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.
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.’
