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

had an entire closet full of fashionable clothes, enough shoes to wear a different pair every day for a number of weeks. Perfume, toiletries, make-up. Even jewellery. Alejandro had been exceedingly generous, given the circumstances of their marriage. She related such generosity to the need to project the image of a successful man’s wife.

      ‘Double Bay, José,’ she instructed on a sudden whim. ‘Alejandro is entertaining a business associate tonight, and I have an inclination to buy a new outfit.’

      ‘Sí,’ José concurred with a friendly grin. ‘I shall take you there.’

      The car slid forward, moving out into the flow of traffic, and Elise leaned back against the cushioned seat and closed her eyes against the onset of images crowding her brain.

      ‘Would you like me to accompany you?’

      Elise blinked at the sound of José’s voice, and hastily caught hold of her scattered thoughts as she established that the Bentley was parked outside one of several exclusive boutiques known for their designer labels and expensive price-tags.

      ‘No, thank you, José.’ She cast him a warm smile. ‘Why don’t you have coffee somewhere? I’ll be at least half an hour.’

      She was twice that time and more, requiring special authorisation when it became apparent that she was unable to sign the appropriate credit slips.

      They arrived home only minutes ahead of Alejandro, and she moved quickly upstairs to their suite in the hope of avoiding him…at least momentarily. If she hurried, she might be able to seclude herself in the shower.

      She managed it, but only just, and when she emerged into the bedroom he was in the process of discarding his clothes.

      Her eyes encountered his, then skittered away as he pulled off his shirt and took the few necessary steps to reach her.

      For a few more hours at least, she had to act a part. After their dinner guests departed, she could unleash her inner rage.

      The need to say something—anything—seemed paramount, and she rushed into speech. ‘José took me to Double Bay. Shopping,’ she elaborated, indicating the assortment of brightly coloured carrier bags at the foot of the bed. ‘I felt like wearing something new tonight.’ He was within touching distance, and she injected warmth into her smile as he lifted both hands to cup her face.

      His mouth closed over hers, warm, hungry, possessive. She could feel her own unbidden response, the unfurling deep within as he drew her close in against him.

      When he lifted his head it was all she could do to meet the dark intentness of his gaze, and she felt her lips tremble as he gently rubbed his thumb back and forth across the kiss-swollen curves.

      One hand traced a path down her neck to trail the edge of her silk robe, parting it to slip inside and caress the full curve of her breast. ‘What did the obstetrician have to say?’

      How did she answer that? With extreme care, a tiny voice warned. ‘He reassured me that the baby is fine.’

      Her breasts felt heavy, their peaks taut and aching. It wasn’t the only part of her that ached. Dammit, how could her body react in such a traitorous fashion?

      His eyes seared hers, dark and analytical, almost as if he knew precisely what had happened and was waiting for her to tell him.

      Could the obstetrician have called him? The possibility wouldn’t surprise her. ‘I—suffered a bout of morning sickness.’ She paused, then made a light attempt at humour. ‘In the middle of the afternoon.’ She was not such a good actress that Alejandro would be fooled for long. ‘I had another memory flash.’ It was an extension of the truth. ‘It shook me up a little.’

      ‘Poor niña,’ Alejandro soothed, brushing his lips against her temple. ‘If you don’t feel up to dinner tonight, I will contact André and have him meet me at a restaurant.’

      ‘No,’ Elise said quickly, adding, ‘Ana has gone to a lot of trouble.’ She didn’t want to wake in the depths of night when he slid into bed and reached for her.

      She wanted a confrontation. Dammit, she wanted to launch a full-scale war against him. But not when they had a guest due to arrive for dinner in—how long? Less than an hour?

      ‘Shouldn’t we get ready?’

      Alejandro drew back and gave her a rueful smile. ‘I need to shower and shave.’

      The dress she had bought was a slim-fitting sheath in a brilliant red uncrushable viscose and linen mix, its hemline resting just above the knee. A clever panel of red beaded embroidery elevated the simple design to the glamorous, and matching beaded shoes completed an ensemble that shrieked a top Australian label.

      Alejandro entered the bedroom as she put the finishing touches to her make-up, and with practised ease he attended to the hook on her bra, then assisted her into the dress. The long zip-fastener slid home, and she slowly turned to face him.

      ‘Stunning,’ he pronounced, his eyes gleaming with indolent appreciation as they roved over her slim curves. ‘Do you need help with your hair?’

      ‘I thought I’d wear it loose.’

      She crossed to the dressing-table and caught up her brush, stroking the length of her hair until it shone. Ear-rings were too difficult to attach with one hand, so she discarded the idea.

      André Valery was a tall, handsome man in his late thirties, charming, with Gallic appreciation for the opposite sex.

      ‘I have been looking forward to meeting the woman who managed to slip beneath Alejandro’s armour.’ He lifted his glass in salute. ‘I congratulate you.’

      Dinner was a success, for not only had Ana excelled herself with superb culinary offerings, but the delicate baiting each man indulged in bore the stamp of a long friendship.

      ‘You realise our fathers were business associates? Oui. It is true. For some years we spent holidays together. Gstaad. St Moritz. One year Alejandro was packed off to join my family in Paris.’ His eyes twinkled with wicked humour. ‘We were young, gregarious, and, I think, a little too adventurous for our own good.’

      ‘Don’t indulge in tales, André,’ Alejandro drawled, ‘or I may feel compelled to relay a few of my own to Anne-Marie when next I see her.’

      ‘Anne-Marie,’ André returned, with a Gallic shrug, ‘is in no doubt as to what manner of man I am.’

      ‘Are you about to destroy my illusions?’ Elise queried lightly, and incurred his slight smile. His eyes, however, assumed inscrutability.

      ‘What illusions do you refer to, chérie?’

      ‘That you might be an exception to most successful men and have chosen not to have both wife and mistress?’

      André’s gaze didn’t waver, and she met it fearlessly, aware of the sudden stillness in the room. ‘If a man values his family, and his wife meets his needs,’ he offered quite gently, ‘why would there be the necessity for him to take a mistress?’

      She was stepping into dangerous territory, but she didn’t care. ‘The challenge it represents, perhaps? Excitement?’ She managed a careless shrug. ‘Would you consider it fair for a wife to expect her needs also to be met?’

      Alejandro’s voice was pure silk. ‘You are lodging a subtle complaint, querida?’

      It took all her acting ability, but she managed a light incredulous laugh. ‘How could I begin to fault you?’ She reached out a placating hand, and sat quite still as he took hold of it and raised her fingers to his lips.

      It was a deliberate gesture, and she glimpsed the dark gleam in his eyes, a watchfulness that sent warning flares licking the taut edge of her nerves.

      He knew. Perhaps not precisely when her memory had returned, but there was no doubt he was aware that she had experienced a total recall.

      ‘Shall