with empty seats on either side, her attention focused solely on the music. He slipped in beside her and placed his hand on the bare space between the top of

her long glove and the arm of her pretty, flowered dress. Her skin felt silky and

warm.

She started at the soft touch on her exposed skin and turned. Then, recognizing him, she smiled broadly.

He returned her smile. “Good evening,” he said in an undertone.

“Good evening,” she whispered a reply.

“Is this seat taken?”

“Yes.” Her eyes sparkled.

He raised his eyebrows.

“It's taken by you.”

The joke made him smile even wider. “Ah. How's the music.”

“Fine so far, although…” she hesitated.

“Although what?” he asked. Take your hand off the girl, Bennett. He released her reluctantly while she pondered her answer.

“It's nothing really,” she prevaricated, her eyes skating away.

“Tell me,” he pressed, wanting to know what she thought. At his insistence,

she returned her gaze. The warmth of her brown eyes captured him.

“I don't think the contralto is doing her best,” Katerina murmured at last.

“Perhaps because so few people are listening. The harpsichordist is excellent.”

“And the flute?”

“Perhaps it's best if I don't say.”

Christopher listened for a moment. “Agreed. Say nothing. It's a performance

completely unworthy of note. Neither good nor bad.”

She nodded, agreeing with his assessment, and the light in her eyes showed

his observation meant a great deal to her. “Exactly. In some ways, a truly bad performance is better than a tepid one.”

“So then because thou art lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spue thee out of my mouth,’” he quoted.

“Revelation 3:16,” she said softly, “how apt.”

He ran his hand down over her glove to clasp hers gently. They listened to the ragged performance for several minutes before Katerina shuddered.

“Have you heard enough, Miss Valentino?” he asked.

Katerina wrinkled her nose. “Yes.”

“Shall we step out?” he suggested. “I dislike interrupting performers.”

That comment earned him a lovely smile.

They left the music room and traversed a corridor lined by a rug of cream and gold scrollwork, bordered in black. Christopher took Katerina's arm and placed it around his, laying his hand on top of hers, where it rested on his bicep.

“Well, Mr. Bennett,” Katerina said softly once they were out of earshot, “I'm

rather surprised to see you this evening.”

He glanced at her, frowning. “Why would you be? I told you I would come.”

“Yes, you did,” she replied, her expression nervous but otherwise unreadable.

Why so shy, sweet girl? He patted her hand gently. “Did you think I would break my word?”

“I wouldn't hold it against you if you did.”

She's more than shy. She simply accepts that no one could possibly want to

spend time with her. Well, she's wrong. “That would have been unmannerly,” he explained, trying for a neutral response. Confused, affectionate feelings welled up in him, and he continued, his voice growing intense. “Besides, I wanted to see

you.”

“You did? Why?” This time she spoke with unadorned disbelief.

“Why not?”

Katerina opened her mouth, her hand fluttering around her face. Then, she fell silent, her head dropping as though the carpet fascinated her.

He stopped walking and turned to face her. Removing his hand from hers, he

tucked one knuckle under her chin and lifted it gently. Sudden connection flared

between them. I honestly want to know you, he thought, trying to send a wordless message directly to her heart. To touch you. To kiss you.

Her eyes widened.

His thumb touched her full lower lip.

She winced.