Page 72 of The Virtuoso

“Tell that to Moreland,” Val muttered before taking a hefty swallow of his drink.

“I think he already knows.” Axel yawned. “You’ll see what you can do to help Ellen?”

“I will. Have you somebody to take a message to London tonight?”

Axel glanced out the window. “Moon’s up. Wheeler will likely be game. You can afford this?”

Val smiled at him, knowing the question wasn’t intended as an insult. “You are a good friend, Axel Belmont, and a brave man. Compared to what I’ve put into the estate, this little investigation will be a pittance, and I can well afford it. I haven’t just produced a few pianos for the occasional schoolroom; I’ve also imported a lot of rare and antique instruments from the Continent. The Corsican left many an old family with little enough coin, so I can buy very, very cheaply and sell very, very dearly.”

“Trade.” Axel smiled. “One doesn’t want to admit it, but it can be fun.”

“Fun and profitable. I am seeing to it priceless instruments find a home where they’ll be taken care of, appreciated, and even played.”

“Shrewd of you,” Axel said, his gaze appraising. “St. Just claims your business sense is every bit as astute as Westhaven’s.”

“Maybe, but only in my very limited field.”

“I don’t buy that,” Axel countered, rising, going to the desk, and rummaging for paper, ink, pen, and sand. “I’ll leave you to your correspondence and warn Wheeler somebody had better be saddling up.”

“My thanks.” Val took the seat behind the desk.

“And Val?” Axel paused by the door. “I can’t help but wonder if there isn’t a connection we’re missing.”

“Connecting what?”

“Your estate has been beset with hidden traps, and it’s as if Ellen’s future has been sabotaged, as well. I can’t see the common thread, but I sense there is one.”

“As do I. I’ll see what I can find out.”

But after he jotted off a note to Benjamin Hazlit in London and had it delivered to the stables, Val sat for a long time, pondering Axel’s parting words. He knew what it felt like to have one’s future sabotaged, and it wasn’t a feeling easily tolerated.

***

Ellen came awake when Val quietly closed her bedroom door, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s going to storm and I wanted to be with you. Go back to sleep.”

“I can handle a storm, Valentine,” Ellen said, but she heard something brittle in her own voice. Her confidences to Abby earlier in the evening reminded her that she’d handled too many storms, truth be told, and hated each and every one.

“Maybe I can’t,” Val replied, lifting the covers and slipping in beside her. “Budge over and cuddle up, wench.”

“It is blowing something fierce,” Ellen admitted, snuggling closer. Snow might pile up, and rain might come down, but the violence and wind of the summer storm intimidated her the most.

“You’re safe with me.” Val kissed her crown. “Do you believe that?”

“Safe?” Ellen frowned in the darkness as she curled up against him. “Safe how?”

“I will not let harm befall you, Ellen. Now go to sleep.”

What an odd declaration, and how lovely to find he was as naked as she. “Can one be safe in the embrace of a tiger?”

“Yes, though perhaps one cannot get a good night’s rest in the arms of a tigress.”

Ellen considered his words while the wind picked up and the rain slapped down in gusts and torrents just beyond her window. The darkness and the fact that Valentine would seek her out in the middle of the night gave her courage. “May I ask you something, Valentine?”

He left off nuzzling her temple. “You may ask me anything, Ellen. That is part of what it means to be safe in the company of another. You are also safe in my esteem.”

She stretched up and put her lips near his ear. “Would you allow me to put my mouth on you?” To elucidate her inquiry, she slid her hand down over the flat, warm plane of his torso to cup him gently and then wrap her fingers around his member. “I’ve wondered about it since we were by the stream earlier. I’ve wondered a very great deal.”

“Yourmouth?”