Page 28 of Music and Mistletoe
“I’ll never forget those words. They were the last he spoke because right afterwards he put the knife to his throat and…and…”
He held her tight.
“I didn’t know he’d dosed himself with laudanum when we came home…” she fought for control. “I didn’t know about the injections he was giving himself…”
The sobs became stronger and then turned into gasping cries of pain and loss. Vaguely aware that she was still sitting on Perry’s lap, Grace tried to calm herself, but the floodgates had opened and the tears fell without cease.
Eventually she sobbed, hiccupped and sniffled her way back to some sort of composure.
He remained warm, steady, a rock beneath her and his arms a barrier around her. For the first time in many, many years, in factever, Grace felt at ease with herself—and her past.
“Better now?”
A light kiss touched her on the top of her head.
“Yes, oddly enough.” She glanced up at him. “And somewhat embarrassed.”
He rolled his eyes and sighed. “Don’t be. None of what occurred was your fault. I recognise the indications of a laudanum addiction, but how could you, a mere child, be expected to know that?”
She nodded. “You’re right, of course. But it was a terrible time. And I cannot forget it.” She touched her scars.
As if he felt her sadness, he slipped his free hand under her chin—and kissed her. Softly, sweetly and so tenderly that the back of her eyes stung with fresh tears.
“I have a suggestion for the perfect ending to this evening, love.”
Grace managed a watery half-smile. “I’m sure you do…”
“Not that,” he laughed. “Not right now. But this. Come with me.” He eased her to her feet, stood, and took her hand, leading her out of the parlour and back to the ballroom. Walking to the dais, he pointed at the piano stool. “Sit, Grace. Play something for me. Something you love, something you’d have me hear for the first time tonight. Let the music bring us peace and joy. Just like the Christmas season.” He lit a single candle and put it next to her on the warm wood surface.
She looked at his face, so strong, yet with an expression of tenderness that moved her deeply. She’d never felt quite this way about anyone; certainly not as a girl nor since as she matured.
This was new…a deep yearning, a wondering about intimacies, an eagerness to explore life and love with this man. He’d been an acquaintance, become a friend, and now…perhaps a lover, if she could set aside her own weaknesses.
Her body heated as intriguing paths appeared in her imagination.
So she sat on the stool, opened the piano—and played.
*~~*~~*
As soon as her fingers touched the keys, Perry knew he was lost.
Her gift for music, and gift it was, could transform an ordinary pleasant piece to something greater. She possessed some kind of instinct that sought out the perfect rhythm, the ideal momentum…whatever the music said on the pages, she read so much more and made it part of her performance.
He listened for a few minutes as she brought a simple Christmas carol to a cascading magnificence that would have stopped angels in their tracks.
He gulped down his emotions…the ones that were so affected by the right kind of music.
His whole being ached for this woman, for everything that made her who she was—including her talented playing. So he quietly moved behind her and knelt, waiting until she finished the carol.
As she raised her hands from the keys, he touched her, a delicate brush of his fingers across her shoulders. She didn’t jump; she’d known he was there.
“Don’t stop, love,” he whispered. “For me. Please.”
She nodded and began something different, haunting but with a leitmotif that threaded through the chords and impressed itself into his mind.
As she played the opening notes, he began to loosen her laces.
A brief hitch in her music—and then she continued, letting her fingers dance as the tempo increased and the sound became more sprightly.
