âI canât,â she admitted. âI canât explain what I was doing on that plane. I suppose itâs possible weâll never know, but if Iâm to stay hereââ
âThereâs no question of anything other,â came the harsh interruption.
Karen spread her hands. âFine. I accept that. Only, we both have to make the effort to put things right between us. If you turn me down nowâ¦â
âYou think me capable of it?â He threw back the sheet, revealing his nudity all the way down. He was already fully and heart-jarringly aroused. Karen felt her stomach muscles contract, the heat rush through her.
âYouâre right,â he said on a softer note. âOur only recourse is to wipe the past from mind. Come.â
Her heart thudding like a hammer, every nerve ending in her body on fire, she reached the bed.
He said something in his own language, the words foreign to her ears yet somehow understandable. When he held out a hand to her, she went willingly into his arms.
SOFT but insistent, the sound of her name drew Karen out of a dreamless sleep. She opened her eyes to gaze for a blank moment or two at the unfamiliar, sun-filled room, her mind struggling to orientate itself.
Her eyes dropped to the lean, brown masculine hand covering hers where it lay on the white bed cover, travelling slowly up the length of a bronzed muscular arm to reach the face of the man seated at the bedside: a vital masculine face beneath thick black hair, short-cropped to control its curl.
âSo youâre back with us at last,â he said in heavily accented English.
Mind still fogged, Karen eyed him in perplexity. âI donât understand,â she murmured, surprised to hear how weak her voice sounded. âWhat happened? Where am I?â
Some nameless expression flickered across the dark eyes. âYou were involved in an accident and suffered a concussion,â he said. âYouâre in hospital here in Rio.â
The fog deepened. âRio?â
âRio de Janeiro.â He paused, brows drawing together. âDo you not remember?â
Karen stared at him in total confusion. Rio de Janeiro? That was in Brazil, wasnât it? The farthest sheâd ever been from home was Spain!
âI donât understand,â she repeated helplessly. âWho are you?â
There was no immediate answer; the expression on the hard-boned face was disturbing. When he did speak it was in measured tones. âIâm Luiz Andrade. Your husband.â
She froze, eyes wide and dark, mind whirling. âI donât have a husband,â she got out. âWhat kind of game is this?â
The hand still covering hers tightened as she tried to draw it away. âThe concussion has confused you. Relax, and everything will come back to you.â
âNo, it wonât, because it isnât true!â She pressed herself upright, wincing as pain shot through her head, but in no frame of mind to give way to it. âIâm Karen Downing! I live in London! Iâve never been to Rio de Janeiro in my life, and Iâm certainly not marriedâto you or anyone!â
âHush! You must not agitate yourself this way.â Looking concerned, he reached for the bell-push on the bedside table. âThe doctor will give you something to calm you. When you waken, everything will be clear again.â
âNo!â She tore her hand free, shrinking as far as she could get from this stranger, now on his feet and towering over her. âItâs all lies!â
âWhy would I lie?â he asked. âFor what possible reason would I claim to be your husband if it were not the truth?â
âI donât know!â she flung back. âAll I do know is that I never saw you before in my life!â
As if on cue, the door opened to admit a uniformed nurse. Looking from one to the other, she said something in a language totally foreign to Karenâs ears, answered by the man claiming to be her husband in what appeared to be the same language.
âWhat did you tell her?â she demanded as the woman exited again.
âTo fetch a doctor,â he said. âYouâre obviously suffering from a temporary amnesia.â
âThereâs nothing temporary about it!â she claimed. âWhatever this is about, you can forget it!â She glanced down at the white hospital smock she was wearing, then wildly about her. âWhere are my clothes?â
âThe ones you were wearing at the time of the accident have been disposed of,â he said. âOthers will be brought when youâre deemed fit to be discharged.â
âI want to go now!â she shot back at him. âYou canât keep me here against my will.â
Powerful shoulders lifted. âTo where would you go? You know no one in Rio.â A muscle jerked in the firm jawline as if heâd clamped his teeth together on some addition to that statement. âBe patient,â he went on after a moment, âand everything will be all right.â
He turned as the door opened again, this time to admit a white-coated doctor, addressing him in the same language heâd used with the nurse. Portuguese was the language spoken in Brazil; Karen knew that for a fact. She felt trapped in a never-ending nightmare.