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“Always,” she said, her feet guiding her farther into the room before her brain could counter. What harm was there in staying to listen? A few moments only and then she’d leave.

He began playing again. The music rippled and curled over her like water. Filled her ears. Sank into her blood. Made her heart race. She closed her eyes. Let this once-favorite composition sweep her back to a time when she’d been young and giddy and naive. Full of anticipation for a life with Brendan.

She’d understood it was a marriage of convenience, but in her fantasies she gained his undying devotion, their marriage rivaling the great love stories of history. Mark Antony and Cleopatra. Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitaine. Elisabeth Fitzgerald and Brendan Douglas.

What romantical claptrap.

The piece died on a sour note, bringing her back to earth with a thud. That was Brendan all over. Always the dream of him carried her along until the reality of him smacked her over the head. She opened her eyes to catch him watching her, a wry twist to his mouth.

He kneaded his left hand as if it pained him. “What’s it like wearing a king’s ransom in jewels?”

“Uncomfortable,” she said, fingering her gaudy sapphire choker.

“Love often is.” He chuckled. “I haven’t told you yet, but you look stunning this evening.”

His gaze scoured her, the candlelight making wicked flames of his eyes. She felt suddenly self-conscious. The way her gown clung to every curve. The tightness of her stays. The plunge of her neckline. “I look passable, which isn’t the same thing at all.”

“Now you’re fishing for compliments. You know full well how beautiful you look. Always have. You used to spend hours primping in front of your mirror. I never knew a girl more taken with fribbles and furbelows than you.”

“And yet, I could still outride you over any distance or ground.”

His smile widened, losing the cynical edge. “I was being gallant.”

She sniffed. “You’ve never had a gallant bone in your body. You hated when I won. Sulked for days and wouldn’t speak with me. Said it wasn’t seemly for a mere chit of a girl to beat you.”

“Gods, did I say that? To your face? I really was a pretentious son of a bitch. How did you put up with me?”

“I could ask you the same. I was an awful tagalong. You couldn’t turn around without stumbling over me.”

He ran a hand through his hair. Thick and dark and overlong, though now it fit his rugged features. If he’d been porcelain pretty in his youth, age had hardened that delicacy to a knife-edge elegance. Dangerous in its perfection.

Nerves fluttered her stomach. If she weren’t diligent, she’d be right back to head-over-heels infatuated.

He moved to make room for her on the bench. She hesitated before chiding herself for a silly gudgeon. This was Brendan. She certainly didn’t have to worry about any predatory motives on his part. Not like most of the men she met, who were always trying to maneuver her into secluded corners or onto quiet balconies. Well, everyone but Gordon, who’d remained a proper gentleman throughout their courtship. Perhaps that’s what drew her to him—a change from the usual. Certainly, Brendan had never shown that kind of admiring interest in her. Not even when they were engaged—much to her chagrin.

She slid in beside him, annoyed all over again. What was so wrong with her that he’d rather be assumed dead than marry her?

“You still play magnificently,” she said, trying to fill the awkward silence.

“I’ve not had much practice lately. Nor have I been in much of a playing mo

od.” He pulled free his watch to check the time.

Her eyes lit on the intricate scrollwork of the gold case, the enamel inside face painted with the Douglas spread-winged eagle bearing a crooked sword, and the complicated gadgetry of hands and dials. “You still have it.”

He snapped the watch shut with a decided click, his lips thinning in agitation.

“Your father’s watch. I’d forgotten all about it.” A gift for his sixteenth birthday, Brendan had guarded it with his life. His most cherished possession. “Do you remember when I borrowed it?”

“Let’s call it what it was.” He chuckled. “You pilfered it.”

“Your brother dared me.”

“My brother was a nuisance and a bully.”

“Only because you fought back. If you’d ignored him—”

“He’d have thrashed me twice as often and with double the ferocity. Thank heavens I could run faster than him.” He grew solemn. “A lucky skill as it turned out.”

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