Ethan's Temptress Bride. Michelle Reid
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Her response was stunning. In a single violent movement she rose to her feet, spun her back to him, then began trembling as her battle with tears began to be lost.
Ethan took his time in rising to his full height and trying to decide what his next move should be. It was as clear as day that some sort of assault had taken place here, that Eve was shocked and distressed and maybe—
‘I hate you, do you know that?’ she choked out suddenly. ‘I really—really hate you for coming in here like this!’
‘I heard a scream, came out to investigate and saw someone leaving here,’ he felt compelled to explain. ‘There was something in the way he moved that made me—Eve—’ he changed tack anxiously ‘—you’re shaking so badly you look like you’re going to collapse. Let me—’
‘Don’t touch me,’ she breathed, then quite suddenly her legs gave away on her and she sank, folding like a piece of limp rubber down onto the edge of the rumpled bed.
Standing there, Ethan was uncertain as to what to do next. She didn’t want him near her, she wanted him to go, but there was no way he could do that without making sure she was fit to be left on her own. His eyes fell on the hot-pink dress, then the scrappy pink bra lying beside it. His skin began to crawl again in response to the horror that was painting itself into his head. The evidence suggested rape, or at the very least a bungled attempt.
A thrust of bloody anger had him bending down to scoop up a white cotton sheet from the tangle of bedding on the floor, then carefully draping the sheet around her trembling frame. It wasn’t that she was naked, because he’d noticed the pair of pink panties when she’d risen to her feet. But, as for the rest…His teeth clenched together as he lowered himself into a squatting position in front of her again.
She was clutching the sheet now, face still hidden, hunched shoulders trembling like mad. ‘What happened here, Eve?’ he questioned grimly.
‘What do you think?’ she shot back on a bitter choke. ‘I suppose you think I deserved it!’
‘No,’ he denied that.
‘Liar.’ She sobbed and lifted the sheet up to use it to cover her face.
‘Eve—nobody of sane mind would believe a woman deserves what appears to have happened here,’ he insisted soberly.
‘I’m drunk,’ she admitted.
He could smell the alcohol.
‘It was all my fault.’
‘No,’ he said again, his hands hanging limp between his spread thighs, though they desperately wanted to reach out and touch her.
‘I can’t feel my legs. I don’t even know how I got here. I think he spiked my last drink.’
‘Possibly,’ Ethan quietly agreed, willing to feed her answering remarks if it helped him to understand just what had happened here.
She moved at last, rubbing the sheet over her face then slowly lowering it so he could get his first look at it. Her lips were swollen and he could see chafe marks from a man’s rough beard. His jaw became a solid piece of rock as he noticed other things and tried to keep that knowledge off his face.
Maybe she saw something—he wasn’t sure, but she released the sheet and rubbed trembling fingers over the side of her neck, then lifted the fingers higher to push back her hair and clutched at her head as she began to rock to and fro again.
Ethan’s fingers twitched; she saw it happen. ‘I’m all right,’ she said jerkily. ‘I just need to—’
Get a hold on what has happened to me, he finished for her mentally. ‘How bad was it?’ He had to ask the question even though he knew she did not want to answer it. But this could well be the kind of scene that required a doctor and the police to investigate.
But Eve shook her head, refusing to answer. Then, from seemingly out of nowhere, a huge sob shook her from shoulders to feet and she was suddenly gulping out the tears with a total loss of composure.
A silent sigh ripped at the lining of his chest. ‘Look, Eve, will you let me hold you? You need to be held but I don’t want to—’
‘You hate me.’ She sobbed.
‘No, I don’t.’ This time the sigh was full-bodied and heavy. ‘I’ll go and call the police.’ He went to get up.
‘No!’ she cried, and without any warning she slid to the ground between his spread knees and landed heavily against his chest, almost knocking him over in the process.
As he flexed muscles to maintain his balance, she began sobbing brokenly into his shoulder. It was a dreadful sound—the sound nightmares were made of. Her arms went around his neck and began clinging tightly. The sheet began to slip, and with his jaw locked like a vice against the gamut of primitive emotion building inside him, Ethan caught the sheet, replaced it over her shoulders, then took a chance and wrapped his arms round her to just hold her while she cried herself out.
Her tears began to wet his shoulder and neck, mingling with her breath as she sobbed and quivered. She smelt of alcohol and something much more sweetly subtle, and he hoped she hadn’t noticed that her naked breasts were pressing against his equally naked chest. She felt warm and soft and so infinitely fragile it was like holding a priceless piece of art. As his eyes took in the debacle of their surroundings, he couldn’t think of a less likely setting or situation to discover that he was holding the perfect woman in his arms.
The unexpected thought stopped his train of thought. Maybe he tensed; he was certainly shocked enough to have turned into a pillar of rock. Whatever, the sobbing grew less wretched, the grip on his neck began to ease. Old tensions erupted, defensive barriers began to climb back into place. He could actually feel Eve taking stock of the situation. The sobs quietened, silence came and within it her distress changed to a self-conscious embarrassment.
She had noticed the intimacy of their embrace.
Untangling her fingers from round his neck, Eve lifted her head out of his shoulder, then drew away from him just enough to gather the sheeting around her front. She couldn’t believe she had done that—couldn’t believe she had just sobbed her heart out on Ethan Hayes of all people, nor that she had done it with her bare breasts flattened against his naked chest.
So now what did she do? she asked herself helplessly, and put a hand up to cover the aching throb taking place behind her heavy eyes. He didn’t speak, though she wished he would because she just didn’t know what to say to him.
‘I’m sorry,’ were the weak words that eventually left her.
‘Please don’t be,’ he returned, sounding so stiff and formal that she wanted to shrivel up and die.
But at least he moved at last by sitting back on his ankles to place some much needed distance between them, and Eve dared herself a glance at that hair-covered chest she could still feel warm and prickly against her breasts. She liked the sensation, just as she liked the way she could taste the moist warmth of his skin on her lips.
Oh—what is happening to me? In trembling confusion brought the sheet up to cover her face again. Beyond her hiding place the silence in the room throbbed. What was he thinking? What did he really want to do? Get up and leave? Wishing he hadn’t come in here at all? Why not? She knew what Ethan Hayes thought of her. She knew he was seeing only what he would have expected to see.
In his eyes she was a flirt, a man-teaser with no scruples to stop her from going that step too far. Well, Mr Hayes, she thought behind the now damp sheet. Here I am where you probably always predicted I would end up, hoisted by my own petard.
‘Say something!’ she snapped out. She couldn’t bear the silence.
‘Tell me what happened here.’
‘I don’t remember!’ The words and their accompanying sob drove her to her feet. Only, her legs wouldn’t support her; they felt like two rubber bands