MELANIE MILBURNE - The Mélendez Forgotten Marriage

‘So you’re not expecting me to…to sleep with you…right away?’

He hooked one dark brow upwards. ‘I thought you said you don’t usually sleep with perfect strangers?’

She frowned at his tone, not sure if he was teasing her. ‘Technically you’re not a stranger, though, are you?’ she said. ‘I might not remember you, but there’s enough evidence around to confirm we are married.’

A glint appeared in his dark-as-night gaze as it held hers. ‘Are you inviting me to sleep with you, Emelia?’

Emelia felt her belly fold over itself. ‘Er—no…not yet…I mean…no. No. It wouldn’t be right for me or even fair to you.’

He came up close, lifting a portion of her hair, slowly twirling it around his finger until she felt the subtle tension on her scalp as he tethered her to him. ‘We could do it to see if it unlocks your memory,’ he said, in a voice that sounded rough and sexy. ‘How about it, querida ? Who knows? Perhaps it is just your mind that has forgotten me. Maybe your body will remember everything.’

By

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MELANIE MILBURNEsays: ‘I am married to a surgeon, Steve, and have two gorgeous sons, Paul and Phil. I live in Hobart, Tasmania, where I enjoy an active life as a long-distance runner and a nationally ranked top ten Master’s swimmer. I also have a Master’s Degree in Education, but my children totally turned me off the idea of teaching! When not running or swimming I write, and when I’m not doing all of the above I’m reading. And if someone could invent a way for me to read during a four-kilometre swim I’d be even happier!’

Recent titles by the same author:

CASTELLANO’S MISTRESS OF REVENGE

THE VENADICCI MARRIAGE VENGEANCE

BOUND BY THE MARCOLINI DIAMONDS

The Royal House of Karedes:

THE FUTURE KING’S LOVE-CHILD (Book 6)

Did you know that Melanie also writes for Medical™ Romance?

EMERGENCY DOCTOR AND CINDERELLA

THE DOCTOR’S REBEL KNIGHT

To Gaile Donoghue, a loyal and trusted friend for more years than I can count. Thank you for your love and support.

Also, special thanks to Rebecca Fleming and her grandmother, who were so helpful with translating some words for me into Spanish. Thanks!

EVEN before Emelia opened her eyes she knew she was in hospital. At the blurred edges of her consciousness she vaguely registered the sound of shoes squeaking on polished linoleum and the swish of curtains and voices, both male and female, speaking in low hushed tones.

She half-opened her eyes. The light was bright, making her pupils shrink painfully. She squeezed her eyes shut and, after a moment or two, blinked again and, narrowing her still flinching gaze, looked at the nurse who was standing at the end of the bed with a chart in her hands.

‘W-what happened?’ Emelia asked, trying to lift herself upright in the bed. ‘What am I doing here? What’s going on?’

The nurse clipped the folder on the end of the bed before coming to lay a gentle hand on Emelia’s shoulder to ease her back down. ‘Mrs Mélendez, please don’t upset yourself. You’re in hospital. You had a car accident a week ago. You’ve been in a coma.’

Emelia felt her heart give a jerky beat in her chest like a kick. She frowned and then wished she hadn’t as it made her head ache unbearably. She put a hand up to her forehead, her fingers encountering a thickly wadded bandage positioned there.

Hospital? Accident? Coma?

The words were foreign to her, but the most foreign of all was how the nurse had addressed her. ‘W-what did you call me?’ she asked, staring at the nurse with her heart still thudding out of time.

The nurse glanced over her shoulder as if looking for backup. ‘Erm…I think I’d better get the doctor to explain,’ she said and quickly bustled away.

Emelia felt as if she were trying to find her way through a thick fog while blindfolded. Accident? What accident? She looked down at her sheet and hospital blanket-covered body. Although she ached all over, she seemed to be in all one piece. No plaster casts were on any of her limbs so she obviously hadn’t broken any bones. The worst pain was from her head, although she felt horrendously nauseous, but she assumed that was from the pain medication she had been given. She could see the drip leading from a vein in the back of her left hand where it was lying on the top of the bed. She quickly looked away as her stomach gave a rolling turn.

What had the nurse called her again…Mrs Mel…something or other? Her heart gave another little stutter. Married? Of course she wasn’t married! There must be some mistake, a mix-up in the paperwork or something. They’d obviously got her name wrong. Her name was Emelia Louise Shelverton. She had moved abroad from Australia a couple of months ago. She lived in London, in Notting Hill. She worked part-time as a singer in The Silver Room at one of the top hotels a couple of blocks from Mayfair while she looked for a more permanent position as a music teacher.

Married? What a laugh. She wasn’t even dating anyone.

‘Ah, so you are finally awake.’ A man who was clearly one of the senior doctors swished the curtains around Emelia’s bed closed. ‘That is very good news indeed. We’ve been quite worried about you, young lady.’

Emelia glanced at his name tag through eyes that were still slightly blurry. ‘Dr…um…Pratchett? What am I doing in hospital? I don’t know what’s going on. I think there’s been some sort of mistake. The nurse called me Mrs something or other but I’m not married.’

The doctor gave her a formal trust-me-I’m-a-doctor smile. ‘You have suffered a head injury, Emelia,’ he said. ‘This has obviously caused you to have some memory loss. We don’t know how extensive it is until we conduct further tests. I will have the staff psychologist assess you presently. We may also need to rescan you under MRI.’

Emelia put her hand to her head again, her brows coming together in a tight frown. ‘I…I have amnesia?’

The doctor nodded. ‘It seems so. Do you know what day it is?’

Emelia thought for a moment but knew she was only guessing when she offered, ‘Friday?’

‘It is Monday,’ Dr Pratchett said. ‘September tenth.’

Emelia drew in an uneven breath. ‘What year is it?’ she asked in a frightened whisper.

The doctor told her and she blinked at him in horror. ‘That can’t be right,’ she said. ‘I can’t have forgotten two years of my life. That’s ridiculous!’

Dr Pratchett placed his hand over hers where it was lying on the bed clutching the sheet in her fingers. ‘Try to keep calm, Emelia,’ he said soothingly. ‘This is, of course, a very frightening and confusing time for you. You have been in a coma for several days so things will seem a little strange at first. But in time you may well remember everything. It just takes a little time. You need to take things very slowly at first. Baby steps, my dear. Baby steps.’

Emelia pulled her hand out from beneath the doctor’s, holding it up like an exhibit at an investigation. ‘Look,’ she said, pushing her chin up. ‘No rings. I told you—there’s been some sort of mix-up. I’m not married.’

‘You are very definitely Mrs Emelia Louise Mélendez,’ the doctor assured her with authority. ‘That is the name the police found on your driver’s licence. Your husband is waiting outside to see you. He flew over from Spain as soon as he was informed of your accident. He has positively identified you as his wife. He has barely left your bedside the whole time you have been unconscious. He just stepped out a moment ago to take a phone call.’