CHAPTER TEN
dam leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows against his knees as he watched his sister shiver and writhe on the bed. He’d taken turns with Niall throughout the day, sitting with Olivia, spooning broth down her throat when they could, coaxing her into taking sips of water. But, mostly, their vigil consisted of watching her suffer, sitting helplessly by while she fought off the effects of withdrawal from the laudanum her body craved. He had suggested tapering off to smaller doses, slowly weaning her off the drug. However, Olivia had remained as lucid as she had been in months, insisting that she needed to do this her way.
He had no choice but to respect her decision, when she had been incapable of making any for herself in so long. As the sun began to set and evening approached, he stared at her sweat-dampened face and experienced a glimmer of hope. Perhaps, after all this time, she’d found the strength to fight her way back, to try to become herself again in whatever way she could.
Rising from where he sat, he edged toward the bed, sinking slowly onto the mattress beside her. She curled her body toward him, reaching out to clutch his shirt in a weak fist as she shuddered so hard, her teeth chattered noisily. Resting a hand on her head, he used his other to reach for the bowl on the bedside table. He lifted a scrap of linen from the cool water and wrung it out before bringing it to her forehead to mop away the sweat.
“Shh,” he crooned, gently moving her so her head lay in his lap. “I’ve got you, butterfly. It’s all right.”
She jerked violently against him, but he went on wiping her face, smoothing her hair back from her forehead. Her eyes swiveled until she gazed up at him, and despite her dilated pupils, they were clearer than he’d seen them in some time. He forced a smile and held on to her, doing his best to help her lie still. She’d been unable to rest with the shudders wracking her so badly.
“T-talk t-to me,” she managed between clatters of her teeth.
He scowled, never having been one for frivolous conversation. “About what?”
She laughed, the sound weak and shaky from how hard she trembled. “A-anything … d-distract m-me.”
Nodding, he gazed off across the room, still absently stroking her hair. “Very well. Serena seems to like it here. She has been having a wonderful time exploring the house with Daphne. So, you do not need to worry about her lingering outside your door.”
She gave a jerky nod. “D-Daphne? B-Bertram’s sister?”
His brow furrowed when he gazed down at her, wondering when she’d puzzled that out. She hadn’t been in her right frame of mind the few times she’d encountered Daphne at Dunnottar, and he and Niall had done their best to keep them separated.
She snorted sarcastically and nudged him with a trembling elbow. “Sh-she looks j-just like S-Serena … it w-wasn’t h-hard to w-work out.”
Adam sighed. “Forgive me, butterfly. I did not think you’d understand. Daphne … she came to Dunnottar seeking answers, and I exploited her to retaliate against Bertram. To repay him for what he did to you.”
Olivia closed her eyes for a moment, her breath hitching when a particularly violent tremor rocked her. She calmed a bit and stared back up at him.
“And now?” she prodded, searching his gaze in that way she had done before all this had happened. The way that made him think she could read his innermost thoughts.
“Now, I want to keep her,” he admitted, looking off across the room to avoid her scrutiny.
Frustration curled his fist as he thought of his little dove, of the way she continued to challenge him, to try to force him to make a choice he’d rather not consider. He wanted what he wanted, and her response to his touch, to his nearness, told him she wanted it, too. Why, then, did she insist on pretending she wanted to be free, fighting to be away from him when he was one of few people who truly understood her? As of now, he had done everything he could think of to convince her to stay, and still, she’d spurned him.
Really, she’d left him no choice in the matter. She’d forced his hand, and now, he would act the monster and keep her caged. He did not care if she claimed to hate him for it … not when he could breathe a little easier knowing she was not out there alone, being preyed on by men who thought her an easy mark because of the rumors swirling about her. Better for her to remain with him than him being forced to follow her about, slitting the throat of any man who so much as glanced in her direction.
“Y-you always were p-possessive of the people you l-love,” Olivia said, drawing him out of his reverie.
He gazed back down at her with a sharp intake of breath. Despite the misery brought on by withdrawal, she gave him a rare smirk. It was too knowing.
“Love has naught to do with it,” he insisted. “I like having her in my bed, so she will be. That is the end of it.”
“Only, y-you c-came all the way to L-London for her,” she pointed out.
“I came to London for Bertram,” he snapped, annoyed at her for working him into a state when his mood had been so good. “She is the best way to strike out at him.”
Olivia shook her head, the motion jerky as she fought to control her own body. “L-let it go, H-Hart. Or y-you’ll d-die alone.”
Clenching his teeth, he choked down a snarl. The second person to say something to this effect to him, and that did not make it any easier to stomach … especially coming from his sister.
“I will die knowing I delivered justice for you and Serena,” he replied through clenched.
She closed her eyes and turned her head so she no longer looked at him. “N-not enough.”
Goddamn it, what did a man have to do to get some peace in a house with his name on the deed? He did not need Daphne begging him to put an end to things, and he certainly did not need his sister agreeing with her, trying to use guilt to cause him to bend.
He would stop when he was good and ready to stop.
The sound of a soft knock on the door drew his attention, and he bid the person to enter. The panel swung open to reveal Daphne, who balanced a heavy-looking tray in one hand. Stepping into the room, she pushed the door closed with her foot, then took hold of the tray with both hands and approached the bed.
“Niall is ensuring that Serena has her dinner, so I volunteered to bring this for you and Olivia,” she said, her voice soft as she drew near, resting the tray on the bedside table next to the bowl of water.
The tantalizing aroma of food made his stomach howl, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since that morning, too busy playing with Serena and then spending most of his day in this chamber.
“Thank you, little dove,” he murmured, letting his gaze travel over her.
It was rare for him to get to observe her in a restful state unless she was sleeping, because she always seemed to be in motion. Just now, her chignon had loosened, allowing thick coils of vibrant red hair to kiss the nape of her neck and wispy strands to lay against her forehead. The soft yellow morning gown she’d worn all day made her hair come alive with golden highlights, her eyes appearing larger and darker.
However, she was not looking at him, her gaze fixated on the prone form of Olivia in his lap. She’d fallen unconscious, but still trembled a bit in his hold.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked, her brow creased with concern he could see was genuine.
Glancing down at Olivia, he shrugged. “She is sleeping for now, but it will not last. She rests in fits, awakening when the tremors become too much for her to ignore.”
Daphne nodded and took another step toward the bed, toward him. Her scent enveloped him, chasing away Olivia’s sweat and covering even the aroma of the steaming food.
“Perhaps I could sit with her so you might eat,” she offered. “It has been a long day. I’m certain you are hungry.”
He was starving. Now that Olivia slept and could no longer pester him to talk to her, he could take a moment to see to his own needs.
“Aye,” he relented, gently maneuvering Olivia back against her pillows and rising to his feet.
While he retrieved the tray, leaving Olivia’s broth on the bedside table before settling into an armchair near the hearth, Daphne bent over his sister, touching her brow, smoothing stray hair back from her face.
“Her nightgown is damp with sweat,” she remarked as he took his first bite. “She needs changing, and so do the sheets.”
He gestured toward the bell cords nearby. “Ring for Maeve, and she will see to it.”
Flashing him a look over her shoulder, she shook her head. “I am here and do not mind. Just tell me where her things are.”
He used his fork to point at the trunk Maeve had brought from Dunnottar, watching with unguarded interest as she dug for a clean nightgown. Finding clean bed linens stacked on the washstand, she retrieved some and returned to the bed.
As she leaned over and began unbuttoning Olivia, he lowered his gaze, keeping it down to give his sister privacy. The twisting sensation of hunger in his stomach began to abate, and the tension in his muscles released a bit now that Daphne moved around in his peripheral vision. Something about knowing she was within arm’s reach brought him a sense of levity. He found much of the agitation he’d experienced since coming to London had eased now that he’d found a way to trap her with him, keep her close.
When he glanced up again, she had Olivia draped in a clean, dry night gown, and had begun deftly changing the sheets without jostling her too much. Within minutes, she had new sheets arranged beneath his sister, the old ones left in a pile on the floor. That finished, she went to the washstand and retrieved a comb. Settling in the same place he’d just occupied on the bed, she began combing Olivia’s hair, murmuring in a soothing voice.
“You are so brave for what you’ve decided to do, Olivia,” she said while running the comb through his sister’s dark locks. “I do not know if I could be strong enough to put myself through this. I am so proud of you, and I know Adam and Serena are, too.”
That foreign feeling was back in his chest, squeezing painfully and wreaking havoc on his senses. It felt as good as it hurt, leaving him with no notion how to feel about watching a Fairchild touch his sister and murmur kind words to her. In the depths of his mind, he realized it was unfair to lump Daphne in with her father, brother, and uncle. She was so unlike them—strong where they were weak, kind where they were vile, a pure, white dove ascending from a pit of monsters. In truth, she was a bit of a miracle. How had she managed to become such a wise, strong person with Bertram for a brother and Gilliam for a father?
He might never know, but chose not to question it. All those things were what drew him to her, what made him want to own and possess her.
“Serena is such a lovely girl,” she continued while he looked on. “I am happy to have met her. I want you to know that if there is ever anything I can do for her, or you, I am happy to. I … I want to help, Olivia. In any way I can.”
Despite the fact that his sister had been claimed by exhaustion, he wondered if she heard what was being said around her. Daphne certainly seemed to think she could, speaking to Olivia as if she could actually hear her.
Adam polished off his dinner, then stood, laying the tray on the chair he’d just occupied before approaching the bed. Daphne had stood to set the comb aside, so he came up behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist and drawing her back against his body. She gasped, stiffening for a moment before relaxing. Her heart hammered against her ribs—he could feel it against the arm he used to anchor her in place. Turning his face in toward her neck, he buried his nose in the loose tendrils of her hair and inhaled, drawing in that scent, the essence of Daphne lingering under whatever soap she’d washed with that morning. It made the remaining tension in his body abate, and he sank against the warm curves of her welcoming body.
“How much longer will she suffer like this?” she asked, keeping her voice low.
He sighed against the curve of her neck. “A few days, I suppose. She has relied on laudanum for a long time, little dove. Her body will crave it until she either gives in or overcomes it.”
She nodded, then tipped her head back to rest against his shoulder. Her current state of passive acceptance did not fool him for a moment. He knew her far better than she realized … knew that she would play docile up until the moment it suited her to attempt escape. Of course, he would be prepared for such an eventuality. Prepared to chase her down and drag her back to where she belonged … to punish her for daring to think she could run from him.
He almost looked forward to it.
“I am happy to sit at her bedside with you,” she said, breaking the silence between them.
He grinned. “Are you? How generous of you to keep me company. Unless you are simply bored when I am not occupying the same room as you.”
She scoffed. “Do not flatter yourself.”
His smile only widened when she did not bother to deny it. Giving her a little squeeze, he then released her, not certain he could continue exercising control with her standing so close. He would rather not fuck her in a dark corner of the room his sister lay languishing in.
As he circled the bed to stand on its other side, Olivia began to move again, shivering and moaning in her sleep. He swore under his breath, edging close as the shudders grew stronger, rocking her from head to toe.
“My God,” Daphne whispered, pity lacing her voice as she leaned over the bed and touched Olivia. “The poor thing will never get any rest if this goes on.”
She gazed helplessly up at him, and he shook his head, having no notion himself what to do about any of it. He was tempted to go against Olivia’s wishes and give her a swallow of the drug she craved … just enough to put her to sleep, to ease her torment. But she’d never forgive him if he did.
“I have an idea,” Daphne said suddenly, eyes widening.
She hiked up her skirts and braced one knee on the bed, climbing on beside his sister. Looking back up at him, she motioned for him to do the same.
“Come on,” she urged when he did not respond fast enough for her liking. “If we use our bodies to compress her on either side, it might calm the tremors … keep her still enough for her to rest.”
He wrinkled his brow at the bizarre idea, but, for lack of anything better to do, he complied. As he lay on his side, Daphne took Olivia’s shoulders and turned her so that she lay on her side, facing Adam. Then, she slid closer, until her body pressed against Olivia’s from behind. Then, reaching over the slender form between them, she took his arm and pulled him closer, until Olivia lay sandwiched between them. His arm was long enough to enclose them both, so he braced it at Daphne’s back, pulling them both tighter against him. Daphne’s arm rested at his waist, draped over Olivia and completing the link.
To his surprise, after a few minutes of shivering, Olivia began to calm, sighing and sinking into the warm cocoon of the two bodies boxing her in. Glancing at Daphne over her head, he raised his eyebrows.
“Well done,” he offered. “How did you know it would work?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “Do you remember the fever I told you about … the one that almost killed me when I was a girl?”
He nodded, recalling the story of how her brother had helped nurse her back to health. Her brother would then grow up to be a cad.
“Well, Mother and … and my brother,” she stammered. “I remember them doing this to me when the fever melted away and the chills came. I could not stop shaking, and it frightened me. They got into bed and held me like this, and I felt safe … my body went still, and I slept for hours.”
Sleep. It sounded like a fine idea. He had not slept much the night before, the turmoil of the evening and all that had happened with Daphne weighing on his mind. With Olivia nestled beside him, Daphne in his hold, and Serena safe with Niall, he felt as if he might actually be able to sleep the entire night.
His eyelids grew heavy as he lay there watching her, raising the hand that rested at her back so that it cupped her face. Sighing, she closed her eyes and turned her head, nestling against his palm. It never ceased to amaze him how easily he could command her submission, make her lean into his touch when her mind ought to warn her to move away.
She fell asleep first, her eyelids drooping and then closing altogether, her breath slowing and deepening. Adam followed her, closing his eyes to the endearing sight of her in a deep sleep, her lips parted and her eyelids resting in perfect half-moon fans against her cheekbones.
When he opened his eyes again, hours had passed, and Niall was standing over them, his brow furrowed in confusion.
“What’s this, then?” he whispered, gesturing toward the two women sleeping beneath the stretch of his arm.
Adam rubbed at his bleary eyes and glanced around, finding himself engulfed by darkness. It must be quite early.
“Daphne’s idea,” he muttered. “It worked. Olivia slept through the night.”
Niall’s eyes widened in surprise, and he seemed torn between grudging respect for Daphne and the anger he’d held on to for as long as Adam had. He despised Daphne for the family she’d come from, but like Adam, he was going to have to learn that she was not like them. She had shown him that time and time again, and someday, Niall would have to see it for himself. He would have to accept that Daphne was his now, and he would not hear a word from anyone about letting her go.
“So, I s’pose ye’ve decided to keep her, then?” he accused, reading Adam’s thoughts so easily, it was uncanny.
“Aye,” he said, giving the butler a pointed look. One that reminded Niall how little he would appreciate any interference.
To his surprise, the man simply snorted, shaking his head. “Ye’re hopeless when it comes to her, ye know. Only person who doesn’t see that is you, Hart.”
Christ. Yet another person who thought him besotted. It was beginning to wear thin. The next person to make such a statement might find themselves on the other end of his fist.
“I’ll take her, now,” he added, pulling up an empty chair to the bedside. “You and yer lass go find your own bed.”
Grateful for the reprieve, and the chance to get Daphne in a bed without another person between them, he rolled off his side, then rounded to the other to retrieve Daphne. She made a little sound in the back of her throat, like a mewling kitten, when he lifted her in his arms, tucking her against his chest. Then, she sighed, nestling against him and burying her face in his shirt.
Trusting Niall to see to Olivia in his absence, he crossed to the door connecting the master suite to its neighbor and kicked it open, carrying her through. Maeve had been here, turning down the bedclothes and lighting a fire that had burned down to mere embers. He lay Daphne on top of the counterpane, taking a moment to quickly shovel coal into the hearth and bring the fire back to life. Then, he returned to her, stripping off his shirt as he approached the bed. He made quick work of his boots, then began trying to remove her clothing without waking her.
She whimpered in her sleep, writhing a bit when he began unbuttoning her gown, and he wondered if she dreamed of him tearing her clothes off, bending her to his will. God knew it was all he could think about. If not for the fact that she seemed exhausted, he might have awakened her to do as he pleased. He let her sleep instead, wanting her fully recovered before he took her again, his mind already filling with thoughts of all he wanted to do to her.
Maneuvering her beneath the bedclothes without a stitch of clothing on, he removed his breeches and followed her. His cock flared to life, pressing against the soft swell of her arse, and he flexed his hips, muffling a groan against the back of her shoulder. A few inches lower and a thrust of his hips, and he’d be inside her.
Still, he held back, simply drawing her tight into the shelter of his body and keeping her there. His hand rested on her flat belly, and he thought back to the night before, to the explosive moment he had neglected to pull from the warm haven of her cunt, choosing to spend his seed inside of her. He could not find it in himself to regret staking his claim … would regret it even less if she turned out to be pregnant with his child. It would be just one more thing binding her to him, ensuring she could never truly be free.
Tightening his grip on her, he was shocked to realize he actually wanted it to be true. He wanted a piece of him lodged inside of her, something she could not expel so easily. Perhaps then, she would be forced to accept her fate … to realize that he would keep her for as long as he wished, and if that turned out to be a very long time … well, it would be best for everyone involved.
In time, she’d be happy. He knew what to give her, what to do. She would come to accept what life with him could be, and everything would be as it should.
Closing his eyes, he drifted off to sleep, not rousing until she shook him awake hours later, declaring that they’d slept straight through breakfast and that it was now nearly noon.
He had not slept for so long in years.
Daphne spent the next few days resigning herself to life at Fairchild House with Adam. In truth, Olivia occupied so much of everyone’s time, she hardly had time to think beyond lending a hand, doing what she could to make the young woman comfortable. It had broken her heart to see Adam’s sister suffering, yet so resiliently fighting against the clutch of addiction to laudanum. She admired the girl for wanting something better, for needing more than what the numbness a bottle of potion could provide. And so, when she was not keeping Serena occupied in the nursery, she was helping mop Olivia’s bow, reading to her to help occupy her mind, changing her nightgowns and sheets, and helping feed her broth and water.
She noticed Niall eyeing her curiously when he came in and out of the room to take his time with her. Gone was the former animosity he’d once thrown her way, and in its place, she noticed an open curiosity. She mostly ignored him, not wanting to push him in any direction, and hoping that her actions alone would be enough to show him that she meant Olivia no harm. If she must be here, then she would do her part to help make Adam’s sister better … or, as well as she could be given the circumstances.
Some afternoons, she lay in bed with Adam, Olivia between them, caging her in to help her find stillness and rest. She often lay there, unable to sleep with Adam’s gaze intently set upon her, his gaze probing and pensive all at once. Not knowing what he might be thinking unnerved her, especially since she knew he would soon think of some way to retaliate against Bertram for what he’d done.
At night, he pulled her down into the darkness with him, reminding her of the tortuous bliss she could find in his arms. It took her back to Dunnottar, to those nights when she had surrendered to him, to her own base desires, bending to his will without a fight. He rewarded her well for it, reminding her of familiar pleasures, then teaching her new ones. She went to sleep each night thoroughly sated, sore in some places, covered in his fingerprints and bite marks … and so exhausted, she slept clear until morning, waking in his arms each day.
By week’s end, Olivia had begun to improve, the throes of her withdrawal not as constant as it had been. She begged to be allowed out of her room, so they took turns holding her arm and guiding her up and down the corridor, not wanting to push her body into too much activity too soon. Serena, noticing that her mother was out of bed, seemed happy to have time with Olivia, following her on her walks and chattering about the various things she’d done any given day.
Once Olivia was strong enough to manage the stairs, Daphne began taking her into the drawing room where the small collection of instruments had been stored. There, the young woman would happily lounge on a settee and watch while Adam began teaching Serena the basics of playing the pianoforte. He took her through the various scales and chords, displaying a patience she’d have never thought him capable of. Though, she supposed it was in keeping with the way Adam always handled his little niece—with affection and care.
One day, after Serena had finished practicing, Adam treated them to an impromptu performance, playing several compositions while Serena climbed into her mother’s lap. Daphne sat in a nearby armchair while Niall hovered near the door, his rapt gaze—as always—focused upon Olivia.
His playing seemed to cast the entire room into a thrall, closing out the world and encapsulating them in the drawing room. Daphne allowed herself to watch Adam without fear of being discovered as he’d long lost himself in the music, falling into a place where he existed as one with the notes he sent up from the ivory and ebony keys.
At least, she did not think he noticed her perusal. After several songs, his head turned, and his gaze snapped up to meet hers. She gasped, taken aback by the suddenness of being drawn into those eyes of his, drowning in prisms of green and gold. He didn’t speak, yet when he inclined his head toward the harp resting in one corner of the room, her body moved of its own volition, legs unfolding and propelling her toward it. She sank onto the cushioned seat and reached for the instrument—a plain affair her father had purchased for her some time ago. It did not hold a candle to the beautiful, golden harp at Dunnottar, but its strings could create the same music.
And so, when Adam launched into a familiar duet—one they’d played together before—she fell into the music with him, closing her eyes and putting her fingers to the strings. She smiled as she played, surprised to find she had missed this feeling of being one with him and the notes—his twining together with hers on the air. She’d missed making something with him that wasn’t harmful or hurtful to either of them … sharing the one thing that brought them both peace and joy.
Several more compositions passed them by, and the other occupants of the room seemed content to linger and listen, remaining perfectly still.
Until Olivia stood and set Serena aside, slowly making her way across the room. Daphne noticed the approach and paused, the last notes she’d played dying away while the pianoforte continued on, Adam oblivious to the shift in the room. She gazed up at Olivia, who caressed the harp with her gaze, her brow furrowed as if she attempted to work something out in her mind. Daphne allowed her hands to drop into her lap and remain there when Olivia reached out, caressing one of the strings, her touch too light to create a note, but still connecting with the familiar instrument.
Adam struck a discordant note, swiftly turning his head as he finally noticed that Daphne had gone silent. He drew in a sharp breath, but remained quiet. The entire room seemed to hold its breath as they collectively waited for Olivia to move, to speak, to … do something. To give them hope that she was not completely lost.
Yet, she seemed lost in her mind, her gaze darting and her lower lip disappearing between her teeth as her hands began to shake. Before she could pull away from the strings, Daphne reached out to grasp her hand, gently moving it back to the instrument. She smiled, keeping her tone low and light when she spoke.
“I’ve heard you play beautifully,” she remarked. “I think we would all love to hear you.”
The gazes of the others bored into Daphne, but she ignored them, focusing on Olivia. Adam’s sister stood on a precipice, just on the edge of regaining one of the many things she’d lost.
She swallowed and cleared her throat before replying. “I … I do not think I remember how.”
Daphne breathed a small sigh, relieved for some sign that Olivia was still with them, still lucid. She slowly rose from her seat and shifted away to make room for Olivia. Then, she took the other woman’s arm in a gentle hold and began carefully maneuvering her into the chair.
“That’s quite all right,” she replied. “Would you like to try? I am certain once you attempt it, your mind will take to it as easily as it once did.”
Olivia cast her a glance, her dark eyes filled with uncertainty. Daphne merely gave what she hoped was an encouraging smile. When Olivia still did not move, Daphne turned to glance at Niall, who had stumbled farther into the room, eyes wide, mouth pinched. She invited him to come with a wave of her hand. He seemed to war with himself for a moment, and she understood his inner struggle. The man did not trust her with his Livvie, but also seemed curious about where this could lead.
“Please,” she whispered, imploring him with her gaze and hoping he could see her sincerity. “I think you can help her with this in a way the rest of us cannot.”
Niall sighed, but nodded in agreement, quickly making his way to them. When he drew near, Daphne reached for his hand, smirking when the man flinched and glared at her. Ignoring his assessing stare, she guided his hand toward Olivia’s. He curled his large, rough fingers around Olivia’s slender ones, and Daphne stepped back, motioning for him to come closer.
“Put her hands to the strings,” she whispered, her gaze locked on the two joined hands—a stark juxtaposition reminding everyone in the room that they did not belong together.
Niall had the hands of a man who’d done manual labor his entire life—big and calloused, with scars crisscrossing the knuckles. In contrast, Olivia’s were petite, pale, long-fingered, smooth. Yet, she responded to his touch, her fingers bending, then straightening, moving as if they wanted to remember what to do.
The butler cast Daphne a questioning glance, and she smiled at him. “It’s all right … just help her remember. Help her try.”
He nodded and turned back to Olivia, moving to position himself behind her. He used one hand to guide her fingers to the strings while bracing the other on her shoulder.
“Ye know how it’s done, mo ghradh,” he murmured. “I remember ye used to play such beautiful music. That part o’ ye is still in there someplace.”
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’s Harp 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 finished Harp 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.