Sonata (North Security 3)

“I don’t plan to die for Samantha,” I say with a laugh, even though it’s not precisely true. I’ve been waiting to die for a long time. It may as well be for something that would bring my brother peace.

CHAPTER TWELVE

In England, Henry VIII ordered the licensing of minstrels and players. The punishment for non-compliance was to be whipped.

Liam

Part of me thinks that if she only sees the violin, touches it, plays it, it will all rush back to her. The other part of me knows that won’t happen.

I carry the case into her rooms and set it down on the bed. She pulls the blanket up around her. I might have set down a live snake on the bedspread, that’s how horrified she looks. “What is that?”

“You know what it is.” I turn to the small wet bar in her room and pour two fingers of whiskey. Something to loosen the grip her fear has on her.

She swallows it and coughs. “It’s late.”

“Not too late to play. I remember when I used to have to pry the bow from your hand and send you to bed, because you’d have played straight until dawn.”

“That was a long time ago. I was young and stupid.”

“You were young and scared.” Scared of me, which felt terrible. And deserved. She didn’t know me. Didn’t know what I was capable of. The truth is—she’s still young and scared.

I was old, like my brother said. Old enough that I had no business touching her. Definitely no business sitting on her bed, not that it stopped me. I put my hand on her knee. “Better that you get it over with now. Only the first time will hurt. It’ll get easier after that.”

She manages a wan smile. “Are you taking my virginity?”

The question is meant as a joke. It still sends a wildfire through my blood. I remember how tight she was the first time, the way she squirmed for relief. The way I stretched her untried muscles until she had no choice but to surrender. “Something short and simple. Something to ease you into it.”

“I told you I don’t want to play.”

“Then you should have taken Alexander up on his offer. He would no doubt let you lead him wherever you wanted. Instead you came outside the balcony.” I’ll remember that night until my last breath. My gratitude over her sweet submission isn’t going to make me stop, though.

Anger flashes across her face. Fear. Guilt. “You’re being strict for no reason. It’s late at night. I don’t want to play right now. Why can’t you accept that?”

“Play me a chord, Samantha.”

“No.”

“Play me a chord and I’ll leave you alone.” That’s not how I want this night to end, but if it’s necessary I’ll go back to my room alone and keep my fist company.

“Stop it.”

The gunshot at Carnegie Hall did this to her.

She was playing when it went off. I almost died, and somehow, somehow, that matters to her. Her psyche drew a straight line between her playing and my death. I’ve seen it a thousand times with soldiers well trained for the physical and mental strains of warfare. She could no sooner pick up the bow and press it to the strings than she could pick up a gun and shoot me.

“Nothing bad will happen,” I say gently. “I swear to you.”

Her eyes flash with panic. “You don’t know that. You don’t know anything. I don’t want to play the violin anymore, did you think of that? I’m not afraid. I just don’t like it.”

I open the case. “You can play a song you don’t like.”

She flinches back from the open case. It’s a beautiful violin. I know that mostly because I’ve seen her expression when she gazes at it, her expression of ecstasy when she plays. “Stop.”

It feels like it weighs nothing when I pick it up. Insane to think it can fill an entire theater with its sound. Only in the hands of the right person, however. Like her. “You’re a violinist.”

“I’m not. That’s just what you want me to be.”

I run my thumb along the strings. “Is it? That’s an interesting thought. Would I have fallen in love with you if you had never played a note? Would I have taken your virginity?”