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  ‘That is certainly one word for it,’ Eduardo replied drolly, reaching down into the snow to retrieve his cane and then smiling inscrutably. ‘Although I can think of many others equally descriptive!’

  Returning to his rooms from the personal gymnasium he had had installed with the most up-to-date equipment available before he had even moved into the house, after a punishing hour of exercise on the treadmill, Eduardo strode into his luxurious bathroom and turned on the shower. His body was throbbing warmly from his activities—and miraculously he was hardly experiencing any pain at all, despite probably overdoing the exercise.

  His footsteps stilled on the marble-tiled floor. The memory of the kiss he had stolen from Marianne in the forest suddenly drowned him in heat—heat definitely not aroused by punishing exercise. His senses were reacting as though she stood right in front of him naked, and in an instant he was aching and hungry, and needing her as he had never needed another woman before…not even his tragic Eliana. Touching his fingers to his mouth with something like wonder, Eduardo replayed the erotic sensation of her damp sweet lips against his, the taste of her exquisitely satin tongue, her arresting body pressed hard against him so that he felt every shapely contour even through her layers of winter clothing. He cursed beneath his breath in pure frustration.

  Good God! He could hardly contain his need and his lust! But so many things about Marianne had got to him that day. Her laughter, for one…It had arrowed straight into his heart, dislodging something he’d forgotten he even possessed: the ability to experience pleasure. How long since he had expressed humour so unguardedly, basking in the warmth that resulted from it? He couldn’t even recall such a time…it could have been years for all he knew. Then, when he had helped Marianne up from the snowy ground where she had fallen, her spontaneous delight had quite taken him aback. Seeing how beautiful her unfettered joy had rendered her, Eduardo had suddenly craved to be part of it…to taste genuine happiness and pleasure on his lips for once, instead of bitterness and sadness, to remember what it felt like to be really alive and not have every sense deadened by grief and regret.

  The reality of how she had tasted had not disappointed either. Kissing her had been like devouring lush chocolate-covered cherries in a warm sensuous bath, and his desire had been explosive. So much so that his hands had ached to explore every lovely inch of her right there and then, in the middle of that freezing forest.

  As he sensed what that inflammatory thought did to his body, he glanced wryly downwards. Then, lifting his head and staring unseeingly at the cloud of steam arising from the hot shower, he realised how much he liked having this mesmerising woman around…realised that if she was not around he might descend into even worse misery and despair. She was diverting his mind as well as arousing his lust, and had banished his sombre mood for the first time in ages.

  Feeling something close to optimism—a notion that had been a stranger to him for quite some time—he peeled off the black T-shirt and sweatpants he’d worn to exercise and stepped gratefully beneath the scalding spray of hot water.

  Having changed into warmer clothes, deposited her snow-dampened jeans into the laundry basket and hung her wet jacket on a coat hanger in the airing cupboard, Marianne took a quick shower and then returned downstairs to start preparing the evening meal.

  An hour later, having made a pot of tea, she took it upstairs to Eduardo’s study. Knocking tentatively on the heavy oak door, she tried very hard to quell her nervousness. Still intoxicated by his kiss, she was seized by a new self-conscious shyness at the thought of being in his company again, and even though he’d told her he hadn’t regretted kissing her, she couldn’t help wondering if in the interim he’d reached a different conclusion.

  ‘Yes!’

  At Eduardo’s behest, Marianne entered the room. He was seated at his desk, his computer turned off and his expression suggestive of someone deep in thought rather than immersed in work. She couldn’t help but wonder what was preoccupying him.

  ‘I thought you might like a cup of tea,’ she offered tentatively, laying the small wooden tray down on a clear portion of the desk beside him.

  ‘That was thoughtful…thank you. For someone raised on strong Brazilian coffee, I am becoming inordinately fond of the English habit of afternoon tea,’ he remarked, his voice warm.

  ‘I probably drink far too much of the stuff than is good for me, to be honest, but old habits die hard.’ Forcing herself to meet his gaze, Marianne immediately scented the warm, clean, definitely erotic smell of sandalwood soap that clung to him. There were other things she couldn’t help noticing. The dark blond hair that was obviously still damp from his recent shower. The fresh white cotton shirt, and the jeans that looked as if they had been tailor-made for his hard lean body. The fact that he had also had a shave. There was a tiny spot of dried blood on his firm jawbone to confirm it.

  ‘Marianne?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘You are staring at me.’

  ‘Sorry…I was miles away.’ Flustered, she turned away.

  As she reached for the teapot to pour the tea, Eduardo caught her by the wrist and tugged her towards him. Finding herself precariously balanced against the steely wall of his chest, her jean-clad thighs trapped firmly between his as he held both wrists fast, she felt her heart thump so hard that she honestly feared she might faint.

  ‘What are you—? What are you doing?’

  ‘I am repaying the compliment,’ he answered, an enigmatic little smile playing round his lips. ‘Now I am staring at you.’

  Saying no more, Eduardo freed her wrists, then started to unbutton the shapeless red white and blue patterned cardigan she wore.

  ‘Now what are you doing?’ she asked nervously. The touch of his strong muscled thighs in the tough denim of his jeans was all but burning her skin through the slightly flimsier, cheaper material of her own.

  ‘I want to take this off so that I can see properly how you are made. You seem to persist in wearing clothes that completely conceal your figure, and I do not understand it. Ah…much better. You are exquisite, namorada…quite exquisite. Such a tiny waist, and yet such perfect womanly hips too.’

  All Marianne wore underneath the over-large sweater was a thin white T-shirt. Beneath that she was braless. Remembering the fact, she sensed her nipples all but drill holes in the skimpy material as Eduardo’s sensual blue eyes lazily but thoroughly examined her figure. Then, without warning, he placed his hands either side of her hips and pressed her towards him. Just as she registered this, her lips collided with his, and his tongue thrust hungrily into her mouth, laying erotic claim to hers.

  She heard the ravenous husky moan that escaped her, hardly recognising it as her own. But then even her mind seemed not to belong to her any more. It hovered, suspended in a whole other intoxicating hemisphere, as time and again wave upon wave of the most deliciously urgent sensations of pleasure, lust and need powerfully rocked through her body—feelings that up until now Marianne had had very little experience of.

  Sliding his hands beneath her T-shirt, Eduardo cupped and stroked her breasts, inflaming her already aching, tingling nipples into stinging, hardened buds. Then he put his mouth to each breast in turn, at precisely the moment when Marianne believed she couldn’t stand it any longer if he didn’t, and suckled hard. Biting her lip, she instinctively and greedily held his head to her, sliding her fingers through the damp silky strands of his dark wheat hair as even more ragged moans of pleasure and want left her lips. The tight, clenched feeling deep in her womb practically begged for some way to be released. Was this what she had been missing all this time, denying herself the physical intimacy and pleasure of being with a man?

  Immediately the question arose, Marianne knew it was only this man who was capable of arousing such wild abandon in her.

  Lifting his head with a look that was both pleasurably sated as well as hungry for more, Eduardo readjusted her dishevelled clothing and rose slowly to his feet. ‘I have a question for y
ou.’

  He locked his arms round her waist, and Marianne stared up at him as if in a dream. Yet she was fully and shockingly aware of the barely civilized, almost feral state of arousal reflected back at her from those haunting blue eyes. It was all she could do to keep breathing, never mind hope to answer him.

  ‘If I asked you to come to me tonight and share my bed…would you?’

  Deciphering her thoughts above the roar of rushing blood inside her head was a challenge. But even though Marianne’s body was definitely not conflicted about what it needed, she still found herself hesitating. Feeling her fingers curl into the side of Eduardo’s lean, hard waist, she breathed softly, ‘Can we wait a little while before that happens? It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just that—’

  ‘It is too soon for you? Of course. I understand.’

  Gently he put her from him, and Marianne wasn’t prepared for how cold she suddenly felt without him.

  He continued, ‘It’s just that you arouse feelings in me that I haven’t experienced for quite some time, and they are a little…’ he grinned ‘…overwhelming.’

  ‘You too have aroused similar feelings in me, Eduardo…strong feelings. But perhaps we could just spend an evening together instead? Maybe get to know each other a little better?’ she suggested, heart thudding in case he refused.

  Spying a chessboard on the middle shelf of a bookcase, she felt an idea start to form itself in her mind.

  ‘Doing what? It would have to be something in which I would not constantly be distracted by you and want to touch you!’ Eduardo admitted with a wolfish grin.

  Sensing her whole body glow with pleasure, Marianne smiled. ‘I see you have a chessboard…do you play?’

  ‘Does it rain in the Amazon?’

  Folding his muscular arms across his chest, he chuckled. He had the most mischievous look on his face that she had ever seen, and it made her tummy imitate the motion of a yo-yo.

  ‘What are you suggesting? That we spend the evening playing chess? You think you can keep me occupied with your game for long enough so that we won’t have to find something else to do?’

  ‘Wait and see. I might just surprise you!’

  ‘Namorado…you have already surprised me more than I ever could have believed possible.’

  Looking as if he would once again draw her into his arms, Eduardo dropped his hands to his hips as if to regretfully contain the urge. Marianne chose that same moment to head for the door.

  ‘It’s a deal, then. I’ll see you later,’ she told him shyly as she let herself out.

  Eduardo discovered that amongst the things he was starting to love about Marianne was one of the most relatively innocuous things of all: watching her concentrate. Many times during their now nearly four-hour chess game he had seen her exhibit myriad different expressions—sighs, pouts, chewing of the lips and thumbnails. His favourite was the way that little crease would appear in the flawless skin between her brows—usually just before she had achieved a move with the most lethal result—before relaxing again as though it had never been.

  Having always loved the game, Eduardo had thought of himself as a fairly accomplished player—but after four hours of battling it out with Marianne she was beating him hollow. And the most surprising thing of all was that he didn’t even care. Playing the ultimate game of strategy with his engaging companion had been so fascinating, so absorbing and enjoyable, that he had simply forgotten about everything else and relaxed. So much so that she had just declared checkmate.

  ‘You’ve got a killer instinct.’

  ‘Are you upset that I won?’

  ‘Not at all. You were at least a couple of moves ahead of me every time. Watching you play was like observing a general conducting a military campaign! Who would have thought that behind those pretty quixotic eyes lurks such a calculatingly organised mind? You deserved to win. Who taught you to play so well?’

  ‘My husband…we spent many hours playing when he was confined to bed because of his illness.’

  Those two words ‘husband’ and ‘bed’ were enough to deflate Eduardo’s newfound good humour as emphatically as a bucket of ice water poured over his head.

  ‘You said he was much older than you?’ he murmured, his glance flicking jealously over her lovely features in the glow of the firelight.

  ‘Yes…he was fifty-nine. I told you.’

  ‘So…you like older men as opposed to younger ones?’

  She laughed, and the sound made heat radiate down his spine all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes. Just as if the touch of an angel had transfixed him.

  ‘Age doesn’t come into it if you like someone. It’s the person I’m interested in…not what age they are or what they do or anything like that. It’s not about ticking boxes, as some of those silly magazines would have you believe!’

  ‘Hmm…’

  ‘What does that mean…hmm?’

  She gave him a look a mother might give to a recalcitrant child when she was trying to coax him into better behaviour, and Eduardo was amazed to realise that he felt almost desperate for her approval and attention. What was happening to him? He wanted to bed her. He knew that. But after what she had said earlier, when she’d asked if they could wait a while, he did not want to use his powers of seduction to persuade her against her will. Even so, not being able to have her was agonising.

  ‘It means that tomorrow night I will beat you hollow when we play again!’ he said irritably, and stood up.

  Marianne too got to her feet, her face wreathed in the biggest smile. ‘So you did mind me winning?’

  ‘Not at all…I would just like the opportunity to even the score, that is all.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ As though completely unaware of the profound ache she’d inflicted on him—an incessant sensual need that Eduardo had been only too aware of all the time they’d been playing, which had not been helped by those breathy little sighs and unknowingly alluring pouts she’d been exhibiting all evening—Marianne rubbed her hand across her eyes and yawned.

  ‘I think tiredness has finally caught up with me. I need my bed. Shall I put out the fire before I go?’

  ‘Leave it,’ he replied tersely, and then, immediately realising he sounded like a wounded bear, somehow found a smile for her. ‘Go to bed. I will see to the fire. Goodnight, Marianne.’

  ‘Goodnight, Eduardo.’

  A quizzical little glance, a smile, and then she was gone…

  Marianne had never guessed that the supposedly simple game of chess, played three absorbing nights in a row, could turn into an altogether different kind of battle. After practically every move each of them made on the chessboard their eyes would be instantly drawn to each other, and the tension that built between them would flare hotter and tighter, until she thought she might have to give in and beg Eduardo out loud to forget the mental battle of wills required by the game and take her to bed instead. But Marianne stuck to her restraint, her only consolation being that her partner was clearly suffering equally—if not more.

  She could tell because, although he did not express his frustration out loud, his temper nearly got the better of him on a couple of occasions when he made the wrong move and Marianne bested him. She knew that wasn’t the only reason he almost exploded. But the following day Ricardo was due to return, and once the other man was around it was inevitable the dynamics in the house would change. That being the case, she wondered if there would be any more evenings of companionable chess-playing—or would Eduardo revert back to the taciturn, wounded individual he’d been when she’d first moved into his house?

  She prayed not. These past few evenings together she had discovered a humorous, playful side to him that warmed her heart—an aspect of his personality that she wanted to discover more of, not less. And it had made her start to believe that perhaps he was healing from the trauma of his accident at last.

  ‘You know this has been an exercise in pure torture?’ he announced now, as Marianne got up from her chair at
the conclusion of their game—a game that Eduardo had won—and yawned and stretched.

  She threaded her fingers through her recently shampooed hair and smiled. ‘Because I put up such a fight and you didn’t win easily?’ she teased.

  Her companion scowled. ‘You know damn well that is not what I meant at all!’

  He swore softly, momentarily turning away, as if to try and regain some composure. He turned back, and the longing and pure frustration etched in the chiselled contours of his handsome face almost made Marianne’s knees buckle.

  ‘I want you to come to me tonight,’ he ground out hoarsely. ‘Tell me that you will.’

  She swallowed hard, her heart pounding. ‘Yes, I’ll come to you.’ Her voice almost cracked at the tide of yearning that submerged her…

  Having showered and put on her nightclothes, Marianne lay on top of the bed to read a little, in a bid to compose herself. It wasn’t working. Finally giving up her futile attempt to comprehend anything on the page she was looking at, she put down the book, pushed aside the duvet she’d tucked her feet under, and left the bed. The night was cool, but her skin was almost too hot to bear. Dressed in one of the long white Victorian-style nightgowns she wore in winter for warmth, she moved gracefully across the floor to the window. The polished boards creaked a little beneath her light footsteps and sounded almost obscenely loud in the otherwise silent room.

  Tonight the moon was half in shadow, and the light that filtered into her bedroom was muted and delicate. Moonlight, with its ethereal dependable presence, was sometimes a strange kind of comfort to her, but not tonight. Tonight, anticipating her promised visit to Eduardo’s room, her every nerve was jangled, every feeling she possessed heightened to an almost unbearable degree. Everything had felt so…so right when he had kissed and touched her so satisfyingly in his study a few days ago—as if this ultimate intimacy would be utterly delightful and easy…wonderful, even…And night after night, as they’d duelled over their games of chess, the need inside her to have him hold her and love her had been building and building, until she thought she might well lose her sanity if it didn’t happen soon.