His pregnant mistress

by Carol Marinelli

  But it wasn't only Ethan's feelings she was saving by diluting the truth; revealing all about Richard's plight could only bring Ethan one step closer to her own truth.

  'Richard was in a mess when he came back. It was only after my father had been sacked, after you'd left that. I found out what had been going o n.'

  'Why, though?' Ethan asked, visibly perplexed. 'Why didn't your father tell the truth when we con­fronted him? Why didn't he tell us what had been happening instead of carrying the can for Richard?'

  'Because, as you so delicately pointed out, cover­ing Richard's tracks was a crime in itself. He had hoped, of course, that when the truth came out Hugh would understand his reasons.'

  'Only the truth never came out?'

  She stared back at him for an age before answering, her lips so taut they barely moved when finally she spoke.

  'Contrary to the firing squad he was expecting to face when the debts were uncovered, my father received a handsome pay­out accompanied naturally with a lot of legal jargon which he didn't understand.'

  Choking back humiliation, she forced herself to look at him. 'But I did, Ethan. Especially the clause about relationships real or implied. I believe that was aimed at me, wasn't it, Ethan?'

  'It was a damned good deal,' Ethan responded, but the assuredness had gone from his voice now. 'You might not believe this. Mia but as much as I loathed what you'd done, I still fought for you. We could have left you with nothing, dragged in the police...'

  "Sometimes I wish you had’ Mia said softly. ‘As much as I loved Richard, it took a long time for me to forgive him for what he put my father through’

  She closed her eyes for a painful second. 'But the truth would have hurt us all.' She gave a hollow laugh. 'What happened to the man who held me, Ethan? What happened to the man who said that he believed in me and that come what may we'd face it together?"

  'He grew up.' Ethan said darkly. Right around the time he came home and found out that the beautiful woman he thought he knew, the woman he'd held in his arms and made love to, the woman he'd have given anything, anything to be with had been using the same charms, playing the very same game, with his brother. ‘I wouldn't have given a damn about your father's debts, Mia. I'd have been there with you through it all, whatever the personal cost...'

  'Then why did you leave?' Mia begged. 'You're standing there telling me you could have dealt with it, yet you walked away, Ethan. Why?'

  'Because some things are just too abhorrent to for­give...' He saw the frown collect on her brow and it infuriated him. 'When Richard came back I went to my parents' house, Mia. I was ready to tell them I loved you, ready to take whatever they dished out about your father and stand by you...' He dragged in a breath through taut, pale lips. 'I overheard Richard telling my parents that there was a very good chance you were pregnant by him.'

  'By Richard? How on earth could I possibly have been pregnant by Richard?'

  The incredulity in her voice only angered him further.

  'Do you want a biology lesson, Mia? God, I know you were only eighteen, but from the memory I have of our time together you certainly knew the difference between a man and a woman.'

  'I've never slept with Richard!' Her words were barely out before her hand shot to her throat. She gasped at the heavy air as if she were trying to reel them back, to retract the terrible truth, but Ethan pounced like a hungry lion on his prey, tearing her to shreds with his sharp tongue, cross-examining her with all the stealth of the prosecutor of the accused.

  'You've never slept with Richard!' His statement gave her no room for manoeuvre as he walked the short distance towards her, his breath scorching her cheeks as he drew in close.

  'Forgive me for sounding cynical, Mia, but I need some clarification here. Seven years ago, Richard was scared that you'd trapped him, running as if the devil was chasing him because he thought you were pregnant with his child. Seven years on you're telling me that, not only are you pregnant by him, not only did you have his loving consent, but lo and behold now you're telling me that you've never slept with him. So come on...' His hand gripped her upper arm, and even though there was no violence in his fingertips, even though his touch was feather-light, she could feel the mental rattling, the stern shake for an answer. 'Enlighten me. What the hell happened between you two? Is this or is this not Richard's child?'

  She could feel her pulse pounding in her temples, almost hear the thud of her eyelashes batting together as she struggled with the web that tightened around her; she knew that her response, those next few words, was on e she would have to live with for the rest of her life.

  'It is.' A dry tongue ran over even dryer lips, his black eyes boring into her skin, registering every flicker of her reaction.

  'You know there are tests? Once this baby's born it will only be a matter of time...'

  'I don't need tests...' Furious eyes met his, furious, defiant eyes, like a wary kitten backed into the corner, lashing out at a piece of string, fighting everything that came in its path. 'I don't need tests to confirm what I know in here.' Her hand thumped her heart, pride laced in every word. 'All I can tell you is that, whatever Richard said that night, whatever you over­heard, I didn't sleep with him all those years ago, Ethan. All I can tell you is that you were my first lover; you were my—'

  'Fool!'

  He hurled the word at her like a missile, humiliation, torture, regret the wind that carried it, seven years of buried pain more deadly than any nuclear warhead. 'I'm the fool for standing here listen­ing to your pathetic arguments. I was your fool, Mia. I believed you that night when you said I was the first and tumbled into bed with you after you'd slept with my brother!'

  His voice rose to a frenzied peak, agony etched on every feature. 'My God, Mia, how low did you expect me to stoop? How low does a man have to go for you to get your kicks? Richard is my brother, you came from his bed to mine...'

  'No!' With supreme dignity she shook her head and stared at him as if she were looking into his very soul, before she said it again. 'No, Ethan, you're wrong. Whatever he said, whatever you choose to believe, you have to know this. That first night...' The words lingered in the air, crackled between them for a tan­gible moment, that night too precious to relegate to a throwaway comment, that first night branded on their souls, etched in their memories, deserving so much more than a cursory mention. She faltered a moment, struggle d to regain her composure as memories danced in the static air between them.

  'When we met, when we...' a tiny swallow, a strangled, choking ges­ture as she struggled to get past it, to move the con­versation past this dangerous, treacherous road '... Richard and I were friends at that time. Nothing more, nothing less.

  'I couldn't have been pregnant by Richard, because I'd never slept with him.'

  And something in her stance, something in her eyes told him she was s peaking the truth. 'Then why would he...?' His voice trailed off. He was f or once com­pletely lost for words, his eyes beseeching her to help him, to shed some light, but Mia just stood there. ‘I don't understand, Mia.'

  'Your parents obviously knew that he was in trou­ble,' she said softly, 'knew something was troubling him, and no doubt they wanted an answer?'

  He gave a small nod.

  'Maybe that was all he could come up with, maybe with his back against the wall it was the only excuse he could come up with to explain...'

  'He mentioned your father's name...' Ethan's eyes narrowed as he recalled the conversation, horrible clarity invading, the benefit of hindsight agony now, remembering the fear in Richard's voice. 'He was try­ing to tell them the mess he was in, trying to explain...'

  'But he couldn't,' Mia finished for him. 'Couldn't bring himself to see it through, to reveal to your father what was really troubling him, so instead he panicked and said the first thing that came into his head, maybe said something your father would have preferred to hear— that he thought he'd got some girl pregnant.

  'Unfortunately for us, he chose to use
me,' Mia finished simply.

  'I'd have helped him, Mia.' He made a small con­fused sound, halfway between a sob and a sigh, hands raking his hair over and over. 'Why didn't he come to me if he needed money?'

  She stared back at him, a breath away from telling him everything, but holding it deep inside. Revealing Richard's truth would only expose her own. Her hands fluttered to her stomach in a protective gesture as she willed the conversation over, for this interrogation to end.

  "Some things are best left, Ethan. Some—'

  'Mia, please,' Ethan started, but she shook her head.

  'I can't do this, Ethan. You want to know what the doctor said, then here it is: I need rest, I need to stay calm, need to keep my blood pressure down, and dredging over the past isn't going to help anyone.'

  'It might.'

  'And it might not!' Mia responded. 'Ethan, I need some space, some time to think. Go to your meeting, do whatever it is you have to do. Right now, I'm going to have my shower.'

  But her words didn't move him not an inch.

  Fine, Mia decided, if Ethan Carvelle didn't have the decency to leave then he could damn well stay. The towel still safely around her, she turned on the shower, praying he'd take his cue and leave, but Ethan clearly had other ideas.

  'I'm not leaving till I have some answers, Mia.' His voice was loud over the water, his stance su­premely confident, but so was Mia. Dropping the towel, she shot him a defiant look. Utterly refusing to blush, she pulled the glass door open and stepped into the shower, satisfied that his expensive suit and his Italian leather her shoes would keep him at bay. She reg­istered a furious bellow of rage, but she refused to be intimidated, a strange exhilaration filling her.

  So Ethan wanted to be involved with her pregnancy— well, see how he felt at the sight of her seven months pregnant! Lathering her hair, she closed her eyes, utterly refusing to be rushed, and when his rantings got louder it was easier to sing, easier to turn her back on the fire she had just ignited, than face the explosive truth. But Ethan had other ideas. Aghast, she swung around as six feet four of fully dressed indignation stepped in the shower beside her, holding her shoulders and demanding she face him.

  'You can't come in here.' Mia yelped.

  'I'm already in,' he snarled, one hand clutching her shoulder the other forcing her chin up to make her look at him. 'You'll damn well look at me and tell me what you know.'

  'I can't.'

  'You will,' he roared.

  'I can't see, Ethan.' Somewhere between fury and outrage, the ire died in his eyes, the questions that had been so important only seconds before coiling into the air along with the steam as she let out a giggle that was entirely out of place given the circumstances. Even Ethan managed a reluctant laugh as she ac­cepted the handkerchief he pulled from his suit and wiped the rivers of soapy lather out of her eyes. The bizarreness of their situation finally caught up. Heavily dressed and heavily pregnant, they stood in the shower and when finally Mia's world came back into focus it was softer and gentler but infinitely more dangerous.

  'Richard lied?' he checked and she nodded, watched the regret that tinged his solemn face as he digested her response.

  'I let you go...'

  'You didn't let me go,' she reminded him painfully.

  'You pushed me away, Ethan. You refused to return my calls or respond t o my letters, left me hanging in limbo for ages, wondering what on earth I'd done wrong, what I possibly could have said that deserved such appalling treatment. It should have been so beau­tiful, Ethan. We could have been there for each other, facing those terrible times together, dealt with the mess Richard had created as a team, but instead you left me to deal with it alone...'

  'I'm sorry.'

  He meant it. And maybe two little words shouldn't have sufficed, maybe two little words shouldn't have been able to wipe out seven years of torture but such was the regret, the honesty behind the words, she knew he meant it.

  The water beat relentlessly on. And when Ethan's eyes finally opened, slowly working the length of her body, the row, the horrors of the past were pushed aside. Now as his eyes drifted over her he decided whoever said pregnancy wasn't sexy clearly hadn't been there, because never had a body looked more ripe or overtly feminine.

  The tiny budding breasts he had touched all that time ago were gone now, re­placed instead with the heavy ripeness of pale flesh, the pink of her areola circling a gloriously jutting nipple, rivers of water cascading between her cleavage leading his gaze to the naked swell of her abdomen. His gaze was almost reverend as he saw the taut skin, his fingers tentative as they moved to touch it, only this time h e didn't need to ask permission, this time it was Mia's hand guiding his, watching his reaction as his hand met the soft swell, taking in the emotion on his face as he traced the outline of the tiny life within.

  'You've got a meeting,' Mia reminded him softly.

  'Had a meeting,' Ethan corrected. ‘I can hardly go in like this...'

  'I'm sure there's plenty more where this came from.' Her fingers toyed with the lapels of his jacket, her eyes closing in ecstasy as his face moved down to hers. The haven of the dreams that had sustained her didn't hold a candle to the feel of his heavy lips finally on hers. The water saturating each potent kiss couldn't dilute the ecstasy, his hand on the small of her back, pulling her in towards him, her swollen breasts pressed against his chest, her full stomach pressing in, the length of his fierce erection against her thigh intoxicating as she pressed harder against him.

  Sweet, sweet memories cascaded in, mingling with new ones that were created here and now, an affir­mation that what had taken place before had been real, that the overwhelming beauty she had witnessed once hadn't merely been seen through the rose-colored glasses of youth, but had been as real and as divine as the dreams that had captured them. The ex­quisite taste of his mouth on hers, no contempt in familiarity as she explored the velvet of his lips, the sharp taste of his tongue, felt again the rivers of lust rippling through her body, the arousal Ethan Carvelle so easily instigated.

  The fierce desire that had been waiting impatiently in the wings for so long now ran unhindered onto stage, dancing freely, moving in­stinctively. She remembered, remembered the inten­sity of his touch, how one brush of his skin on hers could spin her into a balmy orbit, the thrum of pulses like the bass in the orchestra, always there, holding the rhythm, pushing it forward, deepening the inten­sity as his needy mouth devoured hers as his.

  It was Ethan who broke the contact.

  Ethan who pushed her away, who shook his head in almost repulsion, as if waking from some terrible dream, as if scarcely able to comprehend w hat had taken place. She felt the shudder of his muscles, the controversy in every movement as he pushed with his hands but pleaded with his eyes, every fibre that bound them, every breath saturated with the passion that h ad gripped them, but the sobering slap of reality too strong to ignore.

  'You...' The water lashed his face, rivers running down that strong jaw, like tears of regret; the push of his palms, the grip of his fingers, confusion, pain in every tortured gasp.

  'You make me crazy.' She could feel every breath in his arms, exasperation, regret tingeing every motion, the steel of his erection against her thighs, the soft marshmallow of her flesh melting against him, an expensive suit no barrier against his deadly sword.

  'You make it so easy to be wrong.' She could see the white of his teeth as he clenched them together, feel the agony behind every word. 'You make it too damn easy to throw it all away...

  'Throw what away?' Her question was genuine. Whether it was love or lust, something propelled them, something drove them to this edge over and over, yet here he was pulling back, pushing her over into the abyss of life without him, and fro m the des­olation in his eyes, from the pounding thud of her heart, it didn't matter w ho delivered the fatal wound because agony gripped them both.

  'Everything.' He shook his head fiercely. 'Morals, duty, loyalty. You, Mia. shame me over and over.'
r />   'How?'

  'By making me want you!'

  And she knew, knew from the way his hands dropped her, knew from t he step back he took that it was all over. But still she couldn't admit defeat.

  'I want you too, Ethan.' Trembling hands reached for him, honesty a whisper away, denial useless as she faced the full force of the arousal that gripped them, the arousal that saturated them, that was insti­gated by their mere presence together.

  ‘I have for seven years. For seven years I've wanted you. Seven years,' she rasped. 'And I know you want me too. Surely we can find a way to make it work; surely we can get past all this?' He could feel the swell of the baby between them, between them in so many more ways than merely physical. His brother's baby bring­ing them together on the one hand, yet tearing them apart with the other.