WIFE BY AGREEMENT

by Lauren Repeta

  'Is that why you married me?'

  Hannah blinked in shock as he slid into the car beside her. 'I... I... Why else?' She affected a casual shrug, but the question had really shaken her.

  He'd never come right out and asked her before. She'd thought it hadn't mattered to him so long as things were going as he wanted. Was it because he wanted different things now, or did he suspect? The truth had been trem­bling on the tip of her tongue. She flicked a curious look at his profile. What would he have said if she'd told him the truth?

  'Do you mind?' she couldn't stop herself asking.

  'Mind the fact you married me for purely practical reasons? Why should I? Under the circumstances it would be a bit hypocritical. If you'd been like Patricia I'd never have suggested it.'

  'Who's Patricia?'

  "The one in between Sophie and Rebecca,' he said with a frown of concentration as he recalled the roll-call of previous nannies.

  'What did Patricia do?'

  'Followed me around with big spaniel eyes,' he re­called with a shudder. 'She could always find an excuse to knock on my door in the middle of the night dressed in floaty, transparent things.'

  'You mean the poor girl had the bad taste to fall in love with you.' Thank God she had managed to bite back the truth. The idea of him thinking about her like that left a bitter taste in her mouth.

  'Love! I doubt that. Infatuation, possibly.'

  I’d have thought worship would have been a positive attribute in a prospective bride.'

  'Under the circumstances, hardly,' he said with a gri­mace of distaste.

  'You mean she'd have expected you to make love to her?' Hannah suggested. Her chin was tilted at a bellig­erent angle as she turned to glare at him. 'How perfectly horrid for you. Sleeping with the nanny!' she mocked. 'Whatever next?'

  The heaving indignation was not wasted on Ethan. 'It's plain ridiculous to compare yourself with what's-her-name, and you know it. So don't get all uppity with me.'

  'From where I'm sitting the similarities jump up and hit you in the face.'

  'Did you expect me to make love to you?" he shot back.

  'No!' Dream, crave and yearn for it, yes. Expect, no!

  'Exactly,' he replied triumphantly. 'You didn't marry me thinking I could walk on water either.'

  She could say no in all honesty to this. In her case love hadn't been blind, just reckless! 'I didn't hold it against you that you couldn't.'

  'You're generous to a fault,' he agreed drily. 'Seri­ously, it would have been a disaster to enter into a mar­riage with some starry-eyed female who needed constant reassurance. Perhaps more marriages should be based on friendship.'

  'We weren't friends,' she reminded him uncoopera-tively. What female with blood in her veins would have been co-operative in her place? she thought indignantly. He had some hide, singing the praises of platonic mar­riage when everyone knew he'd been crazy about Catherine! He'd had it—why should he imagine she didn't want the opportunity to experience the wild im­practicability of mutual love? Was she being unreason­able and greedy wanting more?

  'But we are now?'

  If she'd been standing on the particular rug that ques­tion had pulled from under her feet, she'd have been flat on her back. Fortunately she was enclosed by soft, sup­portive leather upholstery which cushioned the impact considerably.

  'I...we...possibly,' she finished lamely. She ought to be glad he thought of her as a friend. Only his words triggered a seething sense of dissatisfaction.

  'That's what I like to hear: an unequivocal endorse­ment. Let's skip over the friends bit. We're lovers, or aren't you sure about that either?'

  'I'm not in the witness box,' she retorted. Just as well too, considering!

  'There was no compulsion...'

  Speak for yourself, she thought, quashing an alarming desire to indulge in hysterical laughter. 'Compulsion' summed up her feelings for this man pretty well.

  'Nothing forced,' he continued persuasively. 'It was a natural progression...spontaneous. What,' he enquired icily, 'is so funny about me being spontaneous?'

  'It's just not a term I associate with you.'

  He gave her a second suspicious sideways glance be­fore returning his attention to the road ahead. 'Neither of us had any expectations and things just progressed naturally. We're not in love, but it doesn't make the physical aspect any less fulfilling. I think things have turned out very well.'

  Maybe he was right, she reflected. He looked a lot more relaxed than she'd ever seen him before. Perhaps sex without the unstable element of love was less fraught. Who was she fooling? Deep down she knew she couldn't have slept with him if she hadn't been in love with him; it was an integral, inseparable part of the equa­tion for her. Men were obviously different.

  'Shall I take your silence as agreement, or should I start to worry?'

  My God, I could tear his comfortable appraisal to shreds with three little words—three little words I'm not going to use. He'd never know how bitterly ironic his cutting assessment of the lovelorn nanny was.

  'If propinquity and convenience were all that mat­tered, surely most men would sleep with their secretar­ies.' She pursed her lips reflectively. 'Maybe most men do sleep with their secretaries.'

  'Obviously I find you attractive.'

  'It's not obvious to me.'

  He dismissed this statement with a sceptical smile. 'Would you have married me if you'd found me physi­cally repulsive, no matter how attractive the package I offered you? I don't think so.'

  'Correct me if I'm wrong, but the logical progression of that argument seems to be that if I'd been a real dog you wouldn't have popped the question. Your frankness has a unique charm all of its own, Ethan.' Whilst she didn't expect to be romanced with sweet nothings, this was stretching her tolerance to breaking-point. 'And it would be a mistake to assume that, just because you're a pin-up, all women feel sexually attracted to you. Women are not as predictable as men.'

  'Have I said something to annoy you, Hannah?'

  'Whatever gave you that idea?'

  'I thought you'd appreciate candour. Or are you still miffed because I didn't make love to you back at the pool?'

  'My God,' she breathed, her bosom heaving, 'when they handed out ego you got a double dose.'

  'You were expecting me to.'

  'I was not!' she lied firmly.

  'I thought you might think the setting a bit too... obvious.

  'You're so sensitive.'

  'I'm glad you appreciate the sacrifice,' he replied with cheerful unrepentance. 'It was a sacrifice.' This time there was no humour in his voice. 'When you look at me with those big, hungry eyes I personally couldn't give a damn about the decor.'

  'I don't have...' She couldn't bring herself to say 'hungry eyes'.

  'Are those sweet little cotton things in your bag?' He moved his hand from the gear lever to flick the handle of her leather bag and she nodded vaguely, her head still spinning. 'So you're wearing what, exactly, under those?' Briefly his glance flicked over the russet cotton sweater and above-the-knee black skirt she was wearing.

  She glanced down, just to check the lacy top of her hold-up stocking wasn't showing. Her heart was beating slow and strong and she was conscious of every separate thud.

  'Nothing would be my guess,' he said thickly. 'You'd better come clean because I have every intention of find­ing out for sure when we get home.'

  The mental picture that accompanied his words breached her feeble mental defences and robbed her body of strength in one fell swoop. 'Don't I have any say in the matter?'

  'The idea excites you as much as it does me.'

  'How do you know?' She plucked at the stretchy fab­ric of her sweater, as it showed an unfortunate tendency to cling to the visible proof that supported his theory.

  'I know—the same way I know it's my face you see when you close your eyes when I'm making love to you. My face—not some shadowy figure you still harbour romantic fantasies about.'

 
'What are you talking about?'

  'You told me about your unrequited love. Did you forget?'

  Lies had a way of catching up on a person! I really don't have a good enough memory to lie effectively, she thought, trying desperately to recall exactly what she had said.

  'I don't want to talk about it.' Did I give this face-saving device a name? she wondered. She racked her brains and still couldn't recall.

  'Do you feel guilty because you enjoy it when we have sex? Do you feel you're betraying your love?'

  Hannah raised her eyes from her stubborn contempla­tion of her clasped hands. Was this a classic case of transference? Was that actually how he felt when he made love to her?

  For some reason he was working himself up into a real temper. One glance at his rigid profile told her that.

  'Imaginary lovers are perfect, but bloody unsatisfying. I may not fulfill the criteria of all those mawkish ro­mances you read, but I do assuage your needs,' he as­sured her with arrogant confidence.

  She dismissed the possibility that the idea of her fan­tasising about another man whilst she was in his arms was fuelling his antagonism. He had no reason to be jealous of her love; he didn't want it himself. He'd spelt that out pretty clearly.

  He was also as wrong as he could get about the cri­teria. He filled all the criteria of dream lover—all except one: he didn't love her to distraction.

  'Perhaps the difference is we don't make love, we have sex.'

  'I haven't noticed you complaining.'

  'I've got lovely manners.'

  'I used to think so...' He switched off the engine as they drew up outside the stable block and gave her the benefit to his full attention—something she found hard to bear. 'Will your lovely manners make you feel obliged to agree when I suggest we go indoors and "have sex"?' There was no missing the irony in his voice.

  'No.' She reached out and touched the side of his hard jaw. He turned his head and pressed his lips to her open palm. 'But wanting to touch you will,' she confessed huskily.

  Hot satisfaction flared in Ethan's eyes, and without saying a word he got out of the car and tore around to the other side with flattering speed to open her door.

  'It's not very practical with a houseful of people,' she said regretfully. Already aroused, she was filled with writhing frustration by the knowledge that this verbal foreplay was going nowhere.

  'If you had a spontaneous husband that might be true, but you have me. I've planned meticulously for this eventuality, and we have the place to ourselves for the next two hours at least.'

  She gaped at him incredulously, but he was too busy being distracted by the length of leg she exposed whilst climbing out of the car to notice. 'You planned...?'

  'Always be prepared,' he intoned piously. 'The boy scouts had a profound effect on my development.'

  'I doubt very much if they had anything like this in mind.'

  'And if my house weren't filled to overflowing with strangers,' he responded, sweeping her unexpectedly up into his arms, 'I wouldn't have to go to such elaborate lengths to get my own wife alone.'

  'Your mother isn't a stranger, and Dre—'

  'Shut up. I don't want to talk about my mother.' He proceeded to tell her what he did want to talk about, and Hannah was happy to listen.

  Hannah got back home a little after seven. Faith and Drew had left that morning so, after the children had gone to bed, she and Ethan would have the whole eve­ning to themselves. The first time since... Her cheeks flushed with pleasure as she recalled this new and ex­citing phase in their relationship; this wondrous circum­stance was never very far from the forefront of her thoughts.

  The passing days hadn't diminished her sense of won­der at the joys of intimacy. Where it would eventually lead them, she didn't know, but for once she was in­clined to^ feel optimistic.

  Perhaps it was even the time to admit to him her feel­ings. She had to tell him before they became too trans­parent to disguise. Would the gift of her love be some­thing he appreciated? That was the troublesome million-dollar question that made her break off humming the cheery tune under her breath and begin chewing her upper lip.

  He had certainly thawed out a lot during the past days, and not just with her. Although he hadn't gone so far as to laugh at his misinterpretation of his mother's matri­monial plans, she had got the impression his wry sense of humour had eventually appreciated the situation. He'd gone along with the proposed family get-together with his prospective stepfather with every appearance of ap­proval, and he and Drew both seemed ready to accept that their mutual first impressions had been wrong. When Ethan capitulated, he did it in style.

  Hannah was still on a high, and all things felt possi­ble—even telling her husband she loved him! The after­noon had really boosted her confidence. Jean-Paul had arranged an informal meeting for her with the head of the French department. In retrospect it had been lucky he'd given her such short notice—she hadn't had time to talk herself out of it, or see problems where there weren't any.

  It had all been very encouraging, and she'd been bub­bling with enthusiasm when she'd stopped off at the pub for a drink with Jean-Paul and his wife, who was on maternity leave from her teaching post in a local sec­ondary school.

  The kitchen was empty, so she assumed Ethan was upstairs getting the children ready for bed. She looked at her reflection in a large gilt-framed mirror before go­ing upstairs. The girl with the flushed cheeks, bright, shiny eyes and glossy hair looked unfamiliar to her; it was an image she would like to get used to. She was just straightening the neck of her red chenille jumper when Ethan's voice made her spin round.

  'Hello!' she said back, hurrying forward. 'Where are the children?' she asked as she walked into the room and looked around with a puzzled frown.

  'Ah, the children,' he drawled. This was Hannah's first inkling that something was amiss—seriously amiss. A sick feeling of dread began to churn in her belly. "They're in bed.'

  'It's early.' Her voice faltered as she met the searing contempt in his grey eyes. 'Is something wrong, Ethan?' Had she been wrong when she'd thought he'd accepted the fact that she wanted to further her education in the future? What else could explain the waves of hostility he was emanating?

  'You can ask me that?'

  'I don't understand...' His blighting anger seemed to­tally out of proportion to anything she had done.

  'Where have you been?'

  Hannah blinked. He must have got her message. It was Mrs Turner's day off, but Alexa had offered to look after Tom and bring Emma home from school. Alexa had been in the room when Jean-Paul had rung, and, much to Hannah's surprise, she had offered to look after the children. Hannah had hoped it meant a slow easing of hostilities.

  'Not any local hospital—I tried them.'

  'I went to the university and then I stopped for a drink with Jean-Paul. Alexa knew—'

  I’m well aware you dumped Tom with Alexa—it was she who contacted me after the school rang to tell her nobody had picked Emma up. I'm curious,' he said with biting sarcasm. 'Did you genuinely forget, or did you just assume somebody else would shoulder your respon­sibilities because you couldn't be bothered to spoil your fun? I know you left the university hours ago—I rang.'

  Hannah was shaking her head slowly from side to side. He couldn't believe she'd actually desert Emma. The thought of the little girl waiting for someone to collect her, watching all her friends go home, brought a lump of emotion to her throat.

  'Was she very upset?' How could Alexa use a child to drive a stake between her and Ethan? My God, she must really feel threatened, Hannah thought. She must really hate me!

  'And am I to assume from the husky catch that you give a damn?" he jeered. 'All you had to do, Hannah, was pick up a phone and Alexa would have collected her. But no, you couldn't be bothered even to do that! If the teacher hadn't been alert she might have tried to get home alone. A little girl, lost, alone, a soft target for any sickos out there.'

  Her eyes darkened
with horror at the picture his words painted. 'Alexa...'

  'Alexa was worried sick. I said I'd ring her when you got back.'

  Hannah caught his arm. She couldn't believe this was happening. God, what a fool she'd been to take Alexa's overtures of friendship at face value! 'You don't under­stand, Ethan. Alexa offered to look after Tom and pick up Emma.'

  His eyes flicked dismissively over her face, icy with contemptuous disbelief. 'What reason would she have for lying? When I asked her to look after the children next week— Oh, yes, I'd planned to take you away,' he said, as she stared at him uncomprehendingly. 'It was meant to be a surprise. New ring, new start!' He ex­tracted a small velvet box from his pocket and pulled out a gold ring. He flung it viciously across the room. 'Not only did you fool the children, you fooled me with your gentle, caring air. You've shown your real colours now, so don't try and shift the responsibility to someone else.'