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Chapter 5
Music flowed around Annalise, surrounding her with beauty, peace, and love. She’d always felt peaceful when she played. This new melody struck a special chord in her heart, however. It reminded her of Blake.
The tragedy, her sorrow, and everything else they went through seeped out of her fingers and onto the keys of the pianoforte. The precious moments between her and Blake passed before her eyes. Their first meeting, the courting, the betrothal ball. The happiness that had been too fleeting. And then came the cold season of winter. The stormy nights spent alone in bed, worrying about him and worrying even more if he’d been spending those nights with another. The way he’d changed right after marriage had cracked her fragile heart, but what had happened later had broken it to pieces.
So immersed was she in the hauntingly beautiful melody and in the sorrows of her own thoughts that she hadn’t noticed anyone enter the room. It was only after she tapped the last key on the pianoforte and the echo of the note stopped reverberating through the room that she felt a presence behind her.
Annalise stiffened and turned slowly. A tear streaked down her cheek, and she wiped it away discreetly before raising her head.
Blake stood in the doorway, one shoulder propped against the doorframe, his arms folded on his chest. He was in his shirtsleeves, no coat, waistcoat, or cravat, sleeves rolled up on his forearms, displaying his arm muscles and his bulging chest and shoulders.
Blake had always been a large man, but he had never been muscular, not in the way he was now. His forearms were dark and tanned, and a couple of veins popped under his skin. Annalise forced her eyes to meet his gaze. His face was thoughtful, almost tragically so. His wide lips puffed out—as they always did when he was lost deep in thought—his eyes narrowed. What could he be thinking about? As the silence stretched between them, Annalise started to feel uneasy.
“Is there something you wanted?” she asked, just to dispel the tension between them. It hadn’t quite worked, because his gaze intensified on her.
“Is that original?” He tipped his head toward the pianoforte.
Annalise turned back at the instrument before returning her gaze to his. “No. It’s Antonio Vivaldi.”
“Let me guess. Italian,” he said with a grin.
“Yes. It’s one of his latest and less popular works. At least on this side of the English Channel, I don’t know if it’s well-received in Italy.” She paused. “I personally think it’s hauntingly beautiful.”
“Very,” Blake said without taking his eyes off her.
Annalise cleared her throat, uncomfortable under his intense perusal. “I heard it once and couldn’t get it out of my head. But I couldn’t find the sheet music for it anywhere.” She clamped her lips shut, wishing she hadn’t said anything at all.
“How did you find it?” he asked and stepped inside the room. He walked slowly toward Annalise, looking around.
Annalise licked her lips. “Kensington brought it to me as a betrothal present.”
Blake halted in his tracks. His head snapped back to look at her. Annalise sat still, waiting for his jealous diatribe, but there was just silence.
“It’s called ‘L’inverno,’” she whispered. “Winter.”
Blake unclenched his jaw with an effort and resumed looking about the room as if seeing it for the first time. “You’ve redecorated here,” he said, circling the room with his gaze.
“Yes,” Annalise said tightly. “A month after we married.”
“A month—” His gaze returned to hers, puzzled at first, then she saw as the realization dawned on him.
She’d decorated this room while he was still in London. While they were still, technically, honeymooning. Or at least they should have been.
He came closer and then swung his leg around the bench and sat astride, facing her. He was sitting so close that his inner thigh brushed against her knee, and his breath stirred the wisps of hair at her temples. His closeness, after such a long time spent in loneliness, sent pleasurable shivers down her spine. But with pleasure came the sense of uneasiness, discomfort. What did he want from her?
“I love to listen to you play,” he said and brushed a tendril of hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear. Annalise felt another shiver pass through her, just as she felt a tingle low in her belly. “Did I ever tell you that?” Blake’s voice turned low and gravelly.
She knew he’d done it on purpose. But why? Was he trying to seduce her?
“No,” she answered before swallowing hard.
His eyes followed the ripple in her throat, then ventured lower, and Annalise felt her pulse quicken.
“I was an idiot,” he said, still staring at her bosom.
She was wearing a regular day gown, but it had a low-cut neckline, and she felt naked under his intense perusal. Perhaps, she should only wear gowns with high necklines from now on. At least until she got used to Blake’s presence in the house. The way he looked at her was as if he wanted to devour her.
It was a pleasurable feeling, to be wanted again, to be admired. She had wished for that every day after their wedding night. She wasn’t ready for that now, though.
