The Mélendez Forgotten Marriage by Melanie Milburne

stance. ‘I am not leaving until you get out.’
    She clenched her teeth, her voice coming out as a hiss, reminding him of a snarling cat. ‘Why are you doing this? Why are you being such a beast?’
    â€˜What is all the fuss about, querida ?’ he asked evenly. ‘I have seen you naked countless times.’
    Her throat rose and fell. ‘It’s different now… You know that…’
    He came closer with the towel, unfolding it for her to step into. ‘Come on, Emelia. You are shivering.’
    She flattened her mouth and, giving him another livid glare, stood and grasped for the towel, covering herself haphazardly, but not before he feasted his eyes on her slim feminine form. There were catwalk models who had less going for them, Javier thought. With her coltish long legs and beautifully toned arms and those small high breasts with their delectable rosy nipples, it was all he could do not to pull her out of the slippery tub and crush his body to hers. How many times had he tasted the sweet honey of her feminine body? How many times had he plunged into her, his cataclysmic release unlike any he had ever experienced with anyone else? As much as it felt like a dagger in his gut, he wondered how it had been with her lover. Had she gone down on him with the same fervour? Had she whispered words of love to him in the afterglow of lovemaking? Javier felt his top lip curl as he watched her try to cover herself more effectively. ‘You are wasting your time, Emelia,’ he said. ‘I know every inch of your body and you know every inch of mine.’
    Her eyes shifted away from his, her throat doing that nervous up and down thing again. ‘I would like some privacy,’ she said, wiping her brow with the back of her hand. ‘I…I’m not feeling well.’
    Javier’s brows shot together. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ he asked. ‘What is wrong? A headache? The doctor said headaches are common after—’
    â€˜It’s not a bad one, just an ache behind one eye.’ She brushed at her damp brow once more, this time with a corner of the towel. ‘It’s making me feel a little nauseous. Perhaps it’s the change of climate. It’s a lot hotter here than in England.’
    â€˜You were only in London a week,’ he pointed out. ‘Hardly time to be reacclimatising, don’t you think?’
    Her gaze returned to his, two small frown lines sectioning her forehead. ‘Oh…yes…yes, of course…I forgot.’ She pressed her lips together and looked away.
    Javier saw the shadow of grief pass through her eyes before she averted her gaze. He fought down his anger, reminding himself she was with him now. His rival was dead. It was just Emelia and him now, to get on with their lives as best they could. ‘Dinner is not long away,’ he said. ‘I will need to get changed. Do you want me to escort you downstairs or do you think you will find your way?’
    She clutched at the towel as she looked at him with her guarded gaze. ‘I’ll find my own way…thank you.’
    He gave a brisk nod and left the bathroom.
    Emelia opened the wardrobe and, searching through the array of clothes, selected a simple black dress and heels to match. As she dressed she couldn’t quite suppress the feeling that she was dressing in someone else’s clothes. The dress was made by a French designer and must have cost a fortune; the shoes, too, were a brand celebrities and Hollywood stars regularly wore. She used the cosmetics in the drawer in the en suite bathroom, but only lightly and, after drying her hair with a blow-dryer, she left it lying about her shoulders.
    As she came down the grand staircase she heard Javier’s voice from the study. He was speaking in Spanish and sounded angry. Emelia knew it was probably beneath her to eavesdrop but, even so, she couldn’t resist pausing outside the closed study