Page 48 of Reluctantly His

Would I be expected to nod and agree as pure nonsense dribbled out of my husband’s mouth?

Surely not. Surely he would appreciate a wife who was a true partner, who had intelligent opinions of her own. Right?

It didn’t really matter if I was involved in the conversation or not. My focus was on trying not to look at Reid, because I knew he was still staring at me. I could feel the weight of his gaze. The weight of his judgement.

He openly stared while I wasn’t brave enough to even look in his direction.

Not with the way that woman kept giving me disparaging glances.

I knew immediately she disapproved of me, and if I dared to look at Reid, she would instantly know absolutely everything and would have no problems calling this marriage off immediately.

Somewhere between the second and third course, there was a natural lull in the conversation, and Luc took the opportunity to brag about Amelia’s art school to our guests.

He was always doing that.

I was pretty sure it was to show off his wife and her accomplishments. He always beamed with pride when she talked about her beloved art school.

What I wouldn’t give for someone to be that proud of me.

“It’s actually going wonderfully. In fact, I’ve been meaning to ask you…” She turned to face me. “We’re having a charity event in the next few weeks. The kids are doing some exciting things with digital media. Specifically in projecting color and matching it to music and using fans for wind and some other really cool things. They want to run an experiment for the next showcase.”

“Oh?” I put my fork down. I hadn’t eaten much and had mostly just moved my food around on the plate. “What kind of experiment?”

I was genuinely interested and happy for the opportunity to join the conversation for the first time all night.

“Well, they’re playing around with all of the senses. And for music initially, they were just going to download something and play it. But one of the kids saw you perform at the charity event a few days ago.”

My gaze flashed to Reid.

The corner of his mouth lifted as he raised an eyebrow in a knowing, arrogant smirk.

Damn the man.

Amelia continued, breaking my impossibly erotic thoughts about Reid spreading my legs and settling between them as he lowered the zipper to his pants. “They wondered if you would be willing to help them. They said something about the song you ended with. She wasn’t sure what the song was, but she said it sounded like oxblood and anger, then teal and sorrow. Whatever that means,” she laughed.

I knew exactly what the student meant. Amelia would too when she heard the piece.

“It sounded like teal?” The baroness laughed. “What a preposterous, imbecilic thing to say. Who describes music with colors?”

The coppery tang of blood pricked my tastebuds as I literally bit my tongue to keep myself from firing back that she was the imbecile to stifle a child’s creative description with her rigid conceptions.

Clearing my throat, I choose instead to pretend I hadn’t heard the mocking indignation as I asked, “What exactly would I have to do?”

“Just show up and play. They are working really hard to give the audience a full sensory experience, and they thought that having you play live and putting you in the middle of a stage with the colors swirling around you would take their project to the?—”

Romney interrupted Amelia as if she weren’t even speaking. “What instrument do you play?”

The cologne he was wearing was far too strong and smelt like rubbing alcohol and baby powder.

Resisting the urge to exchange an astonished glance with Amelia, I politely responded, trying not to breathe too deeply, “Like most musicians, I can play several string instruments as well as piano. But I prefer the dark, somber tones of the cello. It’s my passion.”

“Oh God.” He made a face, scrunching his nose like he finally got a whiff of his own fragrance. “I hate the cello. Such a depressing instrument.”

I hadn’t expected him to love my playing, or even really listen, but for something that was so important to me to be dismissed without a single thought or any hesitation stung.

Reid stepped forward, fists raised.

Luc sprung from his seat to intercept him. “Reid, old boy, I just remembered that I… left my car running and need your help.”

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