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Ethan made her his sole focus, and that was rare. He made it clear there was nowhere else he wanted to be, Merida thought as their meals arrived. There was no feeling that he would soon have to dash, as her parents often did when she called. Reece too, come to that. And there was no looking over his shoulder to check who might appear, as so many in the acting world did.
‘Do you miss your family?’
‘Sometimes.’ Merida nodded again. ‘My parents are divorced, and both have remarried...’ Her voice trailed off and she didn’t elaborate.
Ethan wanted her to. It was rare that he wanted to know more about any woman he would soon bed.
And bed her he would.
That decision had been made when he had dismissed his driver and walked back towards the gallery.
At first he had thought he had left it too late, as the gallery had appeared closed, but on looking in he had seen her sitting at the high desk.
She was beautiful.
Nothing like the coiffed, sophisticated beauties he usually dated. Her riot of hair and that full mouth entranced him almost as much as those bewitching green eyes. Yes, he wanted to know more about her—but it was not just for that reason alone he decided to share a part of himself.
He wanted to talk.
Tonight he would kill for normality, to be able to admit to another person from where he had just come. To speak, as anyone else would, when they were worried about a family member.
But that type of conversation was off-limits when you were a Devereux.
And so he spoke of the past—of things that were more freely known.
‘I know all about divorce,’ he said. ‘My father’s been married a few times. Once before my mother died and twice since.’
‘Do you ever see your stepmothers?’
‘God, no,’ Ethan said, and gave a little shudder at the thought. ‘All those marriages, apart from my parents’, were pretty short-lived.’
‘So you didn’t get close to any of them?’
‘Not at all.’ Ethan shook his head and gave a small mirthless laugh. ‘I don’t think they were ever love-matches. It was more financial bliss those women were seeking. Mind you, I can hardly blame them. My father just wanted a wife on his arm for functions. He was never home.’
‘Who brought you up, then?’
‘Draconian nannies,’ Ethan said, and then he halted, realising he had said far more than he usually would. He turned the conversation back to Merida. ‘How old were you when your parents divorced?’
‘I was ten when they broke up, and they spent the next two years fighting over shared access of me.’
‘You were popular, then?’ He gave a light tease, but she didn’t smile.
‘I don’t think either of them actuallywantedshared care—they just didn’t want to give in to the other.’
There was still hurt there when she thought back to that time. Although she felt silly sometimes, when she heard what others had gone through—like Ethan, who had not only lost his mother but then had to endure an endless parade of stepmothers.
He watched her fall silent and put down her cutlery. She stared at it for a moment, silently, but when the waiter came and asked if everything was okay she turned and gave a bright smile.
‘Amazing, thank you.’
The mask was back.
Ethan read women very easily. In fact, he read most people with ease.
He just couldn’t quite read Merida.
She was friendly, and appeared confident, yet there was a vulnerability to her that he could not place. It was more that he sensed it rather than saw it.
