satisfied, and that was all there was to it. If he hadn’t been, despite the contribution to the hospital’s funds—she closed her mind to the word ‘bribe’—he wouldn’t have released her.
Or would he?
The door swung open and a tall, dark-haired, broad-shouldered man strode in. He was very well dressed, but it was his easy air of power and authority, his natural arrogance, that proclaimed him top of the heap.
As if by right he took the doctor’s place on the edge of the bed. He appeared to be in his early thirties, his face was lean and tough, and his handsome blackpupilled eyes were a light, clear green beneath curved brows.
He was a complete stranger.
As though mesmerised, she found herself staring at his mouth. The upper lip was thin, the lower fuller, and with a slight dip in the centre that echoed the cleft in his chin. It was an austere, yet sensual mouth—a mouth that was at once beautiful and ruthless.
Suddenly she shivered.
Those brilliant eyes searched her face, apparently looking for some sign of recognition. When he found none, his own face hardened, as though with anger, but his voice was soft as he said, ‘Clare, darling...I’ve been nearly frantic.’
Then, as without conscious volition she shrank away, he said, ‘It’s Jos... Surely you remember me? I’m your husband.’
If he was, why did she feel this instinctive fear of him? And why did she get the impression that he was cloaking his displeasure, playing the part of a loving husband to satisfy Dr Hauser?
He took her hand.
In a reflex action she snatched it away, cradling it against her chest as though he’d hurt it.
‘You’re not my husband! I know you’re not.’ Turning to the doctor, she cried desperately, ‘I’ve never seen him before!’ She held out her left hand. ‘Look, I’m not even wearing a ring.’
The man who called himself Jos felt in his pocket and produced a wide band of chased gold and a huge diamond solitaire. ‘You took your rings off when you showered this morning and forgot to put them back.’
No, she didn’t believe him. Somehow she knew she wasn’t the kind of woman who would lightly remove her wedding ring.
As she began to shake her head he caught her hand, and, holding it with delicate cruelty when she would have pulled it free, slipped both rings onto her slender finger. ‘See? A perfect fit.’
He gave her a cool, implacable stare, which sent a quiver of apprehension through her, before lifting her hand to his lips and kissing the palm. ‘And if you want further proof that we’re married...’ Removing a marriage certificate and a couple of snapshots from his wallet, he held them out to her.
A marriage certificate might be anyone’s, so she didn’t even bother to look at it, but photographs couldn’t lie. Afraid of what she might see, she forced herself to take the Polaroid pictures and look at them.
The first one had been taken in what appeared to be a cottage garden. She was smiling up at a tall, dark-haired attractive man. His arm was around her waist and she looked radiantly happy.
‘That was the day we got engaged...and that was our wedding day.’
The second picture showed a couple just emerging from the stone porch of a village church. Dressed in an ivory satin bridal gown and holding a spray of pale pink rosebuds, she was on the arm of the same man, who now wore a well-cut grey suit with a white carnation in his buttonhole.
A man who was undoubtedly Jos.
‘Do you still believe we’re not married?’
She couldn’t deny the evidence of her own eyes, but she knew that no matter what the picture suggested she didn’t want to be married to this man.
‘Well, Clare?’
‘No.’ It was just a whisper.
Standing in the background, Dr Hauser nodded his approval just as his bleeper summoned him. ‘I must go. Try not to worry, Mrs Saunders. I’m sure your loss of memory will prove to be only temporary.’
The door had hardly closed behind him when there was a bump and it swung open again to admit the nurse, pushing a shabby wheelchair. ‘Well, isn’t this good news?’ she asked her patient cheerfully. ‘As soon as you’re dressed, you can go home.’
Taking a small pile of clothing from the locker, she pulled back the bed-sheet and the single greyish cellular blanket. ‘Shall I give you a hand with the gown? Or would you prefer your husband to help you?’
Jos eyed the hospital gown with distaste, and raised an enquiring brow.
Agitated, because she was naked beneath the faded cotton and he knew it, Clare folded her arms across her chest and hugged herself defensively. ‘No, I...I don’t need any help.’
He rose to his feet in one lithe movement and said smoothly, ‘Then I’ll wait outside.’
‘You didn’t remember him?’ the nurse queried, unfastening the tapes.
Clare shook her head mutely.
‘So I guess you’re entitled to be shy. Though I’d have thought a man like that would have been impossible to forget. He’s really something...’
Seeing nothing else for it, Clare swung her legs off the bed and stood up. Moving slowly, carefully, wincing as she touched her bruised ribs, she began to get dressed in clothes she didn’t even recognise as hers.
The undies were pretty and delicate, the silky suit and sandals well-chosen and smart, but all of them appeared to be relatively cheap. Which didn’t seem to tie in with his expensive clothes.
Her tongue loosened, the nurse was chattering on. ‘I must say I envy you. It’s so thrilling and exciting. Like meeting for the first time and falling in love all over again...’
Clare wished she could see things in such a romantic light. Caught between an unknown future with a man who was a stranger to her and a blank past, all she could feel was alarm and dread.
All too soon she was dressed. With no further excuse for dawdling she took a few steps and, feeling weak, found herself glad to sink into the wheelchair the nurse was holding for her.
Standing at ease, showing no sign of impatience now, Jos was waiting in the bare corridor. He was very tall, six feet three or four, with wide shoulders and narrow hips.
He looked hard and handsome. And somehow dangerous.
Though he was so big, when he came towards them she saw he moved with the grace and agility of a man perfectly in control of his body.
‘Shall I come down with you?’ the nurse asked.
Anxious to put off the time when she’d be left alone with him, Clare was about to accept the offer when he said pleasantly, ‘Thank you, but there’s really no need. I’m sure I can handle a wheelchair.’
The smile accompanying his words held such devastating charm that
