Read The Mélendez Forgotten Marriage for Free Online Page B

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…’
    â€˜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 besideher. 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