His face was stiff and the notes he drew from the piano this time seemed harsh. He began slapping the keys, his fingers flying up and down.
A creature of passions, a weather vane, that’s what Arturo was. She’d heard her father say as much. He had not meant it as a compliment, but Alba found the image enticing. To be able to turn and be swept away by one’s heart as swiftly as a leaf is carried by a current, rather than taking root like an oak: this seemed to her exciting and commendable.
Yet his frenetic energy was different from his anger, and this strain of darkness, of sharp rage that spiked beneath the notes, was not something she enjoyed.
Arturo’s hands stilled on the keys. The room was quiet. Alba’sbody had tensed as much as piano wire; his swiftly changing mood filled her with trepidation.
“You’re a talented player, Uncle,” she said, to try to dispel whatever dark cloud had intruded into his thoughts. “They must like you very much in the city.”
“I suppose they do,” he said. The compliment seemed to have the desired effect. His face relaxed. He loved when people spoke of the city, loved to describe its streets and its sights.
“You must miss it, I’m sure. All the people and the parties there and—”And your lover,she thought. She practically covered her mouth with a hand to stop herself from speaking.
“And what?” he asked, looking at her with curious eyes.
She shouldn’t talk of illicit affairs; her mother would be appalled to learn she’d been inquiring about such things. But Alba bit her lip and sat down on the piano bench next to him. She spoke in a soft voice.
“And the lady you love. The one you can’t live with. Does her family dislike you? Is that why you can’t be together? Is she married?”
He laughed. “Is that the image you have of me? I’m a dissolute cad who seduces married women?”
“You’re handsome, and all ladies must find you pleasing,” she said. He also liked to be complimented about his looks, his charm, and she knew her words would win another laugh from his lips.
“Even married ones?” he replied.
“Yes. The lady in question must be beautiful, but her husband is bound to be horrid. He would chase you down the street with a pistol if he knew about you.”
“You have a wicked imagination.”
“Have I guessed right?” she asked.
Arturo leaned forward, his lips close to her ear. “I won’t tell you.”
He lowered his eyes. Arturo’s eyelashes were as long and sharp as daggers and the slant of his mouth as he smiled made for the most delightful of portraits.
“Youare the wicked one,” she said, and smiled in turn. “Confess! I wish to hear about your sins and follies.”
“No.”
He glanced up at her suddenly, his eyes serious, the smile receding.
“Suppose I really am sinful, what would you do then, Alba? Your opinion of me matters greatly. I cannot afford to have it diminished,” he said.
He spoke with a heartbreaking sadness and his melancholic expression turned his appealing good looks into something that edged on the hypnotic.
“Nothing you’d say would alter my feelings,” she replied, matching his low, mournful tone.
Such was the closeness of their faces and the angle of their bodies that in one tilt of the head their breath might mingle together. Her pulse fluttered like a bird, and she knew well enough that there was indeed something wicked in her blood.
“Perhaps,” he said, and a dangerous eagerness flashed in his eyes, as fast and ferocious as lightning, but he lowered his gaze once more.
Arturo stood up, stretching with the nimbleness of a cat. He was smiling again, politely, and she realized he wore that cordial smile like a mask, and now his voice was disguised too, flatly pleasant like his expression.
“I’ll tell you my lover’s name, but not today,” he said with a joviality that was false, and she laughed at him with an equally false humor. Why, they were playing! Why, it was but a little teasing!
Then he strode out of the room.
Alba stretched out a hand and touched the piano keys where his fingers had rested before quickly standing up, brushing her skirts, and running outside. She needed air. She needed to breathe. She ran until she reached the bank of the river, and there she stumbled and lay down upon the grass.
