He looked at her almost unwillingly, that handsome face
hard, his expression implacable. "I don’t think you should
continue coming here at night," he said. "I have work to
do
and you are nothing but a distraction to me. Besides that,
it is highly improper. Surely you understand that as an
unmarried woman you should not be here, alone, with a man."
"Oh. I suppose not. I just...I never..." Elsie felt
unshed tears stinging her eyes. He’d just given her the
harshest set down she’d had in years.
"You never what? Considered me a man? Because I am a
servant? Or because I cannot speak in front of people."
Elsie shook her head. "No. I just thought you were
nice." And I’m so very, very lonely. She twisted her hands
in her nightdress, suddenly realizing how terribly improper
it was to be alone with any man in only her nightclothes.
He let out a sigh, his anger deflating, and he sat at
the edge of the piano bench staring at the keys again. "I
was raised in an affluent family, but my affliction caused
my father to abandon me to an asylum when I was ten years
old. I was there only a short time when one of the doctors
there helped me to escape and introduced me to monsieur.
That is my story. That is all you need to know."
"I’m sorry. You don’t need to tell me anything. It’s
really none of my business." She sat there feeling simply
awful, and finally asked, "Do you want me to leave."
Another sigh. "No." But it sounded most begrudging.
"I don’t think of you as a servant. I think you are
wonderful," she said, daring quick look at him. "But you
are right, it is highly improper and for that reason, I
won’t tell if you don’t."
"Another secret, then?" His mouth quirked as if he
were
trying not to smile.
She nodded. "Can I tell you something? A confession? I
don’t want to go to that house party because I shall miss
our visits and I will think of you working in here all
alone."
His expression grew pensive. "You shouldn’t think of me
at all. Nor should I, you."
"But do you?" Elsie held her breath, knowing she had
crossed a line that should never have been crossed. She
knew she thought about Alexander far too much, she knew she
shouldn’t visit him each night. She knew she shouldn’t
touch him or even talk to him, but these nighttime visits
were all she looked forward to.
Alexander lowered his head as if in defeat. "I do. Far
more than is proper."
"Are you so very proper, then?" she asked with a
teasing
lilt.
"I must be," he said forcefully. "You must be."
"Why," Elsie breathed, even though she knew why. She’d
never in her life felt so strange, so alive when with a
man. She had never before kissed a man, never wanted to,
truth be told. But she found herself staring at his mouth
and wondering what it would feel like to press her lips
against his. Just that thought made her stomach twist, made
her want something she didn’t understand.
"Miss Elsie, you should go." His hands gripped his
thighs so hard, she could see the indents of his hands in
his trousers.
"Do you know Badinerie by Bach?" Elsie looked at him
cautiously and thought she detected the smallest of
smiles. "It’s a duet."
"Yes, I know. I’ve never had the opportunity to play a
duet," he said.
"Here is your chance."
His expression was one of disbelief. "Have you any idea
the sort of danger you are courting, Miss Elsie?"
She looked him straight in the eye. "Duets are not
dangerous. Now, get up so I can find the music. It’s in the
bench."
He got up with an air of impatience, and waited until
she found the correct sheet music.
"Here it is," she said unnecessarily. "Now sit and
play
with me. Please."
He sat as far from her as possible and Elsie beamed a
smile at him, which apparently had no effect on his mood
for he simply stared at her darkly. Nodding her head, she
began to play, and he played his part without hesitation.
It was a short piece, and lively, and when they were done,
Elsie clapped.
"Well done," she said. "Now, how dangerous was..."
She
looked at him and felt a sudden rush of heat, of desire,
that she’d never felt before in her life "...that." Elsie
swallowed, her eyes drifting down to his mouth, her breath
coming out in shallow spurts. Kiss me. Please, kiss me.
Never before had a man looked at her, as if he were
angry and dangerous and untamed.
"I think. You. Should. Leave," he said softly.