Arabella Craig had been eighteen when Ethan Hardeman had opened her eyes to passion...and then married another woman. Four years later, tragedy brought Ethan back into her life. He was just as tall and just as handsome, but he was now divorced and embittered, running his family's cattle empire with an iron hand and a big heart. Except when it came to her.
Living day to day with him brought back all the passion... and pain. Ethan was so near, yet he refused to loosen the reins that held back his heart. But Arabella was determined not to let this Long, Tall Texan escape her again....
There are no customer reviews available at this time. Would you like to write a review?
April 01, 2011
Number of Print Pages*
Adobe DRM EPUB
* Number of eBook pages may differ. Click here for more information.
Excerpt from Ethan by Diana Palmer
Arabella was drifting. She seemed to be floating along on a particularly fast cloud, high above the world. She murmured contentedly and sank into the fluffy nothingness, aware somewhere of a fleeting pain that began to grow with every passing second until it was a white-hot throb in one of her hands.
"No!" she exclaimed, and her eyes flew open.
She was lying on a cold table. Her dress, her beautiful gray dress, was covered with blood and she felt bruised and cut all over. A man in a white jacket was examining her eyes. She groaned.
"Concussion," the man murmured. "Abrasions, contusions. Compound fracture of the wrist, one ligament almost severed. Type and cross-match her blood, prep her for surgery, and get me an operating room."
"Well?" The other voice was harsh, demanding. Very male and familiar, but not her father's.
"She'll be all right," the doctor said with resignation. "Now, will you please go outside and sit down, Mr. Hardeman? While I can appreciate your concern--" and that was an understatement, the physician thought "--you can do her more good by letting us work."
Ethan! The voice was Ethan's! She managed to turn her head, and yes, it was Ethan Hardeman. He looked as if they'd dragged him out of bed. His black hair was rumpled, apparently by his own fingers. His hard, lean face was drawn, his gray eyes so dark with worry that they looked black. His white shirt was half-unbuttoned, as if he'd thrown it on, and his dark jacket was open. He'd all but crushed the brim of the creamy Stetson in his hand.
"Bella," he breathed when he saw her pale, damaged face.
"Ethan," she managed in a hoarse whisper. "Oh, Ethan, my hand!"
His expression tautened as he moved closer to her, despite the doctor's protests. He reached down and touched her poor, bruised cheek. "Baby, what a scare you gave me!" he whispered. His hand actually seemed to be trembling as he brushed back her disheveled long brown hair. Her green eyes were bright with pain and welcome, all mixed up together.
"My father?" she asked with apprehension, because he'd been driving the car.
"They flew him to Dallas. He had an ocular injury, and they've got some of the top men in the field there.
He's all right, otherwise. He couldn't take care of you, so he had the hospital call me." Ethan smiled coldly. "God knows, that was a gut-wrenching decision on his part."
She was in too much pain to pick up on the meaning behind the words. "But...my hand?" she asked.
He stood up straight. "They'll talk to you about that later. Mary and the rest will be here in the morning. I'll stay until you're out of surgery."
She caught at his arm with her good hand, feeling the hard muscle tighten. "Make them understand...how important my hand is, please," she pleaded.
"They understand. They'll do what can be done." He touched her cracked lips gently with his forefinger. "I won't leave you," he said quietly. "I'll be here."