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The piece he’d heard from his terrace was nothing compared to the one the man played now. Despite his raging envy, Lucas couldn’t help being impressed. Gifts, indeed. He couldn’t see the fellow’s hands from this vantage, but he could only imagine how they must dance across the ivory and ebony keys.
Sweet music washed over and through him, soft and seductive, caressing his senses in a gentle ebb and flow that felt as easy as breathing. The woman beside him rested her head against the back of the couch, eyes closed in bliss as she listened, clearly transported.
Now the melody began to subtly alter, growing more suspenseful. Lucas found his heart beating faster and realized with a start that his breath now matched the music’s tempo. On it went, climbing, then reaching a plateau, and then climbing again, the tension mounting. Gone was the soft seduction, replaced by passion’s immutable fire.
Lucas had never been one to get too caught up in music, but this…this was music such as he’d never experienced before. It rolled over him in great waves, carrying him along with it. He felt powerless to resist its pull on his emotions as it rose to a crescendo, filling the room.
Glancing over at Harrow, he saw the man’s eyes were also shut. But unlike Diana, who appeared enraptured, Harrow’s face looked almost pained. As he watched, tears began to seep from beneath the other man’s closed lids. When he opened them a second later, his gaze was fixed on the pianist at play, and the affection in his visage was so raw and thirst-laden it brought a flush to Lucas’s own face.
He loves him. Deeply. Lucas had known this, but until now he hadn’t witnessed its expression firsthand. Afraid to be caught observing such an intimate moment, he looked to Diana, only to find she, too, was watching Harrow. But there was nothing whatsoever of jealousy in her regard. Instead, he saw only love. Not the sort Harrow so obviously felt for the pianist, but another kind. As strong, yet utterly devoid of carnality.
Again, it struck Lucas what a strange relationship these three had. When Diana’s gaze shifted to him, it coincided with the music’s exhilarating peak, and he saw its passion reflected in her jewel-like eyes.
Directed at him.
Her sea-green irises had darkened to a shade resembling the ocean just after dawn, and her pupils were blown wide.
Suddenly Lucas knew the musician was no threat. Even if she desired the man now, she would no longer do so after tonight. He would make certain of it.
The music slowed and softened, and in the relative calm that ensued as it wound to a close, he realized his heart was pounding. Blood rushed throughout his body as a result, gathering in certain places. Never had he felt as aroused as he did in that moment.
Harrow broke the silence that had fallen. “Thank you, Monsieur Laurent, for gracing us with your talent.” His eyes glowed with praise and something more. The result was the other man’s deep flush of pleasure as he excused himself.
Turning, Harrow now addressed Lucas. “Before I bid you goodnight, allow me to again express my pleasure in our friendship. I wish you great joy tonight.” His glance flicked to Diana, and a soft smile curved his mouth. “Both of you.”
Lucas found his tongue suddenly thick and unwieldy, but he was saved from having to respond.
Diana held up a hand, halting the other man’s departure. “Before you leave, there is one small matter I would like to discuss with you present. Lord Blackthorn, are you familiar with the concept of a stop word?”
A frown furrowed his brow at the random-seeming question. “It seems intuitive,” he began lightly, but broke off on seeing an indulgent smile form on Harrow’s face.
“In terms of love play, I mean,” Diana clarified.
“I’ve heard of it in passing,” he answered carefully. “If indeed we are referring to the same thing.”
Harrow spoke now, his manner gentle yet firm. “It’s simply a word agreed upon by both participants that when spoken by either brings about an immediate halt to all activity.”
Lucas looked to Diana, noting that although her gaze was still heated, there was wariness in her eyes. “I assume you wish to establish such a word for tonight?”
“I do,” she husked. “And we must both vow to, without hesitation, honor that word’s intent should it be spoken.”
For some reason, rather than dampening his excitement, this idea sent a thrill through him, a pang of carnal hunger so sharp it was almost painful. “Very well. What word would you like?”
“I would prefer you choose the word.”
His excitement rose another increment. Did she think he’d be the one to use it? He decided to play along. “Eden.”
A slow smile curled the corners of her mouth. “Mm. The garden in which sin was born,” she said, proving she’d not missed the reference. “Eden it is. I vow to stop whatever I’m doing should you say this word.”
His vision seemed to narrow, until all he saw was her face. “As do I.”
Again, he heard Harrow’s voice, but it was as if he spoke from far away. “Then it is settled. Until morning, dear friends.”
By the time Lucas managed to tear his gaze away from her, his host was long gone.
Diana stepped close and held out her hand.
Taking her outstretched fingers, he let her lead him from the room. He barely felt his legs moving as he followed her out and up the staircase. His pulse thumped in his ears when they finally halted before a door at the hallway’s end. Within, he expected to see the pastel pinks of her suite. Instead, what lay beyond the door was a boudoir meant solely for passion. A large mirror reflected the bed in its entirety, ubiquitous candlelight left no shadows to hide their coming together, and a most interesting assortment of items had been laid out on the bedside table.
