by Cate Morgan
CHAPTER FOUR
Thunder and lightning receded into the distance, leaving behind a low, satisfied growl. Or perhaps it was Robert, kissing her with a strange mixture of wonder and uncertainty now that some invisible line on his part had been irrevocably crossed. He smelled of rain, and male warmth.
Tamsin, for her part, didn't quite know what to think. Between Charlie, her family, and the violin men had never been much of a priority. Relationships tended to be brief because she lacked the time and energy to tend them. Now, however--she was on her own, and while in Robert's proximity she had grown increasingly aware of his regard, making her skin too warm in his presence, her clothing too close and rough. She found she enjoyed the attention, even though she had no idea what to do with it, or about it.
Being kissed by Robert was something of a revelation. She felt as though she hardly knew him, yet, at the same time, also felt as though she knew everything she needed to know. Their music had danced together for hours on end, lingering with her long after they'd parted for the day. Thanks to him, the tension that kept her wary and coiled had loosened enough for her to have begun to find her own voice, to make her music her own. Now she felt as though everything inside her had burst into flames, changing everything.
He pulled away, keeping her face framed in his fine hands, forehead pressed against hers as the breath rattled in his throat. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I don’t know what happened. I certainly didn't mean to...this."
Tamsin smiled, her eyes closed as her head swam a little. Returning to planet Earth was a little disorienting. "I'm not complaining."
He chuckled, and kissed her again, gently.
"You should be working," she said, not sounding convinced.
"And you should be resting your hand." He drew her hand from where it lay against his shoulder and drew it between them so he could brush it with his lips. "How is it?"
"I'll survive."
He slid both arms around her and drew her against him, mouth now pressed against her forehead, where his had just rested. “I want you to play the duet with me at Vivienne’s event.”
She froze in his arms. Robert leaned back to look down at her, the dreamy expression on his face clearing. “What’s wrong?”
Tension tightened her chest once more. “Promise not to laugh?”
“Of course not.”
“I don’t really enjoy performing.” She fidgeted under his stare until he stopped her with a hand on the small of her back. “It’s all the staring,” she admitted. “All the expectation. My mother loved to perform, and it showed. But me…all I can feel is everyone waiting to see if I play anything like her and the inevitable disappointment when I don’t. Or waiting for me to make a mistake.”
“It’s not as though your mum didn’t make mistakes,” he pointed out.
“Logically, I know that. In private, she laughed herself silly over them. On stage, a flub became an inspired flourish instead. On stage, she was perfection. The Faerie Queen.”
Robert gazed out the window, thinking. “Come with me,” he said, drawing away to take her hand. “And bring your violin. I’ve got an idea.”
Several minutes later, Tamsin watched Robert switch off all the lights and shut the curtains in the conservatory, where they’d adjourned.
“I don’t understand how this is supposed to help,” she said.
"Trust me," he said, settling her in her customary chair nearest his piano. He looked her deep in the eyes. “Play—for me, and for yourself. Forget everything else. Forget everyone else. I’m the only one in this room.”
She smiled up at him. “Will you join me?”
“That’s the idea.” He kissed her forehead. “Now close your eyes.”
During their previous sessions, Tamsin used her violin to ease Robert’s creative process, but had never harmonized with him in a bout of off-the-cuff improvisation. Creating with a partner was rather like dancing in that respect—it required unhindered focus and absolute trust. Tamsin feared she wouldn’t be able to keep up with Robert’s lead.
He began slowly, with a simplified variation of his duet’s main theme. Tamsin sat ramrod straight with her eyes closed, violin poised beneath her chin. She let his music fill her ears, let it seep into her body until it, too, filled with harmonic vibration. He didn’t try to rush her into beginning; when he reached the end of the music he simply began again without interruption, as though he could continue doing so all day without a care in the world.
Tamsin leaned into the first note with a light and hesitant touch, but steady nonetheless. Others followed, aching with clarity as they sang from her strings, weaving intuitively around and through Robert’s melody. He increased the complexity of his playing by natural increments, so natural she almost didn’t register the changes. He baited her with each one, teased her into following. And she did, her breathing picking up, her heartbeat her internal metronome.
Robert began again and again, leading her like a master of the waltz leads an uncertain partner brimming with instinctive talent. He purposefully sought out that instinct, and Tamsin hurtled along with him, digging into her strings, heedless of the fresh pain blossoming in her left hand. He drove her harder with each play through, and before she knew it she was free, soaring, creating wholly new music. And with the music came emotion so raw she could hardly bear it. She’d feared its weight, feared it would add to her burden, but she’d been wrong. So, so wrong.
She skidded to a halt, her eyes flying open in wonder to find herself standing. Robert grinned at her, looking as breathless as she felt. “You outplayed me,” he said, voice soft.
“I’m sorry,” she said, blushing for the second time that day. “I just sort of…let go.”
He bolted to his feet in one of those sudden bursts of energy that always took her by surprise, pulling her into his arms. “Don’t ever apologize for doing what you were meant to do," he growled. “And don’t ever stifle your voice again.”
She melted into him almost involuntarily, as she had when he’d kissed her. “I take it you have your duet, then.”
“We do,” he corrected. “And you’re playing it with me at the event. No excuses.”
“If you’re sure…”
“I am.” The syllables clanged into place like iron, making it so. He leaned back to smile down at her. “Rest your hand for the next couple of days. I’m afraid we gave it rather a lot.”
Tamsin flexed her bruised fingers, wincing. “I hardly noticed.”
“You will.” He escorted her to the door. “I need to get this down before it leaves me. When do you go back to Director Samuels?”
“End of the week.”
“We’ll play as much as you can handle until then.” The lines of his face arrowed into a fierce expression. “If you lose your place, they’re a pack of idiots and tone deaf besides. But we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
She had been drowning, without realizing she had been without air too long. Now pins and needles raced through her, making her feel real again for the first time “We will?”
“Believe it, Faerie Princess.” He kissed goodbye, to seal the deal. “Now rest. We need you at the top of your game.”
Tamsin grinned. For once, she had a game to be on top of.
Robert sat back with weary sigh, massaging his tired hands as he lifted them from the keys.
There. It was finished.
Not only was it finished, but it was his best work to date, thanks to Tamsin. A bright, shining star whose potential had stunned him.
Despite his exhaustion, he poured himself a stiff brandy and lowered the lights before retiring to his favorite leather recliner with his laptop and a pair of headphones. He settled back and placed the headphones over his ears before hitting the “play” button on the music files Tamsin had provided from her brother.
There was no doubt about it—young Charlie Hayes possessed an astonishing talent for composition and arrangement. He was bold, but precise, with clear influences in classical as
well as rock and roll and even folk. He played freely in his work, mischievously—like Puck with a Mohawk and tattoos.
His phone rang, interrupting a particularly promising Rachmaninov-like riff. “Vivien.”
“You were going to call me, Robert.” Tap, tap, tap went the silver pencil in the background.
“I apologize, I was…distracted.” A smile cracked across his face as he mentally replayed capturing his elusive Faerie Princess in his arms for the first time, and the music they had created.
Vivien gave a genteel sniff. “Dare I ask if you’ve decided on a cause for our charity event?”
“As a matter of fact, I have.”
“Oh?” Her tone did an about-face.
“There’s a young musician whose music I’d like to feature. He has Muscular Dystrophy.”
“And you’d like to raise money. Excellent, Robert.” He could hear her scribbling now. “When would you like to begin auditions?”
“Immediately. I’m picking pieces now. And I’m sure the composer would like some input. I want to set up a webcam so he can participate as much as possible.”
“All very doable, I’m sure. I’ll get Julien on the technological aspects.” She paused in her voracious note taking. “I must say, I’m very pleased. Who’s the musician?”
“Charles Hayes.”
“Charles…” She set down her pencil with a thud. He hoped she hadn’t dented it. It would be difficult to replace. “Related to your violinist, I take it.”
“Her brother. Come, Viv. We’re speaking of the Faerie Queen’s son, here.” He let this fact sink in. “I finished the duet.”
“You have? When?”
“Tonight. Just a little while ago.”
“No wonder you were too distracted to call. Can I ask how it is? Or is it too early to tell?”
“It’s the best I’ve ever done. And Tamsin's agreed to play it with me.” He took a deep breath.
“I see.” She paused again, clearly searching for words. “Robert, shouldn’t we wait until we determine if she’s staying in the program? She may not even be in town for the event.”
“She’ll be there.”
“You can’t be certain of that.”
“I can.” Robert’s patience strung tight as trembling piano wire. “I know, because I have every intention of making sure she has reason to stay.”
Tamsin walked onstage a few minutes shy of her appointment, clutching her violin and bow in one hand. She stopped dead when she got a load of her audience. “Director Samuels?”
He looked up from his table with a smile, adjusting his glasses. “I believe you’re familiar with our board members.”
Tamsin scanned the line of interested parties, zeroing in on the pert little moue sported Vivien Hammond. Tamsin nodded politely. “Ladies. Gentlemen.”
“Whenever you’re ready, Miss Hayes,” Vivien prompted.
“Thank you.”
Tamsin took a seat on the lone metal chair, chill beneath her skirt and stocking-clad legs. The chair wobbled, making her nervous stomach jump when she thought it might pitch her to one side. She forced herself to breathe, and took her time positioning herself and her instrument, to the point where she heard Vivien give an impatient little sigh. Tamsin peeked at her, catching her twiddling the silver gleam of her pencil between elegant fingertips. Then she closed her eyes, until she could hear the music and nothing else.
She remembered what Robert told her. “Relax. Ignore them all. If you can’t play for me, play for yourself. It's all that matters in the end."
She took deep breaths until her hands relented in their trembling. Finally, she raised her bow.
Amazing. She could feel Charlie egging her on, goading her to succeed. She could hear Robert at his piano, using music to shield and bolster her. It was all simply there before her, without her having to think about it.
More than once, she left the music to release an inspired flurry of improvisation she never would have believed herself capable mere days ago. She made the music dance to her will. Her normally precise posture swayed as though in thrall, nearly leaving her seat entirely in her elation. Before them all, she celebrated her freedom.
She tapered off to a breathless halt, spine bent with her instrument, eyes drifting open. Her heart pounded, blood buzzing in her veins in something like shock.
“That was…interesting.”
Tamsin straightened, reality crashing in on her.
Vivien tapped her pencil as she continued. “I’m not convinced this is the appropriate time for risks, Miss Hayes.”
“All due respect Ms. Hammond,” Direct Samuels disagreed, “evidence of improvement was the object of the exercise.” He beamed up at her. “Most impressive, Miss Hayes. Your technique is, as always, superb. But your expression…well, I must say you’ve come leaps and bounds in a very short period of time. Well done.”
Tamsin nearly flew to her feet in relief, just managing to reign herself in from an uncharacteristic burst of excitement. “Thank you, Director.”
“That arrangement isn’t what you’ve been rehearsing with the symphony,” Vivien observed.
“It’s my brother’s,” she admitted. “I hope it’s all right. Risky, I know, but—
“And bold,” Samuels agreed. “Though, perhaps, not palatable to some tastes. But, as I said, this was the point of the exercise. Expression is risk, as much as raw emotion honed by skill and technique. You have always had the craft—now you are growing comfortable with the art.”
“Just so,” Vivien interjected. “You are dismissed while we confer, Miss Hayes.”
Tamsin swallowed, but made her bow. Despite Vivien’s patronage to the point of lending her a cottage on her property, she now seemed to have changed her mind. In fact, she appeared to be actively trying to boot Tamsin from the program.
It could only have to do with Robert, though she didn’t see why, or how.
Tamsin retreated backstage, where she finally allowed herself to sag in a boneless release of tension.
Whatever happened, she’d done the best she could.
Whatever happened, she would still have Robert.
Robert found himself unable to settle down to any one task, even his music. He tried to play the duet, but before long found his attention and his fingers wandering into unstructured notes and chords with results that were both random and unfocused. He hated random and unfocused. It meant his mind was not where it should be, where it needed to be. His eye kept wandering to the clock on the fireplace mantel, counting the minutes, and then the moments, has his adrenaline picked up speed.
He stood with an internal curse, unfolding his long limbs in one smooth movement, and wandered to the window for at least the dozenth time. Tamsin had her assessment today. Tension and worry coiled in him, in his gut. He knew that with her brother’s bold arrangement and the performance he’d helped her polish she had every chance of passing. But as every day they’d worked together came and went, the constant possibility of Tamsin having to leave had teased the back of his mind. If he were honest with himself, he knew it was this growing anxiety that had driven him to kiss her, to cross what he’d been convinced was an irrevocable line.
He didn’t want her to go home. He wanted her to stay. So he’d done everything possible to ensure she did, for both their sakes.
If he were being equally honest, he was concerned about Vivien. Tamsin had been her greatest hope for a proper pairing for the Lady, a truly exceptional instrument that required a truly exceptional musician. Robert believed Tamsin was that musician, but it wasn’t his instrument to loan, nor his reputation to uphold. And the success of her prodigies defined her own.
Vivien was a generous woman when it suited her, but she was also unforgiving when disappointed. She chose her discoveries carefully, and she rewarded loyalty with favoritism, defiance with stricter control. But Tamsin, Robert knew, had more than enough to be getting on with that was out of her control. She would be forced to draw a
line in the sand sooner or later, no matter what it meant for her future, because her brother would always come first.
He didn’t just want Tamsin to stay—he needed her to. To be without her now, just when he’d found her, when she’d changed him, did not bear thinking about. It made his chest tight, his heart physically hurt.
Once again, he found himself at the window, curtain pulled aside. She should be home soon, and he wondered if he would know the answer as soon as he saw her, if he would be able to guess. The anticipation was pulling him apart with exquisite agony. He took another agitated turn of the room as the minutes ticked by, tried once more to sit at his piano. Cool air poured through the open door to ruffle the pages of music on its stand, teased the fire in the grate.
He sensed her the moment she arrived. He stood so quickly he nearly barked his knees on the piano, struggled to slide between instrument and the bench without getting his feet tangled. He was not usually so clumsy, but he’d worked himself up into such a state of anxiety he hardly knew what to do.
Tamsin removed her hat in the doorway, began pulling open the buttons on her coat. Her hands trembled, ever so slightly, as she hung her garments, and he knew she had no words, whatever the outcome had been. Would she be able to face him? Or was it simply too much for her?
Robert paused in the center of the room, watching. Waiting. Not daring to hope.
She turned, raised her face to him. Her lovely, blushing ivory face with those beautiful eyes.
Her smile told him everything he needed to know.
