The Man Behind the Mask by Maggie Cox Page B

time.’
    â€˜I don’t think so,’ Marianne answered, hazel eyes widening in mild reproach. ‘It seems to me that extra sleep was just what you needed! Why don’t you sit down and I’ll make you some coffee? Or if you’d prefer to go into the sitting room I’ll bring it to you in there. I’ve lit the fire, so it’s nice and warm.’
    But Eduardo was already moving towards the big pine table in the centre of the stone-flagged floor. ‘I think I will stay here with you,’ he said, drawing out achair and lowering himself into it. ‘I am a little tired of my own company just now. The snow is starting to melt at last, I see.’
    â€˜I know. But it’s still freezing outside.’ Following the direction of his brooding gaze out of the window, Marianne kept her voice deliberately neutral, intuitively guessing that it was probably wise not to mention last night.
    But then, just as she was about to fill the kettle with water, she glimpsed the reddened gash on his hand and realised he’d removed the make shift bandage she’d made.
    â€˜How’s that cut this morning?’ she asked. ‘I hope it wasn’t too painful during the night?’
    â€˜It is nothing. I have already for got ten about it.’
    â€˜I’ll check it again after you’ve had your coffee’ Marianne said lightly, turning on the tap, filling the kettle and inserting the plug into the wall socket.
    â€˜There is no need for you to trouble yourself any further about it.’
    Did he dislike the idea of her touching him? Marianne wondered. And she was unable to stem the hurt that thought produced.
    â€˜Well…perhaps you’re ready for some break fast, then? If you’d like something cooked it’s no trouble.’
    â€˜No food. Just coffee.’
    As if realising he had sounded a little curt, Eduardo softened his reply with a smile. It was as though she’d been given the most monumental gift. Marianne sensed pleasure gush through her blood stream like hot watersprings, and to hide her burning cheeks she turned away to scoop pungent dark roasted coffee into the cafetière and place a matching cup and saucer on a tray.
    â€˜Marianne?’
    â€˜Yes?’
    â€˜I was thinking that maybe you’d agree to take a walk with me after I have had my coffee. Up towards the forest, perhaps?’
    â€˜Are you feeling up to going so far?’
    Turning, she was just in time to catch Eduardo grimace, as if the last thing he wanted was to be reminded of his infirmity, and Marianne could have bitten out her tongue at her tact less ness.
    â€˜If I was not feeling up to it I would not have suggested it,’ he replied, clearly attempting to quell any irritation inside him and making a deliberate effort to sound more agreeable instead.
    â€˜In that case, I’ll be happy to go with you,’ she told him, turning back to the kettle and pouring boiling water into the waiting cafetière…
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    In silence they made their way across the bridge, then onto the path that wound its way into the dense, still snow-covered forest. Now and again Marianne glanced to her side, to make sure Eduardo was not in difficulty, but she soon got the message that it would be unwise to display too much concern. Just a glimmer of a warning glance was all it took, so Marianne walked onwards without comment, her booted feet crunching on deep snow that was still treacherously slippery in places, thefreezing air caressing her face with the cold kiss of winter at its deepest.
    On either side of them tall trees rose up like dark walls hemming them in, and the path seemed to thin to a bare ribbon in places. She knew that, much as she might like to wander off at will, it would not be a good idea on a day with conditions as potentially treacherous as this. As soon as the lighter, milder days of spring arrived, then it would be an excursion to savour. But would she still be