Song of Seduction by Carrie Lofty Read Free Book Online

tingled with cold. Time meant nothing. He was alone.
    That last thought stunned him. He embraced the quiet seclusion of his profession. His studio reflected as much, independent of the creature comforts some worked tirelessly to secure. He needed money, patrons and students to support his work. Only justifying himself to the private crime of his past mattered. Why would one woman evoke in him an inexplicable need for something else, something more?
    The question would have terrified him, had he any intention of dwelling on an emotion so maudlin. After stopping at the cupboard for a drink, Arie stalked back to his desk. The whole encounter had distracted him from his work. Unforgivable.
    Scratching a pen against parchment, he filled his studio with the sounds of a man wrenching music from his soul. His mind drifted along a melody to relive the fleeting moments of Frau Heidel’s lesson. She had been the teacher, if it had been a lesson at all.
    Verdomme, she was a talent. And a menace to his mental well-being. Arie had hoped for an amusing afternoon of pleasure with a bored, curious young widow. Instead, he was burdened by countless questions and distracting passions.
    Two fruitless hours and several drinks later, Arie had completed nothing. Every note sounded sour, refusing to flow with the possessed ease he had known at daybreak. He blamed Frau Heidel. She had utterly shattered his concentration.
    Angrily, he tossed a pair of scribbled and maimed sheets into the kitchen fire. The delicate papers withered to black ash. Never had he done such a thing. Ever practical, he understood his mortal lack of inspiration and saved even the most embarrassing attempts. Portions, at least, grew more acceptable in time. Revisions and new material helped salvage much of the work he initially thought to discard.
    But this…
    The last of the parchment crinkled into dust. He could never salvage those efforts.
    “Foolish man.”
    Muttering to himself in Dutch, Arie turned away from his reckless decision and caught sight of the violin Frau Heidel had used. Its glossy surface glimmered in candlelight, beckoning to him. He stalked to the silent instrument, intending to play something angry and spiteful. He tucked the violin under his chin—and inspiration dawned.
    Wayward to start, and then more distinctly, a melody emerged from the strings, leading him down a path of creation he had not thought to travel. Tense, heartrending echoes of buried feelings poured forth, transporting him to the puzzling place where art is born.
    Moments later, he sat furiously writing at his worktable. He had stopped playing the violin, yes, but the music resonated in his mind and in his solitary heart, as if the instrument was still casting its spell. His quill flew over countless sheets.
    When is her next lesson? Next week.
    Just before dawn, Arie collapsed into an exhausted sleep over the completed second movement of his newest symphony. His muse, when he caught sight of her through the lassitude of dream, watched him with wide, adoring hazel eyes.





C HAPTER F IVE
    A spirit of revelry burgeoned throughout Salzburg, but the prospect of Carnival could not rouse Mathilda. Neither would a speech by Grand Duke Ferdinand entice her. An exhausting agitation pressed her mind. Wanting nothing more than to wile away the remaining years of her life playing the violin, she could not shake its renewed hold on her imagination. Everything else was just noise. Especially Carnival.
    “Tilda, you are impossible,” Ingrid said. “This is the Octave of the Epiphany! The duke will be there!” She slumped onto the mattress, her shift twisting around bare legs. Klara stood before a wardrobe arranging frocks and waited for her mistress to stand still long enough to dress.
    Mathilda could not help but smile at her friend’s theatrics, which was, of course, her intention. “But there will be a dozen more occasions for revelry between now and Lent.”
    “And if you planned to