Page 51 of The Dove
Daphne could not help a smile at the words he’d uttered—clearly the rough tones of Gaelic. She did not need to know what it meant to know it was some endearment
Olivia’s fingers twitched, and she closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling a deep breath. Then, they twitched again, this time plucking at a string and sending a light note of music floating through the air. Her eyes flew open, going wide as she tried again, pulling at the same string once more. Niall remained in his place, bringing his other hand to rest on her opposite shoulder.
Daphne glanced at Adam, finding him on the edge of the piano bench, hands clenched between his spread knees. He gripped his fingers so tight, his knuckles had gone white, but he remained still, watching with baited breath.
Olivia tried different strings, testing the notes. Inclining her head, she furrowed her brow and listened to each one, as if trying to recapture some long-lost memory. Her other hand joined the first, and she became bolder, testing two and three strings at a time, finding various chords. Her expression changed the longer she tried, the furrows in her brow smoothing and her mouth curving at the corners.
Daphne saw the exact moment it all came back to her a rush, her head tilting at just the right angle, eyes closing, fingers becoming swift and light like the butterflies from which she’d gotten her pet name. And with everyone looking on, she began to truly play. Daphne smiled, recognizing the beginning refrain of Francios-Adrien Boieldieu’sHarp Sonata. The girl played as if she’d never stopped, each note falling from her fingers effortlessly.
Niall’s head jerked toward Daphne, and he stared at her in disbelief, mouth falling open in shock. His typically shuttered gaze was open, showing her every bit of the joy and relief he felt in that moment, making her own eyes well up with tears.
She could only nod at the man in acknowledgment, her throat constricting, hands folding together over her chest as she looked on. Olivia finishedHarp Sonata,but kept going, seamlessly finding her way into another composition, and then another. The other occupants of the room ceased to exist for her as she unleashed years’ worth of stifled talent, her mind seeming to call up the memory of every song she’d ever played.
By the third composition, Niall had tears in his eyes and a wide smile on his face—the first Daphne had ever seen. As he turned away from Olivia and lumbered toward her across the room, she could not conjure the usual unease he made her feel. Not when he was smiling at her as if she’d just placed the moon in his hands.
He leaned down from his towering height and yanked her toward him, wrapping his arms around her shoulders in a tight embrace. She gasped, momentarily stunned, but quickly recovered and returning the affection, bringing her hands up to rest on his back.
“Thank ye,” he rasped in her ear, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank ye for givin’ me back a part of her, lass.”
She smiled as her tears fell, wetting her cheeks. It was perhaps the warmest embrace she’d ever felt, and she did not know whether to be elated or shocked that the previously cold man proved capable of affection.
“Nonsense,” she managed through the lump in her throat. “It was you who did it, not me.”
Drawing back to look down at her, he held her shoulders tight and shook his head. “I was wrong about ye, ye know.”
She smiled and shrugged. “You simply did not know better. You can hardly be faulted for it.”
“Perhaps not,” he relented. “Still … I pegged ye as being like yer brother. I willnae make that mistake again.”
Releasing her, he went back to Olivia, sinking to his knees on the floor beside her chair. As if no one else were in the room, he leaned forward and laid his head against her thigh, resting in her lap with a deep sigh. Olivia opened her eyes and glanced down at him, but did not stop playing, seeming unable to break the spell that had fallen over her and brought a dead part of her back to life.
Daphne backed away, giving them space, edging closer to where Adam sat at the piano bench. Being so near him inevitably drew her gaze to him, and she found him watching her, and not his sister, his expression inscrutable as always.
Yet, she did not need him to say anything, or for his eyes to emote his feelings. Because, when he reached for her, his touch was gentler than she’d ever felt it, his hands skimming her waist as he sank her onto his knee. Then, pulling her back against him, he laid his head upon her shoulder, burying his face in the fabric of her gown and inhaling, his breath coming out in a relieved rush.
He kissed her there, then turned his head and rested it against her, tightening both arms around her middle and keeping her close.
“Well done, little dove,” he whispered.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
livia played the harp until she nearly collapsed from exhaustion, slumping into Niall’s arms. As the butler rose, lifting her up and holding her close, she clung to him, eyes bright, a wide smile stretching her lips. He murmured something about getting her to bed so she could rest. Daphne left her place on Adam’s lap and went to Serena, hoping to pass the time before her afternoon nap with some time spent out of doors.
Adam declared his intention to join them, so together, the three of them made their way to the back courtyard together after collecting spencers for both herself and Serena to ward off the cold. Despite the crisp chill in the air, lack of clouds or fog allowed the sun to shine down into the little space, making the day more pleasant than the one before it had been.
While Adam settled onto a stone bench to watch them, she and Serena retrieved the skipping ropes they had left here a few days ago. They giggled together, their slippers slapping over the courtyard stones as they practiced skipping—Serena proving far better at it than Daphne. The rope kept tangling in the hem of her gown and around her ankles, making her quite terrible at it.
Amusement glistened in Adam’s eyes as he watched them, his posture and expression more relaxed than she’d seen it since she’d known him. She wondered if her presence here had had any impact on his mood. He certainly seemed less sour than he had been all the other times she’d encountered him since his appearance in London. She wanted to believe that she had something to do with the way his mouth curved into a little smirk just now, the green of his eyes more vibrant when he was in such a relaxed state.
You are being ridiculous,she told herself.
Of course it had nothing to do with her. He was simply content, with his sister and niece near, and Olivia doing so well now that she’d weaned herself off the laudanum. She was glad for him, truly, even if he was holding her captive and refused to let her go. She had come to terms with the reality of her situation … and could admit to herself that she did not mind being his captive so much. Being able to live in Fairchild House again, surrounded by the familiar, by him and his family. Sharing his bed. She did not want for anything, except an end to this feud between him and Bertram, which was far from over. It kept her from becoming completely comfortable, as she wondered if each day might be the day Adam made his move.
She did not have to wonder for long, as it turned out.
Serena dropped her skipping rope and declared that Adam could not catch them, to which Adam asserted that he most certainly could. Which then led to Daphne dropping her own rope and taking the girl’s hand, and the two of them leading Adam on a chase across the courtyard. They dodged him by slipping through a wrought iron archway draped in greenery and down a little path leading toward the back of the small garden.
It was there they found the figure of a man standing near the gate, hands braced on the metal railing, mouth twisted in an amused smirk as he eyed them over the vines wound around the iron.
