‘You were busy working and talking to visitors,’ he said. ‘And I have to say, I’m impressed by how at ease you are with people.’
She looked surprised. ‘But you’re a prince. You have to talk to people all the time. Aren’t you at ease with them?’
‘Not in the same way that you are,’ he admitted. ‘You have this natural empathy.’ And, because he was so used to formality, he had to work at being at ease with people. Which pretty much negated the point.
‘I’m surprised they didn’t teach you that sort of thing at prince school.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘Very funny.’
‘I still think you’d make an awesome model for a stained-glass angel,’ she said. ‘Though I can understand why you don’t want to sit for me.’
‘It’s not that I don’t want to. I can’t. In another life,’ he said softly, ‘I’d sit for you with pleasure.’ And he’d enjoy watching her sketch him, seeing the way she caught the tip of her tongue between her teeth when she was concentrating. And then maybe afterwards...
‘But in this life it’d be a PR nightmare,’ she said, going straight to the root of the matter. ‘The new King of Melvante has to be squeaky clean.’
‘Yes.’ Until he’d met Indigo, that hadn’t been a problem. But Indigo Moran made him want to break every single one of his rules and then some. To stop himself thinking about it, and to distract her from probing his thoughts too deeply, he made an exaggerated squeaking noise. ‘Like this.’
She laughed. And, to his relief, everything felt smooth and light and sparkly again.
‘I’d better let you get on. You’ve had enough distractions for today.’
She smiled at him again. ‘You can stay if you want to.’
Tempting. So very, very tempting. And he wanted to spend more time with Indigo. He liked this side of her, the fun and the carefree feeling he didn’t normally have time for.
But he really needed to let his common sense get back in charge. Preferably right now. He was supposed to be preparing for his new role, not acting on impulse and indulging himself. ‘Thanks, but I’ll see you later, OK?’ And then, hopefully, the next time he saw her he’d be back in sensible mode and he’d be able to treat her as just another acquaintance. He could be charming and witty, but he could keep his emotions totally in check.
And what he needed more than anything else, right now, was a little time at the ancient grand piano in the library.
Now the visitors had gone and the house was back to being fully private, the family dogs had the free run of the place again, so a couple of minutes after Lorenzo had settled at the piano he discovered that Toto, an elderly golden Labrador he’d known since puppyhood, was leaning against his leg. Just like home, except with a bigger dog, he thought with a smile, and reached down to ruffle the dog’s fur. And then he lost himself in the music.
* * *
Indigo could hear piano music. Which was odd, because she had a very quiet cello concerto playing on her iPod. She reached over and paused the track, and listened again. Definitely a piano, but not something she recognised.
The piece stopped, and there was silence for a moment, before a snatch of something, and then a pause and a few bars of something else, as if someone was trying to decide what to play next.
Curious, Indigo made sure that all her electrical equipment was turned off and her pots of acid all had lids on, and went in search of the music. As she neared the library, the music got louder. She paused in the doorway of the library. Lorenzo was sitting at the piano; from her vantage point, she could see that his eyes were closed as he was playing.
In another life, she thought, this could’ve been his career. Though he didn’t have the luxury of choice.
When he’d finished, she clapped softly, and Lorenzo opened his eyes and stared at her in surprise.
‘What are you doing here?’ he asked.
‘I heard the music,’ she said simply.
He grimaced. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.’
‘I was going to have a break anyway.’ She paused. ‘You’re very good.’
‘Thank you.’
Lorenzo accepted the compliment gracefully, even a little bit shyly. Indigo had the strongest feeling that this was a part of himself that he normally kept hidden. She couldn’t resist asking, ‘Would you play some more for me?’
‘I...’ He gave her another of those shy smiles that made her heart contract. ‘Sure, if you want. Take a seat.’
She heeled off her shoes and curled up on a corner of the battered leather chesterfield sofa. The Labrador came over and put a paw on one of the cushions, clearly intending to lever himself up next to her.
‘Toto, you bad hound, you know you’re not allowed on the furniture,’ she scolded him.
The dog gave her a mournful look and she sighed and slid off the chesterfield onto the floor. ‘All right, then, I’ll come down and sit with you.’
He wagged his tail, licked her face and then sprawled over her.
‘And you’re much too big to be a lapdog,’ she said, but she rubbed the dog’s tummy anyway and he gave her a look of absolute bliss.
‘You like dogs?’ Lorenzo asked. Then he rolled his eyes. ‘That was a stupid question, because the answer’s obvious.’
‘I love them. But my work takes me all over the place and not everyone’s comfortable with dogs, so I can’t have one of my own. I come and borrow Lottie and Gus’s every so often.’ She paused. ‘I see you didn’t mind Toto leaning against your leg while you were playing. I take it you like dogs, too?’
He nodded. ‘I have dogs at home, but mine are a little smaller than Toto.’
She grinned. ‘Prince Lorenzo, please don’t tell me you have a Chihuahua.’
‘And carry it around with me in a basket?’ He laughed. ‘No. We have various spaniels. And although they’re nearly as old as Toto, they’re not quite as well behaved. They sneak up onto the furniture as soon as you’ve looked away. Especially Caesar. He’s my shadow when I’m at home.’
And she could tell that he didn’t really mind. Which made him seem so much more human. A king who didn’t necessarily expect all his subjects to obey him and would indulge an elderly and much-loved dog.
‘What do you want me to play?’ he asked.
‘Anything you like,’ she said, and listened intently as he ran through several pieces.
‘That was fabulous,’ she said when he’d finished. ‘When you said last night that it helped to get through tough times if you had something... It was music for you, wasn’t it?’
He nodded, and she had to stop herself from walking over to the piano and hugging him. She didn’t want him to think she was pitying him; but she could understand how a lonely little boy, far from his home and his family, needed to take refuge in something. She’d been there herself. ‘Did you ever think about being a musician?’
He shrugged. ‘It wasn’t exactly an option. My job’s been mapped out for me pretty much since I was born.’
She frowned. ‘Doesn’t that make you feel trapped?’
‘It’s my duty and I’m not going to let anyone down.’
She noticed that he hadn’t actually answered the question. Which told her far more than if he’d tried to bluff his way out of it. She knew she’d feel trapped, in his shoes. Stuck in a formal, rigid culture where you were expected to know every single rule off by heart and abide by them all.