Caught in a Snowstorm on Christmas Eve
The music room was on the first floor at the end of a long hallway. James made his way toward it, each step making him more sure that he didn’t know what he would say once he saw her. But Kate was here. Kate. Surely, he’d think of something—the right thing—when he came face-to-face with her.
He stopped several paces from the door. The strains of Moonlight Sonata floated out of the room. She was playing the pianoforte again. She loved that piece.
Taking a deep breath, James opened the door without knocking. He stepped inside the darkened room. The music stopped. Only a single candelabra burned on top of the instrument.
Kate glanced up at him, her blue eyes wide.
He expelled his breath. He’d thought it might be a dream, her being here, some cruel joke Lily had played on him. But there Kate was, sitting on the piano stool, across from the French doors, wearing a ruby red gown that made him shudder. She looked like a dream come to life. He squinted. The firelight bounced off her silken hair. He longed to run his fingers through it.
“Kate,” he breathed.