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“Father, what’s wrong?” Barbara asked, breaking into his musing.
“I’m fine.” He was distracted, but managed a smile for her before he headed toward his office. “I have some things to do. Just remembered.” He closed himself inside and ignored her startled glance.
As he dropped his weight into the old leather chair behind his desk, he was assailed with so many memories, except the one that he needed the most.
He sagged forward and placed his head in his hands, and tried to remember that night. He’d drunk so much to try and forget the woman, the forbidden woman, the woman he loved. He remembered the first drinks but he lost count of the ones after that. He’d been fully wasted by the time Eric shoved his sorry ass into the backseat of a car and then...then, Emelia had sat beside him.
She’d been unable to take her eyes from him, and his flesh had hardened, so much so, that he could have pounded nails. It had been at that point that he’d covered himself with his hand. He wasn’t sure that if he hadn’t been so drunk as to whether or not he’d have pounced on her because his defenses had been down.
He groaned and leaned back in his chair, the throb in his pants distracting.
It was Emelia...It was. It had to be for him to remember the car journey. Or was it really a dream—a hopeful dream, and did she help him to his room?
“Oh no.” Was his dream of Emelia not really a dream? Was he remembering fact?
He felt sick to his stomach at the thought of being with Emelia and having no conscious recollection of it. But his stomach really rolled when he remembered why they couldn’t be together.
Grabbing his cell, he quickly connected with Eric and hoped he was around because he felt his sanity slipping.
Not only was Emelia his sister, but if that wasn’t bad enough, he was a priest. Dedicated to God. Being with anyone was a sin. The only reason he hadn’t been on his knees in his church begging for forgiveness was because he’d kept his hands to himself when his flesh had jerked with his release.
Technically, he hadn’t masturbated, but he knew he’d been skirting the line…if him and Emelia had…done anything…how could he confess that sin?
“Dante?” Eric’s voice echoed down his cell and brought him back to why he’d called.
“Eric, I have a question for you?”
“Not, how are you or anything? Just, I have a question for you. You’ve lost your manners, brother.”
“I’m sorry.” He sat back and looked out of his window at the snow coming down. “I’m going out of my mind and need to know the truth about the night of Ramon’s wedding.”
There was silence at the other end even though Dante thought he’d heard a mumbled curse.
“You didn’t take me back to the hotel...Emelia did?” Dante asked, but he already knew the answer.
“I knew you’d remember eventually.”
“Why did you let me think that it had been you?”
“Emelia, for whatever her reasoning, preferred that you thought it was me. Probably so you wouldn’t worry. For some reason, she always thinks about you first.”
Just like he did her!
Dante’s heart sank because he had a good idea why she didn’t want him to know that it had been her. “Do you know anything else?” he asked, hoping Eric had read between the lines.
“Truthfully, no I don’t. But I suspect something more happened between you both at the hotel, and I don’t suppose you remember and want to fill me in.”
Dante breathed heavily and wondered just how much more had happened than he could remember.
“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t want to fill me in or you don’t think anything else happened?” Eric asked.
“Both,” Dante mumbled. “I remember the car and that’s about it, but I wasn’t sure whether or not it was fact as you led me to believe you’d been the one to get me back to the hotel.”
Eric sighed. “Look, Emelia hasn’t said anything to me, but I’ll be seeing her tomorrow when we meet at the house in Montana. As you’re not talking to her, I’ll tell her you were asking now that your memory is coming back.”
He was a grown man but acted like an adolescent. Even so, he had to talk to her, and thanks to Eric, he knew where she’d be for a few days.
