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coffee.’
    â€˜Thanks.’ His voice gruff, Eduardo started to move towards the door. Before he reached it he paused for a moment. ‘By the way…how did my new house keeper do this morning?’ he asked.
    Ricardo’s expression immediately lightened. ‘I can tell already that she is a hard worker,’ he answered. ‘She is skinny, but I think tough too.’
    â€˜Well…let me know if there are any problems,’ Eduardo threw over his shoulder as he left. And, in spite of his irritability and pain, he was unable to stop his lips from twitching at his valet’s rather blunt, yet in his view well-meant description of Marianne as ‘skinny but ‘tough’.
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    There was a tentative knock at his office door. Tearing his glance from the neat rows of text on the computer screen in front of him—an e-mail from an international children’s charity, thanking him for his continued support and generosity—Eduardo rotated his shoulders to ease the spasm of tension that flashed between his shoulder blades.
    â€˜Come in!’ he called out.
    â€˜Sorry to disturb…’
    It was Marianne, her cheeks flushed from being near some kind of heat, her light brown hair caught up in a precarious topknot that, judging by the silken tendrilsfloating free down the sides of her face, appeared in imminent danger of collapsing at any moment. Wearing a navy and white striped apron over scarlet cotton trousers and a man’s baggy cream sweater that all but drowned her small slim frame, she looked delicate and somehow in explicably appealing all at the same time. Had she been wearing that outfit this morning, when he’d met her in the corridor? Eduardo could not swear to it. He had been too taken aback by her offer of help, and the gentleness and concern in her almond-shaped hazel eyes to notice.
    â€˜What is it?’ he asked interestedly, the tension and fatigue he had been battling with somehow for got ten.
    â€˜I’m sorry it’s a bit late, but lunch is ready. I’ve been baking bread and making soup, and it took longer than I thought.’
    â€˜You have been baking bread and making soup? What kind of soup?’
    â€˜Leek and potato… It’s really good for you, especially in this weather. I’m sure you’ll like it. Anyway…’ Her expression was suddenly shy, as if she’d assumed too much and was embarrassed by her own enthusiasm. ‘Where would you like to eat? Up here in your office? Or I could lay a place in the dining room if that’s what you’d prefer.’
    â€˜Where are you going to eat? In the kitchen?’
    â€˜Yes. Ricardo’s gone to town for some supplies, and he said he’ll have his food later.’
    Suddenly tired of his own morose company, and the thought of home-made bread and soup enticinghim more than he would ever have believed possible, Eduardo reached for his cane and stood up. ‘I will join you in the kitchen,’ he answered firmly.
    â€˜All right, then.’ The rather sombrely furnished room with its dark cherry leather sofas and crammed bookshelves was suddenly lit by her golden smile and—still smiling—Marianne stood back to let Eduardo precede her out of the room…

CHAPTER FIVE
    Marianne had been thinking about miracles. She knew they existed because she had prayed hard for someone kind to come into her life and then Donal had appeared. Now, as she surveyed the lean-angled, handsome face on the opposite side of the table from her, with its preoccupied and enigmatic air, she silently pondered on why such a man needed a miracle in his life. Again she considered the disturbing possibility that he had a life-threatening illness, and in the middle of lifting her spoon to her lips she felt her throat lock tight and her appetite flee.
    â€˜This is very good.’ Having no such similar dilemma, Eduardo glanced up appreciatively from sampling his own soup.