Page 46 of Deals & Dream Spells (The Charmed Leaf Legacy #2)
Ryden leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “Count yourself fortunate, then. At least you no longer have to concern yourself with finding a wife.”
“Still being pressured to make a match?” Evryn asked quietly as movement on the other side of the room signaled the next musician was coming forward .
“Increasingly so,” Ryden replied, his voice dropping to a murmur. “Mother has hinted that this may be my last Season of freedom before she presents me with an ultimatum. ‘Choose someone suitable, or I shall choose for you,’ I imagine she’ll say.”
There was genuine frustration in his voice, his mask of irreverence slipping in the presence of his close friend. Mariselle’s gaze slid back to him with curiosity just as he tilted his head and added, “Is that your sister, Rowanwood?”
Mariselle faced forward as Aurelise stepped onto the platform, her hands clasped tightly before her as she approached the magnificent piano.
“Our next performer,” Lady Bridgemere announced, “is Miss Aurelise Rowanwood, whose musical gifts have been the delight of private gatherings for some time. Tonight, we are honored that she has agreed to share her talent with us.”
A polite smattering of applause followed as Aurelise seated herself at the piano, her back straight, her shoulders tense.
Mariselle caught the slight tremor in her hands as she positioned them above the keys, hesitating a moment too long.
Just as the silence began to stretch uncomfortably, Aurelise closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and began to play.
The first notes were hesitant, almost tentative, and for a moment Mariselle feared she might falter.
But then, as if some internal threshold had been crossed, Aurelise’s entire demeanor transformed.
Her shoulders relaxed, her expression softened, and her fingers began to move across the keys with fluid grace.
The melody that emerged was hauntingly beautiful—complex and layered in a way that suggested far more experience than a girl of seventeen should possess.
As the music swelled, Mariselle became aware of a subtle shimmer in the air around Aurelise, like heat rising from sun-warmed stone.
She watched, captivated, the music washing over her in waves that seemed to resonate with something deep within her own magic.
There was power here, nascent but undeniable.
She glanced at Lady Lelianna across the room and recognized the look of pride on the woman’s face—and was struck by a deep and profound sense of sadness.
Even if her own mother had known the full extent of Mariselle’s abilities, Lady Clemenbell’s eyes would never have held that fierce maternal pride .
A slight movement drew Mariselle’s attention, and she refocused on Evryn and Ryden.
The latter was leaning forward slightly in his seat, his usual mask of casual indifference completely absent.
Gone was the affected boredom, the deliberate nonchalance, the studied disregard for propriety.
In their place was raw, unguarded appreciation, a vulnerability she suspected few had ever glimpsed.
She smiled to herself as she turned her gaze back to the subtle shimmer dancing in the air around Aurelise. It seemed they were all affected by the enchantment of her magic.
The final notes of the piece lingered in the air, sustained by the room’s magical acoustics before slowly fading into silence.
For a moment, no one moved or spoke, the entire assembly held in thrall by what they had witnessed.
Then applause erupted, more enthusiastic than for any previous performer.
Aurelise opened her eyes, looking momentarily startled to find herself before an audience. A shy smile curved her lips as she rose and curtseyed deeply, her cheeks flushed with pleasure.
“She’s extraordinary,” Mariselle said as the applause died down, leaning closer to Evryn, her hand on his arm.
“Isn’t she?” he answered, pride evident in his voice as he reached over and placed his hand on hers. He squeezed lightly and then left his hand there, in a way that seemed entirely natural.
Or at least, it had felt entirely natural—until she noticed it.
And then, quite suddenly, it was all she could notice.
The gentle pressure of his palm against hers, the warmth of it seeping through her glove, the slow, absent-minded path his thumb traced across her skin.
Was it intentional? Was someone watching?
Was this still part of the performance? The questions tangled with a rush of sensation that made it difficult to think, to be anything other than acutely aware of him.
It was maddening. This was entirely unnecessary to their performance. She really should move her hand. But instead, she left it precisely where it was and forced her attention back to the stage as the next musician took his place.
She drew a measured breath, schooling her features into polite interest as the opening notes of the next piece filled the room.
This peculiar flutter in her chest was nothing more than the discomfort of prolonged contact with a Rowanwood.
A perfectly natural aversion, heightened by the artifice of their charade.
That was all. It would fade, just as the silver mark binding them would fade once they had fulfilled the terms of the contract.
She simply needed to remember what truly mattered: Dreamland, her family’s legacy, and finally earning the love and recognition she had craved for so long.