In the Arms of an Earl Read Online Free PDF Page A

again when she reached the final allegretto , which she relished. As the hour wore on, she fell deeper and deeper into the music, and forgot where she was.
    Forgot he was there.
    Only the keys fluttering beneath her fingers were real. The warmth from the fire and her energetic movements caused a bead of sweat to slip down her hairline to her cheek. She brushed it away, tugging at her collar to cool off. A moment later, she pulled her tight braid free of its ribbon, and her hair swung about her face and shoulders.
    “If I may suggest, Miss Brooke…”
    She startled and hit the wrong notes. “Colonel Blakeney?” she asked, feeling silly.
    She fumbled with her neck ribbon again, grateful to find it still tied. Her hair was another matter. She searched around the bench for her hair ribbon, but it was gone.
    “Your right hand is a little weak. Have you played this music very much before?”
    “It is usually my best piece.” She chewed her lip, swallowing back the humiliation. This was precisely why she seldom played before an audience, no matter how small. “I haven’t had much in the way of formal training, Colonel Blakeney.”
    She swiftly closed the lid. She wasn’t aware he’d moved from the corner until he was beside her.
    “May I?” His earnest voice broke through any barriers she’d erected. He wasn’t at all the imposing, demanding maestro Lucinda had intimated. She moved away from the bench, but he shook his head. “Please, sit, Miss Brooke, and I will show you what I meant. You have talent, to be sure. You only require some practical lessons to perfect your skill.”
    When they’d met at the musicale, his talent, and not his appearance, had overwhelmed her. Standing in the flickering firelight with his eyes shadowed and the faintest hint of whiskers on his solid jaw, he was splendid. The missing hand had shocked her at first, but she’d seen amputees returned from the war. His shoulder flinched from an invisible push, and she averted her gaze. He sat on the bench, his swarthy skin even more flushed, whether from embarrassment or nearness to the fire, she did not know.
    Nothing of the rogue like Jeremy Parker lurked in his eyes. His intention was not seduction, but assistance, given without expectation of any kind of payment. This was perhaps the closest she would ever come to a master’s instruction, and she could not pass up the opportunity no matter how unconventional. She took her seat again, sitting as close to the edge of the bench as possible.
    He played the higher octave. Even one-handed, his obvious talent was enviable. After a few minutes, he stopped.
    “Now, if you wouldn’t mind copying me.”
    Jane placed her fingers on the keys his had vacated. She stumbled more than usual and was relieved when he nodded abruptly, cutting her off.
    “If you would allow me…”
    He slipped his hand beneath hers so her fingers rested on his. Stunned, she kept her hand there because she didn’t know what else to do. He played again, and her fingers moved with his, dipping and rising over the keys together. She missed a few notes at first, but he promptly repeated the measure until she moved in time with him.
    Every time the music compelled him to play farther up the keyboard, she was forced to follow. Her arm brushed his chest repeatedly, the soft lawn fabric of her night rail scraping his brocade waistcoat with a slight swishing sound. A long strand of her hair snagged on his button, and she stopped to untangle it. When she pulled at her hair, she accidentally jerked him toward her. His jaw skimmed her forehead, and when he laughed, his warm breath, smelling vaguely of sweet sherry, fanned her face. She struggled with both hands, but her hair was hopelessly knotted.
    “Dear me!” She couldn’t hide her horrified embarrassment. His left arm pressed her breast for one heart-stopping moment. He moved away and made quick work of her hair, giving it a gentle tug until it slid free of his button.
    When she