'I thought I had locked it. I always lock it.' His sceptical sneer made her want to scream.
Ethan drove a high-powered black BMW. He parked at the end of a tree-lined avenue and told her tersely he'd only be ten minutes. He didn't explain where he was going, but then he never did. Whatever his business was, he looked pretty grim.
Ethan was always punctual, and it was barely ten minutes later that he returned. He opened the door and threw in her brown leather shoulder bag.
'I thought you'd like this back. You'd better check everything is there,' he advised, sliding into the driver's seat. 'It won't bite; you take a look.'
'Where did you get it?' she asked hoarsely.
The engine purred into life. 'Where do you think?'
'How do you know where he lives? What did you do...?'
"The college was very helpful when I explained good old Craig had left his wallet in my car last night. Shocking security,' he observed mildly.
'What did he say? Did he just hand it over?'
'He said too much,' Ethan observed curtly.
'About me?' she asked miserably. She could just imagine what sordid lies he'd wheeled out to justify his actions. She felt sick just imagining that Ethan had believed any of it. She couldn't bring herself to look at him.
'Don't worry, he admitted the truth eventually.'
'Eventually?' She looked at his grim, hard-edged profile and realised she was being pretty slow. Ethan wasn't the sort of man people intimidated, but he was more than capable of doing the intimidating if he felt the situation justified it. His next words confirmed her dawning suspicions.
'Craig is now personally acquainted with fear. That was what you wanted, wasn't it? I forget how long you had in mind, but I always think it's quality not quantity that counts.'
His thin-lipped smile made her shudder. This wasn't the indulgent father; this was a ruthless man—a dangerous man. She'd never actually appreciated before just how daunting Ethan could be.
'You didn't...didn't hit him, did you?'
His charcoal-grey suit was pristine and his silk tie lay smoothly against the white background of his shirt. He didn't look like a man who'd just been brawling. Her eyes went to his knuckles as his hands lay lightly on the steering wheel—no tell-tale marks.
'Nothing so crude. I just told him what I'd do to him if he ever touched you or any other woman again.'
'And that scared him?'
'You had to be there.' His smile was savagely silky. It made Hannah shudder. It made her realise how little she knew this man she'd married.
'Are lawyers supposed to behave like that?' she asked doubtfully.
'I didn't go in there wearing my wig, Hannah. I went in there as your husband. I didn't lay a finger on him— of course, if he'd tried...' He shook his head rather regretfully. 'I knew he'd cave in. I've seen his type often enough—inadequate bullies.' His grey eyes were filled with contempt as he flicked her a sideways glance. Happily the contempt was intended for the loathsome Craig.
She looked away and pretended to go through the contents of her bag. 'It's all here,' she said, not actually registering what was before her eyes. The words 'as your husband' kept going through her mind. The warm glow was a ludicrous response; she knew he hadn't meant anything by it. All the same...
'Aren't you stopping for lunch?' she asked, trying to sound as if it didn't matter one way or the other. She'd had a lot of experience; she could hear what sounded like authentic lack of interest in her voice.
'I'm meeting Miranda. She's assisting me this afternoon.'
Miranda, the newest recruit to Ethan's chambers, was everything Hannah would have liked to be. Not only was she beautiful, she had brains which had earned her respect in a male-dominated world.
Hannah often wondered if Miranda was the reason Ethan didn't get home until so late—suspiciously late on Friday nights. It wasn't really reasonable to suppose he remained celibate; he was a virile, attractive—very attractive—man. Even if he was still hopelessly in love with Catherine, he was still human. She knew he'd always be discreet; it wasn't in his nature to humiliate her by flaunting his affairs. All the same, the thought of him with the beautiful redhead tortured her.
'That's nice.'
'Is it?'
'I wouldn't know,' she said in an exasperated tone. 'I was just being polite.' She tried to slip back into their old relationship, and the only thanks she got were his snide comments. There was no pleasing some people.
'Now I know why I married you—for your lovely manners.'
What she'd done to deserve his mockery she didn't know. She'd grown accustomed to his indifference over the past year, his occasional irritation, but he actually looked as though he disliked her this morning.
'No, you married me because you wanted a low-maintenance wife who would make as little impact as possible on your life!' The resentment bubbled up and overflowed into these unwise observations before she could stop it.