“Then play it.”

“What?”

“Play it. The violin.”

“Now?”

“Why not?”

“Because the bow probably needs to be rehaired? Because it will sound terrible?”

“I won’t know the difference. I’m happily tone deaf. And it would please me to hear you play it.” He sat on the lid of the trunk and looked at her expectantly. “Go on.”

“I can’t.”

“You won’t, you mean.”

“No, that’s not—”

“I dare you.”

“Are you twelve?”

Gabriel grinned at her. Lia’s breath caught. No man deserved to look that good surrounded by dust and dares.

“Fine. But I make no promises that this will be anything less than awful.”

Gabriel kept on grinning and leaned back on his hands.

Lia took a closer look at the violin. God, it was a beautiful piece. And her grandmère would have approved of how it had been stored. Someone had once treasured it.

Lia tested the strings and made careful adjustments. She examined the bow next and tightened the hair, all the while aware that Gabriel was watching her intently. She rosined the bow, grimacing. “This is old.”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, it matters. I’m not sure that it will sound—”

“I think you’re stalling now.”

“I’m not stalling.”

“Then play.”

Lia shook her head and then lifted the violin to her shoulder. She closed her eyes, thinking that she had been in Marseille the last time she had played. She had been sitting outside, the scent of lilies drifting on the summer air, Grandmère sitting across from her on the tiny porch in the fading light, watching her with a sad smile.

Lia drew the bow across the strings and played the piece she had played then. Or, rather, a part of the piece that had been Grandmère’s favourite. She was rusty but the notes transported her to a summer’s night in Marseille with a woman who had kept her secrets close to her heart.

She stopped after a few minutes, letting her bow come to a rest at her side.

Gabriel hadn’t moved. “I would like to paint you playing.”

Lia could feel herself blush. “That’s not necessary.”

“No, it really is. Necessary, that is.” He paused, still staring at her intently. “Tell me what you just played.”

“Beethoven. Sonata nine for the violin. Well, just a couple of minutes of it. A little dramatic, I know, but it was Grandmère’s favourite.”

“I thought you said you were all right. At the violin, that is.”

Lia winced and lowered the instrument. “I know. It’s been a while. And I really think the bow hair need replacing—”

“Jesus, Lia, I’m trying to compliment you.” Gabriel stood and dusted off the seat of his jeans. “That was incredible.”