Let it be Me (Blue Raven) by Noble Kate

Author:Noble, Kate [Noble, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2013-04-01T22:00:00+00:00

“I saw that, you know.”

They were walking through the Piazza San Marco, one of Oliver’s favorite places in the city—and now, one of Bridget’s, too. Bridget brought her head down—her eyes had been fixed on the intricate facade of the Doge’s Palace. Molly hung back a few paces behind them, always mindful of propriety, but blessedly unobtrusive. Oliver had been happily conversational so far in their ramble, but his topics were terribly mild. Until now, apparently.

“Saw what?” she asked, trying for innocence. And failing.

“I saw you hastily stuff something into your portfolio—and really, it was the hasty nature of the stuffing that gave you away.” He grinned at her. “You would make a terrible spy.”

Bridget raised her eyebrows and mentally made a note to apply to her brother-in-law for training in more covert tactics. He would likely tell her to suppress the blush that was at that moment rising over her cheeks.

“Now, what could you have stolen that would have required such haste?” he chided further.

The dam burst.

“I’m so, so sorry, Oliver, I couldn’t help it, I looked in the box and there was this lovely blank music paper and I have had this tune in my head that I simply need to get down! And if I don’t, my lessons are just going to get worse, I know it, so I thought that the Signore would not mind if I took one or two sheets out of that box, and of course I didn’t need to steal it, I am perfectly capable of making my own sheet paper, but I thought, it was there, and I could use it—do you think he’ll be terribly cross at me?”

Oliver blinked, which he tended to do whenever her speech ran on. He then took the expected steadying breath, and it steadied her, too. In a city built on water, Oliver seemed to be a grounded point.

“Bridget,” he began quite properly, as he always did when he was about to be quite proper, “do you mean to tell me that this rushed speech of contrition is because you pilfered some paper?”

“Yes,” she nodded.

“Some blank paper.” He clutched his hands behind his back.

“Some blank lined paper,” she corrected and giggled.

“And is your guilt the reason for your relative silence today?”

“Yes.” She frowned. “Well, no. It’s because of the tune.”

“The tune.”

She sighed and threw up her hands. “I have a tune in my head, and I have to put it down on paper to get it out. And then maybe I’ll be able to attack the notes of Number Twenty-three properly.”

He regarded her quizzically. “Is it the tune that goes like this?”

He sang a low melody, shocking Bridget, his lovely tenor making each note warm and full.

“Yes!” she cried. “How did know?”

“You’ve been mindlessly humming that tune on our walks for three days.” Oliver smiled at her, reaching out to tuck a wind-caught curl back behind her ear. His touch was careless, as if he hadn’t noticed he was doing it.

However, Bridget noticed. And the jolt of warmth that passed from his naked fingers to the tip of her ear shocked her.

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