Miranda Saunders was standing in the doorway beside Ethan. She was casually dressed, but desperately elegant, and Hannah was immediately conscious of her own deficiencies: namely a face pink from exertion and hair which looked neither smooth nor sleek. Dressing for comfort rather than glamour no longer seemed the best decision she'd made today. Brushing down her crumpled clothes, Hannah got to her feet.
'We were...' she began breathlessly.
'It looked like great fun,' the redhead responded with a tentative smile.
'I see your head is quite recovered, darling,' Ethan drawled as she tried to press her tumbled locks back in place. 'Miranda dropped in to see how you are.' He responded to the appeal in Hannah's wide, horrified eyes with a casual and, to her mind, deeply callous smile. I’ll chase up some coffee for you both. Perhaps we should transfer this rough-house out into the garden. Do you play soccer, Drew?'
Typical—he could make out they were bosom buddies when it suited him! Hannah thought with disgust. She watched the traitors respond eagerly to Ethan's suggestion. He can't do this to me—he is doing this to me, she realised bleakly.
'Girls can't play football,' she heard Drew observe with innocence as they left the room.
'Tell him, Daddy!' Emma shrieked, tugging her father's arm. 'Tell him I can.'
'Show him, sweetheart,' she heard Ethan advise as he closed the door firmly behind them.
'I had to come.'
To watch me grovel, Hannah thought weakly. To grind her elegantly shod size six into my face. 'About last night...' she began. There was no point skirting around the issue.
'Are you feeling better?'
'I stayed in bed until midday.' Even in the midst of her present predicament she felt something warm and heavy stir in the pit of her belly as she recalled with whom she'd stayed in bed most of the morning. That memory's not going to help you now, she told herself sternly.
'I owe you an explanation.'
Hannah blinked in bewilderment—either she had missed something or they were talking at cross purposes. Her bewilderment wasn't diminished by the embarrassed expression in the tall young woman's eyes.
'You do?'
'I've no excuse. I knew he was married.'
Hannah froze. What was she saying? Had her first instincts been correct? Ethan had denied it and it hadn't occurred to her to disbelieve him. Had he sent Mkanda in here to flaunt their affair as some sort of bizarre punishment? She cursed her willingness to accept everything he said at face value as a tide of bitter humiliation rose in her throat.
'He's so attractive, but I don't need to tell you that.' Miranda's smile was apologetic. 'He was very kind to me, which makes it worse, really. He's such a good teacher.'
Don't I know it? Hannah thought grimly.
'I pulled out all the stops to get him.'
And what man could resist what this woman had to offer? Hannah thought grimly. What man would even try? Not my husband, obviously. The pain solidified in Hannah's chest until she felt as if she couldn't breathe. All that stuff about it being the first time in over three years and she'd swallowed it whole.
'At first he ignored it,' Mkanda recalled, her colour heightened. 'Then when I got a lot more obvious he told me straight—he told me he wasn't interested. He was very convincing,' she recalled drily. 'When you go after what you want,' she observed philosophically, 'you have to take the rough with the smooth, but that's part of being a woman today.' She sighed. 'I may be tough, and not as moral as I should be, but I do have a conscience.
So when I realised last night that you thought...' She lifted her slender shoulders and her face twisted in a grimace of self-contempt. 'I couldn't bear it if I was the cause of any conflict. He obviously loves you very much.'
These revelations left Hannah's thoughts in a mad whirl. Ethan had refused this gorgeous creature! Only for a split second did she contemplate that he had done so because of her. In her heart she knew that it was Catherine's image which gave him the strength to resist temptation—that and the fierce sense of protectiveness he felt for his children. She couldn't afford to nurture any illusions on that score; he'd protect this marriage because it gave the children stability.
'You didn't have to tell me this,' she said wonder-ingly. She didn't think she'd have been brave enough to do so if the circumstances had been reversed.
Miranda nodded slowly. 'I know—maybe I'm not as hard-boiled as I thought,' she mused with a self-conscious laugh. 'I don't usually go after married men. I had heard some gossip that your marriage wasn't all it...' She cleared her throat noisily. 'Not that that's any excuse,' she said hastily. 'And I can see it wasn't true anyway. You must think I'm a total bitch,' she said frankly.