WIFE BY AGREEMENT Read online

  Ethan didn't say another word to her until they stood outside the illuminated facade of the Hiltons' home, and even then she had to prompt him.

  'Didn't I get it all off?' she asked when his eyes dwelt over-long in the general direction of her mouth. She touched her lips nervously. "The red lipstick was too much,' she babbled frantically, 'but I thought I'd got it all off.' It had left a crimson stain that made her look as if she'd been eating raspberries, but she thought she'd removed the worst of the 'in your face' gloss.

  'Let me see,' Ethan said, placing his forefinger firmly under her chin. "There's only one sure way to remove lipstick in my experience.'

  'What's...?'

  The sensuous, slow movement of his warm mouth against her lips sent any lingering concerns about her make-up out of the window. She wasn't the slightest bit bothered when his big hands slid through the silky strands of her hair, obliterating her new hairstyle as his fingers caressed her scalp. The tingling went all the way down to her toes and she was obliged to press her hands against the solidity of his chest to stop herself falling into an inelegant heap.

  'Mission accomplished,' he murmured, drawing away. His eyes appeared darker than usual as he examined her quivering lips.

  Hannah was dizzily aware that the door was opening. "Thank you,' she said faintly.

  'It was a pleasure.'

  'It was?' she asked doubtfully. She pinned her polite social smile on her face as her hostess appeared.

  'Definitely.' He flicked a look in her direction which made her stomach dissolve into a warm ache before he surged forward to hug the elegant older woman. 'Mag­gie, my dear, you look marvellous.'

  "Thank you, Ethan, darling, but I know when I've been upstaged,' she said drily, staring at Hannah, who stood a little behind them. 'Poor Richard, I'm afraid his blood pressure is going to be troublesome tonight. You look stunning, my dear.' For a moment Hannah assumed it was Ethan her hostess was talking to; when her error became obvious her eyes widened.

  Ethan caught Hannah's hand and urged her gently into the brilliantly lit hallway. 'Doesn't she just?'

  Did he actually believe that or was this a sample of his silky society manners? When he chose to wheel out the charm Ethan could leave even Jean-Paul standing, only he didn't normally waste his charisma on his wife. It would be a mistake to read too much into this behav­iour, she told herself firmly, and as for the kiss. The kiss...! She couldn't think at all when she thought about that.

  She couldn't help but be gratified by the double takes and flattering attention. Alice was very condescending in her helpful criticism of Hannah's outfit, and Hannah couldn't resist pointing out that the lady's own husband had admired her outfit.

  'But he's a man, my dear, and men are notoriously drawn to...tacky— Sorry.' She laughed theatrically and covered her mouth with a hand. 'It just slipped out. Don't look so unhappy, Hannah. Its not as if you've got a lot to flaunt, is it?'

  'Not as much as you,' Hannah agreed quietly as she turned to go. She regretted immediately that she'd al­lowed herself to be goaded into the catty response. 'I wish I hadn't said that,' she murmured, closing her eyes.

  'If she can't take it, the lady shouldn't dish it up.'

  The sound of Ethan's voice at her elbow made Hannah jump. 'Were you eavesdropping?'

  'Not intentionally. You've danced with everyone else,' he said, as the soft heavy thud of an evocative melody filled the room. 'I think it's my turn.' He took hold of her upper arm, and his fingers slid experimen­tally over her skin as if he was somehow impelled to sample the texture of her creamy flesh.

  'I didn't think you danced.' The almost imperceptible movement of his fingers had a mesmeric effect on Hannah's nervous system. Why had he kissed her? It was a question that wouldn't go away. Each time her thoughts had returned to the subject her eyes had sought him out. The light food and wine hadn't taken the taste of him from her mouth. Her throat ached with emotion. And no practical good intentions could banish the ex­citement that heated her blood.

  'It was news to me that you do,' he reminded her drily. 'If dancing is what they call those sexy gyrations you've been treating us to tonight.'

  Sexy, me? Not for the first time that evening her eyes collided with his, but this time she didn't have the com­fort of a room's distance between them. 'I've never learnt to dance properly,' she babbled in panic as his arm went around her waist.

  'Then we'll leave the dips and twirls to the people who know what they're doing, shall we?' He took one of her hands and placed it against his shoulder. 'Shuffle step will do just fine. You can't deny you don't have an ear for rhythm after tonight.'

  'I can't?' She couldn't attribute the light-headed sen­sation to the glass of wine she'd nursed throughout the evening. Her proximity to Ethan was a much more pow­erful drug.

  Her legs were pressed against his hard thighs as they moved around the impromptu dance floor. Without doing anything obvious Ethan had unobtrusively drawn her closer. To prevent her hand being squashed between their bodies she had sensibly placed it out of harm's way around his neck. Her fingertips lightly trailed across the area where his dark, thick hair ended in crisp curls.

  As the music throbbed Ethan dropped his head until she could feel the warmth of his breath stirring the glossy strands of hair on her head. 'What do you smell of? I don't recognise the perfume.'

  'Shampoo, probably. I don't possess any expensive perfumes.' She almost stumbled when his hand slid down from her waist and his fingers splayed over the rounded contour of her behind. "These heels,' she laughed, recovering her balance but not her equilibrium. Was he doing this on purpose, and, if so, to what end? The heat of his body was absorbed by the thin fabric of her dress and passed directly into her own skin.

  'You've got good legs.' Somehow he managed to in­sinuate one of her legs between his. She grunted softly in shock as she felt the evidence of his arousal graze the crest of her hip before a slight twist of his body moved the pressure to her lower belly.

  'If they were six inches longer.' Catherine had been tall, very tall, a Nordic-looking beauty. Hannah wished she hadn't spoilt the moment by thinking of her.

  "There's nothing wrong with being petite—small but perfectly formed.'

  'If I agreed with you I'd sound conceited,' she said, trying to sound as if his words hadn't raised her excite­ment levels to a new high. 'If I denied it I'd sound coy.' The effort to be cool took its toll, and she surrendered to the invitation of his broad chest with a small sigh. 'I'm a bit tired,' she murmured in a husky voice, just in case he got the wrong, or rather right idea.

  'Let's go home.'

  'Now?' she faltered, lifting her head as the slow beat was replaced by a livelier tune. 'It's early.'

  I’m sure it's difficult to tear yourself away, but I'm less keen on the spectacle of grown men drooling over my wife.'

  'Are you suggesting I was encouraging them?' Her hands slid down his dark-suited forearms and with a small flick of his wrists his fingers closed around hers. 'The transformation from wallflower to belle of the ball must be a pretty intoxicating one—I wouldn't blame you if you enjoyed flirting. I was afraid this would hap­pen,' he mused, watching her broodingly.

  'I don't know what you're talking about.' He looked into the puzzled depths of her clear eyes. 'I know,' he said heavily. 'Come on, we'll make our apologies and leave.'

  Richard Hilton insisted on seeing them out himself. He placed an arm around Hannah's shoulders and she could smell the alcohol on his breath. She didn't much mind—he made an amiable, if garrulous drunk.

  'I keep telling her she looks gorgeous,' he announced, slapping Ethan heartily on the back. 'You sly dog, you knew what you were about. Like I said to Maggie, no­body knows what goes on behind closed doors.' He tapped me side of his nose and gave a conspiratorial wink. I never said you were a fool.'

  'I'm touched,' Ethan said, detaching himself gently but firmly from a maudlin embrace. 'We must go.'

  'Yes, that's it, off you go. Would
myself in your place.'

  Hannah laughed as they walked over to the car. She was determined to show him she wasn't reading any­thing into his friend's drunken and deeply embarrassing ramblings. 'Richard seems to think we're leaving early to—'

  'Do unspeakable things behind closed doors,' Ethan finished smoothly. 'A crazy idea.'

  'He's had a lot to drink.' It was hard to sound suitably amused when she had the distinct impression that under the superficially bland expression Ethan wasn't laughing at all; he wasn't even smiling.

  'Don't let that bumbling air fool you—I've seen Richard win at poker after imbibing enough to sink a battle cruiser. A very perceptive man,' he mused half to himself. In the darkness she could see the silver flash of his disturbing eyes.

  It would be a mistake, she decided, to read anything at all into this cryptic utterance—but of course she did.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  WHEN the car drew to a halt outside The Manor House Hannah didn't move. She had to know.

  'Why did you kiss me, Ethan?'

  He clicked open his seat belt and turned slowly in his seat. From what she could make out in the semi-darkness he was less surprised by her question than she was.

  'I thought I'd get in first.'

  'First?'

  'Before someone else did. You look very kissable to­night, Hannah.'

  She caught her breath at this husky admission. 'I didn't kiss anyone else tonight.' And she hadn't wanted to, she thought, clasping her hands tightly in her lap to stop herself reaching out for him.

  'Only because I brought you home before the wolves closed m.' His jaw tightened as he recalled the increas­ing rage that had built up inside him as he'd watched men ogling his wife. The last man to say something complimentary about her to him had received a murder­ous glare and retreated looking shaken. Ethan had felt slightly ashamed. In the darkness he paused soberly to examine the violence of his revulsion.

  This fanciful description of his very respectable friends brought a gurgle of laughter to Hannah's lips. She felt the silent disapproval of his response to her amusement in the darkness.

  'Isn't that a tad dramatic?' she asked.

  "You really are determined to make up for lost time, aren't you?' She could hear him grating his teeth. 'Don't you realise what you could destroy if you insist on ex­perimenting?'

  'I only cut my hair and bought a new dress,' she pro­tested. 'It's not my fault if people are so influenced by superficial things.' And he was as bad as any of them, she thought resentfully. Kissing her, dancing with her...inviting her lurid imagination to go into overdrive.

  'The change goes a lot deeper than that, Hannah.'

  'Welt I'm sorry if you don't like it, Ethan, but I'm a lot happier being myself. Don't worry, I'm not going to jump into bed with the first man who tells me I'm beau­tiful. That would be taking gratitude to extremes.' It was insulting that he imagined she'd be such a push-over.

  'What if that man is your husband?' It wasn't a sud­den notion—it just came out that way. He'd been turning the idea over in his head all week. Tonight just made the need for action more urgent.

  'What?' she whispered, unable to believe he'd actu­ally said what she thought.

  'If you need to discover your sexuality it would be safer for all concerned if you did so with me,' he ob­served casually. The darkness concealed the fact he was looking far from casual as he tensely awaited her reply.

  'I'm touched by your willingness to make such a sac­rifice,' she said, her voice shaking. 'Thanks, but no, thanks, Ethan! I'm not that desperate. What's wrong? Didn't you believe me when I said I wouldn't try for an annulment? Did the ultimate sacrifice seem the best way to close off that avenue of escape?' Now she thought about it, it all made awful sense.

  She struggled with the handle of the passenger door. Her free hand flailed wildly back at him as he tried to prevent her getting out. As Ethan reached out to stop her escaping his hand came into contact with the spot where her lace-topped stocking ended and her bare thigh began. It had seemed for a split second that his fingers had begun to move experimentally, but he drew back so abruptly she knew she must have been mistaken.

  'You imagine I'd be that cold-blooded?" His voice sounded strange and forced in the enclosed space of the car.

  'I think you can be ruthlessly practical when it suits you. The facts do speak for themselves. You never looked twice at me before I suggested a divorce.' To her intense relief the door finally opened and she half fell out of the car. Happily this one was stationary.

  'You can't think of any other reason why I want you in my bed?' he yelled after her.

  Just as well their nearest neighbour was a field away. She could hear his long legs catching up with her shorter stride as she reached the front door. The housekeeper always stayed overnight on the occasions she babysat and she would be long since in bed. Short of waking the entire household, Hannah didn't have much choice but to wait for Ethan.

  'I don't have a key.' Her back was pressed against the door as she faced him.

  Ethan was breathing hard; his face was shadowed, but she could see he was angry—really angry. She'd never seen him so close to losing control before. A small, ob­jective portion of her mind was amazed that she'd been responsible for this. The rest of her brain wasn't objec­tive—it was a mess of scattered half-formed thoughts.

  Her intense visceral reaction to his suggestion wouldn't have been so intense if she hadn't been so hopelessly in love with him. The pragmatic proposal seemed a cruel parody of what she'd longed for and it had cut painfully deep.

  He pressed one hand against the wall beside her head as he silently unlocked the door. In the shadow of his body she felt as if she were cocooned in a cave, only the walls weren't cold stone, they were warm, living flesh. As the door swung open she ducked under his arm.

  'Not so fast.' He stepped after her and caught her by the shoulder, sending her swirling round a hundred and eighty degrees. The fact that she'd have fallen off her heels didn't really matter, because he literally swept her off her feet as he jerked her towards him.

  He wasn't satisfied with a submissive response; he wanted surrender—and he got it. He didn't stop until he'd felt the small, guttural moans of pleasure in her throat, parried the darting forays of her tongue with his own and reduced her body to a trembling, boneless mass of screaming nerve-endings.

  Gasping for breath, he pulled away, and Hannah was horrified to see her fingers still twisted in his hair. Shaking, she pulled her nerveless hands free. Taking her by her shoulders, he looked so savage that for a minute she thought he was going to shake her.

  'That cold-blooded enough for you?'

  Cold-blooded! It had been ruthless—a fact that ap­peared to be slowly dawning on Ethan too. A spasm of something that might have been regret crossed his fea­tures.

  'It was most impressive, darling,' a strange voice commented. 'Would you like a cup of tea? Drew has just made a pot."

  'Mother!' Incredulously Ethan focused on the figure casually seated at the head of the long table. 'What are you doing here? And who the hell's Drew?' He looked without enthusiasm at the tall blond young man who was calmly pouring milk into a mug.

  'Didn't I say he'd be delighted to see me? It brings tears to my eyes every time I remember him saying to me, "This will always be your home, Mother." So touching.' She dabbed at invisible spots of moisture at the comers of her eyes. 'Drew is a dear friend of mine who has travelled all the way from Patagonia with me.' Since she'd been widowed, Faith Kemp had indulged her passion for foreign travel, and usually the odd card from exotic places was the only reminder of her exis­tence.

  'Geography never was my best subject, Mother.'

  If being caught passionately kissing his wife had em­barrassed him, he was hiding it well. Hannah, on the other hand, was wishing she were invisible. Wishing didn't help—she was the focus of her mother-in-law's ill-concealed interest and the silent stranger's blue-eyed sympathy as his sharp gaze noted the faded b
ruises along her shoulder.

  'South America, darling. Some people actually speak Welsh there—extraordinary! My great-grandmother was Welsh; did I ever mention it?'

  'Yes.' From his expression it was plain that Ethan was less than fascinated by the lesson.

  'Andrew Cummings.' The tall man moved forward, his hand extended. He wore faded jeans and a tee shirt, and a tatty army surplus jacket was hung on the back of a chair. His sun-bleached blond hair was almost long enough to tie back in a ponytail, which would have been in keeping with his unconventional image. For an awful moment Hannah thought Ethan was going to ignore the hand. 'I can see I'm intruding.' Drew's voice was low and cultured—an educated bohemian, Hannah decided. Hannah rushed in before Ethan could agree. 'Non­sense—there's plenty of room here. Isn't there, Ethan?' she insisted, glaring at him.