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Now his eyes dusted her body and she squirmed under his scrutiny—but not in the way she once had. His gaze told her that he knew.
‘I would say that we have rather a lot to talk about, wouldn’t you?’
‘Yes, we do. But I’m not like you, Ethan. I can’t just get another flight on a whim.’
She didn’t have the money to book another one, and it scared her to think of simply walking away from her ticket home.
‘Merida, if you don’t come now, heaven help me, I’ll put you over my shoulder and carry you to the car.’
He would.
Absolutely he would.
But he took a breath then, and did his best to fight fair. ‘If we can’t come to a suitable agreement I’ll arrange another ticket home for you.’
Merida didn’t know if she believed him, but she knew they at least had to try. She reminded herself of what she’d told Naomi—he’d always been a perfect gentleman with her—and so she nodded.
He took the handle of her case and negotiated it through the crowds far more easily than she had.
His car was there, waiting, and though she did not tell him so it actually felt like a relief to climb inside and have him join her. In recent weeks Merida had felt so incredibly alone.
The traffic was heavy and it was a slow drive back. They didn’t speak much.
On the drinks console she could see the theatre programme mocking her.
‘You were at the theatre?’
‘Yes,’ he responded tartly.
‘Did you find out I’d got a part...?’
He saw hope flare then—that he’d found out she was performing, that he’d gone to seeher—but Ethan quickly quashed it. Certainly he would not be revealing how it had felt to see the curtain open and her not to be there, so he was dismissive instead.
‘Of course not. I’m here because I just found out from my PA about your calls.’
Only the terse edge in his voice stopped her crying. Merida did not want to be needy and emotional, yet lately she’d felt just that.
Still, as the car snaked its way into the city, she stared out of the window and could not stop thinking how tonight could have been.
Shouldhave been.
Opening night! With Ethan watching. Acting her heart out while not knowing that he was in the audience.
And, yes, she far preferred the fantasy that burst into her mind—the one where he came backstage afterwards. That was how it should have been.
Not this.
She felt like a refugee as they returned to the stunning hotel, with Ethan still so dashing but Merida sans any black dress and pearls this time and in long-haul flight gear.
‘Good evening, Mr Devereux,’ the doorman said. ‘Madam.’
For once Ethan dealt with her luggage and waved away the bellboy, heading straight for the elevators. And this time it was Ethan who checked her reflection in the mirrored doors.
Pregnant.
Just as Merida must have stared at that word over and over, it played on repeat in his mind. And then he looked briefly at his own reflection, and thought it odd that he looked much the same as the man who a couple of hours ago had headed out to the theatre.
Yet, while he looked much the same, it felt as if a thunderbolt had hit him and still hadn’t quite gone to ground.
