?' Mia checked and Ethan nodded. 'How did you know which one it was?' Her eyes narrowed, watching every flicker of hi s reaction, waiting for a blush, a look of discomfort to flash over his face, but Ethan remained unmoved, giving a small shrug before he answered.

  'I've been watching you.'

  'Watching me?' Appalled by his answer, gibbering with rage, she stepped closer, but instead of stepping back Ethan stood his ground, the closeness she had instigated excruciatingly uncomfortable for Mia, but having zero effect on Ethan as her enraged voice rose.

  'What do you mean you've been watching me? For how long?'

  'A few weeks now.' Ethan shrugged. 'Despite your little speech about being the only one close to Richard, Mia, the simple fact is that I've visited my brother regularly. Towards the end I visited him every day, in fact.'

  'But you live in Sydney, your whole family's in Sydney now...' 'Correct. And as much as you'd like to write us all off and give more weight to your theory that all Carvelles are callous, the simple fact of the matter is that since Richard was diagnosed as terminal I flew to Cairns every week to visit him, which is no small journey, and towards the end, when I knew time was running out, I moved into one of my properties here so I could spend more time with him.'

  It was too much to take in. Her mind whirred, reel­ing at the information, that Ethan had been here, that he had been watching her these past few weeks, had been in the hospice holding Richard's hand. Mia's mouth opened and closed over and over, hundreds of questions bobbing on her tongue as she tried to fathom what exactly it was she wanted to ask.

  Ethan answered her unvoiced question.

  ‘I avoided you, Mia.' His words were short and clipped, his eyes more menacing than she could ever have imagined, unrecognizable from the giving young man who had made love to her all those years ago, a world away from the tenderness he had once so easily imparted. 'Truth be known, I could think of nothing worse than being in the same room as you: a con­frontation at a dying man's bedside really isn't my style. Despite the crap you might have read about me, I do have some standards.'

  'No, Ethan, you don't.' It was Mia's voice that was short now, Mia's voice unwavering and in control, her eyes defiant as she stared back at him. 'I've read all about your multimillion-dollar deals, circling like a vulture over failing hotel businesses then swooping in and buying them for a song.'

  'That's business.' Ethan shrugged.

  'Perhaps,' Mia conceded, but her st
ance stayed strong. 'But what about the women, Ethan? What about the women you woo into your bed, only t o discard the following morning?'

  'I'm not into one-night stands,' Ethan clipped. 'If you actually read the papers a bit more closely you'd have realized most of my relationships survive a bit longer than that.'

  'Not much,' Mia sneered. 'A week, a month at the most.'

  'So?' Ethan shrugged. ‘I don't lie, Mia. I never promise it's going to be for ever, and if you actually asked any of the women I've dated in the past I can guarantee not one of them regret it, however short and sweet it may have been.'

  'You can guarantee it, can you?' Her lips were set in a taut line, her breasts rising and falling as if they had a life of their own as the unleashed fury that had held her together for seven years ripped out of con­trol.