Page 51 of Enthrall Secrets
Chapter 15
France
THAT ROOM AT the top of the house had called to me again.
As though some part of me knew there was something in there significant to Danton’s life…his past.
I’d broached the subject of the room one more time and Danton had closed down my line of questioning by quickly changing the subject - and then spanking me deliciously.
I’d lived here for a month now. Surely such time spent with a man and the intimacy we shared warranted no further secrets between us?
Since the day he’d told me to forget that room even existed, I’d mulled over what might be in there. Danton had said it was merely old books, but from the way he’d broken my gaze I knew there was something he was hiding.
I’d tried to forget about it.
Yet the more I forced my thoughts away the more my intrigue grew. Survival was all about following your instincts. Now was the time to shed light on Danton’s other secret.
With him resting soundly in our bed - he was sleeping later in the mornings these days - I went off to explore.
In the kitchen was an old bunch of keys I’d found when I’d been busy cooking for us one evening, searching the drawers looking for a can opener for a tin of tomatoes. I’d made a mental note to come back for those keys when I was feeling brave.
I carried them to the upper hallway and tried each one in the keyhole of the mysterious door, my imagination running wild with what I was going to find.
I squealed with delight when one of the keys turned in the lock.
I shoved open the door.
It was so beautiful it took my breath away. There on a stand sat the most gorgeous amber-colored cello.
Had the music Danton played to me in the greenhouse come from this very instrument?
Reverently, I stepped toward it, and then saw the musical scores in a neat pile on a table at the back of the room. A few antique books were stacked on a shelf to help validate his previous assertion. I moved closer to the cello, my fingers trailing down the strings. I gave one a tweak and it vibrated in a deep base.
“What are you doing?” Danton asked sternly. He was leaning against the doorjamb.
“Can you play this?”
He gestured for me to come to him.
“That music you played me in the greenhouse, did it come from this?”
“Yes.”
That meant he’d recorded a piece of music at some point, confirming just how brilliant a musician he was.
I was astounded. “You really are a cellist?”
“I used to be.”
“Why hide it away?” I went to grasp the neck of the instrument and then pulled away, realizing this was something very, very special.
He walked into the room.
“I figured I was going to have to stop at some point,” he answered, shrugging.
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“It’s like—” He placed his hand on his heart. “When you need something so much and you know you’re going to lose it. Why bother to fight? Let it go.”
