Читать книгу The Australian Affairs Collection - Margaret Way - Страница 82

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

ETHAN RANG THE DOORBELL, wishing they were home...alone. Alina’s trembling vibrated through his palm and his heart twisted. Taking her into his arms, he kissed her for comfort, keeping it tender. Until he heard her contented sigh. Until she softened into him.

‘Try to contain yourself, Ethan. There’s no excuse for a public exhibition.’

Alina flinched. Ethan barely stirred at the caustic remark from behind him, though his gut tightened with irritation. Then he reluctantly lifted his head, scanning the large empty garden before grinning wryly.

‘Hardly public, Father.’

His chest expanded as he smiled down at Alina, seeing her sweet blush and the glow in her eyes. He’d done that—taken her from apprehension to desire. With a kiss that contained a promise for later.

‘Alina, this is my father—Martin James. Father, I’d like you to meet Alina Fletcher.’

His father inclined his head towards her. ‘Please come in, Ms Fletcher.’

Embarrassment flooded Ethan at the stilted remark. He stiffened, quite prepared to walk away. Alina forestalled him, moving forward, hand extended. Leaving his father no choice but to accept her greeting.

‘Thank you, Mr James. It’s very kind of you and your wife to invite me.’ Deliciously tongue in cheek.

The air whooshed from his lungs. He stared in admiration at this poised woman whom he’d sensed had been ready to bolt a few minutes ago. She’d been surprising him from the moment they met. Anticipation of the months ahead zipped along his veins.

They entered together, Alina’s hand in his once more. Was she comparing the cold, immaculate decor to the welcoming, comfy atmosphere of Louise’s courtyard home in Barcelona? He did—every time he came here.

A sharp intake of breath at his side made him aware he was crushing her fingers. He loosened his grip, gave her an apologetic glance—and was completely thrown when she winked her left eye at him. A simple act that triggered a fuzzy memory of something shared. Of concealed laughter.

Alina noticed his startled expression, but had no time to jog his memory. Sophia James was waiting for them. She lifted her chin, quite prepared to confront the woman who would one day take great pleasure in telling her son, I told you so.

He knew it, accepted it, and would handle it with his natural diplomacy. At least he’d have the consolation of his son or daughter.

Why the sudden depression? She’d asked for her freedom—had to have it. Had to keep moving. No ties. No commitments. Keep the memories blocked out. She feared there was now going to be so much more she’d have to not remember.

Sophia was standing regally, ready to be greeted. She reminded Alina of the titled women of history—so proud, so extremely conscious of their presumed status in life. With another quick squeeze of her hand Ethan led her forward, not letting go as he greeted his mother with a light kiss on her proffered cheek.

‘Mother, you’ve already met Alina—though I understand it was a brief encounter.’

Alina hoped she was the only one who heard the nuances in his introduction. Felt a flush of warmth at his championship.

‘Yes, it was quite a surprise. Welcome, Alina.’ Sophia gave her an obligatory social air-kiss on both cheeks. ‘Shall we all sit for drinks?’ She raised a perfectly trimmed eyebrow at Alina. ‘Do you have a favourite cocktail, my dear?

‘Iced water, thank you. I don’t drink.’

Spoken so woodenly she didn’t recognise her voice. She cringed inside at the pointed look exchanged between the older couple. This wasn’t a family dinner; it was a formal... She didn’t know what it was.

She did know she had the support of the man whose firm hand now guided her to the deep-cushioned sofa. For as long as she stayed in Australia—maybe even longer. His innate integrity ensured that he’d never betray or disown her. Life would have been so much better if only this staid, society-obsessed couple had appreciated the genuine affable qualities of their children.

Ethan kept his arm around her, even after a pointed scowl from his father when he gave them their drinks. He now fully comprehended the primitive male urge to protect a mate. It reinforced his determination to have everyone believe that he had married for love.

‘How is the Gold Coast hotel coming along, Ethan? Is the projected opening still viable?’

‘Yes, Father, but I’d rather not talk business. This is family time. Mother, I hear the charity night at the opera house you helped organise was a great success?’

‘Thank you, Ethan. I’d hoped to see you there.’

‘Not my scene. To support your cause I did buy three double tickets, as a bonus for ardent followers at work.’

‘Opera’s an acquired taste. You never gave it a chance,’ his father stated.

‘Simone attended with her parents,’ his mother chimed in. ‘She was very gracious with her condolences, and apologised for missing Louise’s funeral due to a modelling assignment in New York.’

Her voice slowed as Ethan’s head jerked up. His brow furrowed as a powerful surge of emotion ripped through him. Louise. The wink.

He flicked a quick glance at Alina, whose gaze was focused on his mother.

His sister’s favourite ploy as a child—and sometimes in adulthood—had been winking, always with the left eye, to defuse a tense situation. It was one that had so often had them squirming in their seats, trying not to laugh. Alina had deliberately given him a reminder of happy times.

‘Simone is the daughter of friends, Alina. She and Ethan have been close for years. Now, tell us about yourself. Do you have a profession?’ Sophia’s words were syrup-sweet, politely phrased with a definite hint of disdain.

Alina met her condescending brown eyes full-on, thought of how Louise had suffered because of this woman’s attitude, and remembered her happiness when the procedure had worked. In less than a heartbeat all her apprehension evaporated.

‘No. I’ve never needed one. I speak three languages fluently; get by in a few others. Travelling through Europe has taught me more than I’d have learnt at any university. Hands-on life is a great teacher.’

‘Oh, so how do you make a living?’ Slightly more acidic.

‘By accepting honest casual work in a variety of places and industries.’

She felt disapproval radiate through the room. Should she continue? She hated deceit, even when it was warranted or unavoidable. This wasn’t.

‘Barcelona was my base. That’s where I became friends with Leon and Louise.’

‘So that’s where you two met? Ethan...’ Sophia stopped talking, flashed a wary look at her son.

‘Please continue, Mother.’ Ethan’s arm tightened around her shoulders. His flat, calm tone should have served as a warning. His mother missed it.

‘I realise dealing with everything was paramount, but you never mentioned meeting anyone there. It hasn’t even been two months since the accident, and she’s...’

Another hesitation. Alina guessed it was very unusual for this very outspoken woman.

‘She’s what?’ Harsher. A definite signal to back off.

‘Oh, come on, Ethan. What do you expect?’ Martin James obviously couldn’t contain himself. ‘You chose not to tell us about her, when you met or how. She’s obviously led a nomadic life, with no ties or responsibilities. Now she’s moved in with you. I assume she’s not working?’

Alina’s heart pounded; her stomach heaved. She heard the words, understood the implications but not the undertones. They seemed to be talking of someone or something else, using her as the target. She’d been prepared for personal questions or subtle jibes—not this blatant hostility.

No one had ever treated her this way—as if she weren’t good enough to be in their company. Swinging her head from wife to husband, she saw only harsh dissatisfaction. She wanted out. She turned to Ethan—and froze.

Cold chills swept over her as she recalled his pained features after he’d read the surrogacy documents, his fury when she’d suggested his family might not want the baby. Right now he was rigidly controlled, icy. Much more intimidating.

Ethan had never been angrier. Not when a trusted friend had betrayed his loyalty. Not when a long-time girlfriend had cheated on him. Not even when a stupid, avoidable thing like a faulty brake had taken his sister and his best friend from him.

The rage building inside him was a culmination of years of their haranguing him to conform to their views, virulent criticism of his own choices. Their deplorable treatment of Leon and Louise. Plus a deep conviction that defending Alina was paramount—above anything he had ever done. Or ever would.

He rose to his feet, taking her with him, acutely aware that his teeth had ground together and his free hand had balled into a fist. One glance at Alina’s face and his only thought was to get out of there, so he could beg her forgiveness for subjecting her to this poisonous atmosphere.

‘This charade is over.’

‘Ethan, we—’

He flicked his hand, silencing his mother, dismissing both parents. Tenderly brushing a curl from Alina’s brow, he kissed her forehead. ‘Let’s go home, darling.’

He turned his head as they reached the door, subliminally noting their gobsmacked expressions.

‘Stay away from our home. Any calls will not be answered or returned.’

* * *

The son who’d always been the mediator had finally rebelled.

Ethan refrained from gunning his car as they left the property. The fierce urge to put distance between him and his parents was tempered by the knowledge that he had the most precious cargo.

He had no doubt they’d blame Alina, having always previously claimed to their friends that it was business commitments that had caused his withdrawal from their social world. Damn. Idiot. He ought to have insisted their first meeting be held in a restaurant, where they’d have had no choice but to be socially polite.

Probably wouldn’t have changed the end result.

He glanced across, met wounded eyes in an ash-white face and hit the brake, swinging into the kerb. He flung off his seatbelt, hauling Alina into his arms as he fumbled for her clasp. Holding her against his heart, breathing in her subtle aroma, was so liberating after the overpowering room they’d left behind, his anger began to dissipate.

‘I needed this. Needed your sweetness.’ He stroked her back, brushed her hair with his lips. ‘I’m sorry, Alina—forgive me for taking you there. You’ve done nothing to deserve the way they treated you. Nothing.’

She gave a muted sound suspiciously like a sob into his chest. He threaded his fingers thorough her hair and tilted her head up. Wanted to wipe the deep sorrow in her eyes away for ever. Hated that he didn’t know how. Her trembling lips broke his heart.

‘Why are they like that? No one’s ever treated me as if I’m nothing, not good enough to be polite to. No one—in all the places I’ve been.’

‘And they’ll never get another chance.’

‘No.’ She pushed away, shaking her head. ‘They’re your parents, Ethan, your family. Don’t lock the door. Life can change in a split second and then it’s too late to go back. We both know that.’

He threw his head back against his seat, closed his eyes. He did know, and it hurt like hell. Her self-deprecating laugh penetrated the anguish.

‘I think, somewhere deep in my head, I expected them to accept me the way Colin’s parents did.’

His eyes flew open at the mention of her husband. She sat, half turned towards him, hands in her lap, eyes downcast. He held his breath, didn’t dare move a muscle.

‘We met when he was twenty, still at uni. I was only seventeen, and a major distraction to his studies, yet his parents welcomed me, treating me like a loved daughter. They were so thrilled when...’

Lord, it was so hard not to reach for her as she painfully struggled for the next word.

‘When M... M... Michael was born. We were a real family.’

She went silent. Seemed immobile. Waiting was excruciating, but he sensed there was more she wanted to say. For her own sake.

‘They’re all gone. I’m not.’ Her head came up, eyes big and dark with despair. ‘Why just me?’ She began to tremble violently.

Now he moved, spurred by the stabbing pain that raked him. He enfolded her into his warmth. Desperate to comfort her, desperate for comfort himself. She’d been the only survivor. She might have died too.

Headlights lit up the windscreen. Alina pulled back, blinking, trying to regain composure. She hadn’t spoken about the accident since it had happened. Why now? Why to Ethan?

‘Take me home. Please.’

He didn’t move, kept a loose hold on her, his features grey and heartrending, his eyes dark and tortured.

‘Ethan?’

His shoulders shook as he shuddered. His eyes refocused.

‘Home. Yes, let’s go home.’

* * *

When they arrived at the apartment Alina stayed Ethan’s hand when he reached for the light switch.

‘Leave them off.’

The lights from the city gave the room a soft glow, a more confiding atmosphere. He’d defended her against his parents’ insinuations; he deserved to know more than the half-reveal she’d given him. At least the meagre details she hadn’t been able to avoid learning.

She poured herself a glass of water, and took her defensive place on the settee. Ethan followed with a cold beer—the drink he usually favoured in afternoons. When he saw the way she was huddled in the corner his brow furrowed, but he chose the other end, folding one leg up, his body towards her.

She drank half the glass to clear her throat, then fixed her gaze on the window. There was no emotion in her flat, detached voice.

‘We’d been on a week’s holiday, touring places near the New South Wales and Victoria border. The plan was to stop for the night, then drive home. Colin and his dad were both careful drivers, changing over whenever we stopped. It was getting dark, and I heard them talk of the next town being about thirty minutes away before I fell asleep.’

Ethan gripped the cold metal can so hard it began to buckle. His throat was so tight he could hardly breathe. He knew what was coming, didn’t want to hear it. Couldn’t avoid it. Couldn’t take his eyes from her pale, impassive face and blank, unseeing eyes. He watched her drain her glass, swallow with difficulty, and shiver as she drew in breath.

‘Everything’s a blur after that. Screams, thuds, screeching metal. Voices and sirens. That hospital smell. I don’t remember who told me. Someone in the corridor mentioned a kangaroo and a semitrailer. I didn’t want to know—never want to know.’ Her voice broke. ‘I had concussion from a head wound, lots of cuts and bruises. And they all died.’

Her empty glass fell into her lap. She hunched over, covering her face with her hands.

Ethan’s hand shook as he put down his drink and automatically moved her glass to the table. Her words had torn an agonising path into the depths of his soul. A tiny twist of fate and he’d never have known her.

Would she push him away if he reached for her? His confidence faltered.

‘Alina?’ Desperate. Begging to help her. ‘I’m here. Whenever you want or need me.’

She lifted tortured eyes that stared at him as if she wondered who he was, why he was there. Then her face cleared and she flung herself into his arms.

‘Ethan. Hold me.’

He cradled her as close as humanly possible, needing to reassure her. Needing reassurance himself. She was meant to live. Meant to have this baby with him. Meant to love again one day.

‘Hold me tight, Ethan. Hold me. Please don’t let me be alone.’

He held her. For as long as she’d let him, he’d hold her.

‘You’re not alone any more, darling. I’m not going anywhere. Not without you. I’ll be here to hold you, comfort and care for you. You, my beautiful, courageous Alina.’

He caressed her back, murmured words from his heart, knowing she might not understand. Knowing only that he needed to voice how much she’d come to mean to him. The baby she carried was an added joy.

He kept talking, even after her body softened in sleep against him. He had no idea when she’d be ready to hear his admission in the cold light of day.

* * *

A long-forgotten sensation infiltrated Alina’s brain, enticing her to wake; less pleasant ones held her in limbo. A familiar earthy aroma surrounded her. A light breeze stirred her hair. She moved, yet the warm wall at her side stayed. Warmth spread from the weight on her stomach.

Her senses kicked in. Her eyes fluttered, flew open. She was lying on her back, early-morning light allowing her to see an unknown painting on the wrong wall. A white-sleeve-covered arm stretched out from under her neck. She was in Ethan’s arms. In his bed. Still wearing her dress.

Her last recollection was of Ethan twisting them both so they lay prone on the settee, of his hands soothing her to sleep. He’d done as she’d pleaded, had cradled her. Hadn’t left her on her own.

She turned her head. He lay on his side, his chest moving in steady rhythm. Hassle-free in sleep, his features were softer, the tiny lines at the corners of his eyes less obvious. His stubbled jaw was strangely appealing. He slept so peacefully for a man whose world had been blown apart. By her.

She arched her neck. To wake the sleeping Prince with a kiss? Crazy notion. She rolled towards the edge of the bed.

‘Alina?’ Slumber-rough and drowsy.

His hand caught her arm, slipped off, and she slid onto the floor.

‘It’s late. I have things to do.’

Like run from an awkward situation.