His fingers contracted, then froze. Tension pinched through his forearm. He struggled to make his hand close over Clara’s, but the muscles seized.
Clara stared at his hand, his fingers stiffened into a claw that refused to curl around hers. Fear and dismay roiled in his stomach as he watched the dark comprehension cloud her violet eyes.
“What happened?” Clara whispered.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t…”
Her fingers closed around his. Warmth flowed up his arm, easing the persistent constriction of his muscles.
“You don’t know?” she repeated.
Sebastian shook his head and forced the confession from his tight throat. “It started a few months ago, right after I took the Weimar position. My right hand wouldn’t do what I wanted it to, almost as if it weren’t even part of me anymore. Whenever I tried to play the piano, my fingers froze and curled toward my palm. I went to several doctors, one of whom referred me to a surgeon who said it was a muscle problem. Did a surgery that bent this finger permanently.”
He touched his little finger, which was bent at a right angle. Even if he could regain control over the rest of his hand, he’d have to undergo another surgery to try to fix the damaged joint.
Clara sighed, her eyes veiled by her lashes. She didn’t release his hand. Instead she rubbed her fingers over his, as if soothing the ruffled feathers of a bird. His breath eased a little.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
He lifted a hand to her ear. “You?”
Shadows filled her expression, her mouth tightening. “Do you remember my brother, William? He also took piano lessons from you when we stayed in Dorset. He died when he was fifteen. I was seventeen. We were boating on a lake when a storm came up. A wind blew my hat into the water. I leaned too far to retrieve it and tipped the boat over. William hit his head and I couldn’t…”
The words crumbled beneath the weight of sorrow. Sebastian pulled her into his arms, breathing in the sweet smell of her hair.
“The days following were horrible,” Clara continued. “The grief tore us apart. My mother refused to leave her room. I developed a terrible pain in my ear and a ringing noise that wouldn’t cease. I didn’t tell anyone. I…I wanted to hide. I knew they all blamed me for William’s death. By the time the inflammation was treated with poultices and tinctures, my hearing was already damaged.”
Sebastian touched the delicate shell of her ear. He brushed his lips across her temple, across the soft strands of hair that had escaped their pins, and to the black birthmark at the corner of her eyebrow. Then lower, down to her cheekbone, before descending to capture her mouth.
Clara murmured his name and turned her head to meet him in a kiss that quivered with suppressed longing. He covered her lips, heat blooming in his blood as she opened for him without hesitation. He probed the warmth of her mouth, slid his tongue across her teeth. His damaged hand stiffened against her hip as her body curved against his.
He wanted to crush her to him, to pull her clothes off so he could touch the bare smoothness of her skin. Urgency pulsed through him like a heartbeat as Clara’s hands came up to cup his cheeks, angling his head to deepen their kiss.
A vibrant energy crackled from her into him, searing him with pleasure and something remarkably akin to happiness. Like cool, fresh water she poured into his desiccated soul and brought him to flourishing life again.
With her, he almost felt as if he could be himself again. As if he could reclaim everything that was pleasant and joyous of his former life.
Clara moved her lips to his jaw and gave a husky laugh, her breath fanning against his skin. “You never imagined this would happen, did you?”
“Did you?” Sebastian flexed his fingers against her waist.
“Oh, yes.” She parted from him, her hands sliding down to his neck. Warm amusement creased her eyes, bright above her flushed cheeks. “When we were in Dorset. When I watched you weave your music while surrounded by beautiful, admiring women….Oh, I imagined it. I hoped for it.…I wanted you to look at me, dance with me, speak with me.”
Sebastian lifted his good hand to her face and rubbed his thumb across her full lower lip. When he first encountered her in the Hanover Square ballroom, he thought he didn’t remember her.