The South American's Wife. Kay Thorpe

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      ‘If not I must learn to live with it.’ He was in control again, though his voice remained taut. ‘The marriage will not be dissolved.’

      There was nothing she could say to that. Nothing likely to help the situation. But there were still so many things she needed to know.

      ‘This morning you mentioned someone called Beatriz,’ she ventured. ‘Who is she?’

      Something flickered deep in the dark eyes. ‘She’s the wife of my brother, Raymundo.’

      The latter name struck no chord either. ‘Does he work on the ranch too?’

      ‘He and Beatriz have their home there,’ came the somewhat ambiguous reply. ‘As does my young sister too. Regina was devastated by your leaving.’

      Karen sank to a seat, her legs no longer supportive. Just how many people would she be facing on her return to the home she had fled?

      ‘How old is Regina?’ she asked.

      ‘Eighteen now.’

      Green eyes lifted to view the incisive features. ‘And Raymundo?’

      ‘Twenty-eight. Four years younger than myself. There was another brother between us in age, but he died some two years ago.’

      Empathy came swiftly, born of her own loss. ‘I’m sorry.’

      ‘You never knew him.’ Luiz moved abruptly, crossing to open a cabinet Karen hadn’t attempted to explore. ‘I think we’re both in need of a stimulant.’

      He poured a colourless liquid for them both, bringing both glasses back to where she sat to thrust one into her hand. Not gin, she realised, putting it to her lips, but white rum. The spirit burned her throat, but she finished it, glad of the immediate effect. Alcohol was no solution to her problems, for certain, but it helped take the edge off them.

      ‘What about parents?’ she said.

      ‘I lost my father some years ago. My mother married again, and now lives in Brasilia.’

      Karen viewed the empty glass in her hand with lacklustre eyes. ‘Have we met?’

      ‘Just the once, when I took you to visit her.’

      ‘Did she approve? Of the marriage, I mean?’

      ‘No.’ His tone was unemotional. ‘She would have preferred that I marry a woman of my own race.’

      ‘That’s understandable.’

      ‘It’s of no consequence.’ His own glass also drained, he took hers from her unresisting hand, depositing both on the nearest surface. ‘Enough questions for now. You need to eat.’

      Food was the farthest thing from her mind, but she rose obediently to her feet. It would be embarrassing going into a restaurant looking like this, she acknowledged, catching sight of her face in a nearby wall mirror, but there was little to be done about it.

      There were others in the lift descending to the ground floor. Karen could feel the glances. If Luiz was aware of them too, he gave no sign. The subdued lighting in the restaurant afforded some comfort. All the same, it was a relief to gain the relative privacy of the alcove table.

      There was nothing in the least bit familiar about the plush surroundings. She hadn’t really expected there to be. She left it to Luiz to choose her meal, eating what was put in front of her without tasting a thing. The wine he’d ordered went straight to her head. She drank only half a glass, afraid of losing her grip altogether.

      ‘This isn’t going to work,’ she said bleakly over coffee. She cast a glance at the man seated opposite, senses stirred by his dark masculinity. ‘I don’t think anything is.’

      ‘There’s nothing to be lost by trying,’ he said. ‘From here we went to a club.’ His gaze was on her face. ‘And then back to the hotel.’

      Karen felt a pulse throb suddenly at her temple, setting her heart pounding in empathy. She tried desperately to grasp the image that fleeted through her mind.

      ‘What is it?’ Luiz’s voice was low but urgent. ‘Do you remember?’

      She slowly shook her head. ‘Just a feeling for a moment. Nothing concrete.’

      ‘But it meant something to you, that was apparent.’

      ‘It seems so.’ She studied the vital features, wishing she could tell what he was thinking right now. ‘Does everyone know about Lucio Fernandas?’

      The glitter sprang in his eyes for a moment, then subsided again. ‘Beatriz is the only one with that information.’

      ‘You trust her to keep it to herself?’

      ‘She had better do so. Regina believes you left merely because of dissidence between us. Your amnesia will be difficult enough for her to accept.’

      Not nearly as difficult as it was for her, Karen thought. Recollection might not be palatable, but it had to be better than this blankness.

      ‘We could always try keeping it a secret,’ she said, and saw his lips thin.

      ‘You find the situation one to treat with flippancy?’

      She made a small apologetic gesture. ‘No, of course not. It’s just…’ She paused, swallowing thickly. ‘Have you any idea what it’s like to sit here and listen to you telling me about people and places and matters I’ve absolutely no concept of? The person I seem to have become bears no relationship to the person I believe myself to be. It’s like looking in a mirror and seeing someone else’s reflection!’

      Luiz inclined his head, face set. ‘Difficult for both of us. To be deceived is bad, but to be forgotten…’

      He left it there, lifting a hand to signal to the waiter. Up to now, Karen had been too involved with her own feelings to give any real thought to what he must be going through. She tried to put herself in his shoes, to imagine how it must feel to be wiped completely from her mind after months of living together as husband and wife. What man could handle that with equanimity?

      She watched him sign the bill that was brought to the table. Those lean, long-fingered hands would know every inch of her, came the thought, sending a frisson the length of her spine. In three months she would no doubt have got over any inhibitions she might have had herself: the way her body was reacting at this moment gave every indication of it. She might not remember loving this man, but she was vitally attracted by him. Whatever had driven her to seek another man’s arms, it couldn’t have been because Luiz no longer stirred her.

      She made an effort to compose herself as the waiter departed, to meet the eyes raised to her. ‘What now?’ she asked.

      ‘As I said before, we follow the same pattern.’

      ‘You really think it’s going to help?’

      ‘Whatever chance there is of stirring something in your memory, we must take,’ he stated. He got to his feet, rounding the table to draw out her chair. ‘The СКАЧАТЬ