A Million Different Ways (Horn Duet 1)

“Only if you swear never to repeat it,” he said in all seriousness.

“I swear, now what is it?” A beat of silence followed.

“Beyoncé,” he said in a low voice.

My eyebrows nearly reached my hairline. “Beyoncé? This fierce creature’s name is Beyoncé?”

He scowled, staring at something by his feet. It must have been the rollercoaster ride my emotions were on all day because my body began to spasm from the effort to contain the laughter. Tears started streaming down my face.

“Good, great. Got a good chuckle out of it…okay…get it all out now…are you done?” He looked annoyed and embarrassed, and utterly kissable. “Can we feed her now? She’s hungry.”

“Of course…of course.” The giggles left me a little at a time. I handed him the chicken, and watched as the bird grasped it with her sharp beak and flipped it into her mouth. “Why doesn’t she hunt for food?”

“She was injured when she was young. A larger raptor tore her wing. I put her back together, but she won’t ever fly in the wild again.”

“Oh…then I’m glad she has you.” I smiled at the loving way he stroked her breast, with the back of his fingers.

My son has a bleeding heart… I shut her voice out of my mind, determined not to let her mar this intimate moment. He turned to me with the same alert expression I saw on the bird.

“She reminds me of you.”

“The beak?” he murmured.

“No, I think your nose is beautiful. That’s not what I meant. She’s self-contained, innately noble, and that intense focus in her eyes…it makes me feel like she could look into my soul.” I shrugged and averted my gaze, afraid I had said too much.

He stared back at me as if I had just performed a slight of hand trick he couldn’t quite figure out. The falcon walked down his arm and back into the mews. He shook the glove off, letting it fall at his feet, and closed the distance between us. Reaching for my hand, he brushes his thumb over my knuckles, and hauled me into his arms.

There was so much emotion burning beneath the surface of his skin. I could feel the heat of it. He was quiet as he held me, cradling my nape with his warm hand. I pressed myself closer and he kissed the top of my head.

This feels good, this feels right. I tried not to ruin the moment by reasoning. “Isn’t there another one?” I mumbled into his shirt.

“Yes. The boy that takes care of them when I’m busy fed her earlier.”

“What’s her name?” I asked absently. A long pause, a deep sigh. “What is it?”

“Lady Gaga,” he answered in a resigned voice. I burst out in laughter, and he held me until the tremors subsided.

* * *

It was early afternoon. Most of the guests had either departed for the golf course with Sebastian––he promised not to walk the course––or had gone fishing. Paisley and Marcus had chosen to stay behind, had taken one of Sebastian’s smaller jet boats onto Lake Geneva. We didn’t see each other the night before. Every attempt Sebastian made at sneaking away from his guests was thwarted. First by Caroline Pruitt, who insisted on speaking with him at length about the investments Sebastian had made with her trust fund. And later by Charles Hightower, who insisted on playing poker until an uncivil hour. It was around two by the time he made it back to his room. I was soundly asleep by then, never heard the incoming email.

Mrs. Arnaud encouraged us to take a break. We would be serving another formal dinner that evening and would be up late. I knew I wouldn’t be able to rest. I’ve never been the type of person that can take a nap in the afternoon; too much nervous energy. The bathrooms on the first floor needed a thorough cleaning. I figured this was as good a time as any.

I had just finished polishing the faucet when the door swung open, and a large, male body bumped into me. The powder room wasn’t large enough to accommodate two people. Startled, I bounced off the wall and teetered forward as I lost my balance. A hand grasped my forearm to steady me. I looked up and found Marcus standing just inside the tiny room, his fingers still wrapped around my arm.

“Pardon me,” I said quickly.

He smiled blandly. “No, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

He had a neat, boyish appearance. He was handsome in a shiny, clear-eyed way, but I sensed some artifice in his mild manners. When I pulled out of his hold, he remained in the doorway, and I was stuck with nowhere to go. A prickle of unease crawled up my spine when my gaze met the fixed, unnatural smile on his face.