Пэнни Джордан – The Royal House of Niroli: Secret Heirs: Bride by Royal Appointment / A Royal Bride at the Sheikh's Command (страница 7)
She turned in through a neat picket fence to a small white cottage that could have housed the Seven Dwarves. A brightly painted red door beckoned. Window-boxes spilling over with flowers and a small wishing well completed the picture.
And that thought almost made him laugh out loud. So he was doing prince jokes now.
But he sobered quickly. Every now and then he began to realize just what he was playing around with here. Much as he needed the funding to stave off the hostile takeover of his company, was he really willing to trade in his freedom for a crown? He was going to have to decide soon. He was rapidly working his way into a position where he wasn’t going to have any choice in the matter.
The inside of the cottage looked as carefully maintained as the outside. The furniture appeared to be antiques lovingly saved from centuries past. And as a centerpiece to the room, a beautiful piano gleamed in the light coming in from the high windows.
He put Jeremy, still sniffling a bit, on the couch while Elena went to a cupboard and found disinfectant and bandages. He watched her, trying to see how she knew where to stand and where to reach. So far he hadn’t caught her in a mistake, and that seemed remarkable.
She let him take care of the wound, which seemed to make sense, though he was clumsy at it. Jeremy whimpered a bit when he put on the disinfectant and she went to the piano and began playing him happy tunes to take his mind off it and lift his spirits.
Adam could tell right away that she played beautifully, with the sort of emotion that touched even hardened hearts like his. Jeremy was intrigued, and once he was bandaged up he wanted to go to the piano and sit beside Elena on the bench. She began teaching him a few simple notes and he was eager to try them.
Adam watched for awhile, impressed that she seemed to have a natural way with children—or with his child, at any rate. He’d watched others try to reach Jeremy—nannies and teachers—and bomb out, totally. In fact, he’d about come to the conclusion the kid was unreachable. But Elena treated him in a normal way and he seemed to like her for it. Maybe there was hope after all.
It wasn’t the way she acted, he decided after watching for a few more minutes. It was who she was that got through to the boy. They just had a spontaneous connection. Funny. He wished he knew a way to create that with his son himself.
He didn’t usually wallow in the pain of his failed relationships, but for just a moment he let regrets surface. Why was it that he couldn’t bond with his boy? Why had Melissa, Jeremy’s mother, found it impossible to stay and create a family with them? Why had his own mother spent most of his childhood flitting around the playgrounds of the world instead of being at home, raising him? Was there something in him that pushed all these people away?
He indulged in a short, very obscene oath under his breath to erase that kind of thinking. Life was what it was. You could take it or leave it. But there was no room for whining.
Pushing away from the wall where he’d been leaning, he left the room to go outside and try his cell phone again. It was his only lifeline to his precious company— the one part of his life that had worked out beautifully. He had to save his company from the takeover. After years as a golden boy in the business, he was facing a sort of failure, and suddenly no one was returning his calls. If something didn’t happen fast—as in funds becoming available for quick use—it was going to be all over. That was why this delay in settling the crown succession thing was so frustrating. Retaining control of his company meant retaining his sense of identity. The head of Ryder Productions was who he was and what made him special. If he lost that—no, it didn’t bear thinking of.
The phone still wasn’t working for him and he began to pace about the yard to let off steam. He quickly became curious about Elena’s property and what sort of trees she’d planted. The atmosphere was just as pleasant outside as in and, just wandering about, he began to relax. There was a small stone terrace with a table and two chairs under an umbrella and a bank of colorful flowers. A tiny house just steps away from the main building was outfitted with twin beds and a wardrobe. Evidently the building had once served as a garage, then been renovated. He stared at it, wondering who used it. Then he went back into the cottage to find Elena playing tunes from
He stood in the doorway for a moment, watching the tranquil scene. It seemed like a picture from another era, another place, as though he were looking through time, and maybe through the gauze of memory. A certain yearning crept into his heart as he stood there.
Very deliberately, he pushed it away. What did this have to do with the rat-race world he lived in today? Nothing. It was certainly a seductive destination, but it was an existence built in the clouds. It had no relationship to his reality and he knew it would be dangerous to grow too enamored of it.
She came to the end of her piece and he said, “It looks like you’ve got the magic touch where Jeremy is concerned.”
Her dark head lifted. “He seems to be asleep, doesn’t he?”
“That he does. Who knew he would respond so well to Prokofiev?” he said.
“Ah, you know your composers,” she said, as though that delighted her.
He hated to burst her bubble, but he didn’t want to pretend to a sophistication he just didn’t have.
“Not really. I know the music to
“Oh.”
She actually looked a bit deflated. Why should she care if he knew classical music? It touched him, and at the same time it disturbed him that she felt that way. Was she looking for a connection? Did he want her to?
This woman and her contradictions baffled him. He was used to straightforward dealings with women. Either they attracted him or they didn’t. Either he hired them or he didn’t. Either he dated them or he didn’t. Elena Valerio didn’t fit into any of those slots.
“You produce films for television?” she asked as she closed the lid of the piano.
“Yes. Theatrical releases as well. I have a production company in Los Angeles. “
She nodded, her hand falling quietly onto Jeremy’s forehead, where she stroked the hair back off his face. Watching her was once again doing strange things to Adam’s emotions and he wasn’t sure why.
“Here,” he said gruffly. “I’ll put him on the couch.”
He transferred the boy quickly, trying to ignore her spicy scent as he bent close. Luckily, Jeremy didn’t stir a bit. Once he had him settled, he turned back to their lovely hostess.
“Your playing is wonderful,” he said, and, to his surprise, his genuine feeling was plain in his voice.
“Thank you.”
He noticed she didn’t bother with false modesty. He liked that. He was used to dealing with artists and other creative types and he understood her quiet confidence in her expertise. It was nice to know she had the artistry to back it up. Walking back into the central area of the room, he leaned against the piano.
“Is that your main talent?”
Something about the question made her turn. “Yes, actually.” Her smile was bitter-sweet. “Some would say it’s my only talent.”
“I don’t believe that for a moment.” He said the words in all sincerity. He knew she must be good at a lot of other things. She came across as so competent. “Do you ever play professionally?”
She smiled, surprised and gratified by the question. Most people just assumed that because she was blind, she couldn’t possibly do anything professionally. She hesitated, toying with the urge to tell him about her acceptance at the New York School of Music Applications. But there wasn’t really any point in talking about it. Classes for the current session were only days away and she had no way to get there, much less to pay for living there once she arrived. It was a nice dream, but right now that was all it was.
“I teach music,” she said instead, leaving it at that. “That’s how I make my living.”
He nodded. Looking around the room, he had to conclude the living she made was minimal. Everything was clean and shiny, but a bit worn around the edges at the same time. His gaze drifted back to where she was sitting and he realized he could look at her at will—a sort of feast of the senses—without the usual need to pretend disinterest.
And she was lovely to look at. Today she was dressed in a sort of muted peach shade and the scarf braided in her hair was the color of pomegranates. He wondered briefly how she knew what color she was picking out. That sort of thing was so important to women. He hoped there was someone to help her choose.
This dress was loose and low-cut, displaying the upper swell of her breasts in a way that stirred the senses. He let his gaze slide over her, taking in the curve of her neck and the delicate cut of her collar-bone. Her skin was smooth and seemed to glow in the golden light. He wanted to touch her. And he knew she would kill him if he tried. In a metaphorical way, of course.