‘Do you want me to carry you upstairs?’ he offered, trying to inject a little lightness into her gloomy thoughts.
‘No. But thank you.’ What irony, when she had never needed the reassurance of Chico’s arms more, but if she gave in to this yearning and he returned to Brazil, she would feel doubly deserted.
‘But I insist,’ he said. Before she could protest, Chico had swept her off her feet and carried her out of the library, and straight upstairs to the bathroom adjoining her bedroom.
‘I’m going to run a bath for you,’ he said, setting her down on a chair in the corner, ‘but first I’m going to wash the tears from your face.’
‘Tears?’ Her hand flew to her face. Chico gently brought it down again.
He ran the water until it was warm, and then soaked a flannel, wringing it out before wiping her face.
‘You don’t have to do that.’
‘But I want to,’ he said, making a thorough job of it. ‘You need to let go of everything and just relax now, Lizzie.’
But not too much, she thought, watching as Chico squeezed toothpaste onto her brush. ‘You’ve changed,’ she said softly.
‘Me? Changed?’ His lips pressed down wryly. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Oh, yes, I’m sure,’ she said confidently. ‘You can feel again. You can look into my eyes and feel what I feel, and then reach out to me. We used to share things, Chico, but you were always guarded.’
‘And now I’m not?’
‘No, you’re not,’ she said with conviction. ‘Maybe in business you have to be careful, but you’re not careful with me when you express your feelings. Just now when you wiped my face—you’re either an amazing actor, or you really care.’
‘I really care,’ Chico said slowly and deliberately.
‘Yes. I believe you do.’
‘You take a bath,’ he said, straightening up and adopting a matter-of-fact manner. ‘I’m going to leave you now, but I’ll be within shouting distance, if you need me.’
‘There’s a bedroom next door.’ It was all made up in case guests had wanted to stay. ‘You’re quite welcome...’ Her voice tailed away. She had no idea what Chico intended.
‘I’ll be back,’ he promised. ‘Take your bath, then get into your nightclothes and I’ll tuck you into bed.’
That sounded like heaven, Lizzie thought. Now she was no longer on show, exhaustion was sweeping over her in big, drowning waves.
She bathed, dried herself and got into her pyjamas on autopilot. She was practically asleep by the time she was ready to climb into bed.
‘Oh, hello,’ she said with surprise, seeing Chico had already made himself comfortable on the opposite side of her bed.
‘I hope you don’t mind,’ he said, shooting her a wry look, ‘but in the absence of night attire, I’m wearing my boxers.’
‘Mind?’ she said vaguely. Why should she mind him wearing boxers? Wasn’t the fact that he was in her bed more alarming? Maybe, but she was beat and didn’t have the energy to fight him. ‘So long as you’re not naked,’ she mumbled. Even speaking was an effort now.