she would make a wonderful wife. After all, she had learned what not to do by watching first her parents’ disastrous and volatile marriage, and then her father’s subsequent ones after her mother had died. She had determined from a young age to marry for love and love only. Money and prestige would hold no sway with her. But now she wondered how closely she had clung to her ideals.
She ate a healthy breakfast of fruit and yogurt and toast and carried a cup of tea out to a sun-drenched terrace overlooking the villa’s gardens.
The scenery was breathtaking and the fresh smell of recently cut grass teased her nostrils. Neatly trimmed box hedges created the more formal aspect of the garden, but beyond she could see colourful herbaceous borders and interesting pathways that led to various fountains or statues.
After she carried her cup back into the kitchen, Emelia went on a tour of the garden. The sun was warm but not overly so and a light breeze carried the delicate scent of late blooming roses to her. She stopped and picked one and, breathing in its fragrance, wondered how many times she had done exactly this. She poked the stem of the rose behind her ear and carried on, stopping at one of the fountains to watch the birds splashing and ruffling their feathers in the water.
The sound of a horse whinnying turned her head. In the distance Emelia could see a youth leading a magnificent looking stallion to what appeared to be a riding arena near the stables a little way from the villa. She walked back through the garden and made her way to where the youth was now lunging the horse on a lead rope. He was a powerful-looking animal with a proud head and flaring nostrils, his tail arched in defiance as his hooves pounded through the sand of the arena.
Emelia stood on the second rail of the fence so she could see over, watching as the stallion went through his paces. Without thinking, she spoke in Spanish to the youth. ‘He’s very temperamental, isn’t he?’
‘Sí, señora,’ the youth answered. ‘Your mare is much better mannered.’
Emelia looked at him blankly. ‘I have a horse of my own?’
The youth looked at her as if she was loca but then he must have recalled what he had been told about her accident. ‘Sí, señora,’ he said with a white toothed smile. ‘She is in the stable. I exercised her earlier this morning.’
‘Could I ride her, please?’ Emelia asked.
He gave her a surprised look. ‘You want to ride her?’
She nodded. ‘Of course I do.’
‘But you have never wanted to ride her before,’ he said with a puzzled frown. ‘You refused to even look at her.’
Emelia laughed off the suggestion. ‘That’s crazy. I love to ride. I had my own horse when my mother was alive. I used to spend every weekend and holidays at Pony Club or on riding camps.’
Pedro shrugged his shoulders as if he wasn’t sure what to make of her as he made his way to the stables.
Emelia jumped down from the railing and followed him. ‘I’m sorry but I’ve forgotten your name,’ she said.
‘Pedro,’ he said. ‘I look after the horses for Señor Mélendez. I have been working for him for two years now. The same time you have been married, sí?’
Emelia gave him a small smile, not sure how much he knew of her situation. The stallion snorted and pawed the ground and she stepped up to him and stroked his proud forehead. ‘You are being a great big show-off, do you know that?’ she crooned softly.
The stallion snorted again but then began to rub his head against her chest, almost pushing her over.
Pedro’s look was still quizzical. ‘He likes you, Señora Mélendez. But you used to be frightened of him. He is big and proud and has a mind of his own. He is…how you say…a softie inside.’
Emelia wondered if Pedro was talking about the horse or her husband. Probably both, she imagined. She breathed in the sweet smell of horse and hay and felt a flicker of something in her memory. She put a hand to her head, frowning as she tried to retrieve it before it disappeared.
‘Señora?’ Pedro’s voice was concerned as he pulled the horse back from her. ‘Are you all right? Did Gitano hurt you?’
‘No, of course not,’ Emelia said. ‘I was just trying to remember something but it’s gone now.’
Pedro led the stallion back to his stall and a short time later led out a pretty little mare. She had the same proud bearing as Gitano but her temperament was clearly very different. She whinnied when she caught sight of Emelia and her big soft round eyes shone with delight.
Emelia put her arms around the horse’s neck, breathing in her sweet scent, closing her eyes as she searched her memory. A scene filtered through the fog in her head. It was a similar day to today, sunny with a light breeze. She was being led blindfolded down to the stables; she could even feel the nerves she had felt buzzing in the pit of her stomach. She could feel warm strong hands guiding her, a tall lean body brushing her from behind, the sharp citrus of his aftershave striking another chord of memory in her brain…
‘Señora Mélendez?’ Pedro’s voice slammed the door on her memory. ‘Are you all right?’
Emelia opened her eyes and, disguising her frustration, sent him a crooked smile. ‘I’m fine,’ she said.
‘Callida looks very well. You must be doing a wonderful job of looking after her.’
‘Señora,’ Pedro said with rounded eyes, ‘you remember her name, sí? Callida. Señor Mélendez bought her for you as a surprise for your birthday last month.’
Emelia stared at the youth for a moment, her brain whirling. ‘I…I don’t know how I remembered her name. It was just there in my head,’ she said.
Pedro smiled a wide smile. ‘It is good you are home. You will remember everything in time, sí?’
Emelia returned his smile but a little more cautiously. If only she had his confidence. But it did seem strange that Callida’s name had been there on her tongue without her thinking about it; strange too that her Spanish had come to her equally as automatically. What else was lying inside her head, just waiting for the right trigger to unlock it?
Callida nudged against her, blowing at her through her velvet nostrils. Emelia tickled the horse’s forelock. ‘Can you saddle her for me?’ she asked Pedro.
The lad’s smile was quickly exchanged for a grave look. ‘Señor Mélendez…I am not sure he would want you to ride. You have a head injury, sí? Not good to ride so soon.’
Emelia felt her neck and shoulders straighten in rebellion. ‘I am perfectly well,’ she said. ‘And I would like to take Callida out to see if it helps me remember anything else. I need some exercise, in any case. I can’t sit around all day doing nothing until my…hus…until Señor Mélendez returns.’
Pedro shifted his weight from foot to foot, his hands on Callida’s leading rein fidgeting with agitation. ‘I have been given instructions. I could lose my job.’
Emelia took the leading rein from him. ‘I will explain to Señor Mélendez that I insisted. Don’t worry. I won’t let him fire you.’
The
