The Man Behind the Mask (11 page)

 

‘So this is where you are!'

At the sound of the man whose image had possessed her to the exclusion of all else that morning, Marianne turned. Dressed in a fresh blue linen shirt and jeans that snugly fitted his long muscular legs, with Cuban-heeled black boots, he was the kind of arresting sight that would
wring a sigh of longing from any girl of sixteen to a woman of sixty and every age in between.

Almost overcome by her great yearning to be close to him again Marianne leapt upon his inference that she must have been hiding—purely because she was feeling suddenly insecure.

‘I think you'll find that I've been here the whole time you and Ricardo have been talking. Where else would I be, when there's lunch to prepare and dinner tonight too? I've already got up much later than I should have!'

‘Do you think I want to make you a slave to the kitchen sink,
namorada
? Because, if you think I do, let me assure you that is certainly
not
my aim.'

Moving behind her as Marianne stood at the sink, where she'd been rinsing empty fruit cartons for the recycling bin, he slipped his arms round her waist and nuzzled her neck. The heat that shot through her made her feel like hot wax melting under a flame. It was all she could do to bite back the groan that threatened to leave her throat.

‘However, I make no apology for having a hot little fantasy about seeing you standing here wearing nothing but an apron, perhaps a pair of high heels, and not much else!'

‘Eduardo!'

‘Yes?'

Turning in his arms to face him, Marianne steeled herself for the impact of his in credible blue eyes. It wasn't easy when she was already under siege from the
intimate proximity of his body, as well as his admitted fantasy about her.

‘Do you and Ricardo want something to eat? You've only had coffee and biscuits. You must both be hungry.'

Eduardo sighed, but not with exasperation. Instead the most beguiling enigmatic smile alighted on his well-shaped mouth and he impelled her closer, so that the heat from his denim-clad thighs seared into hers and Marianne's stomach was level with his lean hard hips. Feeling her defences frighteningly desert her, she stared up at him a little wild-eyed.

‘You are always taking care of every body else, little one,' he murmured, before bending his head and touching his lips provocatively to hers. ‘What about allowing me to take care of
you
for a while, hmm?'

‘What do you mean?'

‘While he was away in London, Ricardo heard from his family in Rio. His mother is very ill and is in the hospital.'

‘I'm so sorry.'

‘Naturally he wants to go home to see her. As the severity of her illness is still unknown, and she has to undergo various tests, he will be staying there in de finitely. That means that you and I will be here together…alone. These past few days I have been feeling so much better having you around, Marianne…better than I ever could have believed possible. I think it will be good for us both to have the opportunity to get to know each other even more. Don't you?'

 

The days following Ricardo's departure for Rio would be etched on Marianne's memory for ever. She was no longer simply Eduardo's house keeper but his lover, and to her utmost joy she had become his good friend too. The snow started to melt but the cold still bit hard—so they shared many conversations round the fire, talking about books, films, art, the state of the world—
everything
. It was a revelation to them both that they shared so many similar opinions. And when Marianne
did
differ from Eduardo she was not afraid to tell him so. She even gently mocked him some times for being old-fashioned, when it transpired that he wasn't the biggest fan of a lot of modern technology, believing it to be distracting and the benefits spurious, not to mention with the ability to suffocate imagination.

The close ness and companion ship that had evolved between them—as well as the un for get table nights they shared together in bed—helped her self-confidence soar—and, if Marianne was honest, her
hopes
for the future soared too.

 

One afternoon she was in the kitchen, preparing a special evening meal for them, with a good bottle of wine from Eduardo's selective cellar and candlelight, when she heard him enter the room behind her.

‘Hi.' She smiled warmly, glancing up from the chopping board and wiping her eyes. ‘Don't worry—I'm not crying. I've been peeling onions.'

Reaching her, Eduardo took the small vegetable knife out of her hand and laid it down on the worktop. ‘Can
we talk?' His thoughtful gaze made its usual intense reconnaissance of her features.

‘Sure…what's up?'

‘I have decided that I have had enough of the British winter and I greatly desire to go back to Brazil for a while. I plan to shut up the house and go in the next couple of days. To tell you the truth I have become quite homesick, Marianne.'

‘So what are you saying?' Consumed suddenly by disappointment, and hurt at hearing this news, Marianne stared up at him in shock. ‘That you want me to leave and find a job some where else?'

‘Are you crazy? Just the opposite, in fact. I want you to return to Rio with me.'

‘As what? A companion and house keeper?'

It was not possible for Marianne to sort out the confusing profusion of feelings that seized her just then, but she knew that fear was predominant amongst them. Fear that the wonderful close ness developing between them would quickly take second place once he returned to his homeland, and to friends and family she didn't know but who had obviously known his wife.

Perturbed by her question, Eduardo frowned. ‘As my
lover
and the woman I am having a relationship with,' he said firmly, drawing her into his arms. ‘Is it not obvious that we have long gone past the employer/employee scenario?'

‘And how am I to keep myself if I no longer have a job?'

‘Do you really need to ask me that?
I
will look
after you, Marianne. You will not have to worry about anything.'

Because Marianne suddenly felt cornered, she tried to break out of his embrace. But Eduardo held her fast, apparently determined to get to the bottom of her disquiet.

‘Would you not welcome the chance of some hot sun and a little pampering for a change, instead of all the difficulty and sadness you have endured?'

Feeling her eyes burn with the effort not to cry, Marianne sniffed. So used to managing on her own—at least until those six gentle months with her dying husband—she could some times be unraveled when someone expressed kindness or thoughtfulness towards her, as Eduardo was doing now. What would he say if he guessed that she wanted to be so much
more
than just an intimate companion to him?

Because her senses were suddenly raw, she went for attack instead of defence. ‘Maybe it was wrong that we slept together. I came here because I needed a job and a home…not a holiday or someone to take care of me! Don't get me wrong—I'm totally happy for you to go back to Brazil and be where you belong again, Eduardo…amongst friends and perhaps other members of your family…but I really don't know if I can go with you.'

‘No? What is it that is really holding you back Marianne? It is not as though you have any ties here to prevent you leaving, is it? You said yourself that you have not seen your father for years and do not even know
where he is. And, although you insist that you still need a job and a home, we are in a relationship now. I have already told you that I want to take care of you, and you will not want for anything if you come back to Brazil with me!'

‘For how long?' Her voice sounded as though it was about to break as she gazed back into those almost ethereal blue eyes.

The broad shoulders in the pristine blue shirt lifted in a shrug. ‘How do any of us know how long our relationships will last,
namorada?
We enter into them in good faith at the beginning, but some times life takes too great a toll. Look at what happened to me, and then look at what happened to you. All we can do is take one day at a time…is that not so?'

Lifting her chin, Marianne saw Eduardo's glance was both wise
and
tender, and she found herself wondering how she could possibly spend even
one
more day with this in credible man without pledging her love to him for ever?

A
S SOON
as Eduardo directed the Mercedes he'd picked up from the airport into busy rush-hour traffic heading into the city, the tension behind his eyes and in the pit of his belly in creased. For over six months he had been cocooned deep in the English countryside, seeing no one but Ricardo, his doctor and his physio, and later—when he was able to walk with more ease—the odd shopkeeper when he walked into town. Other than that, until he had met Marianne, his dealings with other members of the human race had been minimal…just the way he wanted it to be.

Certainly the frenetic pace of life here had almost been relegated to a barely recalled memory…
almost
. Now, as the hot afternoon sun beamed through the windows, bringing him face to face with glaring reality, he was undeniably unsettled and, because of the cir cum stances that had made him seek refuge abroad, apprehensive too. The tension in him had already been heightened back at the airport, when he had been hiring the car. If he had thought to slip quietly back into Rio unnoticed then he had definitely deluded himself. The
young man taking his details had knowingly narrowed his gaze at the mere sight of Eduardo, then proceeded to sorrowfully express his condolences on his wife's passing.

Eliana had been a well known soap star in Brazil, and inevitably her face and Eduardo's had been instantly recognisable wherever they went. Graciously thanking him for his kind words, Eduardo had known the man's obvious interest had aroused Marianne's curiosity, but he had chosen not to explain what all the fuss was about right then.
There would be time enough once they reached his beach front house in Ipanema for him to tell her about his deceased wife's celebrity and consequently his own.
Yes, and to tell her that philanthropy had not been his
sole
occupation.

There were other things he wanted to share with her too…more personal revelations that should be revealed… But how? He had kept his thoughts about his marriage and the accident to himself for so long that they had turned into a debilitating and heavy suitcase that he permanently carried, and unhappily he had got used to the weight. Since it had begun to dawn on Eduardo that it was a terrible added burden on top of the tragedy itself, and that he might finally be free of if he shared it with Marianne, he had become determined to do exactly that.

But his main aim in returning home was to start picking up the threads of a life that had been deeply scarred, almost beyond bearing, and at last start to live again. Somehow…by some
miracle
…he had started to
believe that he deserved that chance—and Marianne was a big part of that miracle. That was why he had chosen to return first to Ipanema, rather than his estate in the countryside. No more would he hide, or shut himself away from the rest of the world like some wounded hermit.

The other reason for coming to this livelier part of Rio was for his companion's benefit. For a girl so young and beautiful she too had had her share of tragedy, and he hoped that with a little luxurious living, pampering and sunshine she would blossom. Then slowly, given time, the memory of her husband's premature death and her distressing family life would fade. What Eduardo hoped most of all was that she would begin to see the benefits of being with him long-term and decide to stay. He knew it would sound unbelievably macho and possessive, should he speak the words out loud, but he honestly felt that Marianne
belonged
to him now—it was just plain un thinkable that she should live alone, or with someone else other than
him
.

Adjusting his dark sun glasses to fit better over the slight bump in the bridge of his nose, he grimaced as she sat quietly beside him in the passenger seat, staring out at the long line of traffic in front of them. She sighed.

‘I am afraid it is always like this during rush-hour,' he told her. ‘I should have timed our arrival better, but I'm afraid I took the first flight available. Do not mind all the waving of hands and passionate exchanges of words from the other drivers. It looks more dramatic than it really is. We Brazilians are a nation of soap
watchers—or telenovelas, as they are known here. We make no apology for enjoying a little drama in our lives! Some might call it life imitating art.'

‘Are you all right?'

Her quietly voiced question cut through the nervous static in Eduardo's brain and acted like a lifeline. Becoming accustomed to Marianne's uncanny perception where his feelings were concerned, he should have known his enforced jollity would not fool her. Now, instead of dismissing her concern as he might well have done not so very long ago, he actually
welcomed
it.
But then the more time he spent with this intriguing and lovely young woman the more Eduardo found himself becoming infatuated with her.
He knew that he would not have returned to Brazil at this stage without her.

‘Yes, I am fine.'

‘You
can
talk to me, you know. You don't have to pretend you're feeling fine if you're not. I realise that returning home for you will have its challenges as well as its pleasures, and I want to help make things easier if I can.'

‘You have already made it easier by coming with me. I am very glad that I was able to persuade you.'

‘Like it was difficult!' She grinned. Her dazzling eyes were concealed behind her sun glasses but her pretty mouth—sweetly shaped and devoid of lipstick—lifted in a wry curve. ‘To leave the British winter behind and fly out to Rio, where the sun is shining and the beaches are legendary? Even an unsophisticated girl like me wouldn't refuse
that
kind of persuasion!'

Eduardo stole a long, appreciative glance at her in the now near-stationary traffic. She wore a simple white sundress…the only summer dress she owned, she'd confessed…and although it was a loose non-figure-hugging style, like the Victorian night gown she wore to bed, it was unbelievably sexy on Marianne's lithe slim figure, with her long hair flowing down her back.

Feeling his limbs pleasantly flood with languorous heat, Eduardo did not fight the surge of desire that gripped him—he simply enjoyed it. All last night, until they had risen in the early hours to leave for the airport, Marianne had stoked the fire in him to fever pitch—as she had on the many previous nights they'd been together—and he had barely been able to keep his hands off her. Now, as he gazed at her, seeing the sun turn the colours in her hair into a blaze of honey and gold, the fire that she aroused in him simmered again. Impatience flashed through him that they were still so far from the house, where he would at last be able to get her alone and have her to himself.

‘I like it very much that you are unsophisticated,
namorada
. You have no idea of the power you have at your fingertips by that fact alone!'

‘Power?' Behind the huge sun glasses that dwarfed her elfin face, Marianne frowned.

‘Yes—power. A man would have to travel a long way to find a woman as innocent and beautiful as you are, Marianne, and I mean that as a
compliment
. You have no idea how tired men can get of women who feel they have to behave like men to get on in life. It is com
pletely refreshing to meet someone like you…someone who doesn't care about climbing some career ladder but instead is willing to follow her passions!'

‘We're moving again,' she said softly, and Eduardo turned his attention back to the road and the now steadily moving traffic.

And if his heart leapt and his pulse quickened at the idea that they might get home sooner than he had first believed…then who could blame him?

 

Everything Marianne had heard was true. The beaches
were
spectacular. Long white bands hugging the coastline and shimmering in the blazing sun next to a jewel-like sea. And Eduardo's perfect modernist house, with its pristine white walls and ready access to Ipanema Beach, was the quintessential accompaniment to such spectacular appeal.

As he assisted her from the car, she gazed out at the horizon of white sand and glistening sun-kissed water, hardly able to believe that she'd made the switch from white ness of a completely different kind—deep snow and frost that had at one point seemed it would stay for ever—to this…this
paradise
on earth.

A young maid and a male house-servant were waiting to help trans port their luggage into the house, and Eduardo took Marianne's hand in his. His other hand grasped his cane, but he was leaning on it much more lightly than when they had first met, she noticed. He led her inside straight to a state-of-the-art kitchen and poured her a long glass of cool lemonade from the
fridge. The bitter but delicious tang of exquisitely fresh lemon burst on her tongue as she took a few sips, making her immediately smile with pleasure.

‘This is heavenly!'

Taking the glass out of her hands to set it on the marble worktop, Eduardo reached for her, an intense look in his riveting blue eyes.

‘So are you. The most exquisite and desirable thing in the whole of this house is you, Marianne.'

His words filled her with warmth, making her feel beautiful and desired.
But deep down Marianne wanted
more
than just to be wanted by him physically. If she was honest, that was why she had determinedly subdued her doubts and agreed to come to Brazil. It might be a wish that was fated not to be fulfilled, but she was hoping beyond hope that Eduardo might eventually discover there were other far deeper and more abiding reasons for him wanting to be with her than just desire. And if that were so then Marianne was willing to risk
everything
to be with him—even the possibility of him leaving her…like the rest of the men in her life had done.

His wife's tragic death might have forced him to flee his own country, leaving her haunting memory behind to heal his wounds far from the sunshine he was used to deep in the midst of a bleak British winter, but did that mean he could never contemplate another long-term relationship again, or even want to
try
?

‘Hey,' he teased, his hands tightening a little on her waist. ‘What are you thinking about in that mysterious
mind of yours? I confess I am quite jealous that your thoughts seem to be else where when I want them to be here, with
me
!'

‘They
are
with you, Eduardo.' Reaching up on tiptoe, Marianne placed a small tender kiss at the side of his cheek. ‘I was just wondering how you were feeling about being home again. This is such a lovely place I wonder how you could bear to leave it.'

‘Sorrow and pain can visit paradise too, my angel.'

‘Did you—did you and your wife stay here very often?'

As he considered the question, Eduardo's expression remained steady and tender—for once no visible shadow clouding the brilliant pale blue irises at the mention of his past. It lit a little flame of hope inside Marianne, and she breathed more easily.

‘We tended to visit here separately…with friends or on our own,' he answered thoughtfully. ‘In truth, we did not spend a lot of time together in the latter stages of our relationship, before she died.'

‘Oh?'

‘I can see that you are curious about that—but right now, before I try and satisfy any more questions, why don't you go upstairs to the bathroom and take a shower? I'm sure you would like to wash off the dust of our travels before I show you the beach and then drive to a nice bar that I know for a cocktail?'

‘That sounds divine!'

‘The shower?' Eduardo teased. ‘Or the beach and the cocktail?'

‘Both. But don't you want to take a shower too?

As he trailed his hand down her throat onto the pale smooth skin above her breasts, Marianne saw a tiny muscle flicker in the side of his cheek,

‘Are you saying you want me to join you?' he asked, his voice lowering.

Recognising the hot flicker of desire that stole instantly into his eyes, Marianne felt her limbs turn deliciously weak and her head swam hotly—an occurrence that was becoming a habit whenever he gazed at her like that. No wonder the poets likened being in love to being afflicted by some kind of malady or fever!

‘I didn't mean that.' Shyly dipping her head, she fiddled with her hair. ‘But I'm—I'm not averse to the idea either.'

‘That is what I love most about you,
namorada
,' Eduardo grinned. ‘Your candour. You do not play games, like some women do. And now you have in advertently put the idea into my head I find I cannot eject it—so come…we will go and shower together.'

As he led her to the foot of a modern spiral stair case that ascended to the upper floors through an opened door to her side Marianne glimpsed what she assumed must be the living room. A tasteful gallery of large framed photographic prints caught her attention. Even from a distance they looked sensational.

Following her riveted gaze, Eduardo stilled beside her.

‘Can I look?' she asked, her mouth drying nervously in case he refused.

‘Be my guest.' The broad shoulders lifted in a nonchalant shrug.

There were various stunning portraits of extraordinarily beautiful women—young
and
old—scenes that captured the colour and excitement of the country's famed
carnaval
, and nature photographs that suggested they might possibly have been taken deep inside the Amazon jungle. But, whatever the subject, each was executed in a way that made the viewer stare in wonder at its extraordinary beauty and the con sum mate skill and genius of the photographer.

‘These are simply stunning, Eduardo.' As the words left Marianne's lips she recalled that day in the snowy English town when she had spied a look on his face that had definitely reacted to her comment about music being her passion. It had always made her wonder. Then she remembered the look of excited recognition from the young man arranging the car hire at the airport, and mused if there was a connection.