Read Broken Wing for Free Online Page B

sway to a haunting otherworldly melody that hung in the air, enticing, entrancing, and magical. Fairy music, Davey would call it. Her reverie was broken, with a start as she realized the music, faint and delicate, was real.
    Hastily donning a nightgown and a wrapper, she started down the stairs. Ethereal whispers of sound took on substance and immediacy as she descended. It was coming from the music room, where she could see a spill of light from under the door. She wondered who could be playing. Ross was skilled with guitar and lute, but he’d never taken to the keyboard, and Davey was not expected back for another month. Realizing he must have returned early, a smile of welcome lit her face as she pushed open the door. She stopped in astonishment; her mouth rounded into an
O
of surprise. Gabriel was bent over the keyboard, eyes closed in concentration, his beautiful fingers stroking the keys with delicate artistry as he swayed to the music.
    He was disheveled and barefoot, his shirt and coat open. Long strands of hair clung to his shoulders in thesticky heat. A bottle of brandy perched precariously on the piano’s edge. He seemed unaware of her, and she watched the play of muscle along his collarbone and shoulders with fascination, as his clever fingers created magic, weaving it into the still night air. He tossed his head suddenly, and looked straight at her. His face was unguarded, his eyes yearning, and distant, as if he were half there and half in some faraway place, listening to a melody from beyond this world. She was mesmerized, moved in a way she could not have described. Her arrested eyes watched his for several moments before she tore them away.
    “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I heard the music and thought … Gabriel, you play beautifully!”
    Ignoring her, he turned his attention back to the keyboard, taking a sip of brandy with one hand as the other continued to caress the ivories, coaxing a haunting melody.
    “Where … how did you learn to play so exquisitely?”
    Continuing to play, he regarded her through hooded eyes. Angry with her for the intrusion, wanting to shock her, to drive her away, he decided to tell her the truth.
    “When I was about fourteen, mignonne, I was sold to a very rich patron, a nobleman, Monsieur Le Comte de Sevigny. I was sent to amuse him, and tend to his needs.” He gifted her with a slight, sardonic smile. “Do you understand my meaning, mademoiselle?” Hisvoice was smooth and even, and his fingers continued weaving their magic as he spoke.
“Non?
Let me explain. He taught me how to please him. There are many ways a boy can pleasure a man, with hands and with … well … suffice to say, I learned them all. I wanted to. It was better there than at Madame Etienne’s, and there was only him to please. He presented me as his page, and had me educated as he imagined a page should be. It amused him to see I was given a fine livery, taught proper manners, to read and write, to dance, even to ride. I was given a music master. I had a small modicum of talent, as it happens. I was taught the violin, the keyboard, and the guitar, so that I might divert my master … through all his senses. Surprisingly, I still find myself almost grateful for that.” His fingers moved across the keyboard in an elegant flourish.
    Sarah gulped, shocked, not sure what to say, but hypnotized as she watched him play. “You weren’t there long though, were you? Not long enough to acquire such skill.”
    “No,” he said with a soft laugh. “Two years. Long enough to learn the fundamentals, sexual, musical, literary, things that Madame had neglected, though it increased my value to her, no doubt.” This was followed by a flourish of notes, and a feral grin. “As I grew older, it seems I lost some of my charm,” he looked at her with a dead smile, “and I did something that annoyed him terribly.”
    “What?” she asked, breathless.
    “I ran away,” he said, his voice as cold and