Violin Sonata No. 9 in A major, Op.47 "Kreutzer Sonata", by Ludwig van Beethoven

After her initial overreaction, Amalia decided to act more reasonably. She'd been so ridiculously vexed, she'd almost ruined this extraordinary situation. He was paying her a fortune to keep her around, and she shouldn't care so much about the way he treated her.

The earl had the ability to reach her deeper than anyone else, and she wasn't comfortable with it. His opinion and appreciation of her mattered to Amalia, and she wanted him to like her, to not see her like an uncultured commoner. It was absurd to care so much about what a blue-blooded womanizer thought of her, but she couldn't help it.

In all truth, she appreciated him more with every passing day. Despite trying so hard to keep her distance, she was enjoying his company – seeking it, even. The earl was making her feel things she'd never experienced before. For the first time in her life, someone from the outside world was seeing her as more than just a bohemian. He was seeing her for who she really was, and he treated her like an equal when they couldn't be further apart on the social ladder.

They had their duet, a small concerto only for them, and she played the violin while he was on the piano. She was used to playing with others since it wasn't rare for her to spontaneously join a group of musicians back at camp. But this time was different. They shared some unbreakable connection as they played, tuning in to each other, bonding over the melody.

At some point, when he tried to turn a page of his music sheets, he somehow managed to make them all fall on the floor, scattering around him. Rather than interrupting the music to grab them, he kept playing, improvising whatever came next. However, he clearly didn't remember the following notes. Amalia tried to follow him, but the result was terrible. Somehow, the session had ended with both of them bursting out laughing until tears gathered in the corners of her eyes.

Later that week, on a particularly sunny day, he decided they should enjoy the manor's lush park. They took their instruments, and she grabbed a book she had found in his library. Together, they settled on the gazebo near the lake.

Absorbed by her novel, she laid down on the cushioned bench. She'd never heard of Robinson Crusoe before, but the earl had insisted that it was something she should try. He had been absolutely right. While she was reading, he was playing, learning a new score he had just received. It was from his friend and mentor, a German composer, and she was enjoying the melody greatly. His companion held remarkable talent, and she wished she could have spoken to him back then, when she'd first met Aiden.

At times, she would put down her book and listen to the perfect sounds he conjured with his instrument. Now and then, he had a doubt on how a particular part should be played, so he asked for her opinion. Every time, she'd settle her novel to the side, take her own violin, and try it with him until they found a satisfying result.

When she'd first arrived at the manor, she'd felt so out of place that she thought she could never feel comfortable here. But after over two weeks of coming every day, she had to admit she was feeling more and more like she belonged here. The servants were sweet with her, except for the butler with the ridiculously rigid posture who kept eyeing her as if she was a nuisance.

It worried her to see she was enjoying all of this a little too much. Having people taking care of things for her was a dangerous thing to experience. One afternoon, the cook, who'd heard how much Amalia enjoyed her treats, had come to ask what her favorite cake was. Amalia had hesitated for a while before settling on carrot cake. From that day forward, every tray that had been brought to them had a generous slice of carrot cake on it, just for her.

She was slowly getting used to all this luxury, and it would be terribly hard when it would all stop at the end of the summer. The end of their afternoons together. The end of them.

Forgetting about Robinson and Vendredi, she discreetly looked at the earl, appreciating the way he was, so serious and focused on his task. With his brow slightly frowned and the hard line of his clenched jaw, he was irresistible. She'd learned by now that he was remarkably smart, and in moments like this, with the way he was thinking so intently, his intelligence was even more evident.

If she was being perfectly honest with herself, she would miss the pastries and the comfort of the estate, but she would miss the earl more.

He was always kind and considerate, and she enjoyed their conversations and banter. Strangely, she also appreciated it when they were in disagreement over a topic. It was stimulating, and outside of these moments, she rarely had the occasion to debate philosophical, political, or musical topics.

Being here was turning her into a different woman, as though she were becoming her true self. Going back to her old life would be such a setback, playing for a few coins, picking pockets, and struggling to survive. If everything went well with the earl, she would have enough money to leave her people and start a new life elsewhere. She was enjoying her role as a tutor, so maybe she could teach the violin to people in the city.

Clearly, she would have a hard time having people trust her, given her bohemian origins, but she could easily pass as Italian, or Greek, or Spanish, and those people were respected a lot more by society. Yes, that was it. She would leave, move to a big city, and tutor children, using the substantial income this summer was bringing her.

Her thoughts were interrupted when a footman walked into the gazebo, holding a large silver tray. Amalia sat up and glanced at its content with envy. With all of this every day, she was thickening slowly. Her dresses were a little more adjusted now, but she had decided to set her vanity aside and enjoy her blessings instead.

The servant left after setting their refreshments on a table, and she and the earl sat together. They talked about the book she was reading, ate, drank...

The familiar feeling of melancholy slowly gained on Amalia. Every day, she dreaded having to leave a little more. Her heart grew heavier as the minutes passed, and when the pompous butler came to tell them the carriage was ready for her, she held back a helpless sigh.

True to their daily ritual, the earl accompanied her to the car. And like every day, he offered his hand to help her climb in. It didn't matter how many times she'd refused his assistance, he always offered it. So far, she'd never taken his hand because she didn't actually need help climbing the two steps. But today, for some reason, she wanted to take it. She wanted to slip her fingers into his large palm, needing this last contact before they would be separated for hours until tomorrow afternoon.

So after a long look at his wide palm, his calloused fingers, and thick wrist, she slid her hand in his, savoring the shivers that didn't fail to run through her body. He held her while she stepped into the carriage, and she noticed when his grasp lingered a little longer than necessary. When he eventually let go of her, she saw how he stretched his hand, and she wondered if the same shivers and sensations had been crawling under his skin.

As the carriage went on its way, she kept her hand on her lap, face up. Now and then, she glanced at it, trying to relive the moment. Even though it hadn't been such an intimate gesture, she couldn't help but like the way the simple contact had made her feel. Her skin was still tingling from it, and it was as though the warmth of his hand was still lingering in hers.

She loved the way he made her feel. Maybe a little too much, even.

Aiden was both in hell and in heaven.

Every single day, he craved Amalia's presence, reveling in it when she finally arrived. But the entire time she was here, he dreaded the idea of having to watch her climb into the carriage, always feeling at his lowest every time she abandoned him to his solitude. Never in his whole life had he wanted someone so badly. And she, of all the people, was the one woman he couldn't have.

Everything about her was extraordinary. With her, he felt like an adventurous explorer, discovering a new world, learning about its secrets and dangers. Already, he knew that he would never tire of her personality. In every possible way, she differed from the other women he knew.

She wouldn't hesitate to race him to the manor and almost win. Sometimes, she pulled him into ludicrous challenges, like who could complete a partition the fastest – that one she won. Or who could fit the most biscuits in their mouth – which he'd won. It had been absolutely embarrassing to explain the situation to Appleton, who'd caught them with their mouths full of sugar biscuits when he'd come to announce the carriage was ready.

As the days went, it became evident that the lessons had become an excuse. It certainly was for him, and he longed to know if she felt the same way. At some point, he purposefully didn't give her the money. The day after, he merely gave her two envelopes, pretending he'd forgotten. Flustered, she'd claimed to have noticed, and he needed to be more rigorous about it in the future. It was now clear to him she wasn't only here for the money.

One afternoon, a little over three weeks after it all started, they were relaxing outside. They hadn't even bothered to take their violins with them. Instead, they were enjoying the sun while arguing about Bach's best work. That lasted until the gatekeeper's dogs, having escaped from their pen, came running at them. The two gigantic Scottish Deerhounds looked dangerous but were in fact cowards who could easily be bribed with food and belly rubs.

At first, he feared the impressive beasts would terrify her, but she excitedly got up and petted them. Then she proceeded to playfully run around with the hounds. When they jumped on her, she fell over with a squeal, and he worriedly stood up to help her. Before he'd made two steps, she was already on her feet with a laugh. Unaffected, she kicked her shoes away and went running again. He watched her play with them for a while, enjoying how carefree she was, bewitched by her appealing silhouette. Eventually, the gatekeeper, who was mortified, came to fetch his dogs. Aiden was almost tempted to tell him to leave them be. Instead, he held his tongue and watched the man put leashes on the two hounds and take them away.

She was out of breath, disheveled, and her cheeks were red from the effort. He couldn't help himself but think that she would look exactly like this after an hour in his bed. To know what she'd look like after two hours, he needed to get the dogs to come back. Or sweep her off her feet and take her to his room.

He tried very hard not to think of her that way. She wasn't interested, and he wanted to respect that. But she was so remarkably attractive, it was impossible for him not to imagine what could be. She never wore any sort of corset, so it was effortless for him to picture what her body looked like underneath the simple dresses she wore.

Every time he said something flirty, she would shut off and spend the rest of the afternoon being distant. So he tried his best to avoid doing so. It was a task harder than he'd imagined flirting was like second nature to him.

Now, having slowly adapted, he kept his desires to himself and enjoyed the sight of her, her presence, her strong personality, without trying to charm her. He'd rather keep her company as a friend than lose her entirely because he'd tried to get into her knickers.

In all truth, he was obsessed with her. She was his last thought before he slept, and the first one upon waking up. Sometimes, he would end up with a glorious erection just looking at her. He was so smitten that it didn't take much. She could be lying down with a book, playing her violin, or like now, running around with her bare feet, her skirts hiking up her legs.

He adjusted himself and crossed his legs to hide his embarrassing situation. This was what abstinence did to a man. This was why he usually made sure to maintain a healthy sex life, switching between partners to ensure he wouldn't turn into a caveman ruled by his desires. Oblivious to his situation, Amalia grabbed her shoes on the grass and came to sit next to him.

"Those dogs are really fast," she said, her heavy breathing still not recovered.

"They are hunting hounds, they ought to be," he explained with a grin.

"I love dogs. We have a few around camp, but they are lazy thieves. Nothing like those two," she told him with an annoyed pout.

She often referred to her camp, but he'd never been there. It was hard for him to imagine what it looked like, having never visited anywhere like it. "Do you think I could come back with you one day?" he asked her. "I would enjoy seeing where you live."

She gave him a dubious glance. "I don't think you would enjoy it. It's nothing like here. It's constantly noisy and filthy. When we first arrived there was grass, now there's mostly dirt, and since it's raining so much, it is muddy all the time." She paused, glanced at his clothes, and added, "You most certainly couldn't come wearing this. You would get mugged instantly, or my brothers would drag you into some card game and they would have all of your money – to the last penny you own. They cheat, you see. A lot. Also, they never pass on ripping off a gadjie."

She very rarely used Romani words in front of him, but he loved it when she did. He didn't know what it meant, but from context, he could easily guess.

"What if I came bearing gifts," he suggested.

"What sort of gifts?" she asked, seemingly interested.

"I don't know... Wine? Lots of it?" She thought about it for an entire minute, as if she was calculating every scenario.

"It could actually work. If you bring alcohol everybody might just like you. But are you sure that you really want to come? It isn't a nice place, and you will feel like you don't belong. At all."

"You adjusted well," he argued, gesturing to the manor and their surroundings. "Yes, I would like to see."

"Fine. I was going to tell you I can't come tomorrow. There is a wedding. If you want, it could be a good time for your visit. There will be a lot of agitation, and many people, even some from the village. So you might just blend in." She looked pleased with herself. Did she want him to meet her people, after all? "You still have to find different clothes. Something that looks cheap and that doesn't fit you perfectly. It shouldn't look tailored. Also, maybe don't shave."

He could see she was now excited by the prospect of him coming because she was talking fast, her tone higher-pitched than usual.

"You could speak differently so they wouldn't guess you are actually from around here. How's your Russian accent? No, forget it. It would be impossible to last the entire evening without messing up. What should we choose for your name?"

"Aiden."

"No," she protested, "you cannot just keep your name. You would be unmasked instantly."

"Only my family and my very close friends call me Aiden. For everybody else around here, I'm just Lord Graham."

The revelation had her tongue-tied, while her cheeks turned into a lovely shade of pink. She was probably remembering how he had initially asked her to call him by his name. "Very well, you shall keep your name then. You cannot be there for the actual wedding. Only our people are allowed. But by six, the celebrations should start. You could come then."

They talked for a while about how they would pull it off, and her excitement never faded. Then the fateful moment of her departure arrived. As usual, he accompanied her to the carriage, and watched it disappear down the road with a heavy heart.

Now you are six chapters deep, I hope that it means that you are hooked!

A little music for you: the piece that Aiden and Amalia play, for their improvised concerto is the Violin Sonata No. 9 in A major, Op.47 "Kreutzer Sonata", by Ludwig van Beethoven.