Catherine Spencer - In The Count's Bed - The Count's Blackmail Bargain / The French Count's Pregnant Bride / The Italian Count's Baby

‘Oh, no.’ Laura glanced up in dismay. ‘Lord, I’m so sorry.’

‘No need,’ he said. ‘They were happy tears. She loved my mother very much.’ He rose. ‘So, Laura mia , you will indulge me?’

Reluctantly, she followed him to the salotto , waiting while he carefully positioned more candelabra on top of the piano.

‘There,’ he said at last. ‘Will that do?’

‘Well, yes, I suppose…’ She sat down at the keyboard, giving him a questioning look. ‘What do you want me to play?’

‘Something calming, I think.’ Alessio sent a wry glance upwards as thunder rumbled ominously once more. ‘That piece you have been practising, perhaps.’

‘”Clair de Lune’’?’ She bit her lip. ‘I’d almost forgotten it, and it’s still not really up to performance standard.’

‘But very beautiful,’ he returned. He sat down in the corner of a sofa, stretching long legs in front of him. ‘So—if you please?’

Swallowing nervously, she let her fingers touch the keys, searching out the first dreamy chords, only too conscious of the silent man, listening, and watching.

But, somehow, as she played her confidence grew with her concentration, and she found herself moving through the passionate middle section with barely a falter into the gentle, almost yearning clarity of the final passage. And silence.

Alessio rose and walked across to the piano, joining her on the long padded stool. He said softly, ‘Grazie,’ and took her hand, raising it to his lips. He turned it gently, pressing his mouth to the leaping pulse in her wrist, then kissed the palm of her hand slowly and sensuously.

Her voice was suddenly a thread. ‘Please—don’t do that?’

He raised his head, the dark eyes smiling into hers. He said, ‘I am not allowed to pay homage to your artistry—even when it has conquered the storm?’

The lightning was barely visible now, she realised, and the thunder only a distant growl.

‘It—it does seem to have moved away.’ She tried to retrieve her hand, and failed. ‘Perhaps the electricity will come on again soon.’

‘You don’t like the candlelight?’

Laura hesitated. ‘Oh, yes, but I wouldn’t want to read by it, and I was really hoping to finish my book before tomorrow,’ she added over-brightly, aware that his fingers were caressing hers, sending little tremors shivering down her spine. It seemed as if she could feel every thread in her dress touching her bare skin.

‘Then we will have to think of some other form of entertainment that may be easier on the eyes.’ Alessio paused. ‘Do you play cards?’

She shrugged. ‘The usual family games.’

‘And poker?’

‘I know the value of the various hands,’ she said. ‘But that’s about all.’

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