“I’m still considering it.” Was she? Or had her heart already made the decision? And why was her voice so breathless?
He framed her face with his hands. He was going to kiss her. She closed her eyes, dizzy with desire and anticipation, but only felt the whisper pressure of his thumb over her lips.
“At least you are not saying no.” His voice was low, intimate, intense with leashed emotions.
No, she wasn’t. Where this man was concerned, she was not sure she was capable of ever saying no.
CHAPTER 34 - The Pianist
SHE COULDN’T SLEEP. Olivia tossed and turned and re-adjusted the pillow for the tenth time in an hour. The emotional revelations of the day had left her exhausted, but too restless to sleep. She wondered what Dale was doing. Had he retired already? She had not seen him at dinner tonight. After their conversation in the gallery, he had disappeared. He’d sent her a note excusing himself from dinner.
Not wanting to eat alone in the huge dining room, she had eaten in her bedroom and had decided to have a pampering night. She had taken a hot bath with a soothing lavender scent while sipping excellent wine, and then read a book on her phone until it had run out of charge. It was so inconvenient not to have electricity! Now it was late, and she had run out of things to do.
But that meant she had way too much time alone with her thoughts. How did people entertain themselves in these times? If she were in her world, she could watch tv, or online videos, listen to music or check social media. Well, she could keep reading, just not on her phone. She would have to go down to the library to get a book. Surely she could find something to read among the thousands of volumes in that room.
She didn’t much fancy the idea of wandering around the house alone at night. It was one thing during the day; the house was bright and there was always someone nearby. But late at night, the house was dark and empty and a little creepy. She was grateful Dale’s room was right next to hers. She found comfort in the knowledge he slept nearby. Hearing him in the next room, or seeing the sliver of light under his door, reassured her.
But today she couldn’t feel his presence on the other side of the door, and that made her feel very alone, bereft. She had to go downstairs. She would go nuts in this room with nothing to do and sleep eluding her.
She lit up a candelabra from the little lamp by her bed and peeked into the hallway. As expected, it was empty. She shivered a little. From cold or fear? Chiding herself for being a coward, she threw on a robe over her nightgown and, candelabra in hand, stepped into the hallway.
She made her way downstairs without incident. Thankfully, the house was not completely dark. There were lamps lit at regular intervals throughout the hallways. She was about to reach the library when she heard music. Very faint but unmistakable—Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. One of her favorite classical pieces. Someone was playing the piano.
Lured by the melody, she followed the sound down the corridor beyond the library to a small salon at the end called the music room. She had visited it on her tours of the house. The room was full of instruments, including a piano, a harp, a couple or violins in display cabinets, and even a cello. It looked like a museum, and she had wondered if anyone ever played them. It must be Dale. She doubted the servants would play, even if they knew how, and there was no one else in the house. She opened the door slowly, and there he was, sitting at the piano, his hands coaxing the haunting melody from its keys.
Dale was so engrossed in the music he didn’t notice her entrance, and she had no intention of announcing herself. The last thing she wanted was to interrupt him. He was magnificent, his deft fingers moving rapidly and surely over the keys. His head bent, his body swayed to the tempo, and all the emotions of the piece flashed across his face.
The music filled the space and inundated her whole body; the emotions finding an echo in her heart. She could barely breathe.
At last, the music ended in a triumphant crescendo, and the last notes reverberated in the air before fading into the silence.
He finally looked up and saw her.
She couldn’t talk. The emotion he'd poured into her with his playing welled up into her throat, silencing her.
He stared at her for a moment, seeming neither surprised nor displeased by her presence.
