His pregnant mistress

by Carol Marinelli

  She nodded her understanding, his hand moving reluctantly away, and she missed it as soon as it was none, missed the strength and warmth of his touch, the tiny shared intimacy, even missed the vice of his grip on her wrist as he let it go.

  His back was to the sky; in the darkness his ex­pression was unreadable. 'Night, then,' she said, her voice slightly breathless, almost willing his hand back, almost willing him to touch her again, f or this loneliness to end.

  He didn't answer, and she didn't expect him to, slipping across the balcony and pulling open the door, reluctant to go but desperate to escape this emotional melting pot.

  'Mia?' Something in his voice stilled her, some­thing in his expression as she turned around made her want to weep, for never had she seen him so unsure, never had she seen Ethan anything other than confi­dent and in control. 'Do you think he knew? Do you think he understood?’

  'About the baby?' she checked, but Ethan shook his head. 'Do you think he knew he was loved?' Ethan's eyes searched hers. 'Deep down I mean. After I left Cairns we barely kept in touch, after he came back, after I left...''

  he faltered for a second before continuing '... everything changed between us and I never really understood why. I've been going over and over the visits to the hospice and I can't remember if I told him that I really did love him...' He gave a hollow laugh. 'I probably didn't.' The longest pause followed, his haughty face utterly still. 'I don't even know if I really believe in it.'

  'He was loved,' Mia whispered. 'And I'm sure Richard knew it. He's at peace now, Ethan, you have to hold onto that. Although he was too young to die we both know that in the end it wasn't too soon — he's free of all that pain now and hopefully somewhere safe.'

  And when she found her room, lay down on the cool sheets and stared at the relentless waves breaking on the shore, the moon drifting past, the world just carrying right on as before, even though Mia had thought it was over, that she'd expended her grief long, long before her dear friend had died, she knew then she had been mistaken. That the quiet tears that slid into her hair weren't for her baby, weren't for Ethan out there lonely and grieving on the balcony, weren't even for herself and for the love and friendship that had been taken too soon.

  But for Richard.

  For a man who was kind and gentle, a man who hadn't deserved to mis s out on the precious years that should have been ahead.

  'Are you sure about this?' Richard's incredulous voice seemed to whisper in the air around her as she recalled long-ago words that had sealed her fate;

  Richard pleased yet stunned at what she had agreed to, the commitment she'd been taking on just so that he might live. 'Are you sure you know what you're taking on, Mia ?

  'Of course I'm sure.'

  How naive she had been, how pathetically naive to think that the promises they had made as they'd stared into the fire that night wouldn't impact on her life for ever.

  ‘No one must ever know the real reason, Mia!' Richard's usually gentle voice had been firm. 'We both have to promise that, no matter what happens, no matter the personal cost, we never reveal the rea­son for this pregnancy. It wouldn't be fair to the baby. If the truth came out hat this baby was conceived by any other means than love.'

  A different kind of love.

  A different kind of love, which most people would never begin to understand.

  Richard had been right to make her promise be­cause it would be so easy now to tell Ethan the truth, so easy to exonerate herself, but at what cost to her child?

  With tears sliding into her hair Mia stared into the darkness, feeling the baby swoop within, the innocent party in all this, the only one that really mattered.

  Richard was gone now.

  The secret was hers to keep.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  'The doctor's here.' Dropping one of his shirts on the bed, Ethan stared down at Mia. 'You can wear this.'

  Startled eyes flashed open and for a second Mia truly thought she was dreaming, waking up to some delicious fantasy in which Ethan Carvelle still existed, the gorgeous white room she had barely taken in last night meriting more than a cursory glance. Dark jarrah floorboards were a delicious contrast to the white walls, void of even a single painting, the massive glass wall the only artwork needed, the endless ex­panse of ocean a stunning backdrop, but as her eyes dragged back to Ethan even the ocean paled beside his beauty.

  He'd been swimming—a faint hint of chlorine hung in the air, clear eyes slightly bloodshot and sparkling from the water as black eyelashes clung together in short spikes. His hair was for once dishevelled, no doubt courtesy of the towel slung around his neck, the only thing he wore apart from another towel slung low on his waist, which begged a question in itself, the silky ebony line of hair on his flat, toned stomach leading suggestively downwards, teasing her mind as to what was underneath. And if she hadn't loathed him so much, if the history between them wasn't quite so vile, it would have been the easiest thing in the world to pull him into t he bed beside her.

  'What doctor?' Attempting to orientate herself to at least sound as if she were in some sort of control, Mia sat up, glancing at the bedside clock, appalled to see the hand edging towards eleven. 'I'm supposed to be at the hospital in five minutes.'

  'Forget about the hospital,' Ethan responded. 'Garth Wilson is one of Cairns' leading obstetricians—well, according to my manager's wife, though I have to admit I have my reservations. He looks like one of your mob...'

  'And what's that supposed to mean?' Mia retorted hotly as Ethan gave an annoying shrug.

  'One of those peace loving types. From my brief conversation he's into house calls and "really getting to know his ladies”. Personally I prefer my doctor with a mahogany desk between us.'

  'That figures.' Mia sniffed.

  'Anyway, I've checked all his credentials, which are pretty impressive, so I've asked him to take over your care.'

  'Excuse me?' Mia would have stood, would have jumped right out oft he bed and extended her five-feet-two frame for all it was worth, but given that she was wearing only a pair of panties she had to settle for sitting up with the sheet wrapped firmly around her and fixing Ethan with what she hoped was a with­ering stare.

  'If I want a second opinion, then I'll ar­range one myself. I certainly don't need you to do it on my behalf. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to ring the hospital and see if I can reschedule my appointment.'

  'Forget the hospital.' Ethan shook his head. 'Forget nameless faces looking after you. You need continuity of care...'

  'Since when did you become such an expert on women's health?' Mia snapped, not waiting for a re­sponse before she carried on hotly. 'I don't want to hear another word about private obstetricians and home visits; there's absolutely no need for this.'

  'Oh, I'd say there's every need.' In a surprising move he lowered himself from his rather menacing position standing over her and instead sat on the edge of the bed, his voice almost bordering on tender when he spoke. 'Mia, you're underweight, your blood pres­sure's through the roof and you collapsed yesterday due to dehydration.'

  'I've explained all that,' Mia argued, but Ethan shook his head.

  'You forgot to eat, Mia. Yes, it was Richard's fu­neral, yes, your mind was on other things, but you can't put everything down to yesterday. I don't know much about pregnant women but I'd hazard a guess that their weight is supposed to go up.'

  'How do you know it hasn't?' Mia retorted. 'I've always been on the thin side.'

  'No, you haven't.' He shook his head, one hand moving across the rumpled sheet, catching her calf through the cotton. Like a knee-jerk reaction, she went to pull it away, his touch more than she could bear, but Ethan held on tightly and she stared back at him, like a startled kitten. 'I've seen you, Mia, remember?'

  And he did remember, every day, every night he remembered, and staring at her now, feeling the warmth of her leg through the sheet, it was so easy to drift back, to capture for a tiny second the moment it had all started.
/>   The flash of the photographer, capturing the mo­ment for ever as they had sat at the restaurant table. The weight of the world disappearing as they'd drifted off to a safer place that had been only for them. Feeding each other seafood as if they'd been together for ever, talking, laughing, feeling.

  And later, when the only place to go had been fur­ther they had wandered away from the thrum of ac­tivity on the shore, away from the lights, along darker streets they'd walk ed, the buildings less attractive, the occasional drunk asleep in a doorway , until they'd come to a halt at some ugly metal roller doors.

  'This is my studio.' Mia keyed in the combination. Ethan waited as the door slid up, ready to shake his head, to take her to some luxurious place where she surely belonged, but as he stepped inside, as she flicked on a light all Ethan knew was they were in the right place.

  Every wall, every surface an extension of this de­lectable woman, every piece of dusty art that littered the tiny, cramped sp ace as captivating and as inspiring as Mia.

  'This is all your work.' He eyed the stacked can­vases, the dusty benches filled with tiny sculptures.

  ‘I sculpt.' She gave a tiny shrug. ‘I paint as well.'

  'These are beautiful.'

  But not perfect. I'm going to university this year, to study art...'

  'Do you need to?'

  She nodded. ‘I need to learn more techniques. At the moment I'm just working on feelings; there are far more hits than misses...'

  She was pulling at a ladder now, running it along the length of a back wall and climbing upwards, and the most sensible thing Ethan could do w as turn and walk away, but instead he was following her up into the darkness, reaching the attic part of her studio, his eyes taking a moment to become accustomed to the darkness.

  'Put on the light.'

  'There are no lights up here,' Mia said softly, 'just the light from the bay. I don't normally sleep here, only if I'm caught up in a piece of work, sometimes I ring my father and tell him I'm staying over.'

  He stared across at her, the sensible part of him struggling to make himseIf heard, but a low white bed was making itself known.

  'I'm sorry.' She gave an apologetic shrug. 'It's way too messy; I should never have brought you here; I never bring anyone up here; I don't know what I was thinking...'

  He could hear the sting of embarrassment in her voice, the heady, lust-induced euphoria of before ebb­ing away now. 'You must think I'm some sort of...'

  She cleared her throat. 'Like I said—I've never brought anyone up here.'

  'No one ?'

  She shook her head, blonde curls silver in the moonlight, her eyes glittering as she stared back at him.

  'No one.' She swallowed hard. 'Before, in the res­taurant, if I came on too strong...'

  'You didn't,' Ethan said slowly.

  'I just never expected to feel...' Again her voice trailed off, but the word hung in the air around them, the single word capturing again some of the magic that had imbued them.

  She made him feel.

  This stunning, mysterious, beautiful woman made him feel.

  Ethan Carvelle was used to beautiful women, had made love to and rejected some of Australia's finest beauties; but not one of them held a candle to this bewitching jewel that forced his attention tonight, not one of the m had even come close to lowering his guard in the way Mia had.

  Reason and sensibility could go to hell.

  He was twenty three years old, for God's sake; she was over the age of consent.

  This wasn't wrong.

  'You're beautiful.' He'd never said it to a woman before, normally it w as Ethan on the receiving end of compliments, but she made honesty so easy.

  'Tell me, Mia, what do you want?'

  She blinked back at him, the moonlight catching her dangling earrings, shimmering against her long neck as she swallowed hard.

  ‘I want you to make love to me.' He could see her eyes widening, heard a tiny nervous giggle as if she couldn't believe what she had just said.

  'Go on.' His voice was thick and low, his breath so shallow he had to remind himself to slow it down.

  ‘I want you to show me how.'

  'You've never made love before?'

  She shook her head. He could see her cheek dark­ening, feel her embarrassment and though he ached to soothe it, wanted only to lay her on the massive white bed and grant her wish with no questions asked, still a piece of him held back.

  'What about Richard?'

  'We're friends, Ethan, that's all.'

  And he believed her.

  'Richard and I are just good friends, nothing more than that...' She gave a tiny shrug, the movement in her shoulders causing her breasts to lift invitingly, causing the buds of her nipples to graze against her dress, and he bit back a physical need to cross the room, to hush that full mouth with a heavy kiss, but he had asked the question, the least he could do was list en to her answer. 'I don't expect anything from you, Ethan. In a couple of months I go to uni; once you've found Richard you’ll be back in Sydney. I know we're worlds apart...'

  She never finished, he couldn't let her, crossing the space in an instant, his lips crushing down on hers, drowning out her last gasps of reason, his expert

  tongue searching the hollows of her throat, holding her needy body against his. Her lips sweeter, more precious than anything he had ever tasted in his life, kissing her back with a depth and passion he hadn't known he was capable of.

  Pulling the pins from her hair till the blonde locks cascade d down, feeling the cool curtain in one hand as he wrestled with the zip­per on her dress, sliding it down over her shoulders, his arousal so furious it hurt. Seeing her standing before him, no bra, the white pearls of her tiny breasts, soft and ripe and plump against her toned body, with just a tin y pair of panties. He pulled the silken garment aside and, seeing the delicate blonde of her bush, he thought he would explode in anticipation.

  That she was here, that he could have her, that this divine, delectable creature wanted him as much as he did her, was almost more than he could fathom. But he dragged on every last reserve of control, pulling back slightly, taking her soft, tiny breasts in his hot hand as the other slipped her panties down, running a hand over the hollows of her stomach, fingers lightly brushing the soft blonde hair, his tongue on her flat, quivering stomach enough force alone to guide her softly onto the bed. He knelt over her, tak­ing his time, focusing for a decadent moment on each breast, whispering s oft endearments into ears more beautifully shaped than any shell on the b each.

  His experienced fingers found her private jewel, worked it slowly, rhythmically, the palm of his hand grazing her swollen mound, feeling her quiver under his touch, working the moist warmth till the nervous gasp that had first emanated from her lips turned into low moans of desire, snaking his fingers gently inside as her gasps grew louder, bringing her ever closer to the edge with masterful fingers. If it had been anyone else, he would have taken he r then, would have given into his own furious desire and plunged his length inside, but he wanted more for her, wanted so much more, so instead of his own needs he concentrated on hers.

  Burying his head in that sweet glistening pool, he was rewarded tenfold, the ecstatic cries the feel of her thighs quivering against his cheeks more of an aphrodisiac than he could have imagined. Ethan knew he couldn't hold back a second longer, scared of hurting her, that his furious, rampant arousal might pain her virgin flesh, but she was so wonder­fully wet and warm and receiving as he thrust inside, crying out his name as he called out hers, wrapping lithe legs around him as he plunged ever deeper.

  He exploded at the first thrust, feeling her spasm around him, her whole body rigid as he delved further inside her, and he never wanted it t o end, never wanted to go back to where he had been, wanted this shuddering ecstasy, this heady moment to go on for ever, to never lose the memory, the feeling of holding Mia in his arms.

  Normally he hated talking, normally he rolled over, stared into the nigh t and just wish
ed the face on the pillow would be quiet, wished that he did n't resent the woman who lay beside him, wished he could just get the hell out of there and go.

  But not tonight.

  Tonight he rolled onto his other side, faced the woman who lay beside him, with not a tinge of shame or regret to sully what had taken place.

  'Ethan. Thank you.'

  A lazy smile inched over his face. 'For what?'

  'For making love to me, for...'

  ‘I haven't finished yet.' He could feel the stirrings starting already, the feel of her, the sound of her, the scent of her enough, more than enough, to arouse him all over again, and right there and then Ethan knew she had nothing to do with whatever her father was up to, knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she wasn't involved in Richard's disappearance. Most pointedly of all as he stared back at that innocent, beautiful face he could think of a million worse things than being tied to her for ever. 'In fact we've barely started.'