Spirit of the Revolution Read Online Free PDF Page B

around to Jo’s bedside. He gazed down on her sleeping form. She looked so small in her great big bed. Waves of long hair spilled across the pillow, and her long black lashes hid her lovely blue eyes. Still, she looked as if she slept peacefully enough. He needed that reassurance, and he needed to know their celebration hadn’t troubled her overly much. At least that’s what he told himself.
    But if truth revealed itself, his visit held more than just that. He greatly admired her strength, tenaciousness, and indelible spirit, and he found himself drawn to her like moth to flame. Although he courted personal danger by allowing her to remain underneath his roof, he found he could do naught but stay the course, to whatever end it might lead.

Chapter 3
    “Okay, Dak, vacation time is over, I’m afraid,” Jo said as Dakota followed her into the kitchen. “I think we’ve allowed ourselves to get just a little too lazy and fancy free these days. So, your job this morning is to go outside and chase those wretched squirrels away from the house. Mine is to head into the library and start working on those new pieces I received this morning— if I still remember how to play the violin, that is.”
    She opened the door and at once Dakota bounded toward the big oak tree in the center of the yard. He did a playful little leap in the air while furiously wagging his tail, then crouched down, and jumped up again as if chasing a bug. A scant moment later, he ran from one end of the property to the other, halted once in the middle, sat down, and then tore off again. His crazy antics made her laugh.
    Jo returned to the foyer, swept her package from off the hall tree table, and ascended the stairs. Just as she entered the library, the ceiling fan fluttered a page of the open book atop the desk. Feeling a little bewildered, she picked up her copy of The Red Badge of Courage , and stared at it. Strange, she just didn’t remember taking it off the shelf. Again. No matter, for the second time this week, she simply put it back where it belonged and turned her attention to her parcel.
    After removing the contents from the envelope, Jo settled into one of the big leather chairs and flipped through each piece of music. A sudden chill coursed through her body. Odd, but this room always seemed so much cooler than the rest of the house. Perhaps a blocked vent needed attention, but not today. Once again, she focused on the music, studying each piece in the order she received it. About three quarters of the way through the stack, she turned a page. Andre Popp’s “Love is Blue” met her startled gaze.
    For the meaning it held to them personally, her deceased parents favored this song above all others. As she closed her eyes, she could see them dancing, snuggled close in each other’s arms, oblivious to anything or anyone else in the room while the song played. They shared a deep and wondrous once-upon-a-time-and-happily-ever-after kind of love and oh, how she missed them. The one—the only—consolation to their passing? They made their final journey together. Coincidentally, they made that trip exactly five years ago today. Perhaps they used this music to say hello. Wiping a tear from her eye, she sniffed as she rose from her seat. She took up her violin and placed the music on her stand. Jo played the piece as if they listened. Perhaps somewhere, they did.
    ****
    Mathias fixed his gaze upon Jolena the moment she entered his domain. His anticipation mounted as she retrieved her violin, nestled it against her chin, and touched bow to string. The enchanting music that followed stirred his soul, for by the saints, she played like an angel.
    One by one each of his men, drawn to the beauty of the music, entered the room. Over the next few hours, they remained quiet and attentive. She played piece after piece of music—until the phone rang and ended the pleasure.
    The stern look on his face warned against any outward demonstration of discontent or