She sat down, flicked her long dark hair over her shoulder, then commenced her piece. Her fingers glided across the keys like they were made of air. I was transported to a French garden reminiscent of Monet, sitting on a stone bench, the late afternoon sun warming my skin, and jasmine making me light-headed.
“She’s so talented,” Savanah gushed.
Declan sat with his arms crossed. Admiration and adoration seemed to pour out of him. I’d never seen my brother so in love before.
A figure entered through the side door, and all eyes turned to her. My jaw dropped. Mirabel, in a slinky green gown, wore her lustrous burgundy hair waving over her curves.
I sucked back a breath and forgot to release it.
“Oh my god, it’s Mirabel. She looks gorgeous,” Savanah said.
Mirabel’s voice harmonised with the strains of the piano, melancholic and deep. Once again, she transported me on a mystical journey over a stormy sea.
She pressed herself against the curvature of the piano and opened her heart and soul to us. Her sultry dreamy vocals had the entire audience under her spell. Not a fidget or sound could be heard in that room of about one hundred guests.
Now, this was poetry, especially with that subtle sway of hips and the way her chest moved with each breath.
When the song came to an end, I was about to clap, then Mirabel continued to sing. I’d been to enough opera to recogniseCarmen’s‘Habanera,’ which Mirabel took somewhere else with her sexy rasp. My pulse raced. Music had never aroused me like that before.
Her hips swayed flirtatiously, as Mirabel sang with all her soul, while Theadora accompanied with fitting passion. They’d made that classic song their own. Her lips curving into a teasing smile, Mirabel tossed her head back as she moved with the grace and fire of Carmen.
I went to liquid. I swear I heard some of the males groaning.Or was that me?
My mother turned and looked at Declan with a question in her eyes. I smiled. I could imagine her response to this classic tune turned into a contemporary R&B tune. I wanted to download it. Put it on my playlist. Have sex to it. With the singer.
The song ended, and the applause nearly lifted the roof off. “Bravo” flew through the air like we were at a concert hall. That reaction should have put a smile on my mother’s face since she always aimed to please.
I turned to Declan, who kept applauding. “That was incredible.”
“It was wicked. I filmed it on my phone,” Savanah said.
My mother tapped Declan on the arm. “Why is that farmer’s daughter here? These soirees are ‘invite only.’ And I’m the curator.”
“Oh, get over it, Mum. It was fantastic. The guests are happy.” Declan rose, and as Theadora joined us, he held her. “You were superb. I love this.” He touched her dress.
“I loved it too. And that dress,” Savanah said. “You were great.”
Theadora looked at my mother, who returned a cool smile.
“Did you enjoy it, Caroline?” Theadora asked with a grin. I had to hand it to my sister-in-law. She had cheek. Just what the family needed—some originality to shake things up.
“I enjoyed the first number, but after that, you lost me.” My mother walked off.
I pulled a sympathetic smile. “That was so unique. You were both fabulous.” I scanned the room, which was awash with women in glitzy gowns and men in tuxedos and colourful jackets chatting loudly. “Where’s Mirabel?”
“She left. She said something about catching up with a friend.” Theadora studied me. “I don’t think she wanted to see you.”
“Why?” I frowned.
“She likes you.”
That little revelation slapped me with a sunny smile. “Did she say that?”
She nodded slowly. “Don’t tell her I told you. She just thinks you’re a player and that she’ll get hurt.”
I shook my head. “For a courageous artist, she doesn’t quite treat her private life the same.”
“She’s just sensitive. Like most artists.”