WIFE BY AGREEMENT Read online

  'Some facts you can alter,' she said, coming to a dead halt with her back still to him. 'We could get a divorce — an annulment, even!' She spun around, her face alight with inspiration. 'It's not as if we have...' she shrugged '...you know.'

  'Don't forget you signed the pre-nuptial — ' My God, he thought, staring at her. She means it!

  Her imperative gesture stopped him mid-flow. 'I don't care about that,' she said simply. All she cared about was getting out of this situation. Being married to a man she was crazy about, a man who thought of her as a sexless nonentity. She'd been mad to think she could cope; she'd been made to think it would lead down the path of her wishful thinking.

  Ethan blinked, recalling the amount of money it had been agreed she would get if she stayed with him until Tom was sixteen. 'And the children?'

  'That's the best part,' she told him enthusiastically, willing him to see the logic of her scheme. 'I could still look after the children. When Tom starts school I could go to university and still help with them. I wouldn't do anything to harm the children, Ethan.'

  'So I'm the only part of this equation that you don't like?' The desperate quality of her wild proposition said more about her unhappiness than anything else could have. The irony of the situation failed to amuse him. One of the reasons marriage to Hannah had been a good idea was that he'd wanted to put himself off-limits to all the women who, almost before the funeral was over, had made it obvious they were willing to offer him succour and comfort. His wife obviously found him easy to resist.

  'You were a much nicer employer than husband,' she said fairly. 'And I've been an abysmal failure as a wife; admit it. I irritate you, embarrass you. I have appalling dress sense.'

  'Appalling dress sense wasn't grounds for divorce the last time I looked.'

  'But non-consummation is grounds for annulment.'

  'So we're to annul our marriage and then you resume your job as nanny. Is that about the size of it?'

  When he put it like that it didn't sound quite as fea­sible as it had when her feverish mind had seized on the solution. She nodded, but there was less certainty in her face now.

  'Are you on some medication I don't know about?' he enquired with interest.

  She sank down onto the edge of her bed with a sigh. 'Maybe I didn't think this through exactly. There's no need to be sarcastic. I was trying to help.'

  'Then I hope you've put all thought of annulment out of your head. Unless both parties co-operate it's hell to prove unless you're a... Dear God,' he said slowly, star­ing at her averted face. 'You are, aren't you?' He sounded so profoundly shocked that in other circum­stances she might have laughed.

  'What if I am?' she responded belligerently. Being a virgin at the advanced age of twenty-three was certainly an embarrassment, and she was sensitive about the sub­ject.

  'It never occurred to me,' he admitted faintly. 'Why didn't you tell me?'

  'It's hardly relevant, is it?' she said, trying to disguise her intense discomfort beneath a cool facade. She tucked her legs underneath her and wrapped the ends of her cotton wrap over her knees.

  'Bloody time-bomb!' He didn't bang his head against the striped silk wallpaper, but as he rested his brow against it he managed to give the impression he wanted to.

  'I beg your pardon?'

  He turned his head away from the wall and glared at her. 'You were twenty-two,' he exploded, his voice thick with resentment. ‘I naturally assumed that should you become attracted to anyone you could be relied upon to act maturely. Do you honestly think I'd have suggested this arrangement if I'd known you hadn't explored your own sexuality? It's easy to see now why you're acting so irrationally—your hormones have finally caught up with you. You'll be hanging posters of boy bands on your wall next. I can see it all!' he taunted, closing his eyes on the awful mental image this conjured.

  'My hormones or lack of them have.got nothing to do with this. You don't trust me!'

  'Trust you! I trust you about as much as I'd trust any adolescent experimenting with sex, and we all know how reliable they are.'

  'I'm not experimenting with sex!' she burst out, her face pink with a mixture of embarrassment and frustra­tion. 'I really resent the implication I'm not a fit person to take care of Emma and Tom.'

  'I know you care about Emma and Tom—that's not the problem we're facing here. You grew up too fast, Hannah. You didn't have the opportunity to be selfish.

  'So now I'm selfish!'

  'Tell me, what were you doing when other young peo­ple were being wild and irresponsible—experimenting with their freedom and lack of responsibilities? Shall I tell you?' He didn't give her the opportunity to reply. 'You were struggling to support yourself in some mis­erable bedsit somewhere. You were getting qualifica­tions to earn a living and holding down part-time jobs to pay the bills. You missed out on a whole chunk of your youth. So why should I be surprised if you're trying to recapture it now?' The peculiar self-recrimination in his voice was more unsettling than his unreasonable ac­cusations.

  'How did you know...?' she began, amazed by the startling ^ccuracy of the picture his soft words drew.

  'You came into this house as an employee, remember. I followed up your references and it wasn't hard, know­ing your background, to imagine what sort of life you'd had. A lot of the people I come across have had similar starts in life,' he reminded her. 'It's a road that all too frequently leads to the wrong side of the law. Not every­one is as single-minded and determined as you are.'

  The immediate impression of quiet restraint and mal­leability had been the reason he'd missed the iron streak in her character. He suspected he was going to pay for this oversight—he already was paying!

  'If you believe that, why do you doubt my ability to fulfil my obligation to the children?' His evaluation of her character came as something of a shock. Strangely, it made her feel less awkward about behaving naturally in front of him. 'I made a commitment and I won't do anything to compromise that.'

  'You say that now, but what if you fall in love? Where would that leave our arrangement?' 'That's not possible,' she said hoarsely. 'A statement like that says everything about your in­experience,' he observed with the sort of lofty scorn that set her teeth on edge.

  'What about you? You might fall in love.' 'I've been there and done that,' he said, his sexy mouth tightening with disapproval. 'The whole point I'm trying to make is you haven't.'

  'Who says so?' she flung back recklessly. 'You mean you're not a...?'

  'Just because you fall in love with someone, it doesn't necessarily follow that you sleep with them. I fell in love with someone who is unavailable.' Sometimes, she re­flected, the truth—-at least a cosmetic version of it, any­way—came in very handy!

  'When did all this happen, or, rather, not happen?' he asked with insulting scepticism. 'Ages ago,' she said airily.

  'Is he married?' he asked, frowning as he mentally reviewed all the married men who had shown any inter­est in his wife.

  'I don't want to talk about it,' she replied with perfect honesty.

  'Is it someone I know?'

  'My private thoughts are one part of my life you can't control.'

  'I don't try and control you!' he exclaimed in horrified denial.

  'You're the one who cancelled my French classes,' she reminded him.

  'We agreed—'

  YOU agreed,' she corrected him firmly. 'Like most of the decisions in this house, it was a strictly unilateral one.'

  'I didn't think you minded,' he responded, his colour heightened. 'I had no intention of coercing you,' he added rather stiffly.

  His austere glare had lost some of its power to intim­idate her. It was partly her own fault, she acknowledged honestly. She'd never raised any objections to his habit of making all the decisions that affected her. It was fairly natural he'd assume she didn't have an opinion.

  'Jean-Paul will be pleased to hear I'm not quitting.' Her steady stare openly challenged him.

  An expressi
on of reluctant admiration entered Ethan's eyes. "The man seems to think you're his star pupil.'

  'Who am I to argue?' It was about time she started standing up for herself. Winning certainly gave a girl a nice glow.

  An expression of disgust crossed Ethan's face as he shook his head. 'I've never understood why women are such pushovers for pretty faces. 'He's so obvious,' he observed with distaste.

  Hannah's mouth dropped open and her lip began to quiver. Had Ethan looked in the mirror recently? she wondered incredulously. He had more raw sex appeal in Ms little finger than dear Jean-Paul had in his entire body!

  'What? What have I said now?'

  When Ethan departed in disgust Hannah was curled on the bed in fits of helpless laughter.

  It had been a week since the evening of their truce. A sort of normality reigned again. Hannah's more obvious scars had faded, with the exception of some multicol­oured bruises across her ribcage and faint smudges on her arms. She'd been back to evening class, where there had been a noticeable absence of the dreaded Craig.

  So she was in a loveless marriage—people survived worse situations. It was a matter of having a positive attitude. Her new attitude had been firmly in her mind today, when she'd cancelled the shopping trip with Alice. If she had to appear in her role as token wife when Ethan went to some friends' anniversary party, she was going to make the effort not to look like a fashion victim.

  'The usual trim, madam?' her hairdresser had asked, disguising his boredom behind a professional smile.

  'No, do something different.'

  The carte blanche had been seized before she could retract her reckless invitation. Now, the sight of the growing heap of soft brown hair on the floor made Hannah feel a little queasy and she hardly dared look at her reflection. When she did she could hardly believe the transformation.

  Cut just above shoulder-length, her cleverly layered mane framed her face in soft, feathery fingers. She could shake her head or rub her fingers through the silky ends and the cut sprang softly back into place.

  'I look different.'

  'I always knew you had potential.'

  'I've got potential, she kept telling herself as she walked around town. The occasional glances she stole in the plate glass windows confirmed this pleasant the­ory. She'd never be beautiful, but potentially pretty might not be aiming too high.

  She was walking in the direction of the expensive store that Alice always took her to when a dress in a window display caught her eye. After a small internal struggle she decided to go in—the assistants couldn't be worse than the ones in the other store, who always gave her the most terrific inferiority complex with their snooty attitude and heavy make-up.

  The middle-aged woman in the shop was neither snooty nor heavily made up. She did, however, shake her head slowly when Hannah mentioned the dress in the window. She ran a shrewd eye up and down Hannah's slim figure.

  'Great frock, but you'd need at least another five inches to carry it off. Besides, the style is much too old for you. We do a really good petite range, though. Let's see what we've got.'

  Without encouragement Hannah would never have tried the dress on. 'It's so...so red,' she said dubiously as she pirouetted in front of the mirror.

  'It's sensational is what it is,' her one-woman fan club assured her. Hannah wondered cynically if she worked on commission. All the same, she thought, glancing into the full-length wall mirror, she hadn't known she was capable of looking—well, sexy!

  The simple bodice of deep ruby-red satin was moulded closely but not tightly before it flared slightly into a short skirt. Sleeveless, with a scooped neck, it was the simplest thing she'd tried on. 'I usually wear sleeves—my arms are a bit skinny.'

  'Are you mad? I'd kill for your arms, and your collar­bones are so Audrey Hepburn,' the sales woman sighed enviously. 'I expect you're too young to know who she is.'

  Hannah grinned. 'I've seen Breakfast at Tiffany's a million times.'

  I must have been mad, she thought later as she dith­ered at her bedroom door. What if Ethan hated it? What if he thought it looked, horror of horrors, tarty! What if he insisted she changed? What if.,.?

  She shook her head angrily at these fancies. The fact was he probably wouldn't even notice she looked dif­ferent. She was making a big fuss about nothing. What if he didn't like it—so what? I like it, she decided firmly.

  This firm resolve carried her all the way to the draw­ing-room door. Getting beyond it was achieved by sheer will-power.

  'Sorry if I'm late.' Her chin went automatically up to fend off any criticism. She was quite glad that the strappy sandals gave her an illusion of height.

  Ethan was the sort of man whom nobody would ever mistake for a waiter in his dinner jacket. Whilst Hannah couldn't be described as a dispassionate observer, she couldn't believe anyone female could fail to be im­pressed by his sinfully sexy dark good looks.

  He glanced from the file he was flicking through to his wristwatch. 'Only by five min...' He looked up and his voice froze as completely as his body. His eyes swept her from top to toe and back again before he spoke. 'You've cut your hair.'

  'An impulse,' she said nervously. He'd noticed, but it was impossible to tell from his expression whether he approved of the transformation.

  'Did Alice help you choose that?' His eyes touched the red dress.

  'No.'

  'It shows.'

  Enigmatic could be pretty frustrating at times, she thought, glaring at his broad back as he moved in front of her to hold the door open.

  Maggie Hilton and her husband, a couple ten years or so older than Ethan, were some of his closest friends. The very first dinner party she'd presided over as Mrs Kemp had been for them. Hannah had wanted everything to be perfect; she'd fussed and worried over the minutest detail for a whole week beforehand.

  She'd been desperately anxious to do the right thing, say the right thing, but in the event she'd scarcely said anything. The couple were both solicitors and the con­versation had been largely shop talk. Hannah would have liked to say something witty and amusing, but she didn't think they'd be interested in the funny thing that had happened outside the school gates. Occasionally some­one would remember she was there and try to include her, but it had all been painfully forced.

  She'd been settling Tom, who had woken whilst their guests were leaving. Richard had already got into the car, but Maggie had still been talking to Ethan in the hallway when she'd come quietly back downstairs.

  'It's such a permanent solution, Ethan.'

  'I know what I'm doing, Maggie.'

  'Do you? I wonder? The children won't be small for ever, and then they'll be off to school. Oh, I know you had a horrid time at boarding-school, but you'll change your mind when the time comes, and, I don't care what anyone says, it builds character.'

  Looking down from the dark alcove, Hannah could only see Ethan's back but Maggie's expression of pity­ing affection was highlighted by the light she stood be­neath. 'She's very nice, but when I think of Catherine...' She shook her head regretfully. 'I know it wasn't all plain sailing, but the best of us have our differences— that's what makes marriage interesting. Catherine was so alive and spontaneous, and she's so dull. I'm sorry— I promised Richard I wouldn't say anything.'

  'I think you should listen to your husband more often, Maggie.'

  'I know, but I've started now so I might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb! You have nothing in com­mon. The poor girl has obviously never had anything to do with people like us...'

  '"People like us.'" Ethan repeated the words slowly. 'I never had you pegged as a snob, Maggie.'

  This accusation was huffily denied. 'I'm not sure you did a kind thing, marrying her. She was obviously un­comfortable tonight—I felt quite sorry for her.'

  'Your pity wasn't prominent when you brought Catherine into the conversation at five-minute intervals.'

  'Here with you it's only natural to think of Catherine; you were a pair. She was your social an
d intellectual equal, Ethan. I don't know how you can bring yourself to—'

  'Hannah may not have enjoyed our social and intel­lectual advantages, but she is bright. She's articulate and thoughtful.'

  Maggie Hilton conceded this with a sigh. 'I grant you that, but she's so dull!'

  'She's my wife.' It hadn't been a proud assertion, just a flat statement of fact. He'd sounded like a man who'd given up on hope.

  Over time, when Hannah saw the Hiltons, she remem­bered that pitch of dull acceptance in his voice. But it wouldn't be so bad tonight: she'd gained confidence over the last year, and had learnt a few social tricks. She was still an outsider as far as they were concerned, and she accepted the fact.