He should. Meant to. Yet he could not seem to move forward.
“I let her go years ago,” he said. “But somehow her piano returning to this castle….”
“I know.” She looked from the direction of the music back to him, tentatively. “Would you like me to accompany you or—”
“Aye,” he said impulsively but meant it. He squeezed her hand in return. “I would verra much like that.”
So she did and it proved that he had felt when he first danced with her paled in comparison to how she was about to make him feel. Especially when she was the last person he should be thinking about at such a time.
Chapter Eleven
Prudence’s heart wentout to Jacob as they continued down the hall toward the sound of Elizabeth’s piano. She had been prepared to leave him be, but he wanted her with him, so here she was, more terrified than she could ever remember being.
Should she be here? Did she belong? What was she doing?
While uncertainties nagged at her initially, the sadness on his face made her snap out of her own trepidation and instead be the friend he needed. This was not about her and what they may or may not feel for one another. This was about the duke and the woman who had meant a great deal to him and about being confronted with her memory in a castle that belonged to her kin.
A memory elicited by the piano he had likely watched his wife play.
So she rallied forth every bit of strength she could for him and kept a supportive arm linked with his when they entered the room. She remained supportive as the few seated in the dimly lit room enjoying the music nodded as they sat. While decorum said they should not touch, she cared not and held his hand as he stared at the piano as if lost in memory. Decorum, in this case, mattered little to her at the moment.
She remained silent and listened, letting the sound fill her every bit as much as the bagpipes. How could she not when it was every bit as beautiful? Told its own tale. Much like the portrait of Jacob and Elizabeth, there was passion in it and deep, untouchable love. Timeless notes that would always remain in its keys.
They sat there for a time listening, Jacob in his own world, she in hers, imagining the love he had shared with his wife. She wasn’t jealous of it but appreciative, wishing she had found such a thing and oddly—considering how only until recently she’d held him in ill-regard—grateful that he had found it. Eventually, he squeezed her hand again, letting her know he was all right and ready to press on. So they made their way back into the hallway.
“Thank you for that, my lady,” he said softly. “I appreciate it more than you know.”
“Of course,” she said. “And thank you for allowing me to join you. The music was lovely. Your late wife’s piano is a grand instrument, indeed. I could imagine her playing it. The loving looks you two must have shared when she did.”
“We did.” He stopped walking, turned to her and grew most serious. “But that love is in the past now. It has been for some time.” His voice dropped an octave and his gaze lingered on her face. “Despite what you just witnessed, it is important that you understand that. Hearing her piano played in this castle again offered a sense of closure, I suppose. A final goodbye to someone beloved.”
“Then I am glad you were able to do so.” There could be no mistaking the way he looked at her now. “That I was able to join you in saying goodbye.”
“As was I.” She got the distinct impression he struggled to say one thing but said another instead. “I find I could use a spot of fresh air. Care to join me?”
“I would like nothing more.” Anything to spend more time with him before they retired for the evening and said their own goodbye in the morning.
As it turned out, even though he had taken her there before, they retrieved their coats and returned to the battlements. To be expected, they were very much alone. While torches had been lit to keep the ambiance of the castle, the walkway was quite dark. Even though a window-encased room had been built up here more recently to allow people to enjoy the view when it grew cold, they stood outside.
“It is as lovely here in the evening as it was during the day.” She gazed at the moon-swept countryside. “Once again, I can only imagine what it was like hundreds of years ago standing guard up here. How difficult it must have been trying to spy enemies approaching in the darkness.”
“Difficult indeed.” He led her to an especially dark area. “Torches would have been diminished during times of higher threat so guardsmen could not be seen. And if one had no choice but to light a torch to help allies find the way, they could see those approaching more easily in spots like this without the glare of firelight.”
“To be sure.” She might be taking in her surroundings, but she was wholly aware of how close he stood. How secluded the spot.
“The key, of course,” he turned her a little, stood behind her, and pointed toward the drawbridge, “is to position yourself just so and keep a close eye on the tree line beyond the bridge torches. That is where you would most likely see movement first.”
She meant to reply but found her voice useless at his proximity. At the feel of his warmth at her back. How his arm felt when it came around her waist to keep her steady against the wind shear. Being in his embrace on the dance floor was one thing. This, quite another. Her body thrummed in anticipation. A familiar ache unique to him blossomed between her thighs.
“Jacob,” she whispered, using his name for the first time. When she glanced over her shoulder, it was to find his eyes on her rather than the countryside. There was no missing his desire when his gaze dropped to her mouth.
She should stop this if she meant to keep their friendship intact, but she was helpless to pull away when he turned her in his arms and cupped her cheek tenderly. Helpless to do anything but allow his lips to close over hers. To lose herself in a kiss so entirely different than any her late husband had given her.
While gentle at first, it became more insistent when his tongue slipped into her mouth. She had never experienced such but very much liked it and met his tongue with hers. After that, everything but him and how he made her feel faded away, to the extent she hardly realized he had moved them into the glass-encased room.
A dwindling fire crackled on the hearth, allowing more darkness than light so no one could see when he backed her up against a wall. Nobody saw how hungry their kisses grew. They were in their own little oasis where passion could hide, and sin could flourish. Because it felt that way. Sinful and daring as his warm hand cupped the back of her neck, and he pulled her against him.
She could not help a groan when the dull throb between her thighs became a raging ache. When she felt the hard length he pressed against her.
