The Mélendez Forgotten Marriage (9 page)

‘Did you ever love my brother?' Izabella asked.

The question momentarily knocked Emelia off course. She looked at the young woman blankly, knowing as each pulsing second passed another layer of blame was being shovelled on top of her. ‘I…I don't feel it is anyone's business but Javier's and mine,' she said.

Izabella gave a scathing snort. ‘You never loved him. What you love is what he can give you—the lifestyle, the clothes, the jewellery. It's all you have ever wanted from him.'

‘That is not true.'
Please don't let it be true
, Emelia thought.

‘He is not going to remain faithful to you, you know. Why should he when you played up behind his back?'

Emelia felt a stake go through her middle. It surprised her how much Izabella's coolly delivered statement hurt her. Her mind filled with images of Javier with other women, his body locked with theirs, giving and receiving pleasure. Perhaps even now he was entertaining himself with some gorgeous creature in
Moscow. She shook her head, trying to get the torturous images to disappear. ‘No,' she said in a rasping whisper. ‘No…'

‘He should never have married you,' Izabella said. ‘Everyone told him it would end in disaster.'

Emelia lifted her aching head to meet Izabella's gaze. ‘Why did he marry me, then?'

‘Because he needed to be married to gain access to our father's estate,' Izabella said.

Emelia felt her heart give another sickening lurch. ‘He married me to…to get
money
?'

‘You surely don't think he loved you, do you?' Izabella threw her a disdainful look. ‘He wanted you and what he wants he usually gets. You were a convenient wife. A trophy he wanted by his side. But that is all you are to him. He does not love you.'

‘Did I
know
this?' Emelia asked in a hoarse whisper.

Izabella's expression lost some of its hauteur. ‘I am not sure…' She bit down on her bottom lip in a way that seemed to strip years off her. ‘Perhaps not. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything…'

Emelia reached for something to hold onto to steady herself. ‘I can't believe I agreed to such an emotionless arrangement…' She looked at the young girl with an anguished expression on her face. ‘I always wanted to marry for love. Are you sure I was not in love with Javier?'

Izabella looked troubled. ‘If you were, you never said anything to me. You kept your feelings to yourself, although it was pretty obvious you were attracted to him. But then he's attractive to a lot of women.'

Emelia didn't want to think about that. It was just too painful. ‘I'm sorry if I've given you the wrong impres
sion,' she said after a moment. ‘Javier told me you and I haven't had the easiest of relationships. I hope I haven't done anything to upset you. I have never had a sister before. I've always wanted one, especially after my mother died. It would have been nice to have someone to talk to about girl stuff.'

Izabella's dark brown eyes softened a fraction. ‘Javier is the best brother a girl could have but there are times when I would rather share what is going on in my life with another woman. My mother is OK but she just worries if I talk to her about boys. She always thinks I am going to get pregnant or something.'

Emelia smiled. ‘I guess it's what mothers do best—worry.'

Izabella's mouth tilted in a wary smile. ‘You seem so different,' she said. ‘Almost like a completely different person.'

‘To tell you the truth, Izabella, I feel like a completely different person from the one everyone expects me to be,' Emelia confessed. ‘I look at the clothes in my wardrobe and I can't believe I have ever worn them. They seem so…so…I don't know…not me. And when I was down at the stables Pedro told me I had refused to ride the horse Javier bought me last month for my birthday. I don't understand it. Why would I not ride that beautiful horse?'

‘Ever since your birthday you seemed a little unsettled,' Izabella said. ‘When you had the accident we all assumed it was because you were in love with another man. Now, I wonder if it wasn't because you were becoming a little tired of your life here. There is only so much time you can spend in the shops or the gym.'

Emelia felt her face heat up with colour. ‘Yes, well,
that's another thing I don't get. I
hate
the gym. I can think of nothing worse than an elliptical trainer or a stationary bike and weight machines.'

‘You worked out religiously,' Izabella said. ‘You lost pounds and pounds within weeks of meeting Javier. And you are always dieting whenever Javier's away.'

Emelia thought back to her hearty breakfast that morning. ‘No wonder I've been such a pain to be around,' she said with a wry grimace. ‘I'm hopeless at diets. I have no self control. I get bitchy when I deprive myself.'

Izabella grinned. ‘I do too.'

There was a little pause.

‘You won't tell Javier I was so horrible to you, will you?' Izabella said with a worried look. ‘He will be angry with me for upsetting you. I should have thought… You have just had a terrible accident. I am sorry about your friend. You must be very sad.'

‘I am coping with it,' Emelia said. ‘But I wish I knew what really happened that day.'

Izabella bit her lip again. ‘Maybe you were leaving Javier because you didn't want to continue with the marriage as it was. The press would have latched on to it pretty quickly and made it out to be something it wasn't. Javier was furious. He was determined to divorce you but then he got news of the accident.' Her slim throat rose and fell. ‘He was devastated when he heard you might not make it. He tried to hide it but I could tell he was terrified you would die.'

Emelia frowned as she tried to make sense of it all. If Javier didn't want her in his life permanently, why suffer her presence just because of her memory loss? Given what he believed of her, what hope did she have
of restoring his trust in her? Had he known her so little that he had readily believed the specious rumours of the press? What sort of marriage had they had that it would crumble so quickly? Surely over the almost two years they had been together a level of trust had been established? She felt sure she would not have settled for anything else. It was so frustrating to have no way of finding out the truth. Her mind was like the missing black box of a crashed aircraft. Within it were all the clues to what had happened and until it was found she would have to try and piece together what she could to make sense of it all. Her head ached from the pressure of trying to remember. Her eyes felt as if they had been stabbed with roofing nails, pain pulsed from her temples like hammer blows.

Izabella touched Emelia on the arm. ‘You are very pale,' she said. ‘Is there anything I can ask Aldana to get for you?'

‘I don't think Aldana will appreciate having to act as nursemaid to me,' Emelia said, putting a hand to her throbbing temple. ‘She doesn't seem to like me very much.'

‘She has never liked you but it's probably not your fault,' Izabella said. ‘Her daughter once had a fling with Javier. It wasn't serious but, ever since, Aldana has been convinced no one but her daughter was good enough for Javier. I think you tried hard at first to get along but after a while you gave up.'

It explained a lot, Emelia thought. She couldn't imagine being deliberately rude to the household staff under any circumstances. But perhaps she had lost patience with Aldana, as Izabella had suggested, and consequently acted like the spoilt, overly indulged
trophy wife everyone assumed her to be. ‘I am so glad you came here today,' she said. ‘I hope we can be friends.'

‘I would like that very much,' Izabella said and, looking sheepish, added, ‘I haven't always treated you very well. You were so beautiful and accomplished, so talented at playing the piano. I was such a cow to you, I guess because I was jealous. I probably contributed to your unhappiness with Javier.'

‘I am sure you had no part to play in that at all,' Emelia said. ‘I should have been more mature and understanding.'

‘Please, you must promise not to tell Javier I was rude to you before,' Izabella said. ‘I am so ashamed of myself.'

‘You have no need to be,' Emelia said. ‘Anyway, you were only acting out of your concern for him.'

Izabella's gaze melted. ‘Yes, he's a wonderful brother. He would do anything for me. I am very lucky to have him.'

‘He's lucky to have you,' Emelia said, thinking of all of her years alone, without anyone to stand up for her. It seemed nothing had changed: this recent scandal demonstrated how truly alone she was. No one had challenged the rumours. No one had defended her.

Izabella suddenly cocked her head. ‘Your memory must be coming back, Emelia,' she said with an engaging grin.

Emelia shook her head. ‘No, I've tried and tried but I can't remember much at all.'

‘Except Spanish.'

Emelia felt her heart knock against her ribcage. She
hadn't realised until that point that every word she had exchanged with Izabella had been in Spanish.

Every single word.

I
ZABELLA
had arranged to join some friends in Valencia the following day before she flew back to Paris so Emelia was left to her own devices. After a shower and breakfast, she wandered out into the gardens, stopping every now and again to pick a rose until, after half an hour, her arms were nearly full. She went back to the villa and laid them down on one of the large kitchen benches, breathing in the delicate fragrance as she searched for some vases.

Aldana appeared just as Emelia was carrying a vase full of blooms into
la sala
. ‘What are you doing?' she asked, frowning formidably.

‘I picked some roses,' Emelia said. ‘I thought they would look nice in some of the rooms to brighten them up a bit. I hope you don't mind.'

Aldana took the vase out of Emelia's grasp. ‘Señor Mélendez does not like roses in the house,' she said in a clipped tone.

Emelia felt her shoulders slump. ‘Oh…sorry, I didn't realise…'

The housekeeper shot her another hateful glare as she carried the roses out of the room. The look seemed
to suggest that, in Aldana's opinion, Emelia had never known her husband's likes and dislikes like a proper loving wife should do.

Emelia let out a sigh once she was alone. There was a baby grand piano at one end of
la sala
, positioned out of the direct sunlight from the windows. She went over to it and sat down and after a moment she opened the lid and ran her fingers over the keys, trying to remember what song she had played the night she had met Javier, but it was like trying to play a new piece without the musical score. She played several pieces, hoping that one would unlock her mind, but none did. She closed the lid in frustration and left the room to make her way down to the stables.

 

Pedro had Callida saddled for her when she arrived but he looked disgruntled. ‘Señor Mélendez will not be happy about this,' he said. ‘He told all the staff to watch out for you, to make sure you do not come to any harm while he is away.'

‘Señor Mélendez is several thousand kilometres away,' Emelia said as she swung up into the saddle. ‘While the cat's away this little mouse is going to do what she wants.'

Pedro stepped back from the horse with a disapproving frown. ‘He sometimes comes back early from his trips abroad,' he said. ‘He expects his staff to act the same whether he is here or not. He trusts us.'

But not me, Emelia thought resentfully as she rode off. No doubt he had only put his staff on watch over her to see that she didn't stray too far from the boundaries of the villa. His solicitous care had nothing to do with any deep feelings on his part. He wanted to keep
her a virtual prisoner until the press interest died down. After that, who knew what he planned to do? All she knew was his plans would probably not include her being in his life for the long term.

As enjoyable as the ride was, it didn't unearth any clues to her past. She came back to the stables an hour and a half later, fighting off a weighty despondency. The olive grove today had simply been an olive grove. No further memories surfaced. Nothing struck a chord of familiarity.

Disappointment and frustration continued to sour her mood as she walked back to the villa through the gardens. She felt hot and sticky so when she came across a secluded section of the garden where an infinity pool was situated, she decided to take advantage of the sparkling blue water and the warmth of the afternoon.

Rummaging through the walk-in wardrobe in search of swimwear was another revelation to her. Naturally modest, she found it hard to believe she wore any of the skimpy bikinis she found in one of the drawers. There were pink ones and red ones and yellow ones and ones with polka dots, a black one with silver diamantés and a white one with gold circles in between the triangles of fabric that would barely cover her breasts, let alone her lower body. In the end she chose the red one as it was the least revealing, although once she had it on and checked her appearance in the full length mirrors she was glad Javier was not expected home. She might as well have been naked.

The water was warmed by the sun but still refreshing enough to make Emelia swim length after length without exhaustion. She wondered how many times she had done this, stroking her way through the water,
perhaps with Javier swimming alongside her, or his long legs tangling with hers as he kissed or caressed her. In spite of the warmth of the pool and the sun, Emelia felt her skin lift in little goosebumps the more she let her mind wander about what had occurred in the past.

As she surfaced at the end of the pool she saw a long pair of trouser-clad legs, the large male feet encased in expensive-looking leather shoes. Her heart gave a stop-start as her eyes moved upwards to meet the coal-black gaze of Javier.

‘I thought I might find you here,' he said.

Emelia pushed her hair out of her face, conscious of her barely clad breasts just at the water's level. ‘I didn't realise you would be back. I thought you were coming home tomorrow.'

He tugged at his tie as his gaze held hers. ‘I managed to get through the work and flew back ahead of schedule.'

Emelia swallowed as she saw him toss his tie to one of the sun loungers. His fingers began undoing the buttons of his business shirt, one by one, each opening revealing a little more of his muscular chest. ‘Um…what are you doing?' she said.

‘I thought I might join you,' he said, shrugging himself out of his shirt, tossing it in the same direction as his tie, his dark eyes still tethering hers.

She watched in a spellbound stasis as his hands went to his belt, slipping it through the waistband of his trousers, casting it on top of his shirt and tie. The sound of his zip going down jolted her out of her trance. ‘Y-you're surely not going to swim without bathers…are you?'

A corner of his mouth lifted. ‘Do you have any objection,
querida
?' he asked.

Emelia could think of several but she couldn't seem to get her voice to work. She stood in the water as he heeled himself out of his shoes and purposefully pulled off his socks. Her heart started thumping irregularly as he stepped out of his trousers, leaving him in close-fitting black briefs that left almost nothing to her imagination. She felt a stirring deep and low in her belly. He was so potently male, so powerfully built, lean but muscular at the same time, hair in all the right places, marking him as different from her as could be. His skin was a deep olive, tanned by the sun, each rippling ridge of his abdomen like coils of steel. Her fingertips suddenly itched to explore every hard contour of him, to feel the satin quality of his skin and unleash the latent power of his body. She wondered if her attraction was a new thing or an old thing. Was her body remembering what her mind could or would not? How else could she explain this unbelievable tension she felt when he was near her? She had never felt like this with anyone before. It was as if he awakened everything that was female in her body, making her long to discover the power of the passion his glittering dark gaze promised.

Being at the shallower end, he didn't dive into the water; instead, he slipped in with an agility that made Emelia aware of every plane of his body as the water his entry displaced washed against her. It was as if he had touched her; the water felt just like an intimate caress: smooth, gentle, cajoling, tempting. Her eyes were still locked with his; she couldn't seem to move out of the magnetic range of his dark-as-night eyes. They burned, they seared and they smouldered as he closed the distance between their bodies, stopping just in front of her, not quite touching but close enough for
her to feel the pull of his body through the weight of the water.

‘Why so shy?' he asked.

Emelia licked a droplet of water off her lips. ‘Um…I know this is probably something you…I mean we have done lots of times but I…I…feel too exposed.'

His lips slanted in a smile. ‘You got rid of your timidity a long time ago, Emelia. We skinny-dipped together all the time.'

She felt the pit of her stomach tilt. ‘But surely someone could have seen us?'

He gave a little couldn't-care-less shrug. ‘The pool area is private. In any case, what would it matter if someone had seen us? We are married and this is private property. It is not as if we were doing anything wrong.'

Emelia chewed at her lip, wishing she could download all her memories so she wasn't feeling so lost and uncertain. While she had been dressing in the bikini earlier she had seen from her lightly tanned skin that she had been in the sun and not always with all her clothes on. She had not been the type to sunbathe topless in the past, but then two whole years of her life were missing. Who knew what she had grown comfortable with over that time? It made her feel all the more on edge around Javier. He knew far more about her than she knew about him. And yet she could sense in her body a growing recognition that flickered a little more each time they were together.

‘Aldana told me you had a visitor while I was away,' Javier said.

Emelia kept her expression masked. ‘Yes. Izabella called in. She's gone to stay with friends in Valencia before she goes back to Paris.'

‘Did you recognise her?'

She shook her head. ‘No, but I soon figured out who she was. She is very like you. It is obvious you are related. You have the same hair and eyes.'

‘I hope you refrained from getting into an argument with her,' he said, still holding her gaze. ‘I would not want either of you upset.'

‘No, we didn't argue,' Emelia said. ‘I found her to be friendly and pleasant and not in the least hostile. She's a very beautiful and poised young woman. You must be very proud of her.'

He frowned as he studied her through narrowed eyes. ‘What did you talk about?'

‘The usual girl stuff,' she said. ‘We have a lot in common, actually.'

‘She is a little headstrong at times,' he admitted. ‘But then she is still young.'

Emelia went to move to the steps leading out of the pool but he placed a hand on her arm, stopping her from moving away from him. ‘Where are you going?' he asked.

‘I'm getting cold,' she said. ‘I want to have a shower.'

He cupped both of her shoulders with his hands. ‘No kiss for my return?'

Emelia felt her eyes widen and her stomach did another flip turn. ‘It's not as if things are the same…as before,' she said. ‘I need more time.'

Something moved at the back of his eyes. ‘I think the sooner we slip back into our previous routine the better,' he said. ‘I am convinced it will help you remember.'

‘You're assuming I will remember,' she said. ‘I had no such assurance from any of the doctors or therapists at the hospital.'

His hands tightened as soon as he felt her try to escape again. ‘It doesn't matter if you remember or not. It doesn't change the fact that we are married.'

Emelia straightened her spine in defiance but, by doing so, it brought her pelvis into direct contact with his. The hot hard heat of him was like being zapped with a thousand volts of electricity. She felt the tingles shoot through her from head to foot. His eyes dropped to the startled
‘O'
of her mouth and then, as if in slow motion, gradually lowered his head until his lips sealed hers.

It was a slow burn of a kiss, heating her to her core as each pulsing second passed. His tongue probed the seam of her mouth for entry and she gave it on a whimper of pleasure. The rasp of his tongue as it mated with hers sent a cascading shiver down the backs of her legs and up again, right to the back of her neck. She felt her toes curl on the tiled floor of the pool as his kiss deepened. His arms had gone from the tops of her shoulders down the slim length of her arms to settle about her waist, holding her against his pelvis, leaving her acutely aware of his rock-hard arousal. Her body responded automatically, the ache between her thighs becoming more insistent the firmer he held her against him. She moved against him, a slight nudge at first and then a blatant rub to feel the pleasure his body offered.

He slowly but surely walked her backwards, his thighs brushing hers with each step, his mouth still locked on her mouth, his body jammed tight against her. His hands moved up from her waist to deftly untie the strings of her bikini. It fell away, leaving her breasts free for his touch. She drew in a sharp breath as his hands cupped her, his thumb gently stroking over each nipple, making her flesh cry out for more. His mouth left hers and went on a leisurely mission, exploring every dip and
curve on the way down to her breasts: the sensitive pleasure spots behind each of her earlobes, the hollows above her collarbone and the super-reactive skin of her neck. She tilted her head to one side as he nibbled and nipped in turn, her belly turning over in delight as he finally made his way to her breasts. He left her nipples alone this time and concentrated instead on the sensitive under curves of each breast, first with his fingers and then with the heat and fire of his mouth. She arched up against him, wanting more, wanting it all, wanting to feel whatever he had made her feel in the past.

His mouth came back to her searching, hungry one, his hands going to the strings holding her bikini bottom in place. Emelia's hands moved from around his neck to the small of his back, delighting in the way he groaned deeply as he surged against her. Casting inhibition aside, she peeled away his briefs, freeing him into her hands. She felt a hitch in her breath as she shaped his steely length, the throb of his blood pounding against her fingers. He was so thick with desire it made her own blood race at the thought of him moving inside her.

He tore his mouth off hers, looking down at her with eyes glittering with desire. ‘You have certainly not forgotten how to drive me wild with wanting you,' he said. ‘How about it,
querida
? Shall we finish this here and now, or wait for later?'

Emelia felt the cold slap of shock bring her back to reality. What was she doing allowing him such liberties and outside where anyone could see if they put their mind to it? And what was she doing touching him as if she wanted him to finish what he had started? What was wrong with her? Surely she had not become such a
slave of the flesh? She had always abhorred such irresponsible behaviour amongst her peers; the casual approach to sex was something she had never gone in for. She put up her chin, working hard to maintain her composure when she was stark naked. ‘What makes you so sure I would give my consent, here or anywhere?'