Chapter Eight #2
Selena very belatedly realized her waving her fan about must have been construed as an offer to play for the assembled group. She couldn’t back out now.
Lord Lockhaven stood and bowed, holding his hand out to her in a silent offer to escort her to the front.
She swallowed hard at the lump of nerves clawing at her throat and slid her hand into his.
He squeezed her fingers ever so gently as he helped her to her feet, and their gazes met.
And held. His smile was benign enough, but the sudden flash of heat in his eyes was not.
She could only hope her audience assumed the flush in her cheeks was due to nerves and did not deduce the real reason.
That the heat that flooded through her was because of a simple touch from the enigmatic man at her side. A touch that made her tremble, and her core tighten with need.
He deposited her on the stool before the pianoforte and went back to sit on their sofa. A lucky thing. She didn’t think she’d be able to command her hands to play a single note had he been within her line of sight.
She took a deep breath and slowly released it, placing her hands on the keys. And then she played.
She didn’t consciously choose the song. It was simply one that often played in her head. A song Marius, her third husband, had often played for her during their whirlwind courtship. A song he played for her at their wedding. Before his unfortunate accident.
Though really, if you get drunk enough at your wedding feast to try and wrestle an ornery horse…well, one could hardly be surprised if the horse wins.
Still, the song had been a source of comfort for her since then and she often played it.
But typically, only when she was alone. Not with an audience.
Certainly not with a person who drove her to such distraction in the audience.
But it was what flowed from her when her fingers brushed the keys. And she let it come.
The melody was beautiful, slightly haunting perhaps, though a bit playful, as was Marius himself.
She played with her eyes on her hands, though she didn’t need to see them to strike the correct notes.
Music had been a comfort to her, her whole life.
And as she played, she took a deep breath and let it be so now.
She let the music flow through her and sweep out all the tension, the uncertainty, the lingering sadness, the indecision.
And when the last note was struck, she glanced up… and met the gaze of Lord Lockhaven.
This time she didn’t think, didn’t worry, didn’t contemplate future consequences.
He amused her, made her laugh, interested her, entertained her, made her feel alive again.
Made her feel…many things. And she was tired of pretending otherwise.
So instead of dropping her gaze and sinking back into her demure, respectable widowhood, she kept her eyes locked on his. And smiled, slow and sweet.
His answering smile sent fire rippling through her veins.
Politely exuberant applause broke the spell and Selena stood, her hand resting on the pianoforte to steady herself. She smiled at her audience and dropped into a small curtsy.
“That was so beautiful,” Lady Tresscott said. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard it before. Have you?” she asked another woman at her side who shook her head.
“I believe I have, though it was several years ago,” Lord Tresscott said, then turned to his wife. “When I was in Bucharest a few years back. There was a composer there. I believe he played it during a small concert I attended. What was his name…” He thoughtfully tapped his chin.
The blood drained from Selena’s face so quickly it made her head spin. She opened her mouth, but it took two tries before she could speak. “Marius,” she said, her voice faint. “Marius Albescu.”
“Yes!” Lord Trescott said with a huge grin. “That was it. Well done. Quite a talented fellow. I’m glad to hear his music being played.”
Selena smiled faintly, her eyes darting around the assemblage for Jane. Instead, they met those of Lord Lockhaven again, and she sucked in a sharp breath.
He was at her side in a moment.
“Mrs. MacLaren are you well?” he said, his eyes roving over her with concern. “Allow me to escort you back to your seat.”
“Thank you, my lord. But I think I should like to get a bit of air.”
“Of course,” he said, all gentlemanly graciousness though his eyes watched her with a burning fire. “I believe I saw Mrs. Haddon heading toward the refreshment table,” he said. “I would be happy to take you to her.”
“Thank you, that would be most kind, my lord.”
He bowed his head to her and then nodded to Lord and Lady Trescott before turning to escort her from the room toward the small salon where a table of refreshments had been set up.
But the moment they were out of the room, he glanced about, then wrapped his hand around her upper arm and gently pulled her into an alcove.
“My lord?” she gasped.
His eyes searched hers before he reached out and brushed a curl from her face. His hand lingered for a moment, and she gritted her teeth trying to resist the urge to lean her cheek against his palm.
“My apologies,” he said, his voice deeper, gruffer as he tried to keep his voice down. “I merely wished to ensure you were well. You looked as if you could use a moment.”
He let his hand drop, and she mourned its loss.
This was madness. If anyone saw them, pressed so close together in the shadowed alcove, what reputation she had left would be in tatters. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to push him away. To insist he let her pass. Return to the others.
It was simultaneously impossible to draw a breath. And yet, for the first time in months, she felt as if she could truly breathe.
“Thank you, my lord,” she said. “I…it has been a while since I have played.”
“You did so beautifully.”
“Thank you. I shall have to ensure I purchase a pianoforte when I set up my household,” she said with a smile she hoped was steady.
“Well, if you have trouble procuring one, let me know. I can always steal that one for you,” he said, with a nod toward the salon.
That surprised a laugh out of her. “Do you often procure items that do not belong to you?”
He gave her that mischievous grin that never failed to set her heart pounding. “It has been known to happen on occasion. But only for a good cause,” he said, leaning in with a conspiratorial whisper.
His gaze roamed over her face, his smile fading slightly as his eyes creased in concern. “Are you sure you are quite all right?”
Selena nodded. “Yes. I suppose I did get a bit overheated.”
He tilted his head slightly, regarding her. “Is that all it was? It seemed as though something had distressed you.”
“Oh,” she said, her cheeks growing warm. “No. I was not distressed, exactly. Contemplative, perhaps.”
“Did you know the composer Lord Trescott mentioned? This Albescu?”
She blinked, her chest growing tight. “Why do you ask?”
“Curiosity,” he said, lightly shrugging one shoulder. His eyes roved over her face, lingering on her lips before returning to her gaze. “You played the song so beautifully. It seemed personal.”
She sucked in a shaky breath. “Forgive me, my lord, but I find this all…”
“Impertinent? Rudely over-familiar?” he asked with a roguish smile that drew an answering one from her own lips.
“Perhaps.”
“Again, my apologies. Truly, my only wish was to ascertain your wellbeing. Not distress you further.”
She nodded, her thoughts a jumble as she tried to decide what to tell him. What would ease his concern without divulging secrets she had no wish to share. Finally, she gave him a soft smile.
“I lived in Bucharest for a time. It is a period of my life that I prefer not to dwell upon.”
“Very well.” His eyes searched hers again. “I will escort you back to the others, if you wish.”
Her heart thundered so loudly he surely must hear it. “Perhaps not just yet.”
That slow, crooked smile of his sent her heart skittering again. He picked up her hand and brushed his thumb across her knuckles. “Permit me to call upon you,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to her hand.
Selena sucked in a breath, her hand tingling where his lips had lingered. “My lord.” Her voice was hardly more than a tremulous whisper.
This. This feeling. She hadn’t felt anything like this. Ever. Not in any of her four marriages. Not with the man who was almost her fifth husband before he abandoned her. Not even with dear Charles. And Lockhaven had barely touched her.
But oh, she wanted him to touch her again.
Yet she daren’t. Mustn’t.
He straightened. Looked into her eyes. And before she could second guess herself or change her mind, she raised on her toes and crushed her lips to his.
For a few brief, glorious seconds, their lips pressed together, moved over each other, sending a tingling heat cascading through her that she had never experienced before.
She broke away with a gasp, looked into his startled face…and then turned and ran out the door.