Page 8 of Reluctantly His

I closed my eyes as I pressed the back of my head against the hard wood paneled door.

Why couldn’t I have thought of some sassy comeback to put him in his place?

I groaned.

I already knew why.

Because I was Mary, not Elizabeth.

I rubbed my neck, missing the comforting weight of my cello pressing against my shoulder. Whenever I was stressed, sad, or lonely, I reached for my cello.

Crossing past my Colonial-style bed with its obnoxiously girly, frilled lace canopy, I reached for my cello. My fingertips grazed over the cool, smooth surface with reverence.

It was a Stradivarius, one of only eighty made by Antonio Stradivari himself.

It had been a wedding gift from my father to my mother.

The knowledge that my birth had killed the woman he loved had always hung between my father and me like an obsessive fog.

When I first found her beloved instrument in the attic, I had thought that maybe it would bring us closer if I learned to play it.

The memory of the pained expression on his face when, as a child, I surprised him with an impromptu concert of Mary Had a Little Lamb was forever imprinted on my soul.

As I foolishly beamed up at him, holding my breath, waiting for a kind word, he had stood and silently left the room.

I’d been crushed.

That was the first and last time I had ever played for him.

It was Luc and Olivia who’d convinced me to keep playing. Luc had even swiped my father’s credit card to set up online lessons for me.

Every month that passed, I’d expected my father to notice the charge and cancel them.

But he never did.

And while, after I’d graduated from college, he’d adamantly refused to allow me to pursue a professional career in music, he hadn’t objected to me joining an informal string quartet who played at children’s hospitals, nursing homes, and charity events.

As long as I got to play, I didn’t care.

My siblings often came to hear me.

My father never did.

My middle finger ran down the ridged metal D string.

Despite his objections, I had shown just enough courage to continue pursing my love of music and playing. Eventually, he had gotten over it and let me be.

Maybe my father would do the same with this horrible idea of me needing a bodyguard.

I mean, really? Who was going to seriously try and kidnap me?

Marksen had kidnapped Olivia to get back at Luc.

Those horrible criminals had kidnapped Eddie to intimidate Harrison, my new brother-in-law.

No one had any such designs on me. I wasn’t the subject of any man’s obsession.

Men barely noticed me.

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