her tears, her grief firmly back, her hand still tingling from his touch, the one area of warmth in her cold, frozen body apart from the silent tears that trickled down her now pale cheeks.
And she held it in, held it deep inside, watching in respectful silence as the coffin was loaded into the hearse, Ethan, proud and tall, carrying his brother on his broad shoulders for his final journey, a flash of tears in those black eyes, that delicious mouth quilted in pain.
Only when the entourage departed did her emotions finally catch up.
Only as she watched the car containing Richard disappear out of sight, the back of Ethan’s head in the family car following slowly behind, did the true depth of her loss finally hit Mia.
Her hands gripping her stomach, she contemplated the baby inside, the father it would now never meet, the loving gesture that had seemed so right at the time, so straightforward and uncomplicated, terrifying her now, spinning her into a panic that would surely never end. The full weight of responsibility descending on her tired shoulders seemed almost too much to bear.
Silver spots danced before Mia’s eyes; as the floor seemed to spin around her she could hear the worried shouts from the crowd as they dashed over, see the floor coming to meet her as she sank down onto the grass.
Grief, agony, both past and present all homing in, all suffocating her with the impossibility of her situation. But it wasn’t that her baby’s father was dead, wasn’t that she was in this alone now that seemed to be smothering her as she struggled merely to breathe.
Worse, far worse than her loss was the knowledge she had gained today. As much as she hated him, as much as every fibre of her being loathed him for all he had put her and her father through, seeing Ethan again, feeling his hand on hers, listening to that deep, measured voice, staring for that moment into his dark brooding eyes, Mia realized it was for ever. Knew that after all these years the feelings were still as strong, the pain he had inflicted was everlasting, the closure she craved would never eventuate, the grief that gripped her now, had suffused her for seven years, would never, ever relent.
She could hear the ambulance sirens, was vaguely aware of a mask being slipped over her face, the cool, dark confines of the ambulance as they closed the doors and pulled away from the church towards the hospital.
But none of it mattered, none of it registered, not when a life of agony stretched before her.
She still loved Ethan Carvelle.
CHAPTER TWO
‘WE’D really rather keep you in.’ A rather impatient-looking doctor stared at her notes. ‘At least for a couple of days until your blood pressure comes down.’
‘It’s hardly likely to come down here,’ Mia replied through gritted teeth, wishing they would all just leave her alone, that she could get in her car and drive back to her home to pore over the day’s events in her own surrounds. ‘Once I’m home I’ll be fine.’
‘What if you’re not?’ The doctor stared at her coolly over his glasses. ‘You don’t live locally, Ms Stewart; you live two hours out of Cairns in the mountains. It’s all very well for you to take risks with your own health, but bear in mind that you’re seven months pregnant. Arguing over a couple of days’ admission…’
‘Who’s arguing?’
Thank God they’d taken the blood-pressure machine off her arm, because if her reading had been high before, as Ethan’s dry tones filled the rather small cubicle Mia was sure it would be up through the roof about now. His heavy cologne mingled with the sickly antiseptic smell, his height, his presence dwarfing everything, and even the rather terse doctor seemed to take on rather more courteous tones as he addressed Ethan.
‘I was just explaining to your wife, sir—’
‘She’s not my wife,’ Ethan corrected, totally at ease as the doctor’s eyes swivelled nervously to the notes in his hands.
‘Well, your partner, then. I was trying to explain that it’s imperative she stay in hospital for a couple of days for the baby’s sake…’
‘She’s not my partner either,’ Ethan said with a slight edge. ‘She’s a friend.’
‘I’m most certainly not!’ Mia retorted. ‘A passing acquaintance would be a more apt description.’
‘Prickly, isn’t she?’ Ethan smiled and if the doctor wasn’t already gay he was certainly heading for conversion because he practically melted on the spot as Ethan turned his black eyes to him. ‘What exactly is the problem, Doctor?’
Mia’s horrified expression at Ethan’s rude intrusion should have been enough to stop the doctor in his tracks, but given both men’s backs were practically to her she lay instead welling with indignation as they proceeded to discuss her as if she weren’t in the room.
‘Her blood pressure’s high and according to her blood work she was slightly dehydrated when she arrived as well as underweight. We just want to keep her here for a couple of days to make sure everything’s progressing normally with the pregnancy.’
Mia was about to respond but held back when Ethan’s calm, measured tones appeared to support what she’d been saying.
‘What if she agreed to come back tomorrow for a check-up? Surely her own home would be the best place for her to rest?’
‘Normally, yes, but given she lives a two-hour drive away it’s out of the question. She needs to be resting, not driving a car along winding mountain roads, and if something goes wrong help isn’t easily at hand.’
‘Fair enough.’ Ethan nodded. ‘Don’t worry, Doctor, I’ll soon talk her around.’
‘You will not!’
Remembering, finally, that Mia was actually the patient, the doctor actually managed to address her. ‘I’m waiting for your GP to call through with your antenatal history, but in the meantime I want you to lie there and relax, and perhaps your “passing acquaintance” might be able to talk some sense into you.’
‘I’ll do my best!’
Alone with Ethan the fire seemed to die within her. Impossibly shy and confused, she stared again at her fingers, utterly refusing to look up, to be the one to break the oppressive silence, but, when it was clear Ethan had more staying power than her, finally Mia relented.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘I’m beginning to wonder,’ Ethan quipped. ‘I should be halfway down a bottle of whisky by now and regaling tales of Richard’s and my supposedly happy childhood…’ His voice trailed off and if she’d looked up she’d have seen his face soften slightly. ‘When I got back to the hotel I heard a woman had collapsed at the funeral. The words “blonde” and “pregnant” kind of narrowed the field.’
‘You didn’t need to come.’
‘I know,’ he admitted, ‘but I was worried about you.’
‘It’s a bit late to be worried about me, Ethan!’ She could hear the bitterness in her own voice. ‘Seven years too late, actually. You lost all right to worry about me when you walked, or rather flew, out on me without a backwards glance. You lost all right
