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‘It’s a nice night and it’s not far.’
Lucy looked up at the sky. The lights of the city obliterated most of the stars. Unlike in Varno, at Stefano’s castle, where on that clear night on the ramparts she’d felt as if she could reach out and touch heaven. And then afterwards, in the turret with him, she had.
‘I’ll walk.’
She needed to work off the performance. The adrenaline of the concert still coursed through her blood, leaving her light-headed. Reckless. That wasn’t a safe way to be around Stefano.
‘Would you allow me to walk with you?’
Whilst she always felt safe in Paris, it still seemed like the sensible thing to do, and she needed to find out why he was here. Curiosity won. She hoped it didn’t kill this cat...
‘Sure. Why not?’ Lucy let out a slow breath and wrapped her arms around her waist.
Stefano stepped forward. Stopped. ‘Are you cold? Would you like my jacket?’
‘I’m...’
He reached for his button, undid it. Shrugged out of the fine black wool with its satin lapels. He approached her with some hesitation. She didn’t object. Partly because she was cold and had forgotten a wrap. But partly simply wanting him to be close, if only for a few moments.
He draped his jacket gently round her shoulders and the warmth of the fabric from the heat of his own body engulfed her. The scent of him was crisp as winter, dark as spice.
When he stepped away, his eyes glittered like black diamonds in the streetlights. ‘I know you don’t like to be cold.’
‘Thank you.’ The sting behind her eyelids hinted at threatening tears, but crying would get her nothing other than puffy eyes and a red nose. ‘Let’s go.’
She began to walk, thankful for the ballet flats she wore. He turned and caught up with her in a few easy strides.
‘You’re looking...well,’ he said.
A tiny spark of pleasure lit inside her, but she knew he was only being kind. She looked haggard. The dark rings under her eyes from sleepless nights were not so well hidden by make-up. In the nights since leaving Lasserno she’d done a great deal of thinking—about him, her life, her career... None of it had been easy.
‘As are you.’
There was more truth in her comment than in his, even though something about him appeared wild. His frame was leaner than it had been all those weeks before.
He made a noise like a snort. A scornful sound, as if he hated this stilted formality between them as much as she did.
The people of Paris bustled about them. The city of love was still alive at this time of night. It left a bitter tang in her mouth, a clench of pain deep inside her, that here she was with the man she’d fallen in love with and there was nothing here for her.
But it wasn’t all wasted.
She’d recognised a thing or two after she’d left the violin with Stefano. When she’d played in her orchestra on her return...played here tonight. It wasn’t the instrument that defined her. She was good at what she did on her own, no matter how much she missed playing the violin that had become like a part of her.
‘You’re back with your orchestra.’
Stefano didn’t ask it as a question, and a tiny thrill ran through her at his knowledge of what she’d been doing before she shut it down. Her return had been on the orchestra’s web page for anyone to see. Still, he’d checked...
‘I am.’
‘Did you have any trouble?’
‘I took back what was rightfully mine.’
She’d refused to accept the way she’d been treated. Made it clear the injury was no fault of her own and any rumours were just that. Without proof. She liked to think that in the end everyone had seen through the lies. What she hadn’t expected was the support from some of the other members of the orchestra who valued her leadership. Then there had been the letters from fans, wishing her well in her recovery, waiting impatiently for her return.
‘And how is it?’ he asked.
They’d almost reached her hotel. She would say goodnight to him and then they’d part. He was on his own journey, she was on hers, and they didn’t converge. All she had left was the empty space in her heart where he had been, which tonight she’d filled with music. She’d return to Salzburg and they’d both move on.
