Chapter 16 #2
It’s a smooth landing on the huge lawn in front of Whitewood; I am, of course, well-practiced at bringing this baby down, but Aurelia is once again holding onto her seat for dear life.
I cut the engines and the rotors slow. We remove our helmets, and I shake out my hair.
When I was in the Royal Air Corps, I kept my hair short and neat in proper military protocol, and never had to worry about my flight helmet fucking it up.
Aurelia must have some sort of sixth sense about things because she wore her long, thick hair in a braid over her shoulder today, and it’s still perfect after the flight.
My only complaint is the inability to run my fingers through the auburn silk later.
My old flight instructor would have my head for it, but I leave the post-flight checks and tuck-in to Brenton.
He flew more than enough missions with me in my Royal Air Corps days.
Hell, he went through the same training as me and is more than qualified to handle it, so I can get on with my plans for the day.
Aurelia turns on the spot as she takes in this place. The trees around us have shed their leaves, but I don’t think that changes their beauty a bit; it’s haunting even, but I’d still love to bring her back in the spring when this place is in full color.
Her eyes land back on me, and I offer her my arm.
“Did I mention that you look lovely today, Miss Aurelia?” I whisper.
Her penchant for skinny jeans may well be my undoing one day, and I’ve never known a high-collared jumper to be as alluring as this one, but the way it draws my attention to her graceful neck is making it hard for me to keep from placing kisses all over it.
Even the nearly casual contact of her small hand wrapping around my upper arm as I walk us towards the house tests my self-control.
She blushes in that way that sends my heart thundering and casts her eyes down at the ground. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
I stop walking and turn to face her. “Really, now? I’m letting you inside the most sacred home of my family, and you still won’t call me Fritz?”
She lets out a nervous chuckle. “We’ll see.”
I brush a flyaway strand of hair back from her forehead and place a quick kiss on her brow.
She hums and tilts her face to me, parting her lips a little, asking.
I’m not one to tell a lady no, and I can scarcely contain my need as I taste her lips on mine.
It’s so chaste and tender and shouldn’t have me ready to pounce on her right here on the front lawn.
She pouts a little when I pull away, and my resolve has never had to be stronger.
The plans, the plans. Woo first, then devour.
I move her hand back to my arm, wishing those fingers were wrapped around something else, and lead her finally into Whitewood House.
I give her a moment to take in the front hall.
She turns slowly again, admiring the open space.
The foyer blends into a large sitting room on one side and a ballroom on the other.
Beyond the ballroom, two huge doors stand open, revealing a formal dining room.
In the middle of the hall, a double staircase rises with both sides making a half turn up to the second floor.
The ceiling is open, and carved wood rails line the gap in the floor upstairs.
Fires crackle in the four hearths in the main room, giving the grand house a rustic and cozy feel.
“Come, let me show you around.” The squeeze of her fingers on my bicep makes my blood heat while I lead her through the various rooms here on the bottom floor. She stops at the shining grand piano in the corner of the lounge.
“I always wish I’d learned to play,” she says, tracing the edge of the black wood that covers the keys.
I have vivid memories of sitting before the piano from a very young age, trying to hold back tears of frustration as Mother sat patiently beside me. And then the elation of a piece that finally settles in the mind, the ecstasy of a rousing concerto or a mournful nocturne. Miles calls it piano-gasm.
“You can still learn,” I say, caressing her cheek with the back of my finger.
“Will you play for me?”
The sweet pleading in her eyes is irresistible. I make a show of taking a seat, pretending to flip my imaginary tailcoat behind me, garnering an eyeroll but also the smile that never ceases to make my heart pound.
I pat the spot beside me on the bench, and she situates herself on the very edge of the wooden seat. Drawing her closer to me, her thigh presses against mine, sending shocks up my whole body. I draw in a breath to steady myself and lift the cover on the keyboard.
It’s been a sadly long time since I’ve sat in front of a piano and my hands flow with electricity as I arch my fingers against the ivory. Her gaze is hot on me as I begin to glide into Für Elise.
“No, no. Play me something real.”
“Beethoven isn’t real?”
She huffs. “Every piano player knows that one.”
“Rachmaninov?” I wasn’t sure my fingers remembered how to move like this, but once I begin the intense piece, it’s like they move without even waiting for a signal from my brain.
She taps a finger to her pursed lips. “Eh, too harsh.”
I pull her finger away and kiss those beautiful lips. “What would you like to hear, mi’ lady?” I breathe against her.
Aurelia drags a hand through my beard, cupping my face and making my head go fuzzy. I don’t know that I’ll be able to play her anything else if she keeps looking at me like that.
“Something lovely.”
I wrack my brain a moment, fingers glancing over the piano as I think.
I strike a note and something clicks. It’s a piece I haven’t touched in a while, but it flows from me without any thought.
I get lost in the chords, notes streaming like water through the room, filling every crevice, echoing from the high ceilings, reverberating through my very soul.
Romance and heartache and love and hope all flood their way through my senses.
I close my eyes and lose myself in the rich magic of the melody.
The pain and the longing and the uncertainty of love hit all too close to home.
Here in one of my favorite places, I’m with a woman who has wedged her way into my life so suddenly and so keenly.
There are women back at the capital who I should be spending this kind of time with.
I’m supposed to be getting to know them, figuring out which of them is most likely to make a decent lifelong partner for me, who will assimilate well with my family.
Surely a few of them are tolerable enough company, several are kind and interesting.
But then there’s Aurelia.
The final note hangs heavy and stifling in the air as I turn to my sweet little American once more. Her green eyes shine, and she lets out a breath like she’s been holding it the whole time.
“That was stunning.” Her voice trembles a bit. “Did you write that?”
I huff a laugh. “I’m flattered that you think so highly of my ability, Miss Aurelia. No, that was Stephan Moccio. The song is called Fracture. It’s about love and loss. And healing.”
“Thank you for sharing that with me,” she whispers.
I want to take her in my arms right here. To show her all the emotion the music stirred in me, to pour my heart into her just as I did the piano. But I remember myself and my plans for the day and stand.
“Come, princess.” I hold a hand out for her and place it back on my arm. “There’s still more to see.”
I take her through the dining room, feeling her eyes on me the whole time.
We walk down the hall, peeking into a few rooms as we go.
At the end of the hall is a small nook with a spiral staircase nestled inside.
I gesture for her to take the stairs ahead of me, trying to ignore my warring intentions of decency and a desire to watch her fantastic behind in those tight jeans she’s wearing today.
The top of the stairs opens to a long hallway.
“These are the main bedroom suites,” I say, motioning to the doors lining each side of the walls as we walk.
“Come, there’s one room ahead that I think you will particularly enjoy.
” We make our way around the balcony overlooking the lower level, and I stop with my back against a set of double doors and push them open from behind.
Aurelia’s eyes go wide as the smell of fire and old books washes over us.
This library is perhaps not as grand as the one at the palace, but the awe and wonder on her face enraptures me.
Her giggle sends warmth to the pit of my stomach, dragging back the desperation I felt moments earlier at the piano.
The need to see her basking in sheer joy.
“It’s wonderful!” she gushes. She walks to the middle of the room and takes several deep breaths, as if savoring a favorite smell. She turns in circles with her head tilted back and arms held open.
“We can stay in here if you like,” I say from the doorway, beaming as she traces adoring fingers over leather spines.
She startles like she’s forgotten I’m even here. “Oh, no. I don’t want to ruin your plans.” Returning to my side, she takes my arm again. “What are we doing today anyway?”