The hall was a natural amphitheatre, and even the suspect tuning seemed to add a poignant, haunting strain to the melody. The keys that had been sticking to begin with were working now, as if the piano was glad to be played again. Her heart began to soar as she played on. But then a door banged open and she jumped with alarm.
‘Nacho?’ She spun round on the stool.
Angry footsteps pounded across the hall towards her, and she yelped with fright when Nacho slammed the piano lid down, narrowly missing her fingers.
‘What are you doing?’ she exclaimed, hugging herself defensively. His rage was buzzing around her like a swarm of angry bees.
‘What am I doing?’ he demanded hoarsely. ‘Get away from the piano!’ he roared as she ran her fingers along the edge of the lid with concern, feeling for damage. ‘Get away from the piano, Grace.’
She was incapable of moving anywhere, and could only sit, stunned, wondering what had happened to her gentle lover from last night.
He couldn’t believe Grace was still seated at the piano when he had insisted she must move away. His rational brain warned him that he was half mad with anger, grief, guilt, and that all of these were compounded by his concern for Grace, but the other part of him—the dark side that had once driven him to desert those he loved when he should have stayed to save them—said she must go. Just as Grace had made him forget the past last night, and the evil of which he was capable, she had brought it back to him today.
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