'You're employing her as a nanny?' Hannah asked, breathing hard. Was this Ethan's brutally efficient way of showing her how dispensable she was?
'She's only doing a few hours a day, but she's quite flexible. I said we didn't want her living in or anything, and I made it quite clear that it was a trial period. If you don't like her—'
'Oh, I still come into it, then!' Breath coming hard and fast, she glared at him with dislike.
'Naturally you still come into it.'
His calm was beginning to infuriate her. 'Why? You've just replaced me the moment my back was turned.' ... 'That's nonsense and you know it.'
'Don't patronise me, Ethan. Why do we suddenly need a nanny? I'm the nanny, in case you've forgotten.'
'You're my wife.'
'I've been your wife for the past year; We didn't need a nanny then. Have you decided I'm not up to the job?'
'I should have done something about it earlier—you need some time for yourself.'
'Oh, I see,' she drawled, 'it's a shift system you have in mind. Are Alison's duties going to take her as far as the bedroom too?'
She had managed to ruffle his tranquillity good and proper this time. The tightening of his mouth had been accompanied by an intimidating flare of fury in his grey eyes. She observed the changes dispassionately.
'I married you. You're my wife,' he snapped, as dark colour seeped up from the collar of his open-necked shirt until his olive-toned skin looked several shades deeper.
'It's not what you did, Ethan,' she said. 'It's why you did it. You married me because you wanted someone to care for your children. Someone who expected nothing from you.' Her voice rose until it sounded hysterically shrill in her own ears, but she couldn't stop. It was as if the floodgates had been opened and nothing could prevent the backlog of repressed emotions escaping. 'Everyone must have realised. Faith did,' she babbled wildly. "That's why she begged you not to marry me. The people you work with talk about us. Did you know that? Do you know how it makes me feel when I think of all those people speculating about us? I feel degraded!'
'I'm sorry if you find being my wife degrading.'
'Being the focus of smutty speculation and pity is degrading!' she yelled back. With the back of her hand she mopped the tears that had begun silently to slide down her cheeks.
'Who pities you?'
'All those smart women that know you, that knew Catherine. They know...'
'Know what?' he asked, taking a step closer.
'What a sham this marriage is. If the baby had lived they'd probably have put it down to immaculate conception.' She stopped abruptly, confusion creeping into her eyes.
Ethan almost sighed with relief. At last. It was the first time she'd actually referred to the lost child. Don't hurry things, he'd told himself. Let her decide when she wants to talk about it. He'd felt impotent listening to the doctor's explanations of denial and the grieving process.
He'd never felt so clumsy and inept in his life. Words were his trade but they came awkwardly now. 'I know it hurts,' he said softly. 'I wish I'd known about the baby.' What was the right thing to say? They hadn't told him that, had they?
Anger and resentment moved inside her She'd wanted to tell him. It should have been a time of shared joy but it wouldn't have been like that. She'd been robbed of that too—Ethan's distrust had robbed her.
It was the scent of his cologne which made her realise he was standing close to her. The evocative scent of his male body made her uneasy; it stirred memories she'd carefully blanked out.
'It was very early on. It was only a collection of cells, so tiny,' she said. The pragmatic words didn't help at all; the baby in her mind was whole and perfect. Her lips quivered. 'Why?' she wailed in a small, bereft voice. 'It isn't fair!'
'I know, honey, I know,' he crooned softly as she laid her head against his chest. He could feel the tremors that racked her body as he wrapped his arms around her. 'It's bloody unfair.'
She sobbed out her grief against his chest. When she pulled away Ethan's arms dropped to his sides, letting her go. His heart sank as he saw her expression. It was set and hard. The words she uttered were like a knife-thrust.
'You're probably glad.' In her pain she needed someone to blame. Part of her registered the intense pain on his face as he flinched. Part of her wanted to reach out for him and deny her words, but the impulse of a wounded animal to strike out was stronger at that moment. 'You don't think I'm responsible enough to look after Emma and Tom. You can take them away from me, but the baby was mine, the only thing in my entire life that's been mine. You couldn't have taken him off me.'
I’d trust you with my life, Hannah.' She frowned and stared at him in confusion. It was hard not to believe that calm certainty in his voice. 'I trust you with the lives of my children.'