rel="nofollow" href="#ulink_16f7ccbd-f2dd-59fa-b1df-b0bc049eef2c">Chapter Three
‘TRY not to be too upset by Aldana’s coldness,’ Javier said as they came to the first landing. ‘It means nothing. She will get over it in a day or so. She was like that the first time I brought you home with me after we were married. She thought I was making the biggest mistake of my life, not just by marrying a foreigner, but by marrying within weeks of meeting you.’
Emelia suppressed a frown as she continued with him up the stairs. She had seen undiluted hatred in the housekeeper’s eyes. How long had that been going on? Surely not for the whole time they had been married? How had she coped with such hostility? It surely wouldn’t have made for a very happy home with a household of staff sending dagger looks at every opportunity.
She put her hand on the banister to steady herself after the climb. Her legs felt weak and her chest tight, as if she had run a marathon at high altitude.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked, taking her free hand in his.
She gave him a weak smile. ‘Just a little lightheaded…It’ll pass in a moment.’
Emelia felt his fingers tighten momentarily on hers, the itchy little tingles his touch evoked making her feel even more dazed than the effort of climbing the staircase. His eyes were locked on hers, penetrating, searing, all-seeing, but showing nothing in return. ‘Did your housekeeper eventually come to approve of your choice of wife?’ she asked.
He released her hand, his eyes moving away from hers. ‘I do not need the approval of my housekeeper, Emelia,’ he said. ‘We are married and that is that. It is no one’s business but our own.’
Emelia’s teeth sank into her bottom lip as she trudged up the rest of the stairs. She looked for signs of her previous life in the villa but there was nothing to show her she had lived here for close to two years. The walls were hung with priceless works of art; as far as she could see, there were no photographs of their life together. The décor was formal, not relaxed and welcoming. It spoke of wealth and prestige, not family life and friendliness. She could see nothing of herself in the villa, no expression of her personality and taste, and wondered why.
Javier opened a door further along the hall that led into a master bedroom of massive proportions. ‘This was our room,’ he said.
Emelia wasn’t sure if he spoke in the past tense to communicate he would no longer be sharing it with her and she was too embarrassed to ask him to clarify. ‘It’s very big…’
‘Do you recognise anything?’ he asked as he followed her into the suite.
Emelia looked at the huge bed and tried to imagine herself lying there with Javier’s long strong body beside her. Her stomach did a little flip-flop movement and she shifted her gaze to the bedside tables instead. On one side there was a wedding photograph and she walked over and slowly picked it up, holding her breath as she looked at the picture of herself smiling with Javier standing by her side.
She wrinkled her brow in concentration. Surely there was somewhere in her mind where she could locate that memory. The dress she was wearing was a dream of a wedding gown, voluminous and delicately sequinned all over with crystals. She could only imagine how much it must have cost. The veil was at least five metres long and had a tiara headpiece, making her look like a princess. The bouquet of orange blossom she carried and the perfection of her hair and make-up spoke of a wedding day that had been meticulously planned. It looked like some of the society weddings she had been forced to attend back at home with her father. All show and fuss to impress others, crowds of people who in a year or so would not even remember the bride’s and groom’s names. She loathed that sort of scene and had always sworn she would not be a part of it when or if she married. But, as far as she could tell from the photograph in her hands, she had gone for shallow and showy after all.
She shifted her concentration to Javier’s image. He was dressed in a dark suit and a white shirt and silver and black striped tie that highlighted his colouring and his tall commanding air. His smile was not as wide as Emelia’s; it seemed a little forced, in fact. She wondered if she had noticed it on the day and been worried about it or whether she had been too caught up in being the centre of attention.
Emelia looked up from the photograph she was holding to see Javier’s watchful gaze centred on her. ‘I’m sorry…’ She placed it back on the bedside table with a hand that was not quite steady. ‘I can’t remember anything. It’s as if it happened to someone else.’
His dark gaze dropped to the image of them in their wedding finery. ‘Sometimes when I look at that photograph, I think the very same thing,’ he said, the slant of his mouth cryptic.
Emelia studied him for a moment in silence. Was he implying he had come to regret their hasty marriage? What had led him to offer her marriage in the first place? So many men these days shied away from the formal tie of matrimony, choosing the less binding arrangement of living together or, even more casually, moving between two separate abodes, thus maintaining a higher level of independence.
Had those first two years of marriage taken the shine off the passion that had apparently brought them together? Relationships required a lot of hard work; she knew that from watching her father ruin one relationship after another with no attempt on his part to learn from his previous mistakes. Had Javier fallen out of love with her? He certainly didn’t look like a man in love. She had seen desire in his eyes, but as for the warmth of lifelong love…well, would she recognise it even if she saw it?
Javier caught her staring at him and raised one brow. ‘Is something wrong, Emelia?’
She moistened her lips, trying not to be put off by the dark intensity of his gaze as it held hers. ‘Um…I was wondering why you wanted to get married so quickly. Most of the men I know would have taken years to propose marriage. Why did you decide we should get married so quickly?’
There was a movement deep within his eyes, like a rapid-fire shuffle of a deck of cards. ‘Why do you think?’ he said evenly. ‘Do you think you were not in the least agreeable to being married to me? I can assure you I did not have to resort to force. You accepted my proposal quite willingly.’
Emelia gave a little shrug, trying not to be put off by the black marble of his gaze as it held hers. ‘I don’t know…I guess it’s just that I don’t remember being on the hunt for a husband or anything. I’m only twentyfive—’
‘Twenty-seven,’ he corrected her.
Emelia chewed at her lip. ‘Ri-ght…twenty-seven…’ She lowered her gaze and frowned.
He tipped up her face with one finger beneath her chin. ‘I wanted you from the moment I saw you sitting at that piano,’ he said. ‘It was an instant attraction. You felt it too. There seemed no point in delaying what we both wanted.’
Emelia looked into the blackness of his eyes and felt the tug of attraction deep and low in her body. Was this how it had been? The magnetic pull of desire, an unstoppable force that consumed every bit of common sense she possessed? She felt the burn of his touch; the nerve endings beneath her skin were jumping and dancing where his fingertip rested. ‘How soon did we—’ she swallowed tightly ‘—sleep together?’
He brushed the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip. ‘How soon do you think?’ he asked in a low, smoky tone.
Emelia felt the deep thud of her heart as his strong thighs brushed against hers. ‘I…I’m not the type to jump into bed with someone on the first date.’
