The Helen Bianchin Collection. HELEN BIANCHIN

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      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 we adjourn to the lounge for coffee?’ Alejandro suggested smoothly.

      Somehow Elise managed to get through the rest of the evening. If André sensed that her conversation was a little too bright, he gave no indication.

      ‘You must excuse me,’ André said at last. ‘It is late, and I must return to my hotel.’ He crossed to her side. ‘Thank you for a most enjoyable evening.’ He took her hand and lifted it to his lips, then held it a fraction longer than was necessary. ‘Alejandro must bring you to Paris,’ he said gently. ‘It would give Anne-Marie much pleasure.’

      ‘Indeed,’ Alejandro concurred as they moved through to the front of the house.

      Elise turned away from the door the instant the car’s tail-lights cleared the gates, acutely conscious of Alejandro’s actions as he re-set the alarm system.

      Apprehension prickled at the back of her neck as she made for the stairs. The anger that had lain dormant since this afternoon rose to the fore, darkening her eyes and reining her mouth into a firm line.

      Entering the bedroom, she slipped off her shoes, then reached for the zip-fastening at the back of her dress.

      Alejandro came into the room as she began a third fruitless attempt to slide the fastener down, and she didn’t utter a word as he crossed to complete the task.

      With extreme care she stepped out of the dress and placed it over a nearby chair, watching out of the corner of her eye as he discarded his jacket and removed his tie.

      ‘When did it happen?’

      His voice was quiet, deadly, and she turned slowly to face him, unwilling to prevaricate.

      Eyes as dark as onyx were filled with a chilling intensity, and her chin tilted fractionally as she prepared to oppose him.

      ‘This afternoon. In the obstetrician’s waiting-room.’ Her eyes sparked with green fire. ‘A photograph of Savannah in a magazine acted as the trigger, giving me total recollection in slow motion.’

      His expression darkened fractionally, and he reached out a hand, catching hold of her chin between thumb and forefinger, tightening his grasp when she attempted to wrench it away.

      Elise’s eyes flared a brilliant topaz-flecked emerald in unspoken challenge. ‘Why?’ she demanded. ‘Why did you deceive me?’

      He held her effortlessly, his expression an inscrutable mask. His silence angered her immeasurably.

      ‘Dammit, answer me!’

      His eyes became bleak, and his voice sounded as dark as the depths of his black soul. ‘When would you have had me reveal facts?’

      She suffered his raking scrutiny with angry defiance as she waited for him to continue.

      ‘While you lay in a hospital bed injured and afraid?’ he pursued relentlessly. ‘When you first came home?’ His eyes dared her to refute him. ‘Should I have destroyed your trust? Refused you reassurance and affection?’

      ‘You took advantage with a calculated play on my emotions,’ she cried, raw with pain.

      ‘We made love,’ Alejandro corrected harshly.

      ‘We had sex.’

      ‘A carnal coupling?’ His voice was lethal. ‘Based on greed and the gratification of a primitive urge?’

      Dear God, it hadn’t been like that. Ever. No matter how hard she fought, she had been entrapped from the moment of confrontation in his office. One look, and she’d been shaken to the very roots of her being by the mesmeric quality of his masculinity. Aware, with the depth of selfknowledge, that Alejandro Santanas possessed the ability to render her helpless as no other man could. She had hated him for it, hated herself for her own vulnerability. But, most of all, she had hated the circumstances that bound her to him.

      She wanted to cry out a rejection, but the words choked in her throat. ‘The night of the accident,’ she revealed bleakly, ‘I’d decided to leave you.’

      His eyes speared her. ‘How long did you imagine it would take before I tracked you down?’

      ‘I intended to see a lawyer and file for separation.’

      His features hardened measurably. ‘You hate me so much that you would attempt to deny me knowledge of your pregnancy, my child’s existence?’ His voice lowered to a dangerous silkiness that sent tiny shivers along her spine. ‘Or did you plan an abortion?’

      ‘No,’ she jerked out in shocked denial, reasserting in a hushed tone, ‘No.’ The thought had never entered her head.

      He was silent for several interminable minutes, and when he spoke his voice was hard and held unaccountable bleakness. ‘The child you carry is as much mine as yours. Uniquely ours. Our son or daughter deserves to be more than someone we fight custody for in a law court.’

      ‘I married you because I couldn’t stand by and see my father emotionally and financially beaten. It would have killed him.’ She had to take some consolation from the knowledge that the last few months of his life had been happy. ‘You engineered a diabolical game,’ she accused him fiercely. ‘I should have damned you to the depths of hell and walked away.’

      He regarded her steadily for what seemed an age. ‘Yet you didn’t,’ he reminded her, his gaze alert beneath partly lowered lids. ‘You accepted the arrangement as a challenge, and attempted to score against me.’

      That had been her intention. At first, she had fooled herself that she was succeeding. Except that somewhere along the way she had fallen in love with him.

      ‘Displaying beautiful manners in public,’ he went on in musing reflection, ‘while behaving like a virago when we were alone.’

      Her eyes were dark and accusing. ‘A fact you deliberately withheld from me.’

      ‘If you remember,’ Alejandro pursued, ‘I made no pretence that we shared an idyllic relationship.’

      ‘You said we argued occasionally!’ Elise flung, hating his skilful employment of words.

      ‘Frequently,’ he corrected. ‘The resolving of such arguments was always——’ he paused deliberately ‘—satisfactory, wouldn’t you say?’

      That was an understatement. In bed, they had always been in perfect accord. In the beginning it had been a source СКАЧАТЬ