The Man Behind the Mask (9 page)

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 for got ten about everything else and relaxed. So much so that she had just declared check mate.

‘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 fire light.

‘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 trans fixed 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 be ha vi our, and Eduardo was amazed to realise that he felt almost
des per ate
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 al together
different
kind of battle. After practically every move each of them made on the chess board 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 sub merged her…

 

Having showered and put on her night clothes, 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 night gowns she wore in winter for warmth, she moved grace fully across the floor to the window. The polished boards creaked a little beneath her light foot steps 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 some times 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 un bearable 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.

Yet Marianne couldn't help apprehensively dwelling on one point in particular. What would Eduardo think when he found out her secret—the fact that she had never been with a man before—was still un touched even after six months of marriage? If he was looking for the kind of sexual satisfaction he had perhaps been used to then maybe he wouldn't be so keen to take her to bed after all. He might think her in experience pre vented
that. If that turned out to be the case then how would she deal with the embarrassment and humiliation? Not to mention the
frustration
that was bound to follow his rejection of her?

S
HE
had made up her mind to tell Eduardo that she would decline his offer to share his bed. Too fearful of being rejected once he knew the truth, Marianne had told herself it was the best decision. Besides, she argued, as she nervously ascended the stair case to the upper floor, the flickering up-lighters casting her slim shadow on the walls as she moved, she hadn't come here to have an affair with Eduardo. He had given her a job and a home for however long she wished, and they were becoming friends. She would not compromise her position
or
his by sleeping with him. No matter
how
much the idea tempted her.

But when he opened the door to her tentative knock, standing before her in navy silk pyjama bottoms and nothing else, Marianne's care fully rehearsed explanation and sensible resolve disappeared quicker than ice on a barbecue. Her throat drying, all she could do was stare at the totally animal and totally sexy specimen of masculinity that con fronted her as if she'd been struck dumb. In turn, Eduardo's slow measuring gaze silently appraised her, in the hastily donned robe she'd thrown
on over her Victorian night gown, a definite glint of amusement in the pastel blue depths.

‘I've been waiting for you,' he said finally, the velvet burr of his rich voice raising all the hairs on the back of her neck. ‘Come in.'

‘I was—'

‘Yes?'

When she still didn't move, Eduardo took her by the hand to draw her into the room. Two small ornate lamps glowed softly, lending intimate warmth to the opulent surroundings and rendering areas of the room to mysterious shadow. Daring a longer glance over Eduardo's hard-muscled shoulder, Marianne saw that his bedroom door was ajar. Her heart all but climbed into her throat. Shutting the door firmly behind them, her companion slowly turned to survey her. A warm, earthy scent with under tones of a woody and masculine soap clung hypnotically in the air between them. He smiled at her. But it was all Marianne could do to tear her gaze away from the display of formidable muscle in the broad tanned chest that was dusted with darkly golden hair—a sight that made her feel as if she'd just imbibed a shot of strong whisky that had gone straight to her head.

‘You were saying?' Eduardo teased, and before she had a chance to reply tilted her chin towards him to claim her already quivering lips in the softest, yet most earth-shattering of gentle kisses.

‘I—I forget what I'm thinking when you do things like that,' Marianne admitted breathlessly, her legs trembling hard beneath her night clothes.

‘You too make me forget everything when I look into your eyes.' He smiled. Catching her hand again, he led her towards the open bedroom door. ‘You must be one of the few women in the world able to get away with something like this,' he was saying as they stood beside a huge canopied bed that Marianne was certain wouldn't look out of place in one of the royal palaces.

‘Get away with what?' she asked, hazel eyes round with alarm.

‘This—this virginal but very sexy and alluring nightgown.' He collected a soft swathe in his hand to study it.

With the unknowingly apt comment echoing in her ears, Marianne was too frozen to move for a moment, and she watched him lean towards her to ease her robe from her shoulders in silence, just as if she was one of those mythical creatures from an old folk tale, turned to stone after helplessly glancing at something for bidden. The garment slithered to the floor in a whisper-soft rustle that was still too loud to her heightened sense of hearing, and it snapped her out of the trance she'd fallen into—only for her to become shockingly aware that the tiny teardrop pearl buttons on the bodice of her night gown were being care fully unhooked one by one by the man in front of her.

His glance was focused and intent, as if he were anticipating revealing something wondrous, and Eduardo didn't utter a single word as he under took this task. Trembling reaction set in, and Marianne feverishly wondered what had happened to her resolve to decline
sharing his bed tonight. Try as she might, she knew she didn't have a hope of resurrecting it…not with the irresistibly seductive way this man so effortlessly commanded her mind, body and attention as he was doing right now. Yet she couldn't totally allow herself to be swept away by his expert seduction.
Not yet.

As he undid the last button in the long row on her bodice, then pushed the material aside to reveal a smooth pale shoulder along with a generous glimpse of breast, Marianne clamped an anxious slender hand over his much larger one.

‘Eduardo…' A helpless tremor seized her voice. ‘There's something I should tell you.'

A tiny crease appeared between his dark blond brows, his expression reflecting both mild concern and gentle amusement. ‘What is it, little one? You are not going to tell me that you are suddenly feeling nervous?'

‘If I'm nervous it's because I have—I have cause to be. I've never—that is to say—' Her gaze shied away from his as she struggled to articulate words that lodged un com fort ably in her throat. ‘I've never been with a man before…'

Letting go of Eduardo's hand, she curled a few long strands of honey-coloured hair round her ear, chewing heavily down on her lip at the same time.

‘All the way, I mean…'

At first he looked stunned. Then a dark shadow of fury passed across the compelling contours of his handsome face.

Gathering the two sides of her gown protectively across her breasts, Marianne automatically stepped back.

‘How can that be when you told me you were married? Was that a
lie
?' he demanded.

‘No…it wasn't a lie. But Donal—my husband—he was ill when we married, and it just wasn't possible for him to—for us—' Feeling her face flame scarlet at having to reveal something of such a pain fully intimate nature to the man standing before her, Marianne moved her head in a gesture of despair.

‘You are telling me that the marriage was never consummated?'

‘Yes, I am.'

He said something in Portugese that she was sure must mean
unbelievable
.

‘And you never had an intimate relationship with a man before you married?'

‘No.'

A spark of indignation surfaced inside her that Eduardo was quizzing her like this—that he might think her strange or odd for not having slept with a man before—and her fear of being rejected by him made her want to run away before he got the chance to do it.

‘Do you have any more questions? If you're finished acting as some kind of inquisitor then I think I'll go back to my room!'

‘Marianne?'

Unbelievably his hand was sliding round her jaw, tipping her face towards him. He was definitely
not
behaving like a man about to reject her, she saw, and her heart began to race.

‘I am sorry that you were denied the pleasure and comfort of intimacy with your husband…but I am
honoured
that you would consider giving this great gift to me.'

‘You—you still want me?' Her voice dropped to a hoarse whisper.

‘More than ever.'

He demonstrated the fact by claiming her mouth in a kiss that was so voracious and commanding Marianne thought her already weakened limbs might fold beneath her like some delicate piece of origami. Yet under lying the sensuous caress the feeling persisted in her that there was a measure of distinct control there too—as if he didn't want to scare or over whelm her. Surely it was
rare
to meet a man so mindful of a woman's sensitivity that he would curtail the strength of his own desire in deference to her in experience? She could only conclude that Eduardo De Souza was a man in a million.

But secretly she
wanted
him to lose control with her, she realised. She was certain that she could match his passion, and give him pleasure too…the pleasure he in explicably so often seemed to deny himself.

Withdrawing her lips from his, Marianne studied him longingly from beneath her lashes. ‘I want you too, Eduardo, so you don't have to treat me as if I'm made of glass. I know that whatever happens you won't hurt me.'

Even as the shy confession left her lips her blood
was pounding with a primal yearning to be even closer to him. Everything about this man seemed to inflame her, making her behave in a way that was quite unlike her normal self. He growled and pulled her hard against him. Sighing, Marianne wound her arms round his neck to steady herself. Engulfed by heat and longing, she knew there was not one inch of her entire body where Eduardo's kisses or touch would not be an utter delight to her.

She'd been alone for too long, and silently she admitted that she had a great need to be held, touched, tasted, even driven a little crazy by a lover…someone who would help her forget her painful past and make her think only of today instead.

Now, coming into contact with the intimate caress of the proud male erection beneath the smooth silk of his pyjamas, Marianne found her hips impelled hard against Eduardo's, so that she was left in no doubt as to the extent of his desire for her. His hands shaped her body through the material of her gown, following every line of every curve as though it were imperative he discovered every part of her.

Riveted by the feverish bolt of desire that surged through her, Marianne became aware that the edge of the bed was only bare inches away. The room seemed to spin dizzyingly for a moment as Eduardo guided her back against it, his touch gentle yet commanding.

‘I want this first time to be un for get table for you,
namorada
…' His eyes darkened with feeling. ‘All you have to do is lie still and let me pleasure you.'

Gathering the smooth crisp cotton of her night gown as she sat on the bed, he lifted it over her head and discarded it. Marianne's long rippling hair fell in a honey-coloured cloud round her bare shoulders and goose flesh chased across her skin as the cool night air hit her. She saw the appreciative gleam in Eduardo's avid gaze as his glance travelled slowly up and down her body, and now it wasn't just the cool air that made her shiver.

‘You are even more beautiful in the flesh than I imagined,' he murmured softly, catching silken strands of her hair between his fingers and examining them. ‘Bewitchingly so. There is not a man in the world who would not
envy
me right now.'

Letting go of her hair, he tipped her back onto the bed so that she was lying supine and positioned himself above her. The most libidinous smile hijacked his mouth. Marianne sighed. The sensation of his hard and heavy male body against hers was bliss fully delicious as he care fully closed the gap between them.
He was all she could have dreamed of and more
, she thought eagerly. The lightly tanned skin that encased his strong fit muscles was smooth as silk and warming as cashmere—and the way he looked at her…the way he looked at her made her feel as if she was some irresistible edible delight he simply
had
to have, and the only woman in the world he had ever gazed at in that way. Even knowing that that couldn't possibly be true didn't lessen her enjoyment.

‘Close your eyes' he ordered, bending his head towards her.

Her lids obediently shut, she felt Eduardo's slow dev
astating kiss melt her to her very core. It was as though she were a sensual swirling river being caressed by living, breathing sunlight. A sense of alive ness and vitality trans fixed her, making her feel desired and wanted beyond belief. In her womb, a tight, hot, coiled sensation was growing.

Uninhibitedly returning his kiss, eagerly absorbing and tasting unique and intoxicating male flavours that she could never imagine tiring of, Marianne wondered how she had never guessed making love could be this sublime. Her slender thighs moved restlessly against Eduardo's hipbones, her body willing him to claim what she was now
more
than ready to give him. But still he took his time with her, caressing her and taking the sensitive tips of her breasts deep into the warm velvet cavern of his mouth. His teeth and tongue tasted and teased until she seriously thought she would explode with the sheer sensual euphoria of it.

Mindless with need now, Marianne pushed her fingers hungrily through his hair, wanting and needing to touch and feel every part of him, vowing to memorise every moment, every electrifying detail, so that she would never forget it. Moving her hands down to Eduardo's iron-hard broad shoulders, she sensed the sheathed muscle and bone there with deeply primal satisfaction. He was surely the living embodiment of the kind of man a woman fantasised about in her most private dreams, she mused. Whenever she'd allowed herself to dream of a man making love to her—the way he was made, how he looked, how he tasted—the reality of
this
man was what she'd secretly ached for, she realised. He was just perfect in every way. There was no conflict in her mind about giving the gift of her virginity to him. And afterwards there would be no regrets, she assured herself. Not now…not
ever
.

Lifting his head, Eduardo kissed her on the lips once more, his tongue thrusting with avid hunger inside her mouth, stroking over the velvet and satin textures with expert erotic thorough ness before moving down her body once again—this time making a sizzling damp trail slowly and devastatingly across her ribcage. Reaching her waist, the silken glide of his warm tongue intimately acquainted itself with her navel. Marianne shivered. Increasing her torment, he moved lower still.

Finally, at the shockingly erotic sensation of his mouth and tongue laving at her most deeply feminine centre, she writhed in thrilling ecstasy, biting her lip and curling her fingers into the luxurious counterpane covering the bed as the almost unbearable tension inexorably building inside her finally surrendered to the bliss that promised to follow.

Nothing could have prepared her for the full extent of those in credible moments. Intense waves of stunning sensation washed over her again and again, and suddenly, helplessly, shockingly, her eyes were awash with tears. She had never experienced such utter vulnerability yet such in credible connection with someone before, and it shook her to her very soul.