As soon as Master Radcliffe entered composition class the next morning, I pounced on him. “Master, I’d like to ask that I work together with Faye on a joint composition. I’ve heard the piece she’s working on, and I believe turning it from a sonata into a duet between piano and violin would give it a depth it’s currently lacking.”
Master Radcliffe raised an eyebrow in surprise, but he knew better than to question me. “Certainly, Dorien. I think that’s a wonderful idea. Faye would benefit from working alongside a musician with more…traditionaltraining.”
Just then, Faye walked in, her cheeks flushed from rushing through her chores, the black dress clinging to her curves in a delectable way. Her eyes narrowed as I walked over to her, blocking her way to her usual spot in the shadowed corner of the room.
“Out of my way.” She held her violin case like a Roman shield and barged at me. I caught a corner in the ribs, but instead of fighting against her, I stepped out of the way, catching her arm as she stumbled forward.
“Of course.” I gestured to the piano. “Do you want to work in here, or in the ballroom?”
She wrenched her arm away. “What are you talking about?”
“Master Radcliffe paired us together to work on a composition.”
Faye’s already stormy eyes churned into maelstroms. “He didn’t.”
“He did.” I flashed her the smirk that turned most girls to butter. Most girls, but not Faye. “Lucky me.”
Master Radcliffe stood from where he was sitting next to Elena and came over. “Ah, Faye. I’ve told Dorien he should work with you on your composition. Your piece is extremely accomplished, and I believe adding the piano will give it the depth it needs to be truly exceptional.”
Faye’s face did this twisting thing as she fought against her dueling urges to please Master Radcliffe and strangle me until I turned blue. I knew a little about how she felt – at that moment I wanted to crack up laughing and throw her up against the wall and kiss her at the same time. I opted for neither, instead offering my hand. “Ballroom, then. Shall we?”
Faye shot me a filthy look, lifted her violin, and shoved her way past me and out the door. I grinned as I followed her, watching that gorgeous ass swinging down the hall, while Heather jabbed daggers into my back with her eyes.
BANG.Faye threw open the ballroom door so hard it slammed against the wall, rattling a dresser filled with china plates. She stomped across the room and threw down her violin case on a velvet ottoman. A shaft of diffused light beamed from the window and fell across her face.
“I don’t know what your game is,” she snapped. “But you can stop right now. That kiss was a mistake. You took advantage of me, caught me off-guard, and I—”
“You, Faye Winter, taken advantage of? I don’t think so. I still remember how you used to yell and kick and scream when Madame Usher paired you up with other students until she’d cave and let you work with me. You never did anything unless it wasexactlywhat you wanted. The way your body curled around mine, you wanted me.” I slid onto the piano stool, lifting the lid. “Youstillwant me, Sprite.”
Using my old nickname for her was a gamble, but it paid off. She snorted, but I noticed her chest heave as she took a position in the middle of the floor, facing me. The shaft of light cut across her chest, highlighting the curve of her breasts even through that severe black dress. I wet my lower lip.
“What game are you playing now?” she demanded. “Is this a distraction while Titus and Ivan destroy my room? Are you planning to dump a bucket of pig’s blood on my head?”
“No pig’s blood. We’re going to make beautiful music together.” My mouth turned up as I reached out to touch my fingers to her wrist, to feel the pulse of her blood in her veins. “Maybe I’ll bend you over this piano and make you scream my name as you come.”
Faye jerked her arm away, and a wall of shame hit me. After everything I’d done to hurt her, I didn’t blame her for being suspicious.
But that kiss gave me hope. Faye had melted into my body like she fit. She wanted this as much as I did. She just had to forgive me first. That forgiveness wouldn’t come easy, but I knew what I had to do to earn it.
I had to figure out what Madame Usher wanted from her.
“You make one wrong move, Dorien Valencourt, and I will murder you. I just want to get through this composition without doing that. The last thing I need is to be thrown in jail for homicide.”
I settled down. “Then we’ll work. Play for me.”
Faye closed her eyes and raised the violin to her chin. She sucked in a shuddering breath, and I wondered if she was trying to rid the scent of me from her body, erase me so that I didn’t infect her music.
Too late.
She struck the first note. It was the piece she’d been playing in the garden that night, only she’d refined it, drawing out the theme, turning it over itself to create a melody so achingly haunting that it stole my breath.
Her music held me mesmerized, but it wasFayethat sent me reeling. The way she immersed herself fully in the moment, giving body and heart and soul to the song. That was my Faye, my sprite – she lived for the here and now. Although she played with the grace of a seasoned performer, she eschewed the stoic stillness of traditional posture for passion, her body moving as she played through the sweeping arpeggios that were part of her signature style.
I was back in the drafty classroom of Madame Usher’s old school, the two of us giggling as we made a classical arrangement for the Muppets Mahna Mahna song, which we played at a recital to rapturous applause even though Madame Usher frowned at us the whole time.
I remembered Faye as the bright, happy-go-lucky child, the antidote to my dark moods. Father Aaron hadn’t walked into our lives and burned everything to the ground yet, but my parents only noticed me when I did something wrong. As soon as I walked through the doors of Madame’s studio and Faye’s bright eyes lit up to see me, the world seemed happier.
She needed me, and I abandoned her.
