Page 288 of Once an Angel
His hands froze above the keys. Who in this household would be mad enough to approach him now?
The candle guttered in a gust of wind, and the shadows closed in with the silence. The harsh rasp of his breathing was the only sound.
He swung around on the bench.
Emily stood like a ghost in her long white nightdress, clutching her ragged old doll. Her feet were bare
and her cheeks still streaked with tear stains. A lump hardened in Justin's throat. She looked very young, like a child creeping downstairs in the night for a drink of water. But there was no denying her eyes were the eyes of a woman, darkened in some unspeakable plea.
His emotions choked him. Why couldn't he hold her? Why couldn't he draw her into his lap and gently cradle her head to his chest? Why couldn't he dry her tears on his shirt and promise her everything
would be all right?
Because it would be a lie. And he hadn't paid the price for his silence all these lonely years to start lying
to her now.
If he laid his hands on her, he wouldn't stop. The same hand that drew her into his lap would ease her nightdress up over her hips. The same lips that murmured soothing reassurances would cover hers as he laid her back on the piano, parted her ivory thighs, and drove himself home in her honeyed depths. He didn't dare touch her. He didn't dare even look at her.
He turned his face away, feeling his jaw stiffen as if it were set in granite. "Go back to bed, Emily," he commanded, hardly recognizing the hoarse voice as his own. "Now."
He felt her hesitancy, heard the soft shuffle of her bare feet on the rug. Damn her. Why couldn't she
ever do anything the first time she was asked?
Knowing he had no choice, he swallowed the ruins of his pride and leveled the full force of his raw gaze at her. "Go to your room and lock your door. Please."
Her lips trembled. A glistening tear slipped down her cheek, then another. The doll thumped to the
carpet as she turned and fled. The blackness of the house swallowed her without a trace.
"I'm sorry, Em. I'm so damned sorry," he whispered to the silent shadows.
His words were more heartfelt than she would ever know. He was sorry he had made her cry. Sorry David hadn't lived to introduce him to his spirited daughter. David had adored them both. Perhaps it wouldn't have been such a stretch to imagine him blessing their love.
But David had died, forever taking his blessing with him.
Justin picked up the doll and set her on the music stand. He smoothed her matted curls. "We're old friends, you and I, aren't we?"
The opaque blue eyes surveyed him without expression. He touched the piano, stroking first one key, then another, but the music had gone, leaving him in utter silence.
He rose and climbed the stairs, his tread heavy. His steps slowed outside of Emily's door. He heard nothing from within her room, no sniffing or broken weeping, only a whisper of silence more taunting than an invitation. He braced his brow against the door, choking back a groan. How long would it be before even locks would fail to keep him out? A week? A month? A year? Was he to betray David yet again by seducing his daughter? His hand clenched into a fist against the thick mahogany.
As he splayed his fingers to ease their tension, the door swung open without a sound.
Chapter 29
Please do not begrudge me the peace I have bought
with my silence. . . .
Hardly daring to breathe, Emily lay back on her pillows and watched the crack between door and frame slowly widen. A man appeared, his lean form silhouetted against the light from the corridor candles.
Time swung back to a barren attic room and a thousand other lonely nights. Her heart thundered. Her shadow lover had finally come to her as she had always known he would.
He closed the door behind him and twisted the key in the lock. The click of the tumbler echoed in the silence. He came toward the bed, measuring his steps as if drawn into a web he no longer had the will
to resist.
