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“You’re writing your own music?” Astrid gasped in surprise. “Why didn’t anyone tell me, Papa?”
“If I knew, I must simply have forgotten, dearest,” he replied.
Darcy thought it was more likely that Astrid had been one to forget, and she left the girl’s bedside to take a seat closer to the piano. She’d seen a housekeeper near the door as they’d entered, and a petite blonde in a nurse’s pale peach smock and matching pants now approached Astrid’s bed. She checked her IV, and then, with a nod to her father, left the room. Lyman Vaughn remained at the foot of his daughter’s bed, his hands tightly clasped on the metal frame.
They’d seen onl
y two men, Antoine and his heavily muscled companion. If Vaughn had no other bodyguards about, then Darcy thought she and Griffin should be able to get away without encountering much in the way of resistance. If her way, they’d split as soon as he’d played his final note, even if they had to steal the limousine to make their getaway.
“I’ll play all evening if you like,” Griffin promised, “but let’s begin with the piece Darcy mentioned. Listen closely, because I’ll ask your opinion afterward.”
“I’m sure it will be marvelous,” Astrid replied, clearly adoring him.
“That is my hope,” Griffin assured her. He walked to the piano, pulled out the bench and sat. He played several scales, and then paused. “You had the piano tuned for me?”
“Of course,” Vaughn stated. “If it isn’t tuned to perfection, I’ll send for the technician immediately.”
“No, it’s fine for the most part, but the bass needs a bit of work. I have a tuning hammer with me. Would you mind if I used it?”
“No, not at all,” Vaughn exclaimed. “Do whatever you must to be satisfied with the sound. Your things have already been taken up to your rooms.”
“It won’t take me long,” Griffin replied. “Darcy, come with me so you’ll know where everything is.”
The housekeeper came forward to show them the way. She was a tall, slender woman with close-clipped gray hair. Her black dress was as severely tailored as a military uniform, and her black oxfords made an audible thump as she climbed the carpeted stairs. She did not once smile, nor make any welcoming gestures. Darcy kept still until they’d been shown to adjoining rooms in the east wing. In San Francisco, Griffin had had to explain the use of the tuning hammer, which was actually a small wrench, to security, so she’d known he’d packed it. She was just amazed that he wanted to tune the blasted piano when she was so desperate to leave.
As soon as the solemn housekeeper excused herself, Griffin crossed his room and opened the doors overlooking the garden at the rear. “It’s a lovely night. Come on outside with me,” he called as he stepped out on the balcony.
When Darcy followed, he pulled her into a fierce embrace and whispered in her ear, “I’m sorry everything’s gone wrong. The whole house is probably bugged, so be very careful what you say even when we’re alone. I’ll get us out of here as quickly as I possibly can.”
Darcy reached up on her tiptoes to kiss him, but his response was no more than a quick peck. Disappointed, she stepped away and followed him back into the room.
Griffin unzipped his garment bag. “As long as I’m up here, I might as well change into my tux.” He tossed her his shirt and a box containing diamond studs. “Put those in, will you please?”
He stepped into the bathroom to changes his trousers and shoes, but she was shaking so hard she still had one stud left to place when he returned. “These are beautiful. Did they come from an adoring fan?”
“Yes, but he wasn’t my type.” Griffin quickly pulled on the shirt and fastened the pleated front and cuffs with the sparkling studs. “What? Do you think I should have returned them?”
“Well, I suppose that all depends on what this generous fan expected in return.” Darcy almost hoped someone was listening in to this exchange.
“He claimed his intention was to reward my genius, which made it difficult to object.” He stepped back into the bathroom to use the mirror to tie his bowtie.
When he was ready, Darcy held his jacket. Once he’d slipped it on, he grabbed the tuning hammer, and they hurried back down the stairs.
Astrid’s eyes lit up when she saw him. “You look almost too handsome,” she complimented.
“Thank you, but I believe I play better when I’m properly dressed.”
Darcy had thought his music spectacular when he’d been dressed in no more than a towel. She kept that delicious memory to herself and paced in front of the fireplace while Griffin made what to her untrained ear were nearly imperceptible adjustments in the pitch of the bass keys. Then when he sat and repeated the scales, she was amazed the piano actually had a richer tone.
“Even I can tell that’s better,” she exclaimed without thinking.
“You’re not a music lover, Miss MacLeod?”
Lyman Vaughn had come up behind her so silently she hadn’t noted his approach over the thick oriental carpet, and a horribly uncomfortable sensation crept up the back of her neck. It was all she could do to stifle an obvious shudder.
“I do love music,” she assured him, “and most especially Griffin’s, but no one would describe me as an expert.”
“Then you should concentrate on simply planting beautiful gardens,” Vaughn remarked casually, and he moved away to place a silver-tinted side chair with a blue-and-silver striped seat closer to his daughter’s bedside.
