CHAPTER TEN

Arabella schooled her features not to show any of the emotions she was feeling. She stared up at him with a blank expression, while her poor heart ran wild and fed on the sight of him.

“Hello, Ethan,” she said. “Nice to see you. Is Miriam with you?” she added with a pointed glance behind him.

He put his hat on an empty seat and lowered himself into the chair beside hers. “Miriam is getting married.”

“Yes, I know,” she began.

So Mary had already told her, he thought. That wasn’t surprising, Mary came to see her almost every day. He caught her eyes, but she quickly lowered her gaze to the beige sport coat he was wearing with dark slacks, a white silk shirt and striped tie.

He toyed with the utensils at his place. “I wanted to come sooner, but I thought you needed a little time to yourself. What did the doctor say about your hand?” he added.

She managed to disguise her broken heart very well. To save her pride, she was going to have to lay it on thick. She couldn’t let him know her predicament. Besides, he was getting married, and she wished the best for him. He didn’t need her problems to mar his happiness. “It’s fine,” she said. “I have to have a little physical therapy and then I’m back to New York, by way of Houston, to take up where I left off.”

His face hardened. He couldn’t help it. He’d thought for certain that she’d never use that hand again, knowing how much damage had been done to it. Of course, these days they had all sorts of methods of repairing damaged tendons, so maybe there was a new technique. But it didn’t help his pride. He’d left things too late. If he’d told her how he felt at the beginning, if he’d revealed his feelings, things might have been different. His whole life seemed to be falling apart, and all because of his lousy timing.

He stared at her across the table. “Then you’ve got what you want,” he said.

“Yes. But so have you,” she reminded him with a forced smile. “I hope you and Miriam will be very happy. I really do, Ethan.”

He gaped at her. Meanwhile, the waiter appeared with her salad and paused to ask Ethan if he was ready to order. Absently, he ordered a steak and salad and coffee and sat back heavily in the chair when the man left.

“Arabella, I’m not getting married.”

She blinked. “You said you were.”

“I said Miriam was.”

“What’s the difference?” she asked.

He sighed heavily. “She’s marrying a man she met down in the Caribbean,” he said. “He’s the father of her child.”

“Oh.” She watched the way he twirled his water glass, his eyes downcast, his face heavily lined. “Ethan, I’m so sorry,” she said gently. She reached out hesitantly and touched one of his hands.

Electric current shot through him. He lifted his eyes to catch hers while his fingers linked around and through her own. He’d missed her more than he even wanted to admit. The house, and his life, had been empty without her. “Care to console me?” he asked half-seriously. “She and her fiancé are staying for a few days.” He lowered his eyes to their linked hands so that she wouldn’t see the hunger in them. “You could come back with me and help me bluff it out until they leave.”

She closed her eyes briefly. “I can’t.”

“Why not? It’s only for a couple of days. You could have your old room. Coreen and Mary would enjoy your company.”

She weakened, but her pride was still smarting from the beating it had taken. “I shouldn’t, Ethan.”

His fingers tightened. “Will it help if I apologize?” he asked quietly. “I never meant to be so rough on you. I should have known better, but I was half out of my mind and I swallowed everything Miriam said.”

“I thought you knew me better than that,” she said sadly. “I suppose you have to love people to trust them, though.”

He flinched. He felt as if he’d had a stake put through his heart. Yes, he should have trusted her. He hadn’t, and now she was running away because he’d hurt her. He couldn’t let her get away from him now. No matter what it took.

“Listen, honey,” he said softly, coaxing her eyes up to his, “it’s been hard on all of us, having Miriam around. But she’ll be gone soon.”

Taking his heart with her, Arabella thought. She wished, oh how she wished, that he could love her. “My father and I are going to Houston as soon as he finds a place for us,” she said.

His jaw clenched. He hadn’t counted on that complication, although he should have expected it. She had her career to think of, and that was her father’s grubstake. “You could stay with us until he finds one,” he said curtly.

“I’m happy here in the motel,” she protested.

“Well, I’m not happy with you here,” he said, his own voice arctic. His eyes began to kindle with feeling. “It’s my fault you left. We were off to a good start, until I started jumping to conclusions.”

“That’s just as well.” She searched his face. “I guess it’s pretty painful for you. Losing her again.”

“If you only knew,” he replied, his voice deep and slow, but he wasn’t thinking of Miriam. He brought her fingers to his lips and nibbled at them, watching the reaction color her face and bring a soft, helpless light to her green eyes. “Come home with me,” he said. “You can sprawl across my bed in that satin gown and we’ll make love again.”

“Hush!” she exclaimed, looking around to make sure they weren’t overheard.

“You’re blushing.”

“Of course I’m blushing. I want to forget that it ever happened!” she muttered. She tried to draw her fingers away, but he held them tightly.

“We could give Miriam and her intended a grand send-off,” he coaxed. “By the time she left, she’d be convinced that I didn’t have a broken heart.”

“And why should I want to do you another favor?” she demanded.

He looked her right in the eye. “I can’t think of a single reason,” he confessed with a warm, quiet smile. “But I hope you’ll come, all the same. Maybe I can make up for the way I treated you.”

Her fingers jerked in his and she went scarlet. “By making love to me again? Do you think I care so much that I’ll be grateful for any crumbs left over from your relationship with Miriam?” she asked bluntly.

“No. I don’t think that at all.” He held her gaze, trying to find any sign that she still cared, that he hadn’t quite ruined everything. That he might have one last chance before she resumed her career to make her understand how deeply involved his feelings were, how much he cared.

“I’ve heard you play.” He lowered his eyes to her hands, caressing them gently. “You have genius in your hands. I’m glad you haven’t lost that talent, Arabella, even if it means that I have to let you go again.” And he might, but now he had the hope that it might not be a permanent loss this time. If he could convince her that he cared, she might yet come back to him one day.

She wanted to tell him. She started to tell him, to draw him out, to try to make him tell her if wanting was all he felt. But the waiter arrived with their order, and the moment was lost. She couldn’t find the nerve to reopen the subject, especially when he started talking about Miriam’s husband-to-be and the way he’d come dashing across the sea to get her.

After lunch, Ethan waited while she packed and left a message at the desk for her father to call her at the Hardeman ranch. Going back was against her better judgment, but she couldn’t resist the temptation. In the long years ahead, at least she’d have a few bittersweet memories.

He drove her out to the ranch, his eyes thoughtful, his face quiet and brooding.

“Roundup’s over,” he announced as they sped down the road out of Jacobsville. “It feels good to have a little free time.”

“I imagine so.” She glanced off the highway at the massive feedlot that seemed to stretch forever toward the horizon. “Do the Ballenger brothers still own that feedlot?”

“They certainly do,” he mused, following her glance. “Calhoun and Justin are making a mint on it. Good thing, too, the way they’re procreating. Calhoun and Abby have a son and a daughter and Justin and Shelby have two sons.”

“What ever happened to Shelby’s brother, Tyler?” she asked absently.

“Tyler married an Arizona girl. They don’t have any kids yet, but their dude ranch just made headlines—Tyler and his wife have expanded it to include a whole authentic Old-West adobe village as a tourist attraction, and they’ve enlarged their tourist facilities. It looks as if they’re going to make a mint too.”

“Good for them,” Arabella said. She stared down at the floorboard of the car. “It’s nice to hear about local people making good.”

“That’s what we thought about you,” he said, “when you started making headlines. We all knew you had the talent.”

“But not the ambition,” she confessed. “My father had that, for both of us. I only loved music. I still do.”

“Well, you’ll be on your way again when you get the physical therapy out of the way, I guess,” he said, his voice hardening.

“Of course,” she mumbled numbly and moved her damaged hand to stare down at its whiteness. She flexed the muscles, knowing she’d never be the same again.

Ethan caught a glimpse of the expression on her face. It kept him puzzled and quiet all the way home.

Miriam and her fiancé were beaming like newlyweds. Even Coreen seemed to have warmed toward her, and Miriam went out of her way to make Arabella feel comfortable.

“I’m really sorry for messing things up between you and Ethan,” the older woman said when she and Arabella were briefly alone during the long afternoon. In her newfound happiness, she could afford to be generous, and she’d seen the misery she’d caused Ethan already. “I was evening up old scores, but it wasn’t Ethan’s fault, or yours, that he couldn’t love me.” She glanced toward Jared, a tall, pleasant man with elegance and obvious breeding, and her face softened with emotion. “Jared is everything I dreamed of in a husband. I ran because I didn’t think he’d want our child, as I did. My emotions were all over the place. I guess I had some wild idea of getting Ethan to marry me again to get even with Jared.” She looked at Arabella with quiet apology. “I’m sorry. I hope this time you and Ethan will make a go of it.”

That wasn’t possible now, but it was kind of Miriam to think, even belatedly, of Ethan’s happiness. She managed a smile. “Thank you. I hope you’ll be happy, too.”

“I don’t deserve it, but so do I,” Miriam murmured. She smiled self-consciously and went back to her fiancé.

Mary was giving Arabella curious looks. Later on, she dragged her friend to one side.

“What’s going on? You could have knocked me over with a feather when I saw Ethan walk in with you,” she whispered. “Have you made up?”

“Not really. He wants me to help him put on a good front so Miriam won’t think she’s broken his heart,” Arabella said, her eyes going to Ethan like homing pigeons.

Mary watched the look and smiled secretly. “I don’t think she could get that impression, not considering the way he’s been sneaking looks at you ever since he brought you in.”

Arabella laughed halfheartedly. “He’s just putting on an act,” she said.

“Is that what it’s called?” Mary murmured dryly. “Well, ignore it while you can.”

“I thought I was….” Her voice trailed off as she encountered a long, simmering gaze from Ethan’s silver eyes and got lost in the fierce hunger in them. The rest of the people seemed to vanish. She didn’t look away and neither did he, and electricity sizzled between them for one long, achingly sweet minute. Then Coreen diverted his attention and Arabella was able to breathe again.

For the remainder of the day, he didn’t leave the house. After supper, while the rest of the family watched a movie in the living room on the VCR, Arabella excused herself and changed into comfortable jeans and a white tank top before she sneaked back downstairs and went into the library to try the piano for the first time since the wreck.

She closed the door quietly, so that no one would hear her. She positioned the piano bench carefully and sat down, easing up the cover over the keyboard. It was a grand piano, because Coreen played herself, and it was in perfect tune. She touched middle C and ran a scale one octave lower with her left hand.

Very nice, she thought, smiling. Then she put her right hand on the keyboard. It trembled and the thumb protested when she tried to turn it under on F. She grimaced. All right, she thought after a minute. Perhaps scales would be just too difficult right now. Perhaps a simple piece would be easier.

She chose a Chopin nocturne, a beginner’s piece she’d played in her early days at the piano. She began very slowly, but it made no difference. Her hand was lax and trembly and totally uncooperative. She groaned and her hands crashed down despairingly on the keyboard, seeing months of work ahead before she could even do a scale, perhaps years before she could play again normally, if at all.

She didn’t hear Ethan come in. She didn’t hear him close the door behind him and stand staring at her downbent head for a long time. He’d heard the crash of her hands on the piano and it had made him curious. He knew she was probably feeling frustrated, that it would take a long time for her hand to be able to stand the torment of long practice.

It was only when he came up to her and straddled the piano bench facing her that she looked up.

“You can’t play,” he said. He’d heard her from outside the door. He knew the truth, now. She gritted her teeth, waiting for the blow to fall. “It will take time,” he said. “Don’t be impatient.”

She let out a slow breath. So he didn’t know. At least her pride was safe.

“That’s right.” She met his eyes and felt her heart drop. “So you don’t have to feel sorry for me. I can still play, Ethan. I’ll just need a little more time to heal, and then a lot of practice.”

“Of course.” He looked down at the keyboard. “Hurt, didn’t it? What I said about feeling sorry for you.”

“The truth is always the best way,” she said numbly.

He shifted, his eyes pinning hers. “What are you and your father going to do until you’re proficient again?”

“He’s going to see about releasing some of my new recordings and re-releasing some of the older ones,” she replied. Her left hand touched the keyboard reverently and she mourned fiercely the loss of her abilities. She couldn’t even show it, couldn’t cry her eyes out on Ethan’s broad chest, because she didn’t dare admit it to him. “So, you see, I won’t have any financial worries right away. Dad and I will look after each other.”

He drew in a short, angry breath. “Is he going to win again?” he asked coldly.

She drew away, puzzled by the fury in his tone. “Agin?”

“I let him take you away from here once,” he said, his jaw taut, his silver eyes flashing. “I let you walk away, because he convinced me that you needed him and music more than you needed me. But I can’t do that again, Arabella.”

She hesitated. “You…you loved Miriam.”

His face hardened. “No.”

“You only want me,” she began again, searching his eyes while her heart threatened to run away with her. “And not enough to marry me.”

“No.”

He was confusing her. She pushed back her long, dark hair nervously. “Can’t you say something besides just ‘no’?” she asked slowly.

“Put your leg over here.” He readjusted her so that she was facing him on the long, narrow piano bench. Then he pulled her jean-clad legs gently over his so that they were in the most intimate position they’d ever shared. His lean hands held her hips, pulling them hard into his, and then he looked down into her eyes and deliberately moved her so that she felt, with shocking emphasis, the slow arousal of his body.

Her nails dug into his shoulders. “Ethan, for heaven’s sake!” she protested in shocked outrage.

But he held her there despite her struggles. His jaw was taut and his breathing unsteady. “I’ll be damned if I’ll let you go,” he said huskily. “You’re going to marry me.”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. The feel of him against her was making reason almost impossible, anyway.

“Say yes,” he said, bending to her mouth. “Say it now, or so help me God, I’ll have you where you sit!” His hands pulled her closer and she felt the physical reality of the threat.

“Yes, Ethan,” she could manage that, barely. Not because she was afraid of him, but because she loved him too much to refuse him a second time. Then his lips were against hers and she was clinging to him like ivy, only living through his mouth and his hands and his body.

Somehow he managed to get his shirt and hers out of the way, and she felt him from the waist up, bare and hair-roughened muscles warm and hard against her sensitive breasts while he kissed her until her mouth ached. His strong hands slid up and down her back, moving her in a new and shameless rhythm against his thighs, making her moan with the intimacy of their position.

“It will be like this in bed,” he whispered, his deep voice shaken as it made tiny chills against her moist, swollen lips. “Except that we’ll join in the most intimate way of all first. Then I’ll rock you against me…like this…and we’ll have each other on crisp, white sheets in my bed…!”

His tongue penetrated her mouth. She arched against him, moaning, her hands trembling as they caught in his hair and held his mouth against her own. She could see them—Ethan’s lean, dark-skinned body over hers, the light glistening on his damp skin, the movement of it against her own pale flesh in a rhythm as deep, as slow, as waves against the beach. His strained face above hers, his breath shaking, as hers would be, his mouth moving to her breasts…

She caught her breath. Sensations of pleasure made her shudder as his hands clenched on her hips and forced her even closer.

“I want you,” he groaned against her mouth. His fingers trembled as they slid under the waistband of her jeans.

“I know,” she whispered feverishly. Her hands slid to his thighs, trembling too. “I want…you, too.”

He shuddered with the fierce need to give in to what he was feeling, what she was feeling. But it couldn’t happen like this. No, he told himself. No! He eased back a breath and looked down into her soft, misty eyes. “Not like this,” he bit off. “Our first time shouldn’t be on a piano bench in an unlocked room. Should it?”

She stared up at him, shivering. It had only then occurred to her where they were. “I saw us,” she whispered unsteadily. “In bed.”

His face clenched. “My God, so did I, twisting against each other in a fever so hot it burned.” He buried his face in her throat, and it was burning hot. His arms contracted.

His hands smoothed against her bare back and he touched her soft breasts. He lifted his head, looking down at the rose-tipped softness in his hands. “Did you ever dream that we’d be like this together one day?” he asked, almost in awe, and lifted his eyes to hold hers. “Sitting alone in a quiet room with your body open to my eyes and my hands, and so natural that we both accepted it without embarrassment?”

“I dreamed of it,” she confessed in a soft whisper. She looked down at the darkness of his hands against the creamy beauty of her breasts. She trembled, and didn’t mind letting him see. She belonged to him now. If wanting was all he felt, she could live with it. She’d have to.

“So did I,” he whispered huskily. “Every long, lonely night.” And he bent to take one small, perfect breast into his mouth.

She arched to him, clinging to his hair, gasping at the delicious sensations that washed over her, loving the warm moist suction of his mouth on her.

“It will be like this in bed, too,” he whispered against her flushed skin. “Except that I’ll kiss more than your breasts this way, and I won’t stop until you’re as satisfied as I am.”

She drew her mouth over his eyes, his cheekbones, his nose, his mouth. “I hope you won’t be sorry,” she said quietly.

He lifted his head and looked down at her. If she’d ever loved him, he’d killed it. He was bulldozing her into this wedding, but it seemed the only way out. Perhaps love could be taught. “We’ll have a white wedding, with all the trimmings,” he added. “Complete with a wedding night. There won’t be any anticipating our vows, and to hell with modern attitudes.” He kissed her gently. “This is what marriage should be. A good marriage, with respect on both sides and honor to make it all perfect.”

Respect. Honor. No mention of love, but perhaps she was being greedy. “Your mother was right. You are a puritan,” she teased.

“So are you.” He lifted her away from him with rueful reluctance and fastened her clothes again, then his. “I like the idea of a blushing, shy bride,” he murmured, watching her face color. “Do you mind?”

“No,” she assured him. “Not at all. I’ve waited so long to be one.”

“As long as I’ve waited for you,” he replied, his face almost a stranger’s with its hard restraint. He moved away from her. “We’ll make it together this time,” he said. “Despite your father and Miriam and all the other obstacles, this time we’ll make it.”

She looked up at him with hope and quiet adoration. “Yes. This time we’ll make it,” she whispered.

They had to. She knew that she’d never survive having to leave him again. Later, she’d explain about her father and the peace they’d made. For now, it was enough that they were facing a future with each other. Love might come later, if she could be the kind of wife he wanted, and needed. In the meantime, she’d live one day at a time.

Her only worry was what he was going to think if he found out that her career was over. He might think again that she was marrying him for security.

* * *

She phoned her father that night and explained the situation to him. Oddly enough, he wasn’t disappointed, and he even congratulated her. He’d make do, he promised, and she’d get the lion’s share of the deals he was working on her behalf.

That reassured her. She’d have her little nest egg. Then, in the future, when Ethan finally tired of her body, she’d have something to fall back on. She could have a kind of life, even though it wouldn’t include him.

She slept fitfully, wondering if she’d made the right decision. Was it right for Ethan, who was losing the woman he really loved? Or should she have let him go for good? By morning, she was no closer to a decision.