Modern Romance September 2017 Books 5 - 8. Кейт Хьюит

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      Words that should have filled him with sweet relief—and they did. Of course they did. But they’d surprised him too, because he hadn’t expected such cold, clear pragmatism from her. Allegra was sensitive, emotional, romantic—whether she realised it or not. And yet she’d stated very clearly, with great certainty, that she would never love him. That she couldn’t. What the hell did that mean anyway? Was that because of her—or him? Because he wasn’t worth loving?

      It was a question he hated asking, much less answering. It was a foolish, romantic question not worthy of his time. He should be thankful that his wife-to-be was so sensible. So like-minded. Moodily Rafael shut his laptop and gazed out the window of his study instead.

      It was a day of lemon sunshine and blue skies, and he was tired of spending it inside. Tired of mulling over everything Allegra had said.

      In the three days since their conversation he’d made an effort to spend more time with her. It wasn’t always easy, and their conversations were sometimes stilted and jarring, but he had to admit to himself he actually liked being with her. Enjoyed hearing her clear, crystalline laugh, seeing her infectious smile. She’d had much sorrow in her life, but she was made for joy. Joy he wanted to give her, whether it was a gift or a touch...or more. But did she want to receive it? Receive him?

      Why was he thinking like this?

      The sound of crunching gravel had Rafael rising from his seat. A delivery van was approaching the front of the villa, and he knew what it held. A smile touching his lips, he headed downstairs.

      ‘What is all this?’ Allegra asked as the delivery man began bringing in boxes.

      ‘Your things,’ Rafael said simply. ‘I had everything shipped from your apartment.’

      ‘You did?’ She looked flummoxed.

      ‘Did you think we would leave it behind?’

      ‘I don’t know. I suppose I did. I knew you were terminating the lease on my apartment.’

      ‘But I thought you’d want your things around you.’

      ‘I do. Of course I do.’ She shook her head slowly, smiling at him with a pure radiance that felt like a spotlight on his soul. ‘You can be so thoughtful sometimes, Rafael. Thank you.’

      ‘Only sometimes?’ he teased. Their banter felt new and fragile, but kind of wonderful too. Allegra’s smile deepened.

      ‘Definitely only sometimes,’ she teased back. ‘But your rate is improving.’

      He laughed, and with all of the boxes brought in Allegra began to open them, exclaiming over everything like a child at Christmas. ‘My books...my cheese plant!’ She looked up at him with laughing eyes, making something in Rafael’s chest expand. ‘I’ve had this thing for years, you know.’

      ‘It looks like it needs a little water,’ Rafael said, and took it from her. ‘It’s been in a box for days.’

      ‘Everything came so quickly.’

      ‘Expedited shipping.’

      ‘That must have cost a fortune!’ she exclaimed, and he shrugged.

      ‘I can afford it.’

      He took the cheese plant to the kitchen and when he went back to the lounge, Allegra was sitting on the sofa, her cello case in front of her, a thoughtful look on her face. She almost seemed sad.

      Rafael propped his shoulder against the doorframe, watching the way her face softened as she opened the case and stroked the buttery-soft wood of the instrument.

      ‘How long have you had that cello?’ he asked quietly, and she looked up, blushing at being caught out.

      ‘Since I was nine. My father bought it for me.’

      ‘Did he?’ Rafael said quietly.

      ‘Yes...he loved to hear me play.’ She let out a soft sigh. ‘Even when I wasn’t very good, sawing away at it. He’d always clap and say “Bravo.”’

      ‘Perhaps you’ll play for me sometime,’ Rafael said, and saw her eyes flare in surprise. Then she shook her head with sorrowful but firm decision.

      ‘No, I can’t.’

      Rafael tried to hide the expression of affront and even hurt he feared was on his face. ‘I see,’ he said, unable to keep his tone from turning cool.

      ‘I haven’t played in almost ten years,’ Allegra explained. She rested her hand on the cello. ‘Not since I was eighteen.’

      Intrigued, Rafael straightened. ‘Why not?’

      She shook her head, her eyes downcast, and he didn’t think she was going to answer. ‘Because when I was eighteen I auditioned for Juilliard,’ she finally admitted on a little sigh. ‘Or I should say I tried to audition.’ She kept looking downwards as she continued, ‘I’d sent an audition tape, and I was invited in for a live audition, which felt huge. It was my dream, to play music. I’ve taken lessons since I was a small child.’ She bit her lip, and Rafael held his breath, waiting.

      ‘It was a big step for me, to send the tape in. I know it might not seem like much, but I was so shy, especially after...well, after my parents’ divorce. Music was a personal, even sacred thing to me. It still is.’

      ‘So what happened?’ Rafael asked. He felt anxious on her behalf, wanting to hear a happy ending to the story, even though he knew there wasn’t one.

      ‘I froze.’ She let out a shaky laugh. ‘I got there and I couldn’t play. It was as if I was paralysed. I literally couldn’t do it. The examiners were kind at first, but then they were impatient, and then I was dismissed. And that was that.’

      ‘But why haven’t you played since then?’

      ‘I just couldn’t. It’s as if... I don’t know. I just lost it. The desire as well as the ability. If I played now you’d probably cover your ears.’

      ‘I wouldn’t,’ Rafael said, meaning it utterly.

      Allegra stroked the cello again and then closed the case. ‘Anyway, silly as it seems, I still like having my cello, so thank you.’

      ‘You’re welcome.’ Rafael was silent, trying to sift through his emotions—the sorrow he felt for the shy, vulnerable young woman Allegra had been. Empathy, because her father had turned on her just as he’d turned on Rafael’s father, his father, and just as with his father, his family, that rejection had had consequences. Protectiveness, too—because he never wanted her to feel that kind of anxiety again. And lastly, stronger than either of those two, desire, different and deeper than any he’d known before. He wanted her to play again. He wanted her to play for him.

      But what on earth made him think he deserved such a privilege?

      * * *

      The next week passed in a lovely haze. Allegra felt herself relaxing into everything, especially the time she spent with Rafael. While he still spent a fair amount of time in his study, or going СКАЧАТЬ