by Diana Palmer
"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 hav
en'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.
Chapter Three
The house Ethan and his family called home was a huge two-story Victorian. Set against the softly rolling land of south Texas, with cattle grazing in pastures that seemed to stretch forever, it was the very picture of an old-time Western movie set. Except that the cattle in their fenced pastures were very real, and the fences were sturdy and purposeful, not picture-perfect and overly neat. Jacobsville was within an easy drive of Houston, and Victoria was even closer. It had a small-town atmosphere that Arabella had always loved, and she'd known the people who lived there most of her life. Like the Ballenger brothers, who ran the biggest feedlot in the territory, and the Jacobs— Tyler and Shelby Jacobs Ballenger—whose ancestor the town was named for.
