The Helen Bianchin And The Regency Scoundrels And Scandals Collections. Louise Allen

caught up with the desire to recapture the past, and she didn’t offer a word as they made their way back to the house.

      Elise found it difficult to shake off an inclination towards introspection for the rest of the day, and even during dinner she was unusually quiet.

      ‘Anxiety won’t help hasten the return of your memory,’ Alejandro advised as she pushed her plate aside.

      She glimpsed the inherent strength apparent, and her eyes took on a shadowy quality. ‘I can’t help the feeling of defencelessness that has always lurked in the background,’ she revealed slowly, holding his gaze.

      ‘You have no reason to be uncertain. About anything,’ he added with deliberate emphasis.

      She wasn’t quite so sure, but at the moment she had little option but to accept his word.

      He rose to his feet and began collecting cutlery and stacking plates. ‘Sort through the video cassettes while I take care of the dishes.’

      Elise wandered into the informal lounge, and after some deliberation she selected an action movie that threatened to swamp the viewer with lots of thrills and spills.

      Alejandro walked into the room just as the previews concluded, and as she made for one of the single chairs he tugged her down on to the two-seater beside him.

      With maximum ease he adjusted their positions so that she rested between his thighs and leaned back against his chest. His hands moved to link together over her lower abdomen.

      The desire to stay there overcame any willingness to protest, and she forced herself to concentrate on the superbly fit male actor on screen as he launched into a daring choreographic karate routine with his opponent.

      Elise must have fallen into a doze at some stage, for when she woke she was in bed and it was morning.

      After a leisurely breakfast Alejandro tossed their bags into the boot, locked up the house, and drove back to the city.

      ‘You look so much better,’ Ana beamed with approval as she greeted them on arrival, and her pleasant features creased into a genuine smile. ‘It is good to see the colour in your face again.’

      Elise’s mouth curved with a certain wry humour. ‘Alejandro has been feeding me up and taking me for walks along the beach.’

      ‘I will serve lunch early. Your appointment is at two, sí?’

      It was all going to start: the daily physiotherapy sessions, the visits to specialists, and soon there would be no reason for her not to rejoin Alejandro on the social scene.

      Elise was unable to still a feeling of instinctive apprehension, and although she did justice to a bowl of Ana’s chicken soup, she toyed with the salad, picked at the bread, and opted to conclude the meal with fresh fruit.

      Perhaps José would drive her to the physiotherapist’s rooms, leaving Alejandro to retire into the study for the rest of the afternoon.

      However, it was her inimitable husband who slid in behind the wheel.

      ‘There’s no need for you to come in with me,’ she essayed when the Bentley eased into a parking bay adjacent to the main entrance.

      ‘I’ll confine myself to the waiting-room,’ Alejandro conceded with amused tolerance, and she wrinkled her nose at him in silent admonition as he followed her in to reception.

      The physiotherapist explained precisely what exercises he wanted her to do, and why—muscles lost their elasticity if they were not used, resulting in stiffness, gradual loss of mobility, and pain.

      Elise completed the simple exercises with supervised care, and at the end of the session Alejandro drove her home.

      Traffic was congested, some drivers more impatient than others as the lines of cars slowed to a snail’s pace. Tempers rose, horns blared and engines roared in protest. Then slowly they began to move again.

      The Bentley had just begun to pick up speed when Alejandro hit the brakes. Elise was conscious of several things at once: Alejandro’s arm anchoring her against the seat an instant before the car lurched on impact, and the sickening sound of crunching metal. She registered dimly a string of viciously articulated Spanish words, then Alejandro was leaning over her, his features harsh as his hands cupped her face.

      ‘Are you all right?’

      She was in another car, a white sports model, behind the wheel, passing through a computercontrolled intersection. There was an instantaneous reaction as she slammed on the brakes and wrenched the wheel in a desperate bid to avoid hitting the oncoming vehicle. But it was too late. There was a sickening crunch of metal. Her head hit something, and then there was darkness.

      ‘Por Dios.’

      Elise felt as if her eyes were far too large for her face as she attempted to re-focus them and shut out that horrific vision.

      ‘Are you hurt?’

      She registered Alejandro’s voice, deep, dark and throbbing, then she saw his face, anxiety etching every line, his eyes almost black as they attempted to see beyond the mask her features had become.

      ‘Elise.’ His fingers were gentle as they stroked each cheek, and she blinked once, twice, then she was back in the present.

      ‘I’m—fine,’ she attempted, through lips that trembled badly. She met his intent gaze, and swallowed the sudden lump that seemed lodged in her throat. ‘Really,’ she assured him shakily as she defended herself against eyes that seemed to pierce her soul.

      ‘You remembered the accident.’ It was a statement, not a query. ‘All of it?’

      Her lips seemed strangely dry, and she edged out the tip of her tongue to moisten them. ‘Just—a blur of blue hurtling towards me, the moment of impact.’

      His eyes never left her face, and her mouth trembled slightly as he reached for the car-phone, punched in a series of numbers, requested the police, and gave a brief description of the accident and location.

      Elise could only stare straight ahead as Alejandro pushed open the door and slid to his feet, and his hard inflexible tones combining with those of the man who had tempted providence by making an erroneous move barely penetrated her conscious mind.

      Was this how her memory would return? A series of brief isolated incidents every few days?

      Seconds later Alejandro slid in behind the wheel, and Elise bore his intent scrutiny with equanimity.

      ‘I’m OK,’ she assured him. ‘Is there much damage to the car?’

      ‘You concern me. Not the car,’ he said bleakly.

      At some stage she heard the distant wail of a police siren, then it came close, red and blue lights flashing. Doors slammed, voices.

      It wasn’t until they arrived home that she saw the broken light and its surround, the deep gouges and scratches. The sight of them brought on a wave of nausea, and she only just made it upstairs in time.

      No protest she made prevented Alejandro from calling in the doctor.

      ‘Dammit, this is normal,’ she uttered fiercely, and saw his expression measurably harden. She lifted her hands in mock surrender. ‘All right, I give in.’

      An hour later she barely refrained from reiterating the doctor’s reassurance, and the only concession she made to resting was to recline on the sun-lounger beneath a shade umbrella at the pool’s edge.

      The next few days assumed a regular routine as Elise attended the physiotherapy clinic and kept an appointment with the neurologist.

      Alejandro rose early, spent an hour working out in the downstairs gym, followed it with several lengths in the pool, then after breakfast he closeted himself in the study until Ana served lunch.

      An urgent telephone call on Friday morning necessitated his presence in the city, and Elise rejoiced at the thought