Her thoughts went racing off again.
Had he kissed her there? Had he stroked his long tanned fingers over the nape of her neck? Had he dipped his tongue into the shell of her ear?
Her heart rammed against her ribcage.
Had he gone lower to the secret heart of her? Had he explored her in intimate detail, making her flesh quiver and spasm in delight? What positions had they made love in? Which was their favourite? Had she taken him in her mouth; had she…? Oh, God, had she…?
She sneaked a quick glance at him, her face flaming when she encountered his unknowable eyes.
He lifted his hand and with a barely there touch tracked the tip of one of his fingers over the curve of her warm cheek. ‘You don’t remember anything, do you, querida?’ he asked in a husky tone.
Emelia pressed her lips together in an effort to stop them from prickling with sensation, with an aching burning need. ‘No…no…I’m sorry…’
He gave her a crooked smile that didn’t quite make the full distance to his eyes. ‘It is no matter. We can take our time and do it all again, step by step. It will be like the first time again, sí?’
Emelia felt her heart start to flap as if it had suddenly grown wings. ‘I wasn’t very experienced…I remember that. I’d only had one lover.’
‘You were a fast learner.’ His eyes dipped to her mouth, lingering there for a moment before coming back to her eyes. ‘Very, very fast.’
She swallowed again to clear the tightness of her throat. ‘You must find this rather…unsettling to be married to someone who doesn’t even remember how you kiss.’
His fingers went to her chin, propping her face up so she had to lock gazes with him. ‘You know, I could clear up that little mystery for you right here and now.’
She tried to pull back but he must have anticipated it as his fingers subtly tightened. ‘I…I wasn’t suggesting…’ she began.
‘No, but I was.’
Emelia felt her skin pop up in goosebumps as he angled his head and slowly brought his mouth within touching distance of hers. She felt the warm breeze of his breath waft over her lips, a feather-light caress that made her mouth tingle with anticipation for more. She waited, her eyes half closed, her heart thudding in expectation as each second passed, throbbing with tension.
His fingers left her chin to splay across her cheeks, his thumbs moving back and forth in a mesmerising motion, his eyes heavy-lidded as they focused on her mouth. She sent her tongue out to moisten her lips, her heart giving another tripping beat as his mouth came just that little bit closer…
‘It might complicate things for you if I kiss you right now,’ he said in a rumbling deep tone. ‘It wouldn’t do to compromise your recovery, now would it, cariño?’
‘Um…I…I…It’s probably not a good idea right now…’
He gave a low deep chuckle and released her, sitting back in his seat with indolent grace. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I thought not. But it can wait. For a while.’
Emelia sat in silence, trying to imagine what it was like for him. Of course he would find this situation unbearably frustrating. He was a full-blooded healthy male in the prime of his life. And for the last two years he had been used to having her as his willing wife. Now she was like a stranger to him and him to her. Would her reticence propel him into another woman’s arms? The thought was strangely disturbing. Why would the thought of him seeking pleasure in another woman’s arms make her feel so on edge and irritable? It wasn’t as if she had any memory of their time together.
Emelia looked down at the rings on her finger. It was strange but the weight of them was not as unfamiliar as the man who had placed them there. She turned them around; they were loose on her but she had lost even more weight from being in hospital. She hadn’t noticed it earlier but she had a slight tan mark where the rings had been, which put to rest any lingering doubts about the veracity of their marriage. She glanced at him and found him watching her with a brooding set to his features. ‘Is everything all right?’ she asked.
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘I just hope the flight will not be too tiring for you.’
He leaned forward to say something to the driver. Emelia felt the brush of his thigh against hers and her heart stopped and started at the thought of how many times those long strong legs had been entwined with hers in passion. He had held off from kissing her but how long before he decided to resume their physical relationship in full? She squeezed her thighs together again, wondering if she could feel where he had been; might it have been only just over a week ago?
They boarded the private jet after going through customs. She couldn’t remember flying on a private Gulfstream jet before. She couldn’t recall even seeing one other than in a magazine. Even her father, as wealthy as he was, always used a commercial plane, albeit business or first class. Had travelling in such opulent luxury and wearing diamonds that were priceless become commonplace to her in the last two years?
Even though Emelia could see her married name on her passport, it still seemed as if someone had stolen her identity. The stamps on her passport made no sense to her. She had been to Paris, Rome, Prague, Monte Carlo and Zurich and London numerous times yet she remembered nothing of those trips.
The jet was luxuriously appointed, showcasing the wealth Javier had alluded to earlier. He was clearly a man who had made his way in the world in a big way. The staff members were all very respectful and, unlike some of the wealthy men Emelia had met amongst her father’s set, Javier treated them with equal respect. He addressed each of them by name and asked after their partners and family as if they were as important to him as his own.
‘Would you like today’s papers?’ one of the flight attendants asked once they were settled in their seats.
‘Not today, thank you, Anya,’ Javier said with a ghost of a rueful smile.
Emelia suppressed a little frown of annoyance. She would have liked to have read up on the news. After all, it was a different world she lived in now. She had two years’ worth of news and gossip to catch up on. And then another thought came to her. Maybe there was something about the accident in the papers, some clue as to what had caused it. Peter, as the manager of a trendy hotel, well frequented by the jet-setting crowd of London, had been a popular public figure. Surely she had a right to know what had led up to the tragic accident that had taken her friend from her.
‘Don’t pout, querida,’ Javier said when he caught the tail end of her look. ‘I am trying to protect you.’
Emelia frowned at him. ‘From what?’ she asked.
He gave her one of his unreadable looks. ‘I think you should know there has been some speculation about your accident,’ he said.
Her frown deepened. ‘What sort of speculation?’
‘The usual gossip and innuendo the press like to stir up from time to time,’ he said. ‘You are the wife of a high profile businessman, Emelia. You might not remember it, but you were regularly hounded by the press for any hint of a scandal. It’s what sells papers and magazines, even if the stuff they print isn’t always true.’
Emelia chewed on the end of one of her neatly manicured nails. She was the focus of the press? How could that be possible? She lived a fairly boring life, or at least she thought she had until after she had woken up from her coma. She had long ago given up her dreams of being a concert pianist and was now concentrating on a career in teaching. But the sort of fame or infamy Javier was talking about had definitely not been a part of her plan.
She dropped her finger from her mouth.