After a few minutes, she attacked the music—and
“attack” was surely the best word. It began with a
magnificent explosion of sound that caused every
stone in the old church to vibrate in harmony. She had
always loved the organ and frequently played at services in the parish church in Wiltshire. It was im
mensely satisfying to let her performing instincts loose on a work of such incredible power. After the splendid
climax of Mr. Bach’s masterpiece, she moved into an
equally dramatic rendition of Handel’s “Messiah,”
and ended her concert with “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God.” She was in a mood for the Church Militant, and
the energy of the music left her in a state of exhilara
tion.
Leaving the loft to join Richard, she stopped
halfway down the stairwell in shock. An audience had
collected in front of her, and they looked as if they
would have applauded if they were not in a church.
The elderly vicar was nearest, with a distinguished-
looking older woman at his side.
Several women
dressed as servants were in the back of the church,
plus half a dozen people who might have been
passersby drawn in by the music. She was blushing
and considering the options for flight when the vicar
stepped up to her and said, “Thank you, child. I am
not sure whether that was man talking to God, or God
talking to man, but it was a blessing to hear. I hope you
will come and play here often.”
She murmured a few words of thanks, nodded at
her audience, and took Richard’s arm with relief as he
came forward. “Do you wish to escape?” he asked understandingly.
“Please!” She didn’t fully relax until they were a
quarter-mile from the church. “I’m sorry to be so idio
tish,” she said with an apologetic shrug as they walked
toward Wildehaven. “I hate being the center of atten
tion, especially so unexpectedly.”
Richard chuckled at her expression. “You don’t find
it gratifying to be regarded with awe?”
“No, I really don’t,” she said slowly. “If I have any
special musical gifts—”
“Which you do, to a remarkable degree.”
Ignoring his interruption, she continued, “Any spe
cial gift I have is something I was born with. I no more
deserve credit for that than I do for having blue eyes. It
makes me uncomfortable to be regarded as superior
for what is an accident of nature.”
He reached out to guide her around a branch that
she nearly walked into as she expounded. “All the tal
ent in the world would be meaningless if you hadn’t
worked hard. How many thousands of hours have
you spent studying, practicing, and composing?”
“But that was not work,” she protested. “I enjoy it.”
“In other words,” he said with a twinkle, “we de
serve esteem only when we have suffered?”
“It does sound a bit silly when you say it like that.”
She laughed. “But I do feel the honor belongs to a
higher being than I. Do you understand what I am try
ing to say? I have never tried to put this into words; I just know that I dislike being singled out.”
He nodded. “I think I understand. And I also think you are a remarkably unegotistical young woman,
Caroline Hanscombe.”
“Now, don’t be too impressed with that!” she said.
“It is something else I was born with.”
Absorbed in their conversation, neither had noticed how the sky was darkening. Now a thunderclap broke
almost directly over their heads, accompanied by a
torrent of drenching rain. Richard took a quick glance
around, then said, “There’s a gamekeeper’s hut just
over there. We can take shelter until this is over.” Tak
ing her hand, he led her down an embankment to the
left.
Laughing and trying to brush wet hair from her eyes
with her free hand, Caroline paid little attention to her
footing. When she tripped on an exposed root, she lost
her balance and stumbled out of control down the
bank. Richard turned quickly and scooped her out of
the air before she could fall, catching her against his
chest to steady them both.
Still laughing, she looked up into the face inches above hers. Suddenly breathless, she locked her gaze
into his searching hazel eyes.
Moving with slow tenderness so she could retreat if she wished
he bent and claimed
her lips with the thoroughness of a man who had too long suppressed his desires.
Her only experience of kisses had been Jason’s chaste salute on their engagement and the clumsy ex
periment of a neighbor boy when they were both thir
teen. This was totally, unequivocally different.
She
gave a small gasp of pleasure, instinctively opening her mouth beneath his and pressing the whole length
of her body against him. She could feel the pounding
of his heart against her breast, and the contrast be
tween his burning warmth and the chill of her satu
rated muslin dress was unforgettably erotic.
She slid her arms behind him, reveling in the feel of
his broad shoulders, the hard muscles rippling as he
enfolded her more tightly. One of his hands was doing
indescribably wonderful things along her spine while
the other cradled her head. Leaving her lips, his mouth
moved across her cheek with leisurely skill, kissing
away the raindrops.
She exhaled sharply in delight
when he reached her ear and delicately ran his tongue
along the edge. Brought back to reality by the small
sound, he loosened his hold, stepping back while
keeping her within the circle of his arms.
“Please, don’t stop,” she entreated. Her senses were
completely focused on this moment, the fury of the
rain echoing the rising passions of her own body. The
physical intensity was completely new to her, and it
possessed her as utterly as the blazing needs of her
music would sometimes possess her mind. Her iden
tity as Caroline, her engagement and family obliga
tions, were not so much forgotten as meaningless. The
two of them seemed alone in the world, as primal as
Adam and Eve.
“If I don’t stop now,” he said with a shaky laugh, “I
don’t think I will be able to. Then we will both be in
the suds. If we don’t drown first. Come along, lady
mine.”
He inclined his head and touched her lips in a kiss
as full of promise as the previous ones had been full of
passion. Pulling off his jacket, he held it above their
heads as he quickly guided them the last fifty yards to
the hut. The unlocked door opened to a room simply
furnished with a wooden table and bench, plus a stor
age cabinet and a small fireplace. The rain battered the
thin roof and coursed down the one dim window.
Steering her to the bench, he draped his coat around her, then scooped her onto his lap. His encircling arms
protected her from the damp chill and created the
greatest sense of warmth and security she had ever
known. She laid her head on his shoulder, as mind
lessly happy as a kitten cuddled against its dam.
Silence and harmony reigned until Richard tenderly
brushed the wet curls from her face and said, “We
must talk, Caro. The rain won’t last too long, and there
is much to be said.”
She gave a purring sound and burrowed closer to
his chest, reluctant to face the problems that lay just
outside the shelter of his arms. He traced the line of
her jaw with his forefinger and said softly, “Each man
carries an image of his perfect love in his heart. When I
first saw you, I knew you were my own impossible
dream come true. I have loved you from that moment.
“At least,” he said with an involuntary chuckle, “I
fell in love with you as soon as I determined that you
weren’t an angel.”
She straightened up in surprise. “You thought I was
an angel?”
He smiled reminiscently. “It seemed possible. You
were the most beautiful creature I had ever seen, golden-haired, surrounded by a halo of light, and
playing a harp. Much too lovely and ethereal for the
mundane world.”
Stroking her cheek, he continued, “And unless I
have totally misunderstood the sonata you wrote for
me, you love me, too.”
She looked at him shyly, her blue eyes meeting his hazel ones without flinching. “I do. It was impossible
for me to say it aloud, so I spoke my heart in the way I know best. I
...
I love you more than any of my words
can say.”
He pulled her to him for another kiss that disrupted
rational conversation for some minutes. It ended when
he lifted her again and deposited her on the bench a
foot away from him,, saying, “We will never get anywhere at this rate! I asked you out today primarily be
cause it seemed bad manners to propose to you under
your fiancé’s roof.”
She looked up at him, the happiness seeping from
her face as the impossible situation returned to her. He
touched her lips with a gentle finger and said, “The
only solution for us is that you break your engagement
to Lord Radford. I watched you from the beginning,
and I saw no sign that you loved him. If anything, you
seemed wary. Has he been unkind to you?”
“Oh, no! No!” she said quickly. “It is true that I was
frightened of him at first, but that was my own foolish
ness. He has never been anything but generous and
honorable. But... but...” She stopped, unable to con
tinue, her eyes drowning pools of anguish.
“What is wrong?” he asked quietly.
“I
can’t
break my engagement. I must marry him!”
Richard’s face was very still. “Why?”
“It
...
it is the money,” she stammered.
“It is true that I haven’t the fortune Lord Radford
does, but I promise I can keep you in comfort. I think I
will be acquiring a small estate on the south coast. It would be the quiet life of a country squire, but there
should be money for an occasional trip to London and perhaps the Continent to see what other musicians are
doing.”
Her gaze held his as she said quietly, “I could ask no
happier life than what you would offer me. But it is
not only my desires that count. My father is
...
in
great financial difficulty. Lord Radford made a settle
ment that takes care of his problems and ensures the
future of my younger brothers and sisters. And ... my
father would have forbidden my sister Gina’s mar
riage to the man she loves if I didn’t accept Lord Rad
ford’s offer.”
He reached over and squeezed her hand sympathetically. “My poor little love! I suspect your own needs
have always given way to others. Is Lord Radford in
love with you?”
A furrow appeared between her brows as she
frowned slightly. “I don’t know. I suppose he must be,
for there would be no other reason for him to have offered. But I do not understand him at all. I have never
felt love from him.”
Richard was silent. He had known of rich men who
were collectors, acquiring rare and precious objects for
the simple joy of possession. Such a man might easily
want Caroline, for her delicate beauty and talent. It
could be considered a kind of love, but not one to
warm the heart or soul. He had seen Caroline blossom
ing in these last weeks. If Radford were the sort to consider his wife a bloodless treasure, she would dwindle
to a pale and unhappy shadow.
“Do you want me to speak to him?”
She considered, then shook her head slowly. “It is
very tempting, but... it is too soon, I
...
I need time. My spirit is at war. I want to be with you more than
I’ve ever wanted anything, but there are so many oth
ers involved. How can I turn my back on them? And I
gave my promise to Jason as well.”
He made no attempt to touch her. “It is your honor,
and you must decide. But when you are weighing
everyone’s welfare, pray do not forget mine.”
She gave him a forlorn look. “And if I decide I must
go through with the marriage?”
The hazel eyes were steady. “I will leave here. I
could not bear to see you belonging to another man.”
Her heart felt as if it were being torn into bleeding
shreds. She stood abruptly. “It is time to go. Will you be coming to the ball on Friday?”
He stood also, looking down at her gravely. “Yes. I will be here until you accept me or send me away.”