Her smile returned, but this time it was mischievous.She gripped his wrist and nuzzled his hand.“Play something for me?”
He nodded.Violet settled onto the chaise as he crossed to the piano.The room was still largely empty, but Zeke had created a cozy area with a large rug, the piano at one corner, and the chaise placed nearby on the long side of the rug.The dog settled next to Violet, with his big head resting dutifully on the seat, ready for head scratches.
Rhys sat down on the bench.What should he play?He decided on something soft and melodic.
“That’s beautiful.Did your mother teach you to play?”
He chuckled.“No, sugar.We didn’t have a piano.”
Her cheeks flamed.“Of course, sorry.That was insensitive.”
He shrugged.“My mother did the best she could.She always looked out for me.When I was small, we lived in the village of Andover.But the money she had been left by a relative ran out when I was six years old, and she was forced to come back to London for work.”His fingers found the keys with ease.Playing the piano had long been a solace for him on late nights when he couldn’t sleep.Regret was a bitch, and he had done plenty of bad things.“Zeke found this piano in a shipment that came into the auction house four years ago.He knew I wanted one.I have been taking lessons from a lady who lives in one of my flats in exchange for a break on the rent.”
Violet lay back and closed her eyes.“You play exceptionally well.I have no musical talent at all.My younger sisters play, but our music tutor gave up on me.”
“Yes, I heard you plunking on the keys as I came down the hall.”
She giggled.“I couldn’t resist touching.The ivory is so smooth.The inlay pattern along the top is exquisite.”The dog whined, and she reached out a hand to scratch behind its ears.“You know, you really should give him a name.It must be bad luck not to have a name.”
Rhys finished up the last stanza with a flourish.Then he twisted to face them.“All right.What name do you propose?”
She sat up.“Really?I thought you would argue about it.”She put her hands on the mastiff’s head, one on each side.“Let’s see.What shall your name be, boy?You are a big, powerful dog but have the soul of a poet.”
Rhys shook his head.“The soul of a poet?He is needlessly aggressive to strangers and testy, even with the hand that feeds him.Namely, me.”
“Yes, a poet.Look at these big brown eyes.Soulful.How about Bernard?That is a noble name.”
“You want me to call him Bernard?Naw, he’s a street dog.He needs a tough name.Like Thor or Goliath.”
Violet wrinkled her nose.“How about Maximus?It’s a heroic name.What do you think?”she asked the dog.“Is Maximus a good, strong name?”The dog simply panted and looked up at her adoringly.
“Too fancy, but I could call him Max, I suppose.”
“Max.Yes, that’s a fine name.I dub thee Maximus the Brave of Brook Street.”She kissed the top of the dog’s head.“But you shall be known henceforth as Max.”
The dog let out a happy bark and licked her chin.
Violet wiped away the drool with a laugh.“I think he approves.”
Rhys’s breath caught in his chest.He had never seen her expression so clear and joyful.Granted, the two months that he had known her had been rough.Actually, her whole marriage had been hell.But this smile reminded him of the girl he’d met in Lucy’s pretty drawing room months before she’d married Sommerset.The girl who had laughed at his stupid magic trick.The radiance of her smile pulled him across the room to sit next to her.“Max, go lie down.”
The dog gave one last longing look at Violet and went to lie down across the rug by the piano bench.Rhys took one of Violet’s hands.“You look happy.”
Her brow furrowed.“I deserve happiness.”
“Of course you do.”He kissed her forehead.She smelled so good, light and citrusy.
Violet pulled back to pin him with her gaze.“You have been avoiding me.”
“What do you mean?We have seen each other every day this week.”
“You have not once come through my window to wake me up and ravish me properly.”Hurt reflected in the dark depths of her eyes.
Christ, he was such a fool.He bent and pressed his forehead to hers and told her the truth.“I like having you here in my house, picking out my furniture, naming my dog.More than I should.”
“That’s good because I like being here in your house, in your arms.”She slid hers around him.“You deserve happiness too,” she whispered fiercely.
“I’m not so sure about that, sugar,” he admitted, voicing what was always clanging about in his head.
