God, but she was brittle, Ethan thought, and then cancelled dinner.
What the hell had happened to the gorgeous redhead he’d met? The one who had somehow made him smile?
She’d turned into Candice, Ethan thought. Bought and paid for and barely scraping through the small talk.
Yet they had spoken.
‘I think you need to come home.’
The words gnawed at him, for Ethan knew that was where he ought to be. But he’d tried to speak to his father just this morning, and all Jobe had wanted to talk about was the new hotel complex, and how he agreed with Ethan that he wanted the Devereux name in Al-Zahan. They spoke about nothing else.
He got undressed and lay on the bed, staring blindly while thinking of home.
He was starting to remember things. Ethan was starting to remember things about his mother that made all he’d believed a lie.
Yes, she had been beautiful and everything he’d read said that she’d been kind, and the photos in his father’s house told the tale of a wonderful childhood.
But they were just paper pictures, hung on walls, and empty words had shaped his perceptions.
And then he heard a voice, its husk a familiar one, and it had him turning his attention to the entertainment screen.
Merida.
In one of her many guises. But there she was. Walking over Gapstow Bridge, clipping along in high heels, one so worn that its metal spike hit the ground with each step of her right foot.
He almost didn’t recognise her.
Oh, physically he did, of course—there was the blaze of her red hair and her gorgeous green eyes—but she looked jaded, bitter, as if all the light had died in her eyes.
Merida looked the part she played—a tired, world-weary cheap hooker.
He flicked the switch and watched her walk backwards, then played the scene over and over again.
She was a brilliant actress. He’d never actually seen her perform, but now, as he watched and re-watched the scene over and over, Ethan felt as if he’d been given some key information.
He recalled all their conversations, and he remembered her on their wedding day, in the back of the car, and what she had said about her parents and not wanting to let them know they’d hurt her.
Was that what she was doing with him?
Hiding her pain behind a perfect mask?
Making out she was a gold-digger when she might just have loved him all along?
He reached for his tablet and pulled up the photos that the magazine had sent through.
He looked at her smile and zoomed right in.
Merida really was a brilliant actress. Not even the most diligent viewer would be able to see that her smile didn’t reach her eyes.
Even he had to flick through them all and then compare them to the images in his mind of the real Merida. The one he had seen on the night they met and the morning he had said goodbye. Merida before the baby and the end of her career and the gold-digging accusations and the contract.
He wanted to meet her again.
But there were walls of ice between them—the contract, the harsh words, and now Merida was playing the part of the society wife.
Ethan wanted to get behind the mask.
If Merida would give him a second chance.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
HIS PLANE HIT the Tarmac at two a.m. Eastern Time. It would be the middle of the morning in Dubai. Ethan had told no one he was coming home.
The code for the door worked and he stepped into the entrance hall.
Even as a young man he had had his own wing here, and rarely crossed paths with his father or whomever he had been seeing at the time.
Abe had moved out at eighteen and Ethan had done the same.
Of course he came back on regular occasions, and many a cocktail party or dinner was held here. Yet he hadn’t slept here in years. Hadn’t climbed these stairs, lined with picture-perfect memories, in ages.
It felt like a taunt.
He pushed open the door to the bedroom and she stirred and then reached out for the light.
‘What are you doing back?’
Merida was startled. She knew she looked terrible. She’d had a bath late last night and fallen asleep crying. She did not want him seeing her like this.
‘I thought you weren’t due back for another week.’
‘I missed my loving wife.’
No doubt she thought he was being sarcastic, but it was, in fact, true. Well, not that she was loving, but he had indeed missed Merida.
Her bump was beneath the covers, very visible now, and her hair was wild and untamed, while her eyes were a little red and wary as he started to undress.
He took off his jacket and dropped it on a chair as she asked the question again.
‘Why are you back?’
‘Because, believe it or not, I do occasionally listen. You’re right—nothing’s going to get sorted with me over there.’
‘You’re here to see your father?’
‘Yes.’
Amongst other things. But Ethan wanted to be sure that Merida wasn’t the cool character she portrayed before he told her that.
He still didn’t believe in love, but he was willing to test the waters.
‘Your hair looks nice,’ he told her.
‘I fell asleep with it wet.’
‘Well, I prefer it that way.’
‘Really? Howard thinks I should go blonde.’
‘Sack him,’ Ethan said—just like that.
‘I thought I had to listen to him?’
‘Merida, he’s at the top of his game, apparently, but if you don’t like what he suggests—hell, tell him who’s boss. He’s supposed to be making your life easier, not turning you into Candice, Version Two.’
He came and sat on the edge of the bed.
Merida wished that he hadn’t.
Not because he felt too close, more because when he was this close it killed her to remain apart from him.
His jacket and shirt were off, his socks and shoes too. And she was very aware that she was naked beneath the sheet, so she moved the conversation to the practical.
‘I’ve told the OB to drop in on your father and let him know what we’re having.’
‘He might let it slip,’ Ethan pointed out. ‘He’s on quite a cocktail of drugs.’
‘Well, if he does let it slip it would hardly be the end of the world. I think it’s nice that he’s interested.’
‘I guess...’
‘I think I’ve found a nanny. I interviewed her this afternoon. She’s young, fun...’
Ethan turned and looked at her taut features. ‘You really don’t have to worry there. History won’t be repeating itself. I won’t do what my father did.’
She looked right back at him and made herself say it. ‘No, history won’t be repeating itself—because if you do hook up with the nanny then I won’t be like your mother and swan off to the Caribbean, leaving my baby behind with the two of you. You’ll be the one to leave. It says so in the contract.’
Ethan’s jaw gritted and he buried his face in his hands.
She watched the zip of muscles close down his back and had to clench her fists just to resist reaching out for him, but her words had clearly sunk in, for he looked around the bedroom and told her something.
‘I’m starting to remember things.’
‘What things?’
‘About my mother.’
‘Such as?’
‘I don’t want to talk about it now.’
He looked over to where she lay, rigid and stretched on her side.
‘I’m not going to cheat.’
‘You already did, Ethan.’
She stared up at the gorgeous ceiling and told him. ‘I saw pictures of you at that gala, with that
woman, and in the time we were apart there were plenty more.’
‘I never slept with any of them.’
‘Liar.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘I don’t need to lie.’
He rolled towards her and his hand went to her bump, which had grown impressively in the three weeks he’d been gone.
‘It’s not twins, is it?’
‘God, no. Ethan, I’ve had two scans.’
‘I know, but that amulet I held...’
‘You’ve always told me you’re not superstitious.’
‘I’m not, usually,’ Ethan said, ‘but you did get pregnant that night.’
Merida gave a low laugh. ‘Well, it’s not twins.’
They lay there and it was nice—the most parents-to-be-like they had ever been. It was innocent, even, just feeling little kicks in the quiet of the night.
‘What did the OB say when you saw him last?’
‘That I’m a good size,’ Merida said. ‘That back pain is normal.’
‘You’ve got back pain?’
‘A bit—just in my lower back,’ Merida said. ‘It might be the baby’s heels.’
‘It’s all your ligaments stretching,’ Ethan said. ‘In preparation.’
He turned to her and gave a triumphant smile at his new knowledge.
Merida couldn’t help but smile back. ‘Have you been reading?’
‘I have.’
She was inordinately pleased. ‘When?’
‘Well, given that I’m a married man, I knew I couldn’t hit the clubs in Dubai, so I bought a book at the airport.’
‘A baby book?’
‘A pregnancy book. Scared the life out of me,’ he admitted. ‘Did you speak to Naomi?’
‘Yes, she’s coming on the first of December and she’ll stay until the end of January.’
‘That’s good.’
The baby had stopped moving and she removed Ethan’s hand.
‘Goodnight, Ethan.’
He reached over and turned out the light. She heard the slide of his zip as he kicked off his trousers and got under the covers.
And of all the things she had ever done, this was the hardest, for she felt alone even as she lay by his side.
‘I saw you on the television,’ Ethan said into the darkness.
Merida rolled onto her side. She didn’t reply.
‘You were very good.’
And still she did not reply. It was safer to pretend she was asleep.
Ethan never cajoled. Yet he could feel their mutual need. The air beneath the sheet hummed with want, and the heat between them felt as if it choked him.
They had always worked well in the bedroom.
It had to be a start.
Even if she held her guard in every other area, he knew he could win with this.
Merida screwed her eyes closed as he rolled onto his side.
‘Where does your back hurt?’ he murmured as he ran a finger the length of her spine.
But it didn’t feel remedial in the least. In fact, it made her want to bring up her knees.
‘Where?’ he demanded, and Merida gave up pretending to be asleep.
‘There,’ she admitted when his hand moved to her lower spine.
He probed with those long fingers and she lay there, eyes closed, but not relaxed to his touch.
‘Does that help?’
‘A bit.’
He pressed his fingers harder, and then massaged her with the ball of his palm.
‘Does that help?’
She could barely breathe enough to answer, so she gave a tense nod and then clamped her jaw closed when his mouth came down on her shoulder.
But she did not tell him to stop.
His breathing was harsh as his other arm hooked under her, and she closed her eyes to the bliss of his hand on her breast, dusting over one aching nipple and then rolling it softly.
She could feel the nudge of his erection.
‘Merida...’
His voice was low and she could feel him, primed and male behind her. She turned her face to him and his lips brushed her cheek. The scratch of his jaw had her eyes closing as his hand moved from behind her to her front.
Holding back her want was like trying to hold back the tide, and yet she fought with every fibre in her body—from her hands, which yearned to touch him, to her throat, which closed on a sob because she wanted to scream for his touch.
She just wanted to shed the pretence like a skin, to turn her mouth to his.
‘I read something else,’ he said, as his hand slid past her bump and down to her heat.
‘What?’
‘That for some women pregnancy makes them more turned on than they’ve ever been.’
Merida swallowed as his fingers stroked her intimately. He took her right to the edge, kissing her hard, and brought her to a space where she fought not to scream as he slipped in.
It was a deep, sensual bliss. He stroked her as he rocked inside, and buried his face in her hair, and then he started to thrust harder, and she realised she had almost forgotten the power of him.
How he could take her away from herself to a place where heat was the fire they made.
How he could turn her into a frenzied ball of want even when she loathed what they had become.
And how he knew, absolutely knew, as he thrust deep inside her, that she was fighting not to come.
‘Merida...’ he growled, because he could not hold on.
But she would not let go.
Now he got the martyred sex he had expected on their wedding night—but he would not complete until she did.
He turned her.
As the sun rose over the city behind the curtains he brought her to her knees, and she held onto the bed rail as he took her with aching slowness from behind.
And she sobbed and she moaned and she fought to hold on.
‘Come, Merida,’ he told her. ‘You can get back to hating me in the morning.’
She shattered with his permission.
It was as if a volt shot up her spine, and she arched and came so deeply that it was he who moaned at the tight clutch of Merida as he filled her.
And never, not for a moment now, would he doubt their love.
He just had to find a way through to her.
Instead of lying spent in his arms, Merida had climbed from the bed and headed to the shower. Appalled at her own lack of restraint and how she had just shattered to his touch.
She vowed, outside the bedroom, never to let down her guard for a second.
But she’d be a liar if she promised to resist him.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THEY CAME TOGETHER at night. Like a guilty dark secret, behind closed doors, he had her over and over.
And Merida in turn had him.
By day she spent his money and played the part of a gold-digger well. But at night she was on her knees.
Tonight, though, was date night. For appearances’ sake.
Their last, because tomorrow Naomi arrived.
Merida stared at her reflection and blew out a breath.
They were going to the theatre, to see a top show that they had to go to. Not Night Forest, of course—she had put her foot down about that—but she was still nervous about going to the theatre.
It had hurt to give it up.
A lot.
Not that she showed it.
She wore a burnt orange dress that clashed magnificently with her hair, and on her slender legs wore high black boots.
As she headed down the stairs Merida wondered as to Ethan’s reaction.
‘Ready.’
Ethan turned to where Merida stood on the stairs and thought he had never seen her more beautiful than tonight. She made eight and a half months pregnant l
ook sexy.
‘Wow!’ Ethan said.
Just that.
‘I sacked Howard,’ Merida told him.
‘Thank God.’
‘And I’ve bought an entire new wardrobe.’
‘Good for you.’
He did make her smile. And he knew that when he’d sent her to Howard he had, in his backhanded way, only been trying to help her adjust to a very lavish life.
Rather rarely, it wasn’t just bed that was on Ethan’s mind tonight. He wanted Merida. The real one who still eluded him. Oh, he knew that he’d hurt her badly, but he rather hoped he knew where he might find her...
‘There’s been a change,’ he told her. ‘We’re going to see Night Forest.’
He looked up and her face did not crack, but he saw her swallow in the column of her throat.
‘I thought we were going to see...’
‘Yes, well, Helene got the tickets messed up. And I’ve been meaning to go. It didn’t look good when I walked out the last time. I said we’d drop in on Jobe on the way there.’
‘Fine,’ Merida said. ‘I’ll just get my coat.’
It was snowing heavily outside as the car made its way to the hospital.
Ethan was always tense when they visited his father, but tonight he gave Jobe a smile and told him they were headed off to see Night Forest.
‘You’re finally going to see it?’ Jobe gave a weary smile.
‘We are.’ Merida beamed, even though she was shaking inside. Not just at the prospect of going to the theatre, but because Jobe looked so grey.
Ethan watched as Merida went and sat on the edge of his father’s bed. He wondered how she did it—how she could be so comfortable in this room when every fibre in his body was on alert, every bleep of a machine had him jumping on the inside.
Not that he showed it. He was a great actor too.
And maybe Merida wasn’t quite so together, because after a couple of moments talking she got up off the bed and started looking at Jobe’s flowers.
‘These are nice,’ Merida said. ‘From Chantelle?’
Jobe nodded.
‘Let her come and see you, Jobe,’ Merida pushed.
‘I told you. I don’t want spectators.’ He turned and looked over to Ethan. ‘Have you spoken to Maurice?’
The Innocent's Shock Pregnancy Page 14
