Читать книгу His Revenge Seduction: The Mélendez Forgotten Marriage / The Konstantos Marriage Demand / For Revenge or Redemption? - Kate Walker, Elizabeth Power - Страница 12

IZABELLA 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 stopstart 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?’

His smile was on the edge of mocking. ‘Because I know you, Emelia. I know how you respond to me. A couple of minutes more and you would have been begging for it.’

There was nothing figurative about the slap Emelia landed on the side of Javier’s face. It jerked his head back, made his nostrils flare and his mouth tighten to a flat line of tension. ‘You know, you really shouldn’t have done that,’ he said with a coolness she was sure he was nowhere near feeling.

Emelia refused to wilt under his hard black gaze. ‘You insulted me. You practically called me a wanton tramp.’

One of his hands rubbed at the red hand-sized mark on his jaw. ‘So if someone allegedly insults you it’s OK to use violence?’ he asked.

She bit the inside of her mouth, suddenly ashamed of how she had reacted, but there was no way she was going to apologise to him. She turned and searched for her bikini, struggling to put it back on while still in the water. She was conscious of Javier’s eyes following her every movement and her resentment and anger hardened like a golf ball-sized lump in the middle of her chest. Once she was covered, she stomped up the pool steps, snatching up her towel on the way past the sun lounger where she had left it.

The moment Emelia came out of the en suite bathroom after a lengthy shower she knew something was amiss. Her eyes went to the bed where a black leather briefcase was lying at the foot of it. She heard the sound of someone moving about in the walk-in wardrobe and, clutching her bathrobe a little tighter, spun around to find Aldana coming out with some spare coat hangers.

‘What’s going on?’ Emelia asked in Spanish.

The housekeeper gave her a pursed-lipped look. ‘Señor Mélendez instructed me to hang his clothes.’

Emelia’s eyes widened in alarm. ‘What? In…in here?’

Aldana gave a shrug as she walked past. ‘It is none of my business what he wants or why. I just do as I am told. He wanted me to bring his things back in here where they belong.’

The housekeeper left before Emelia could respond and within seconds Javier strode in. She turned on him, her eyes flashing with fury. ‘Qué diablos está pasando?’ she asked. ‘What the hell is going on?’

He stood very still for a moment before responding in Spanish. ‘I could ask you the very same thing. What the hell is going on? Especially as it seems at least some part of your memory has returned without you telling me.’

Emelia felt her cheeks fill with colour. ‘I…I was going to tell you…’

‘When did it happen?’ he asked.

She could barely hold his gaze as she confessed. ‘I found myself understanding it and speaking it from the start. I don’t know why. It was just…there.’

‘How convenient.’

Emelia’s hands tightened where they clutched the neckline of her bathrobe. ‘I know what you’re thinking but it’s not true. I don’t remember anything else. I swear to you.’

He gave her a cynical smile that contained no trace of amusement. ‘I met Pedro the stable boy on my way in earlier,’ he said. ‘He was full of excitement over how you remembered your mare’s name without any prompting from him.’

Emelia pressed her lips together. ‘I forgot I remembered…’ It sounded as stupid as she felt and she lowered her gaze from the hard probe of his, hating herself for blushing.

‘He also told me you have finally ridden your horse,’ he said.

‘I can’t explain why I never rode Callida before.’ She looked up at him again. ‘You must have been very annoyed with me after spending so much money on such a beautiful animal.’

He held her gaze for a long moment. ‘It wasn’t the first present you rejected of late,’ he said. ‘It seemed over the last few weeks nothing I did for you or bought for you could please you.’

Emelia wondered if she had been hankering after more from him than what money could buy. It seemed much more in line with her true character. She had been given expensive gifts for most of her life but they hadn’t made her feel any more secure.

Javier used two fingers to lift her chin, searing her gaze with his. ‘I want you to tell me the moment you remember anything else, do you understand? I don’t care what time of day it is or if I am away or here. Just tell me.’

She let out an uneven breath as she stepped out from under his hold. ‘You can’t force me to remember you, Javier. It doesn’t happen like that. I read up about it. Sometimes the memories are blocked because of trauma, either physical or emotional or maybe even both.’

A muscle worked in his jaw, the silence stretching and stretching like a threadbare piece of elastic.

‘So what you are saying is you might be subconsciously blocking all memory of our life together?’ he finally said.

Emelia released her bottom lip from the savaging of her teeth. ‘I’m not sure if that’s what has happened or not,’ she said. ‘Was there something that happened that might have caused me to do that? Something deeply upsetting, I mean.’

The silence stretched again, even further this time.

‘I was away the day you left for London,’ Javier said heavily. He waited a beat before continuing. ‘I had only just come back from Moscow when we had an argument. I flew straight back afterwards.’

Emelia felt a frown tugging at her forehead. ‘What did we argue about?’

His eyes met hers briefly before moving away to focus on a point beyond her left shoulder. ‘The papers had printed some rubbish about me being involved with someone in Russia, a nightclub singer.’

Emelia felt a fist wrap itself around her heart. ‘Was it…was it true?’

His dark eyes flashed with irritation as they came back to hers. ‘Of course it wasn’t true. I have to deal with those rumours all the time. I thought you were OK about it. We’d talked about it early in our marriage. We used to laugh about some of the stuff that was printed.

I warned you what it would be like, that there would be constant rumours, often set off by business rivals.’

He stopped to scrape a hand through his hair. ‘But this time for some reason you refused to accept my explanation. You got it in your head that I was playing up behind your back. It seemed nothing I said would change your mind.’

‘So we had an argument…’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid it was a bit of an ugly scene.’

Emelia raised her brows questioningly. ‘How ugly?’

He let out a long tense breath. ‘There was a lot of shouting and name calling. We were both angry and upset. I should have cut the argument short but I was annoyed because you seemed determined to want our marriage to be something it was never intended to be.’

Emelia sent him a let’s-see-if-you-can-deny-this look. ‘So apparently I wasn’t too happy you had married me to gain access to your father’s estate, right?’

His dark gaze turned flinty. ‘That was one of the things we argued about, yes. While I was away, my father’s mistress had rung you and filled your head with that and other such nonsense to get back at me. But the truth is my reasons for marrying you had very little to do with my father’s will.’

She rolled her eyes in disbelief. ‘Oh, come now, Javier. You talk of our marriage as some sort of business proposal, rules and regulations and me suddenly stepping outside of them. What the hell was the point of being married if not because we loved each other?’

‘Love was not part of the deal,’ he said, shocking Emelia into silence. ‘I wanted a wife. Some of the business people I deal with are old-fashioned and conservative in their views. They feel more comfortable dealing with a man in a seemingly stable relationship. I know it sounds a little cold-blooded but you were quite happy to take on the corporate wife role. We were ideally matched physically. It was all I wanted from you and you from me.’

She stood looking at him with her emotions reeling. How could she have agreed to such a marriage? A relationship based on sex and nothing else? Had she turned into a clone of her father’s set, in spite of her determination not to? She had become a trophy wife, an exotic bird in a gilded cage. Indulged and pampered until her mind went numb.

Javier let out another breath and sent his hand through his hair again. ‘Emelia…’ He hesitated for a moment before he continued. ‘You might not remember it but we made love during that last argument.’

Emelia felt her brows lift again but remained silent.

His gaze remained steady on hers. ‘In hindsight, it was perhaps not the best way to leave things between us. There was so much left unresolved. I have had cause to wonder if that is why you rushed off to London the way you did.’

Emelia searched her mind for some trace of that scene but nothing came to her. ‘Did I explain why I left? In a note or something?’

‘Yes,’ he said.

Hope flickered in her chest. ‘Can I see it?’

‘I tore it into shreds,’ he said, his mouth tightening at the memory. ‘I got home from Moscow two days after you left. That is another thing I am not particularly proud of. I should have come straight to London as soon as I knew you were there. I was packing a bag when I got the call about the accident.’

‘What did I say in the note?’ Emelia asked.

He looked at her silently for several moments. ‘You said you were leaving me, that you no longer wanted to continue with our marriage. You wanted out.’

Emelia rubbed at her forehead, as if that would unlock the memories stored inside her head. OK, so she had been leaving him. That much was pretty certain. Was it because she had become tired of their shallow relationship, as Izabella had suggested? Emelia knew she must have been very unhappy to have come to that decision. Unhappy or desperate. ‘The rumours…’ she said. ‘You mentioned a few days ago there was some speculation about my relationship with Peter Marshall. Did you afford me the same level of trust you expected of me, in similar if not the same circumstances?’

He visibly tensed; all of his muscles seemed to contract as if sprayed with fast setting glue. ‘I am the first to admit that I was jealous of your relationship with him,’ he said, biting each word out from between his clenched teeth. ‘He seemed at great pains whenever I was around to show me just how close you were. He was always touching you, slinging an arm around your waist or shoulders. It made me want to lash out.’

Emelia frowned at his vehement confession. ‘Peter was a touchy-feely sort of person. It was just his way. I am sure I would have told you that right from the start.’

His eyes flashed with heat. ‘You did, but it still annoyed the hell out of me.’

He was jealous. He hated admitting it, Emelia was sure, but he was positively vibrating with it. She could see it in the way he held himself, his hands clenching and unclenching as if he wanted to hit something.

He paced the room a couple of times before he came back to stand in front of her. ‘If I was wrong about your relationship with Marshall then I am sorry,’ he said. ‘All the evidence pointed to you being guilty of an affair, but in hindsight there are probably numerous explanations for why you were in that car with him.’

Emelia felt a weight come off her shoulders. ‘You truly believe I wasn’t unfaithful?’

He held her look for endless seconds. ‘Let’s just let it go,’ he said on a long breath. ‘I don’t want to be reminded of the mistakes I have made in the past. We have to concentrate on the here and now. I want to see you get well again. I feel it is my fault you were almost killed. I cannot forgive myself for driving you away in such an emotionally charged state. I should have insisted we sit down and sort things out like two rational adults. Instead, I let business take precedence, hoping things would settle down by the time I got back.’

Emelia stood looking at him in silence. His gruff admission of guilt stirred her deep inside. She could tell it was unfamiliar territory for him. He didn’t seem the type to readily admit when he was in the wrong.

She breathed in the clean male scent of him as he stood so broodingly before her. He had showered and changed into a polo shirt and casual trousers. His hair was still damp, ink-black and curling at the ends where it needed a trim. She wanted to run her hands through it the way she used to do…She jolted as if he had struck her, staring up at him, her heart beating like a hyperactive hammer.

‘What’s wrong?’he asked, taking her by the shoulders.

She looked up into his face, frowning as she tried to focus on the sliver of memory that had made its way through. As if by their own volition, her hands went to his hair, her fingers playing with the silky strands in slow, measured strokes. She saw his throat move up and down and, glancing at his mouth, she felt another tiny flicker of recognition. Her right hand went to his lips, her fingers tracing over the tense line, again and again until it finally softened, the slight rasp of his evening shadow as she stroked the leanness of his jaw, the only sound, apart from their breathing, in the silence.

‘Emelia—’ his voice was low and deep and scratchy ‘—what have you remembered?’

She looked into his dark eyes. ‘Your hair…I remembered running my fingers through it…lots and lots of times…It’s longer now, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, I’ve been too busy to get it cut.’ His grip on her shoulders tightened and his eyes were intense as they held hers. ‘Can you remember anything else?’ he asked.

‘I’m not sure…’ Emelia tried to focus again. ‘It was just a fleeting thing. Like a flashback or something.’

His hands slipped down from her shoulders to encircle her wrists, his thumbs absently stroking her. ‘Don’t force it. It will come when it wants to. We have to be patient.’ He let out a rough sounding sigh and added ruefully, ‘I have to be patient.’

Emelia felt the drugging warmth of his touch on the undersides of her wrists. Her blood leapt in her veins and she wondered if he could feel the way he affected her. Her belly was turning into a warm pool of longing, her legs unsteady as his eyes came to hers, holding them for a pulsing moment.

Time seemed to slow and then stand impossibly still.

Without a word, he lifted one of his hands to the curve of her cheek, cupping her face gently, his thumb moving back and forth in a mesmerising touch that seemed to stroke away every single reason why she should ease back out of his embrace. Instead, she found herself stepping closer, her body touching his from chest to thigh, feeling the stirring of his body against her, the hot hard heat of him lighting a fire that she now realised had smouldered within her from the moment she had woken up in the hospital and encountered his dark unreadable gaze.

‘Emelia.’

The way he said her name was her undoing. Low and deep, an urgency in the uttering of the syllables, a need that she could feel resonating in her own body, like a tuning fork being struck too hard, humming, vibrating and quivering with want.

She lifted her mouth to the slow descent of his, her arms snaking around his middle, her breasts pressed up against his hard chest, a feeling, as his lips sealed hers and his hands cradled her head, that she had finally come home…