“I think I got the better end of the trade.” His eyes held a smile. “Go get ready, and I shall escort you to the village.”
“Hold up.” She shook off the haze of desire. “You are coming with me? Why?”
“While you are looking for your ghost, I will be looking after you.”
He kissed her nose, pulling her up. Papers clung to her skirts and swirled to the floor like dried leaves. Automatically, she bent to pick them up.
“Leave the papers.” Ethan crouched beside her. “I’ll get them?—”
She looked at the sheet in her hand, recognizing it immediately. It was the sonata she’d found by his piano—the one she’d played, eliciting his wrath. He must have made another copy. A wise woman probably would have returned the score to him without another word…but when had she been wise?
“Have you been working on this?” she asked curiously.
He tried to snatch it from her, but she was too quick, keeping it out of his reach as she rose. Scanning the notes, she hummed the melody. The tune was as soulful and elegant as she remembered, and there were new bars that added an interesting shift to the melody.
“If you’re quite finished.” He held out an imperious hand. “Give it here.”
When she complied, he shoved it under a pile on his desk.
“Why are you hiding your composition?” she asked. “It is beautiful.”
“Do you think so?” His tone was gruff. “You are not saying that to be kind?”
“The melody is unique, both restrained and passionate,” she said candidly. “It lingers like a memory one can’t stop thinking about. I’ve caught myself humming it a few times since I, um, played it…”
Really, Xenia? Did youhaveto remind him that you violated his privacy?
He sighed. “I haven’t properly apologized for my outburst, have I?”
“You have. And it was my fault as well?—”
“Then it’s an explanation I owe,” he said. “After the damage to my hand, I thought music was lost to me forever. You were right when you said that playing the piano is not a trivial matter—to me, it waseverything. But I was a performer, not a composer, and the sonata you found…it was my first and only attempt at writing music. Something I’d started as a lark before my injury and forgotten about. Hearing you play the piece brought back memories...mostly of everything I’d lost. I took my anger out on you, for which I humbly beg your forgiveness.”
His sincerity made her heart flutter.
“You are forgiven,” she said sincerely. “And I hope I am as well.”
“Not only are you forgiven, but I may also owe you thanks.” He hesitated. “Because you unearthed that sonata, I started wondering if I could…well, perhaps if I could give composing a go again. A real go, this time. It’s not the same as performing, but…”
He gave a self-conscious shrug.
“But you would still be making music,” she said excitedly. “Oh, Ethan, I think it is abrilliantidea. How is it going so far?”
“Slowly,” he admitted. “I keep telling myself that if Beethoven could compose his greatest work without his hearing, then surely I can manage with one hand. But not being able to play the melody and accompaniment together is a challenge.”
“I could help if you’d like. Play the part of the left hand.”
“You would do that?”
The heated intensity of his gaze made her pulse race.
Don’t you know, Ethan? I would do just about anything for you.
She cleared her throat. “Most definitely.”
“I am a novice at composition,” he warned. “I am not sure I have a talent for it.”
“May I share a bit of hard-earned wisdom?”
