Rose in Bloom (Sex and the Season #2)(15)

“The anguish of love?”

“Yes.”

“Whatever do you mean by that?”

Cameron stared straight into Rose’s eyes. “I mean that love—real honest to goodness true love—is as much anguish as it is joy. It hurts to love that much.”

“How on earth can it hurt to love?” Rose asked. “Love is wonderful.”

“Because, my lady, the more you love someone, the more you have to lose. And that creates fear. And if the loss comes, sorrow.”

Tears welled in Rose’s eyes, but she blinked them away and cleared her throat. “How do you know so much about love, Mr. Price? Have you ever been in love?”

“No.” Cameron looked away from her. “But I’ve seen the anguish of love. When my father died, for example. It was unexpected, and my mother still pines for him after seven years.”

“But the duke loves Lily beyond reason,” Rose said. “There’s no anguish there.”

“But there is.” His gaze penetrated hers again. “There is always a little bit of torment in love. When they are separated, they will pine for each other. And even when they aren’t separated, there is always that fear in the back of the mind that someday the person you love will be taken from you. That is what this part of the music represents. It’s only a few measures, and then we go back to the original key.”

Rose nodded, understanding perfectly, and wondering how Cameron could have such a keen knowledge of love. “It’s a brilliant change, Mr. Price. It makes all the difference in the piece.”

“Thank you, my lady. Could you play the entire piece again, including the change?”

“Of course.”

Rose began, the burning sensation of Cameron’s gaze on her again. She made several errors and her neck heated. Relief swam through her when she played the final note.

“It’s beautiful,” she said. “I’m afraid I didn’t do it justice that time.”

“You were wonderful. You play with such emotion. Would you play something else for me?”

“Well, I—”

“Surely you have a repertoire. Any musician as talented as you would.”

“I suppose I could play something. Do you have any preference?”

“Mozart. He’s my favorite.”

“He’s Lily’s favorite too, and one of mine.” Rose played one of Mozart’s sonatas.

She continued, as Cameron gave her his rapt attention, and played through more of her repertoire. She had played for over an hour before she noted the time.

“Mr. Price,” she said. “I should really get back to—”

“Yes, of course.”

He touched her arm lightly, sending chills to her core. Slowly he whisked one finger back and forth in a light caress. It was the first time he had touched her deliberately.

“Thank you for playing for me, my lady. I’ll not ever forget it.” He stood. “I’ll see myself out.”

Rose sighed. What a wonderful afternoon, but the next time they had met, things had reverted to their normal stiffness and formality. Until the night of the wedding ball, Rose had no idea that Cameron harbored such intense feelings for her. If only she were a commoner, or he a member of the peerage…

“Good afternoon, my lady.”

Rose nearly jumped up when the object of her daydream stood before her, leading a brown-and-white stallion.

“Mr. Price.”

“I hope I didn’t startle you.”

“No, not at all. I was just…letting my horse rest and drink a bit.”

“You’re quite a way off from the main house.”

“Yes, I guess I am. I was so enjoying my ride that I lost track of where I was going. I hope I can find my way back.”

“It’s not difficult. I can show you.”

“That would be very k-kind of you.” For goodness’ sake, stop stammering. Rose walked over to admire Cameron’s horse. “This is a beautiful stallion, Mr. Price. What is his name?

“Apollo.”

“He is very good quality, from what I can see.” Rose ran her hands over Apollo’s flanks. “I know a little about judging horseflesh.”

“You’re no doubt wondering how a man of my limited means could afford such a fine animal,” Cameron said sardonically.

“No, of course not.” Rose warmed, willing her voice not to crack. “Why do you always assume…? Oh, never mind.”

“The explanation is simple, actually.”

“I’m not interested in any explanations, Mr. Price.”

“He belonged to my father,” Cameron continued. “His mare gave birth to Apollo right before my father died. I decided to keep him and train him.”

“He must have excellent bloodlines.”

“I doubt it, my lady. Our old mare was nothing special.”

“Well, he’s a beautiful horse.”

“Thank you. What is your mare’s name?”

“Begonia. She’s Lily’s. My horses are in Hampshire.”

“When are you returning to Hampshire?”

“I’m not,” Rose replied, her heart thundering. “At least not until the end of summer.”