‘You looked at me across the table at that restaurant and smiled at something I said. It was like an arrow had pierced my heart, just like Cupid’s bow. I didn’t know what had hit me. I hated feeling so out of control.’
She summoned up a frown, not quite willing to let go just yet. ‘Your father’s will,’ she said. ‘You can’t deny that it had something to do with why we married in such a rush. You should have told me about it from the start. Finding out the way I did really hurt me. I felt so used.’
He pushed his hand through his hair. ‘I didn’t even know about my father’s will until I had been seeing you for over a month. I had never considered myself the marrying kind. I had seen the way my father had ruined three women’s lives. I didn’t want to do that. I guess that’s why he wrote his will that way. It was just the sort of sick joke he would have liked—to force me to do something I didn’t want to do. Prior to being involved with you, I had always kept all of my relationships on a casual basis.’
His expression twisted with remorse as he continued. ‘I should have told you everything about that damned will. Instead, I let Claudine get her claws in. The thing is, I didn’t want my father’s money for myself. I wanted Izabella to have what was rightly hers and I didn’t want to lose you. Marriage seemed a good way of keeping both things secure.’
She still looked at him doubtfully. ‘I don’t think I can cope with living at the villa any longer. I know it’s beautiful and grand and all that but it’s way too formal for me. I feel like I am going to get roused on for bumping into things or if something breaks.’
He came over to where she was standing, stopping just in front of her. ‘The villa needs to be a home instead of a showpiece,’ he said. ‘I can see that now. No wonder you never felt at ease there. That is another thing I should have realised. It needs a woman’s touch—your touch—to make it the home it should always have been. Aldana has decided to retire. I have been a fool not to realise how difficult she made things for you. She didn’t speak to the press—apparently, that was one of the junior gardeners—but she told me about the roses. She feels very remorseful about how she treated you. I should have told you myself why I hate having them in the house.’
She looked at him with a searching gaze. ‘Did I know that before the accident?’
He brushed his fingertips over the gentle slope of her cheek. ‘No,’ he said. ‘That was another vulnerability I didn’t allow you to see. They remind me of my mother’s funeral. Red ones are the worst. I can’t bear the sight of them. I would have had every rose bush at the villa dug up and burned by now but my mother had planted them herself.’
Emelia felt the ice around her heart begin to crack. ‘I didn’t really want to leave you, Javier. I just felt I had no choice. And then the accident…’ She gulped and continued hollowly, ‘Maybe Peter would still be alive if it hadn’t been for me.’
He gripped her hands. ‘No, you must not think like that. I have heard from the police since you left. The accident was no accident. Peter’s lover was being stalked by her ex. He was following you and Peter, mistakenly believing you to be her. He ran Peter off the road. Charges are in the process of being laid. You were not at fault.’
She put a hand to her head and frowned as the memory returned. ‘I remember Vanessa. She was the best thing that had ever happened to Peter. They were so in love.’
He gave her a pained look. ‘I know. I am ashamed of how I reacted to that ridiculous press story. I should have trusted you. You’ve had to endure similar rubbish and yet you’ve always trusted me.’
‘Until that last time,’ she said. ‘The Russian singer.’
‘Yes, well, that was perfectly understandable,’ he said. ‘You were in the early stages of pregnancy. I had never made you feel all that secure in our marriage. I was always flying off to sign up some big business deal. But all that has to change—if you’ll only give me a chance.’ He tightened his hold of her hands. ‘Say you’ll come back to me, Emelia. Come back to me and be my wife. Be the mother of my children.’
Emelia blinked back tears. ‘We lost our little baby…’
He pulled her into his chest. ‘I know,’ he said, softly planting a kiss on the top of her head, her seawaterdamp and salty hair tickling his nose. ‘I blame myself for that. If you hadn’t been so worried about me coming to terms with being a father, maybe it wouldn’t have happened.’
She pulled back in his embrace to look up at him. ‘You mustn’t blame yourself. My father recently told me my mother had three miscarriages before she had me. I don’t know if it’s hereditary or not, but I’m sure we’ll have a baby one day.’
‘So you’ll come back to me?’ he asked.
She smiled as she linked her arms around his neck. ‘I can’t think of any place I would rather be than with you.’
His dark eyes melted as he looked down at her. ‘I know someone who is going to be absolutely thrilled to hear you say that.’
She gave him a quizzical look. ‘Who?’
‘She’s waiting in the car,’ he said. ‘She said something about BFF. What does that mean, by the way?’
Emelia’s smile widened. ‘It means best friends forever. She’s really here? Izabella came all this way?’
His smile was self-deprecating. ‘She didn’t trust me to be able to convince you to come home. She said if I didn’t succeed she would come in and do it for me. Do you want me to call her in?’
‘Of course I do.’ She ran to the window and, finding the hire car, waved madly to the young woman sitting inside chewing her nails.
Javier’s gaze warmed as he came over and looped an arm around her waist. ‘There’s just one thing I need to do before she gets here,’ he said, turning her around to face him.
‘Oh,’ Emelia said, smiling brightly. ‘What’s that?’
‘I think you know,’ he said and, before she could admit she did, he covered her mouth with a kiss that promised forever.
The Konstantos Marriage Demand
Kate Walker
KATE WALKER was born in Nottinghamshire, but as she grew up in Yorkshire she has always felt that her roots are there. She met her husband at university, and originally worked as a children’s librarian, but after the birth of her son she returned to her old childhood love of writing. When she’s not working, she divides her time between her family, their three cats, and her interests of embroidery, antiques, film and theatre, and, of course, reading. You can visit Kate at www.kate-walker.com.
For Abby Green with thanks for the inspiration over Kir Royales in the Shelbourne and for sharing Delphi Lodge
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