vulnerable position. Can you not find somewhere else…somewhere safer where you might perform your songs?’
‘There’s a folk club I sing at sometimes…but it’s only open once every fortnight. I’d get very rusty if that was my only outlet. Besides…’ Fearing his judgement and disapproval, Marianne slotted her defences firmly into place. ‘The vendors that work in the market look out for me. Someone immediately comes over if it looks like anyone is bothering me.’
Eduardo sighed. ‘That at least makes me feel a little easier about the situation.’
‘Well, please don’t give it another thought. I’ve been singing outside for over a year now, and nothing dire has happened to me yet!’
The waitress brought their coffee, along with two generous slices of the fruitcake Eduardo had ordered for them. Marianne added sugar to her drink and stirred it.
His expression at her words revealed more alarm than reassurance, and her companion reached into his inside coat pocket for his wallet, extracted something, and held it out to her. Initially thinking he was going to offer her money, Marianne was about to give him short shrift when she thankfully saw that he was actually offering her a small business card.
‘What’s this for?’
‘If you ever need anything…’
‘What could I possibly need from a complete stranger?’ For some inexplicable reason she found herself precariously close to tears. Some renegade emotion had crept up on her undetected, until it was almost too late to rein it in again. It had been happening a lot lately.
The Brazilian firmed his mouth. ‘A job, for one thing…And, seeing as we are sitting here together having coffee, I hope I am no longer a stranger. If this weather gets much colder—and the forecast is not good for the rest of January—you might appreciate an alternative way to earn some money. A job that would also provide a roof over your head and good, nourishing food to eat.’
‘What kind of job?’ Intrigued now, despite herself, Marianne glanced out of the window at the steel-grey sky and the threat of even more sleet and snow. An involuntary tremor went through her.
‘I need a housekeeper.’ The broad shoulders beneath the fawn-coloured cashmere lifted, then fell again.
‘A housekeeper?’
‘I already have a valet to do the personal things I need help with…but, having resided here for almost a year now, I find it has become increasingly clear that some extra help in the house would be most welcome. At present I hire contract cleaners, and Ricardo—my valet—does the cooking. But if you can cook too that would alleviate him of that particular task and no doubt be most welcome. Give it some thought and ring me if you would like to give it a try. The house is a little remote, but if you do not mind that and enjoy beautiful countryside views then I do not think you will be disappointed.’
‘And you would give me this job without even knowing if I could do it?’ Marianne’s hazel eyes were sceptical.
‘You seem a very independent sort of person to me…the type who would learn quickly, get on with things and not make a fuss. I am sure you would work out just fine.’
‘Are you normally so trusting of people you don’t even know? I could be anyone! What if I pinched the silver, or some priceless family heirloom whilst under your roof?’
Astonishingly, both corners of Eduardo’s severe mouth lifted at the same time. For a moment Marianne’s breath caught at the flash of humour that transformed his compelling pale blue eyes.
‘Would a girl who sings in the street for pennies and hands me back a fifty-pound note, telling me to give it to the homeless, be likely to steal even a crust of bread from her employer?’ He shook his head, his expression reverting to seriousness again. ‘I do not think so.’
‘Well, I thank you for your concern, as well as the offer of a job, but I’m not ready for a change just yet. As long as there’s not a full-blown blizzard then I’ll continue to sing outside for the foreseeable future.’
‘Very well…That is your decision, of course. Why don’t you try your fruitcake? It looks very good.’
‘Thank you. I will.’
The rest of their conversation was politely superficial and companionable—as though they had silently recognised the potential danger in discussing anything more personal and mutually agreed to avoid it.
Twenty minutes later they parted—Marianne to return to her singing, and Eduardo to head wherever he was heading. She hadn’t asked him where. But as he moved away from her and continued on down the street her heart definitely raced a little as she watched him go. Remembering his surprising offer of a job, she wondered why she suddenly felt so bad for refusing his help. Was it because she thought she’d detected a hint of melancholy or sadness in that magnetising gaze as they’d sat talking? Was it anything to do with the reason he walked with a cane? A wave of sympathy tugged hard at her heartstrings.
‘Sing us a song, love!’ One of the cheerful vendors who sold fruit from a stall further down the street stopped in front of her, clapping his gloved hands together with an exaggerated shiver. ‘We need something to warm us up. It’s colder than bloody Siberia today, and there’s heavy snow forecast for tonight. Got any songs about spring?’
Shaken out of her reverie, Marianne grinned. ‘How about “By the Banks of the Sweet Primroses”?’
‘Lovely job!’ The vendor happily grinned back.
When the notion of trying to help the little roadside singer had come to him, it hadn’t even crossed Eduardo’s mind to offer her a job. So when the words had come out of his mouth he’d surprised even himself. Contract cleaners he could maintain an aloof distance from, and the familiar Ricardo whom he’d brought with him from Rio de Janeiro were one thing—but to invite a new young acquaintance to share his roof and become his housekeeper was quite another. Especially when he guarded his privacy more fiercely than Fort Knox was famed for guarding its gold bullion.
But it was perfectly true that he did need a housekeeper, and considering Marianne’s shivering form yesterday, watching her struggle to keep warm in the bleak winter weather, Eduardo had suddenly thought it was the ideal solution. But she had turned him down. It was true that he had not really believed that she would accept his offer, but still…it irked him more than a little that she had not. And it was a practical certainty that if he attempted to offer her money again, to help better her situation, she would likely throw it back in his face and instruct him in no uncertain terms to go to hell! She had a temper on her, that was for sure. And it had genuinely shocked him to learn that she was no teenager but twenty-four years old…a woman.
Recalling the flash of fire in her almond-shaped hazel eyes as she’d castigated him for being too intrusive, he felt his skin tighten hotly. Irritably ignoring the unsettling sensation, he strode into the ornate marble bathroom that led off his private suite of rooms and for several moments just stood in the centre of the floor, unsure why he had even gone in there. Restlessly he pushed his fingers through his hair and sighed. It was probably best he curb his philanthropic urges where that particular young woman was concerned and concentrate his efforts on repairing his damaged leg, doubling his belief that one day soon he would be able to walk as well as he had before the accident—confidently, and without even a trace of a limp.
After that…Eduardo moved across to the vanity unit, staring at his reflection in the large oval mirror there and grimacing at the deep shadows wrought beneath his eyes by agony of body and spirit and a severe lack of sleep. After that… Well, he would just have to take one day at a time, he told himself, hardly able to contemplate a future that wasn’t as bleak and pain-filled as the present. How could such a prospect be possible when the two lives most intimately intertwined with his had been ripped away? When every night he relived the terrible nightmare of the accident that had killed them—the accident that he had caused?
Chapter Three