Page 31 of The Musician and the Monster

Breath caught in her throat. Part of her yearned to run to the door and see to his health, but the other half wanted to shove the dresser in front of it. He kept something from her, some secret, and possibly worse, he might have given her whatever horrible illness plagued him. She bit her lip. Either way, she couldn’t answer the door in her thin nightdress.

“One moment,” she stuttered.Too late to pretend to be asleep.

“I’m sorry about earlier.”

His words seeped through the door and followed her through the room as she lurched to the dressing screen and grabbed the heavy robe lain across its top.

“I’m not used to having visitors. Having others close to my affairs makes me…uncomfortable,” he continued.

Obviously.It was ridiculous for him not to let her come and go when she lived so close, yet if it were illness, that made a certain sad sense. Deceiving her about it, though, was another matter. Yet the sincerity ringing in his apology drew her back to the door.

She closed her hand over the metal handle and froze. “Your illness… Can I catch it?”

One heartbeat was too long to wait for his reply.

“No.”

“Do you promise?”

“Yes. It’s not something that… It cannot be transferred to someone else.”

Despite the constant thud of fear within her, Ceridwen believed his words. She twisted the key in the lock on her side of the door and pulled it open.

Drystan squinted as light spilled from the room into the dark hallway. Not even the sconces were lit.Someone forgot to light the candles on the night they were most important.His stiff jacket was absent. Only a thin white shirt clung to his frame, tucked into dark breeches the color of his boots.

“May I come in?” he asked.

Her cheeks heated at the question. Father would never approve of a man alone in her room. Not to mention his attire, or lack of, inspired thoughts she hastily shoved away. But the pitiful way he’d looked hunched over the dinner table had a way of pushing out common reason.

“You may.” She nodded and stepped back.

He entered and closed the door behind him as she retreated into the center of the room.

What are you doing, Ceridwen?she chided herself.Letting a man into your room at night of all times.

“Are you better now?” she asked, forcing a smile and trying to push away her embarrassment at the situation.

“I am.” He loomed like an imposing figure in the center of the room. “I’m sorry to have frightened you.”

Ceridwen shook her head. “It was worry more than fright.” She paced near the candles, unable to sit still as he finally moved to take a seat by the crackling fireplace.

“Will you sit with me?” He gestured to the chair opposite his.

She sighed. He was her employer after all. She needed the money he offered, even if his refusal to let her visit family suddenly made no sense at all if his disease could not bespread. It wouldn’t do to ignore him. “Does it happen often? The pain, or whatever it was?”

Bracing his forearms on his knees, he leaned forward on the seat as if the weight of the world pressed upon his back. “Much more than I’d like, but you help me.”

She froze at his words and rocked back on her heels within her slippers. “How do I help you?”

“Your music. It calms me, lessens the episodes that overtake me, though tonight it almost broke through anyway.”

Almost?Her brows scrunched together. That was just a near miss? How much worse could it get?

“You haven’t played tonight.” He straightened in the chair. “I hoped you might.”

The revelation had her standing a little straighter near the seat he offered. “How do you know that?”

His gaze darted to the fire. A burning log collapsed in the middle, sending a tumble of smoldering coals rolling toward the edge as the two end pieces fell in either direction. His attention drifted to Ceridwen as he said, “No one heard your music in the halls.”

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