Larger than Life (15 page)

Saber felt her way to the light switch and turned on the light directly over the baby grand piano. She moved to the bench and sat down, flexing and
limbering her fingers. Ignoring the sheet music, she played a few classical bits, switching idly from one to another. Gradually, though, an unfamiliar tune began to come to life beneath her light touch.

She wasn’t surprised by that; her best songs had come into the world in relaxed, reflective moments. After the crash, and when she’d known she would survive, many songs had played in her head. Luckily, her memory for music and words was excellent; those very songs had taken her to the top.

Now, still idly, she located the pencil and paper always kept on top of the piano. Her slender fingers sounded a few tentative notes on the keys, then repeated them thoughtfully. Words echoed in her mind, but she wanted the music down first. Leaning forward, she began putting the notes on paper.

Travis made more than one call. His feeling of security in Saber’s love had strengthened until he felt certain that Matt Preston was not important enough to threaten their love. And, having realized
that, Travis recognized that where Preston had been important was in Saber’s
past.

He sat for a long time in the main house, frowning, fitting together pieces of the last several days. He thought of two histories: one he knew completely because it was a matter of public record, and one that was a blank.

A blank …

A secret.

A secret.

Quickly, convinced he had it, Travis made another call, this one to his researcher “source.” Because the man had had no contact with Travis since he’d first considered doing a book on Saber, he’d continued to work at uncovering her past. He hadn’t found much … but he had found something.

Travis finished his call, then strolled back down the path toward their cottage. He looked in, found the place deserted, and made his way along another path toward the clubhouse.

And heard the music.

Unwilling to disturb Saber, he slipped quietly
through the door and moved among the tables until he was near enough to see her clearly without her awareness. He sat down, listening to the music rippling through the room, watching the lovely, absorbed face bent over the keys.

He didn’t realize at first that she was composing. Then she stopped playing, picked up a pencil, and began to write on the paper in front of her. He listened intently as she began playing again. She went through one particular series of notes several times, frowning slightly. Then her face cleared and she played it again, changing several notes.

About fifteen minutes later, she played the entire piece through, and it was beautiful. Unlike most of the songs he’d heard her perform onstage, this music was soft and gentle. The tempo was slower, the rhythm quiet and understated.

Then she began to sing.

Enthralled, Travis listened to a Saber he’d never heard before. The power and passion of her stage presence were there; the startling ability to conjure emotion in the heart of any listener was there. But
this gentle, husky voice was not meant to be flung out to an audience of thousands.

It was meant for only one to hear.

He felt a lump rise in his throat as tears stung his eyes. She might have been a siren or a mermaid voicing a sweet song to enchant the slumbering beast in a man. Or lightning arching brilliantly across a night sky. Or a woman quietly baring her heart.

It was a song of a love so deeply felt that the simple words were heart-wrenching. There was tenderness and sweetness and aching desire. There was joyous longing for the future. There was compassion for those less fortunate in finding such a love.

Travis rubbed at his eyes when the spotlighted picture of his love began to blur, and it was then that he noticed another had joined the audience.

Matt Preston stood in the doorway, his eyes fixed on Saber. He held the door partly open, and the light from outside clearly illuminated the older man’s face.

Travis wanted to feel anger at the intrusion. He
wanted to leap to his feet and challenge the older man’s right to hear emotions meant for himself. He wanted to let loose the primitive, possessive beast in the heart of every man, and cry
“Mine!”

But he felt no anger. He watched Matt Preston’s face, and what he saw there was a sad resignation.

Loss.

The billionaire gazed at Saber, his hard face softened, his cold blue eyes blurred with emotion. He stood and took the obvious pain and grief of hearing her gentle voice sing of love for another man.

He took it silently. Gracefully.

And Travis couldn’t hate that kind of man.

He turned his gaze back to Saber, unwilling to intrude further on the older man’s anguish. He felt no sense of triumph that he had won Saber’s heart, only a deep sense of gratitude.

She could have had any man she wanted.

Travis hoped that he would one day learn to accept loss and defeat with the grace of Matt Preston. The man had been tortured with loss, and he stood silently accepting yet another. His eyes told of an open wound within him, but the pain and grief
could be understood only by another man who had lost a dream.

Travis understood because he had found a dream.

And he knew then, in that moment, what it would have done to him if he had found Saber only to lose her.

It would have destroyed him.

Saber’s sweet voice faded into silence, but her fingers continued to move over the keys. There was a distant, dreamy smile curving her lips, and her expression was tender.

The face of a woman in love.

Travis didn’t bother to wipe his eyes. He turned his head slowly, finding Matt Preston still standing by the door.

The older man didn’t wipe his eyes, either.

But he turned his head slowly, as if it hurt, until his blurred gaze found Travis sitting in the dimness. And from the misty blue eyes came something Travis heard as if it were spoken aloud.

So you’re the one.

You’re the one who’s taken her from me.

You’re the one who won.

And Travis could feel no anger.
I’m sorry.

For a moment, Preston dropped his eyes to the large manila envelope in his hands, his mouth twisting in a sudden grimace. Then he tucked the envelope under an arm and turned. As silent as he had come, he was gone.

Travis sat where he was for a long time.

Roused from her dreamy abstraction by some vague realization of passing time, Saber finally stopped playing. She rose from the bench and gathered up the pages of her song, folding them carefully and sliding them into the pocket of her jeans.

She knew that it was a very good song. Recorded and released, it would likely sell millions.

But it would never be recorded.

This song was for Travis.

She hesitated, then pulled the sheets from her pocket and unfolded them on top of the piano. Reaching for the pencil, she neatly lettered a title
across the top of the first page. Then, smiling to herself, she tossed the pencil aside and tucked the sheets back into her pocket.

Maybe one day she’d sing it to him.

She stepped down from the bandstand and took several steps toward the door before she realized she wasn’t alone. Travis rose from one of the tables to move toward her in the dimness.

Suddenly shy, she wondered how long he had been there. What had he heard? What had he thought? When he finally stood before her, she knew the answers.

“Travis …” She reached up to touch his wet cheek, her heart turning over.

Silently Travis gathered her into his arms, holding her with the almost savage force of a man grasping the dream of his lifetime.

Saber slid her arms around his lean waist, holding him almost as tightly, her cheek resting against his chest. She could feel his heart thudding, feel the uneven rise and fall of his breathing. A wave of love and tenderness washed over her, tangled inextricably with astonishment and wonder.

What smiling fortune had granted her the inestimable gift of this man’s powerful love?

After a long moment, they turned with one mind toward the door. She kept her arm around his waist, just as his remained around her shoulders. They walked together silently, following the path that would take them to their cottage.

When they were nearly there, Cory came striding up the path toward them. She halted abruptly, her lovely face still for a moment. Then, very softly, she said, “If I never see it again, at least I’ve seen it once.” She dashed a hand across her brimming eyes, adding in a weakly irritated voice, “And I
don’t cry
, dammit!”

“Cory?” Saber asked, worried.

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” She smiled brilliantly, but the green of her eyes held stark envy. “I’ll have your dinner sent to the cottage, okay? I—I have a feeling you two want to be alone.”

“Thank you, Cory,” Travis said in a quiet voice.

Saber added, “Cory … if I had three wishes—”

“I know.” Cory gave them another brilliant smile. “You’d wish for me what you have. Well,
keep the positive thoughts, will you, friend? What you two have … doesn’t come along very often.” Quickly she passed them on the path, running her hand across her eyes with another irritated mutter. They went into their cottage.

The next few hours were a time of quiet sharing. They touched almost constantly with a need deeper than passion. Their eyes met and held, silent vows exchanged.

They took a leisurely shower together and dressed, she in her comfortable caftan and he in slacks and a shirt left unbuttoned. Then they cuddled on the couch with wine on the coffee table before them and soft music on the radio.

And they talked quietly.

“Cory deserves love,” Saber said, looking at her own man. “She’s helped so many people.”

After a moment, Travis smiled. “Maybe it’s our turn to help Cory.”

“How?”

“Ever tried your hand at matchmaking?”

“She’d kill us.”

“She doesn’t have to know about it,” he countered innocently.

Lying half across his lap, Saber laughed. “True. D’you have anybody special in mind?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. And if he doesn’t fall head over heels in love with Cory at first sight, I haven’t known him for the last ten years.”

“But will she love him?”

Travis considered briefly. “Well, I’ve never looked at him from a woman’s point of view, you understand.”

“But?”

“But I’d say he had the devil’s own charm. And when he wants something, he goes after it single-mindedly.”

“Is he a paragon like you?”

Travis grinned. “Nobody’s a paragon like me, darling! But to answer your question, I’d say … he was a warlock.”

“As in magic?”

“Uh-huh. Think Cory can handle him?”

“The question is, can he handle Cory!”

“My vote’s on Jake.”

“This,” Saber said reflectively, “should be interesting. When could you get him up here? Cory’s not about to leave The Hideaway until her book’s at least a year off the bestseller list.”

“Ummm. I’ll have to find out what he’s doing at the moment. It may not be easy to get him away from his work for a vacation.”

“What does he do?”

“He’s a prince.”

Saber stared at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me.”

“A prince? As in blue blood and royalty?”

“That’s him.”

“A prince named Jake?”

“His mother’s American, and she liked the name. What can I tell you?”

“Prince of a
country?”

Travis laughed. “Like most of today’s royalty, sweetheart, Jake’s is more or less an honorary title. His father is Italian, and the title was handed down from the days when it meant something, unlike many Italian princes, however, Jake’s father had
the foresight to do some canny investing. The family’s quite wealthy now, and Jake has interests in a shipping firm and an airline—not to mention several offshore oil rigs.”

A bit dazed, Saber said, “What’s his last name?”

“Sebastian.”

“Prince Jake Sebastian?” She shook her head bemusedly. “He sounds a very strange sort of prince.”

“Looks a strange sort of prince, too. Like a mountain, in fact. There must have been many tall Americans in his mother’s ancestry.”

“This is the man you’re going to sic on Cory?”

“Please, darling. I’d never
sic
him on her. I’ll just tell him about this great place I know where he can relax and unwind. And if that doesn’t work,” Travis added thoughtfully, “I’ll hire somebody to kidnap him.”

“How did you come to meet him?”

“We met in college. He was terrific in math and I was great in English; it was instant friendship.”

Saber thought about it for a moment, then giggled.
“Assuming your matchmaking works out, does that mean Cory would be Princess Cory?”

“That’s what it means.”

“Good heavens.”

“I like it.”

“You would.”

He started laughing. “It’s perfect, darling. Cory’s got to be the most queenly-looking lady I’ve ever seen in my life. If anybody could carry off the title of princess—however honorary—it’s Cory. She’ll stand Europe’s elite on its collective ear.”

Before Saber could respond, a knock at the door announced the arrival of one of The Hideaway’s cheerful waiters with their dinner.

“Just call the main house when you want this stuff taken away,” he advised them when everything was set out on the table, then left as quickly and efficiently as he’d come.

Cory had even sent candles.

They enjoyed the meal, talking occasionally but not needing conversation to fill the time. When the leisurely meal was finished, they called and had everything taken back to the main house.

Alone again, they were just about to get comfortable on the couch when Travis bent to pick up the folded sheet music from the coffee table. He looked at Saber. “May I?”

She smiled at him and sat down. “Of course.”

Travis unfolded the sheets and gazed at them for a long moment. The words were branded on his heart, unforgettable, and it was the title he stared at. Slowly, he began to smile. “‘Larger than Life,’” he said.