by Darci Balogh
"They're really beautiful," she said, admiring the graceful lines of each guitar.
"Do you play?"
"Oh, no," she scoffed at the idea. "I never had time for music lessons." The comment came out more wistfully than she had meant it to. She glanced at Ian who was watching her evenly.
"Lessons..." he lifted a white electric guitar with a dark red stripe through the middle of it off of its stand. "Who's had lessons?" She giggled. "I'll show you," he offered. He placed his beer on the floor next to the wall and did the same with hers. "Are you right handed?" he asked. She nodded and he flipped the guitar around so she could take hold of it.
"Oh," she said as she took it. "It's heavy."
"A bit," Ian agreed as he lifted the strap over her head and around her shoulders. She adjusted the guitar in her arms until it was comfortable. "Good?" he asked.
"Yes, I guess," she said. "Is it going to be loud?"
Ian squatted down and fiddled with the plugs in a strip on the floor. "Oh, yes," he said. "Absolutely."
She wrapped her hand around the neck of the guitar and ran a pale pink fingernail down one of the strings, which was made of steel. News to her. She'd never even taken a close look at an electric guitar.
"Here we are," Ian stood up, digging a guitar pick out of his jeans pocket and handing it to her. He positioned himself behind her and to the right. "Now, how about a power chord?"
Sofia laughed, "Sure."
Ian took hold of her index finger and gently showed her how to press down on all but the top string. He hovered over her shoulder and gave her instructions, the sound of his voice and his breath on her neck giving her goose bumps.
"Now, give the top string a pluck with your pick," he told her.
She did. A low tone reverberated out of the amplifiers and she felt a faint buzz in her fingers and hands.
"Oh!" Sofia said in surprise. Turning her face toward Ian standing behind her, she laughed. "That sounds pretty good!"
"Doesn't it?" Ian leaned in closer and looked over the neck of the guitar, placing his hand over hers and rearranging her fingers for another chord. "Now do it again," he instructed.
She did. Another note reverberated through the room. Sofia giggled. Giddiness came over her and try as she might she could not keep it under control. The feel of the guitar in her hands, the notes that actually sounded good humming through the room, and Ian standing a hair's breath away from her, his deep, smooth voice speaking right into her ear, was affecting her mood. She was having a hard time remembering that she only wanted to be friends.
As the night wore on Sofia tried to maintain as platonic a connection to Ian as possible. And failed miserably.
Chapter Thirteen
Bea had really outdone herself. Seafood risotto, cold broccoli salad, fresh Italian bread, white wine, and chocolate clementine torte for dessert. Delicious food, a beautiful table set with fresh flowers and candles, funky jazz playing softly in the background, everything was over the top well done.
"Fantastic," Michael declared after savoring his first bite of the torte and grunting with pleasure.
Bea blushed furiously then giggled into her napkin. They had all complimented her for the meal throughout dinner, but she seemed to find Michael's praise especially flustering.
"It's Jamie's...Jamie Oliver's," she explained. "I wanted to make something really special for tonight, you see. So I pulled out my handy copy of Jamie Cooks Italy." She smiled brightly at Michael.
"Well done. This is simply delicious," Michael responded, lifting another bite of torte on his fork towards her in a toast before popping it into his mouth.
A thought occurred to Bea and she held up her hand and shook it. "Not that, actually. The torte recipe came from his Friday Night Feast's book. But I thought it would be perfect for tonight. And I didn't even know about the big news!" She giggled again. "Just a lucky guess I suppose. A torte to celebrate the new baby! I'm so happy for you both."
Travis gave his wife a funny look, but she didn't respond. She didn't even look at him, just kept her eyes on Michael as words continued to spill out of her mouth. Sofia glanced at Tawnyetta, who watched Bea with calm amusement.
"I got the bread from our local bakery. A lovely older couple run it. They are so kind and helpful. I told them we were having a Lord and Lady for supper tonight and they gave me their best loaf." Bea giggled again then saw her husband's face and swallowed hard.
Travis looked abashed. He cleared his throat in what appeared to be an attempt to stem the flow of comments coming from his bride. But when he opened his mouth, Bea interrupted him.
"Of course, the broccoli salad is an old standby. I found that recipe years ago in The Naked Chef." Bea's hands flew to cover her mouth as she gasped. "I just said 'naked' in front of a Lord!" She giggled maniacally into her hands.
Travis jerked out of his chair, clattering his plate and silverware in his hurry. "Come on, darling. I'll help you clear the table."
Sofia looked at Ian who was smiling as he chewed a bite of torte and watched Bea's antics. Michael was absorbed in his own dessert, leaving Sofia and Tawnyetta to share a sympathetic smile for their friend.
"She's a little flustered, I think," Sofia offered.
Tawnyetta nodded, looking at her husband who appeared to be the main cause of Bea's nervousness. "Sometimes I'm surprised at how people react to the title 'Lord'."
Michael swallowed his torte and took a sip of his after dinner coffee. He shook his head and corrected her, "It's pronounced Laird." He winked at Tawnyetta and she pushed on his arm in mock reproach.
"Aw, she's just a little struck," Ian said. Having just finished his dessert, he leaned back in his chair, musing, "She's just a proper English girl, that's all. Maybe American girls don't get tongue tied around royalty?" He was talking to all of them, but looking at Sofia, waiting for her reaction.
She frowned and said, "I don't like to categorize people." Ian grinned.
"We're not royalty," Tawnyetta corrected. "Besides, we're friends! She was at our wedding for goodness sake."
Sofia heard a note of concern in her voice. If Tawnyetta was one thing, it was down to earth. She was probably extremely uncomfortable knowing that Bea was nervous to have her or Michael in her home.
"I wouldn't worry about it," Ian said. "Travis will talk her through it and she'll be right as rain when she comes back." Tawnyetta was still bothered. "How about I create a distraction when they get back? You know, get her mind off of it," Ian offered.
They all turned to him. Tawnyetta and Michael from across the table, Sofia from the chair next to him. They'd been seated like they were a couple at the dinner table and Ian had freely nudged her and made quiet comments to her throughout the evening. Despite everything she'd decided about him, Sofia had liked it. With a questioning look, he seemed to be specifically asking her permission about this idea.
"What kind of distraction?" Michael asked, looking at Ian with skepticism.
"I don't know..." They all thought for a long moment. Then Ian hit the table with his palm. Dishes rattled. "I'll toast the baby!"
Before they had time to consider this option, Travis and Bea came back in the room. Travis cleared his throat, but appeared to be struggling to find words. Bea averted her eyes bashfully and Sofia's heart went out to her. There was a long, uncomfortable pause which was making the whole situation much more awkward than it warranted. Sofia couldn't stand it anymore. Under the table she found Ian's leg with her foot and gave him a soft kick. He sprang into action.
"Brilliant! You're back," Ian exclaimed, standing up. He gestured for Travis and Bea to sit down while he picked up the wine bottle. "I'd like to take this opportunity to make a toast to the newest member of the MacBrody clan...baby Mac." Everyone chuckled.
Relieved to get out of the spotlight, Travis and Bea sat down as Ian distributed a splash of wine in everyone's glass except Tawnyetta's, who was drinking lemonade. Sofia watched Ian expertly handle the mood of the table and thoug
ht about his presence on stage when he was performing. He definitely had a way about him. He could take over a room.
"First," Ian stood up straight and addressed Travis and Bea. "A special thanks for yet another delicious homemade meal here at Chez Prescott." Ian bowed politely at them and the table echoed his praise. Bea blushed, happily this time. Ian turned to Michael and Tawnyetta. "And now, to the subject of the wee bairn." Again, they all chuckled. Tawnyetta's cheeks turned pink. "Michael, when this beautiful woman agreed to be your bride I thought you must be the luckiest man on the face of the earth." Michael nodded at this and took Tawnyetta's hand as they listened. "But when you told us this evening that you were going to be a father, that you both were going to be parents," Ian's voice slipped a little.
From where Sofia sat next to him she could see the reflection of candlelight in his eyes, which were wet with emotion. She realized this wasn't just a show put on solely to benefit Bea's feelings. A warm tingle filled her as she watched and listened.
Ian cleared his throat and continued, "When you made the announcement I knew that this was something even bigger, even better. You have been blessed with the task of bringing another soul into the world." Tears welled up in Sofia's eyes unexpectedly. She brushed them aside. "And I congratulate you both, we all do." Ian raised his glass toward the happy couple and they all followed suit. "Now, let me see if I can remember..." he wrinkled his brow for a moment, thinking. Then his face broke into that one of a kind brilliant smile. He finished his toast in a perfect Scottish brogue. "May the dreams you hold dearest be those which come true and the kindness you spread keep returning to you."
"So happy for you," Bea exclaimed.
"Here, here!" Travis offered.
"Thank you, my friend," Michael said sincerely.
Sofia caught Tawnyetta's eye and felt the joy and excitement emanating from her friend. For a few moments all six of them were held inside a warm bubble of love.
"And now...a song!" Ian announced.
Settled in the living room on the edge of the couch, Sofia knew there was no escaping the almost electrical buzz between her and Ian. He sat close to her on a wooden chair they'd brought in from the kitchen, a guitar that Travis kept from his college days in his arms. As his attention was fixed on tuning the guitar, Sofia watched him. He hummed quietly to himself, lost in his music. Lean muscles in his forearms and hands flexed as he tested the guitar, he slid his body back and forth slightly on the seat of the chair adjusting his position.
The details of the tattoo on his neck were clear to Sofia from this vantage point, red roses in black chains, and she had to fight the urge to reach out and run her finger along its edges. Without warning, Ian turned to her, his eyes golden and smiling. She caught her breath, embarrassed because she'd been staring, but not able to look away. He gave her a wink and her stomach turned to jelly.
"All right, now," he said to the two married couples seated comfortably just a few feet away. "Let's all just settle down. No pushing or shoving. You'll all be able to hear once I get started."
"Down in front," Travis called out. He snickered hard, his nose turned red on the tip from laughing at his own joke.
Ian widened his eyes and nodded in appreciation. "There you go, Prescott, having a laugh." He strummed the guitar and cleared his throat. "This is something I've been working on."
His fingers plucked on the strings and the music moved through Sofia's body. Soft tremors. Gentle sounds. Ian closed his eyes as he played moving his body back and forth ever so slightly to the rhythm. He turned his head away from all of them and cleared his throat. She couldn't tell for sure, but she thought maybe he was nervous. Playing in this close proximity without the benefit of a band or microphone or light show was far more intimate. He was far more vulnerable here.
Sofia found herself wanting to be closer to the sound. Closer to him. Her insides were swirling, dancing, losing sight of anything except the sound of his playing and the look on his face. The intro to the song slowed and Ian, still with his eyes closed, took a deep breath and began to sing.
Little one, little one, bring me your heart,
Show me your secrets, show me your scars.
You take me down, you leave me lying there.
You bring me hope then take me to despair.
Shine on me, shine on me, bring me your light.
Take my heart, take my breath, take my life.
Pretty one, pretty one, see what you've done?
Give me your smile, know you're the one.
My eyes are blurred, you are sight to me.
My life is gone when you're not next to me.
Shine on me, shine on me, bring me your light.
Take my heart, take my breath, take my life.
When he was done the notes of his song softly echoed through the small living room. The strength of Ian's singing voice was impressive, but the emotion he poured out when he sang was nothing less than hypnotic. They all sat in silence letting the music and lyrics echo in their souls. Sofia most of all.
In those moments immediately after his song, with his eyes still closed and his face still contorted with emotion, Ian Law owned the room. He also owned Sofia's heart. Her power to resist him fell away like so many petals from a flower. He made her unsteady in her convictions, distracted from her plans, which was how she ended up in a completely new kind of predicament two weeks later when Ian invited her to accompany him on a short trip to one of his scheduled gigs.
Chapter Fourteen
He convinced her to go with him for the weekend. He told her it was the perfect chance for her to get away and see the English countryside. He said she would have fun. And he swore they were going as just friends.
Huge box elder plants that had been pruned for over two centuries into a life size maze flanked them. The deep green, shining leaves were so thick and well shaped they were literally like walls. Even if they had wanted to cheat and break through them to get out of the maze, it would have been impossible. When they started the little adventure for some afternoon entertainment, Sofia anticipated the challenge with excitement. She was good with numbers and puzzles. Surely a life-size maze created centuries ago would not prove to be a problem too big for her to solve.
As she and Ian wandered about, making a left turn here, a right turn there, and backtracking once then twice, Sofia was no longer certain she knew where they were.
"Now don't get nervous," Ian said. He paused and took her by the arms, turning her so they were face-to-face.
"I'm not nervous," Sofia lied. She didn't want to admit defeat because she was lost, and she certainly did not want to admit that she was nervous.
"See that man?" Ian pointed to what looked like a guard tower in the center of the maze. Two stories high with crisp white paint, it was easily seen above the dark green box elders. An old man with a great round belly sat at the very top shaded by a small peaked roof. He wore a bright green jacket and a flopping green hat with a red plume sticking out of the side.
"Yes, I see him," Sofia answered, wondering how she could have missed him when they arrived.
"He's the guide," Ian explained.
"The guide?"
"If we get lost we ask the guide to help us and he'll tell us what direction to go," he told her. "But we are not lost are we? So there's nothing to worry about, is there?" He sounded like he was trying to convince both of them.
"But won't you be late for the party?" She glanced toward the manor house whose second story was visible in the near distance even from inside this maze. It was a beautiful home, like something from one of the hundreds of period films Luna had dragged her to over the years.
They had come to this country estate for the weekend because Ian was singing at a private event. Not a wedding reception, but a birthday party for the daughter of a wealthy Englishman. Sofia had already forgotten the girl's name. Ian had insisted it was no big deal if she came along. There was no band with him for this gig, just him and his guitar.
"S
eparate rooms," he assured her when they were making the plans. Sofia had felt a pang of regret over that, but she couldn't argue. It had been her request for them to remain platonic.
Wandering through the maze with Ian she found herself rethinking that decision over and over. He had been so funny and charming on the drive here. She knew he was interested in more than friendship with her when he asked her to go on this weekend. Even if he didn't say so. And she found herself flip-flopping back and forth between wanting to keep him at arm's length and wanting him to pull her closer.
"I've got time before the gig," he reassured her. "It's just me and the ol' guitar, not a big deal."
They came to a 'T' where they could turn right or left, and stopped.
"What do you think? You're the math whiz," he said.
Sofia glanced up at the guard tower. It helped to know that was the center point of the maze. "I don't think we should go right," she said.
"So the only choice we have is left."
"Technically we could also go backward," she corrected.
He turned to look back from where they had come as if taking great pains to ponder her suggestion. When he turned his gaze back her, his eyes smiled, crinkling at the corners.
"I don't like to go backward, I like to face the future head on," he said. "Or...slightly to the left."
She chuckled, "Okay, left it is."
30 minutes later they were still lost.
"The sun is going down," Sofia warned. She was beginning to feel a little claustrophobic. And hot. There was no breeze in this maze.
"It's not going down," Ian reassured her. "It's just that these damnable box elders are so tall and oppressive they don't let the afternoon light in."
They were at another stopping point, having just turned back from another dead end. Or maybe it was the same dead end and they had revisited it for a third time. Sofia was ready to call it quits.
