Page 34 of Hensley Manor
The edges of Ian’s eyes crinkled as he lifted his cup to his lips. “I’ll be sure to put extra frosting on some of them for you.”
My gaze flashed to his. And my heart…damn, it beat in my chest like hummingbirds wings, fluttering fast. Feeling weightless. Ian had paid attention to the story I told about my mom and had remembered that small detail.
I smiled, both awed and amazed by him, before looking down at my plate. I was the bashful one for once.
This is crazy.
It was impossible to feel so strongly for someone I’d only known for six days. Then again, the workings of the heart were a mystery. Maybe falling in love didn’t have to have a time requirement. It didn’t have to follow a certain guideline, like ten or more fucks and at least two months of knowing each other. That’s bullshit.
What I felt for Ian went beyond the realm of my understanding. How he made my heart beat slow and speed up at the same time. How he grounded me but also made me feel like I’d float away if I wasn’t careful. When he kissed me, I trembled. When he held me, I felt like I was home.
He’d awakened me from a deep sleep and made me remember what it was like to be happy.
After breakfast, Ian stood from the table and leaned down to kiss me on the cheek. “I need to go into town for a bit. Will you be okay here?”
“Yep. Do you want me to help do anything?”
“I just want you to relax,” he said, tracing the edge of my eyebrow with his thumb. “Sleep. Read. Soak in the tub. Whatever you want. You’ll have a busy evening of cookie making…and probably a late night following it. I’ll be back shortly.”
Warmth coursed through my belly at his words. I couldn’t wait for the long night with him. My ass still ached from last night and this morning, but I still wanted more. Needed more.
While he was away, I further explored the manor. Pictures of him and his family hung up throughout the manor; including family members he’d never met whose pictures were somewhat faded. He came from a line of wealth, but he also possessed the generosity and kind nature that could be seen throughout the generations of the Hensley bloodline.
People like Ian shone light into an often dark world.
He’d sure shone a light in mine.
The library was probably my favorite room I’d seen so far. The high ceilings allowed for even bigger windows, which brightened the place up. The shelves were overflowing with books, some of them appearing ancient while others had newer spines and artwork. Comfy armchairs were placed around a table, and after taking a book from the shelf, I sat in one of them.
An hour or more passed, and my eyes began to glaze over as I read. The book was filled with short stories from 18thcentury authors, and while they were interesting, I could only take so much of the classic language before becoming bored.
I returned the book to the shelf before leaving and walking toward the room where the Christmas Eve celebration was going to be held. The room wasn’t as simple as it had been days ago. Now, there were festive decorations; green garland covered in red berries, big bows, and tables draped with red cloth. The place where the tree would stand was empty, since the tree wouldn’t be cut down until the day before the party.
I wasn’t sure what possessed me to do it, but I went over to the piano and lifted the lid. The room was so quiet and any small noise sounded louder than it was because of it. The lid opening echoed, bouncing off the hardwood floor. The bench creaked as I sat down, and I lightly ran my hands over the white and black keys.
“Place your thumb on middle C,” Mom said, grabbing my hand. “Yep. Like that.”
“Am I doin’ it right, Momma?”
“You sure are. Watch my fingers and repeat what I do.”
She started playing Silent Night with one hand, and I watched in wonder.
Tears blurred my vision, and I pulled my hands back. I had been nine when Mom taught me how to play. After that day, I had wanted her to teach me even more songs. Reading music was hard for me, but I could pick out a tune pretty well by ear.
I positioned my hands back on the keys, thumb on middle C, and played the opening toSilent Night. It had been years since I’d played piano, but it was as though my fingers remembered what to do. Where to go. After the song ended, I transitioned to another.God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemenwas one of my favorite Christmas songs.
As my fingers moved along the keys, I looked up. Ian stood near one of the chairs, leaning against it and watching me.
My hands fumbled, hitting the wrong key. And the song died, the last key played ringing out a moment before falling silent completely.
“Hey,” I awkwardly greeted him.
“I thought you said you couldn’t play.” Ian stepped closer.
“I never said I couldn’t. I said Ididn’tplay. And I haven’t. Not for a long time.”
“Why haven’t you?” He was beside me now, one hand on top of the piano and the other falling to my shoulder. “You’re really good.”
