Ethan's Temptress Bride. Michelle Reid
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my life! But if you stick one—just one—eligible man in front of me I will never speak to you again—understand?’
‘Ne,’ the old man answered, gruff-voiced and tetchy. ‘Yes, I understand that you bully a sick and lonely old man.’
Sick, she did not believe, but lonely she did. ‘See you soon, Grandpa,’ she softly ended the conversation.
And she would do—sooner than she’d thought too—because her grandfather was making a flying visit here tomorrow just to spend her birthday with her. The prospect softened her whole face. She loved that stubborn, bad tempered old man almost to distraction. He had been both her mother and father for so many years now that she could barely recall the time when she hadn’t looked to him for every little thing she might need.
But not a husband, she quickly reminded herself. That was one decision in her life out of which he was going to have to learn to keep his busy nose!
Why a sudden image of Ethan Hayes had to flash across her eyes at that moment, Eve refused to analyse, but it put a dark frown upon her face.
‘Here, try this…’ Glancing up she found Raoul Delacroix standing beside her holding out a tall glass full of a pinkish liquid decorated with just about everything, from a selection of tropical fruit pieces to several fancy cocktail sticks and straws.
‘What’s in it?’ she asked warily.
‘Aidan called it tiger juice with a bite,’ Raoul replied.
Tiger juice, how appropriate, Eve mused dryly, thinking of Ethan Hayes again.
‘I’m game, if you are,’ Raoul said, bringing her attention to the other glass of the same he was holding. ‘It might help take the scowl from your face that you seem to have been struggling with all evening.’
Had her bad mood been that apparent? Eve accepted the glass without further comment, but as Raoul lowered himself onto the sunbed next to hers, she felt a fizz of anger begin to bubble inside because she knew whose fault it was that she was feeling like this!
If she didn’t watch out, Ethan Hayes could be in danger of becoming an obsession.
‘Salute.’ Raoul’s glass touching the edge of hers brought her mind swinging back to where it should be.
‘Cheers,’ she replied, unearthed a curly straw from the rest of the pretty junk decorating the glass, put it to her lips and sucked defiantly.
The drink tasted a little strange but not horribly so. She looked at Raoul, he looked at her. ‘What do you think?’ she asked him curiously.
‘Sexy,’ he murmured with a teasingly lecherous grin. ‘I can feel my toes tingling. I will now encourage the sensation to reach other parts.’ With that he took another pull on his straw.
Laughing at his outrageousness, Eve did the same, and it became a challenge as to which of them could empty the glass of Aidan’s wicked brew first. After that she remembered little. Not the glass being rescued from her clumsy fingers nor the light-hearted banter that went on around her as the rest of the crowd discussed where the birthday girl should be placed to sleep it off. Aidan offered a bed, someone else suggested she was perfectly fine where she was. Raoul reminded them that her grandfather was due in on the dawn flight, so maybe the wisest place for him to find her tomorrow was in her own bed. This drew unilateral agreement because no one wanted to explain to Theron Herakleides why his precious granddaughter had been so rolling drunk she hadn’t even made it home. Raoul offered to deliver her there since it was on the way to his villa, and he’d only had one glass of alcohol. Everyone agreed because no one else felt sober enough to make the drive.
It was all very relaxed, very light-hearted. No one thought of questioning Raoul’s motives as they watched him carry Eve to his car. They were all such long-standing friends after all. All for one, one for all.
CHAPTER FOUR
ETHAN came shooting out of a deep sleep to the sound of a woman’s shrill cry. Lying there in his bed with his heart pounding in his chest he listened for a few moments, uncertain that it hadn’t been someone screaming in his dream.
Then the second cry came, and he was rolling out of bed and landing on his feet before the sound had come to a chillingly abrupt halt. Grabbing up a pair of beach shorts he pulled them on, then began moving fast out of his bedroom, across the sitting room and through the front door, where he paused to look around for some clue as to where the cries had come from.
It was pitch black outside and whisper-quiet; nothing stirred—even the ocean was struggling to make a sound as it lapped the shore. Peering out towards the sea, he was half expecting to see someone in difficulties out there, but no flailing silhouette broke the moon-dusted surface. The cries had been close—much closer to house than the water.
Then it came again, and even as he swung round to face Eve’s beach house he saw the shadowy figure of a man slink down the veranda steps.
Eve was the screamer. His heart began to thump. ‘Hey—!’ he called out, startling the figure to a standstill halfway down the veranda steps. It was too dark to get a clear look at him but Ethan had his suspicions. He sure did have those, he thought grimly, as he began striding towards the boundary wall that separated the two properties. The name Aidan Galloway was burning like a light bulb inside his head. ‘What the hell is going on?’ he demanded, only to prompt the other man to turn and make a sudden run for it.
His skin began to crawl with a sense that something was really wrong here. People didn’t run unless they had a reason to. Thinking no further than that, he gave chase, sprinting across the dry spongy grass and vaulting the wall without even noticing. Within seconds the figure had disappeared around the corner of Eve’s beach house. By the time Ethan rounded that corner all he saw were the red tail-lights of a car taking off up the narrow lane which gave access to the beach from the road above.
On a soft curse he then turned his thoughts to Eve. Spinning about, he stepped onto her veranda and began striding along its cool tiled surface until he came to the door. It was swinging wide on its hinges and he stepped warily through it into complete darkness.
‘Eve—?’ he called out. ‘Are you all right?’
He received no answer.
‘Eve—!’ he called again, more sharply this time.
Still no reply came back at him. He had never been in here before so he had to strain his eyes to pick out the shapes of walls and pieces of furniture as he began moving forwards. He bumped into something hard, found himself automatically reaching out to steady a table lamp by its shade and had the foresight to switch it on. Light suddenly illuminated a floor plan that was much the same as his own. He was standing in the sitting room surrounded by soft-cushioned cane furniture; there was an open-plan kitchen in one corner and two doors which had to lead to a bathroom and the only bedroom.
‘Eve?’ he called out again as he wove through the cane furniture to get to the other two doors. One was slightly ajar; warily he lifted a hand and widened the opening enough to allow light to seep into the darkened room.
What he saw brought him to a dead standstill. The room looked like a disaster area, with Eve sitting in the middle of it like a discarded piece of the debris. Lamp light shone onto her down-bent head and her hair was all over the place, forming a tumbling screen of silk that completely hid her face. She was hugging herself, slender arms crossed over her body, long fingers curled like talons around the back of her neck. The tattered remains of the hot-pink dress lay in a crumpled huddle beside her on the floor.
‘God in heaven,’ he breathed, feeling his heart drop to his stomach when he realised what had clearly been going on here.
‘Go away,’ she told him, the whimpered little command almost choked through a throat full with tears.
Grimly ignoring the command, Ethan walked forward, face honed into the kind of mask that would have scared the life out of Eve if she’d glanced up and seen it. He came to squat down in front of her. He might not