澳门太阳登录网站2007-大阳集团娱乐网址

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The Many Sins of Lord Cameron (Mackenzies & McBrides #3) Bonds of Justice (Psy-Changeling #8)

NIGHT OWL: You’re paranoid.

All right, here we go, Mr. Davis said, coming up behind her. I’m so grateful this worked out—I can’t thank you enough for stepping up like this.Sasha Chung, a celebrated violin virtuoso new to this version of the timeline, had been slated to perform Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto in E Minor for the concert; the idea being, Etta supposed, that Sasha would be an additional audience draw and help further raise the profile of the program. On the way to the airport in Paris, however, she’d been in a car accident that had sent her to the hospital, leaving them without a soloist.

Before Lucky (Forever Love #2.5)

Thank you for the opportunity, Etta said sincerely.She liked Mr. Davis; it was easy to return the smile he gave her, to chuckle as he nudged her and whispered conspiratorially, I think you play it better anyway.The orchestra fell silent, leaving only a few stray coughs from the audience to fill the darkness.

Forever Yours (The Moreno Brothers #1.5)

That’s our cue, Mr. Davis said, motioning her to step out first. Etta ducked around the curtain, half-blinded by the lights at the stage’s edge as she approached her spot near to the conductor’s stand. Because she knew it would make her laugh, Etta reached out and gravely shook Gabby’s hand, the way she would greet any concertmaster, and her friend turned pink with the effort to hold her giggles in. Mr. Davis situated himself at the front of the orchestra, and glanced her way.She looked out into the audience one last time, at the way the lights under each tier of seating looked like necklaces strung with stars.

In most concertos, there was some small slice of time before the solo violinist entered the piece. But Mendelssohn broke with convention, and the solo violinist was present from the beginning, playing the tune in E minor that he once told a friend gave him no peace until he finally situated it in a concerto. Etta had always loved that story. There was something beautifully human in trying to capture a feeling, a fragment of notes, and translating it all into the universal language of music before it fled.

Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto in E Minor fluidly shifted between three movements: allegro molto appassionato in E minor, andante in C major, and, finally, allegretto non troppo—allegro molto vivace in E major.Keeping his eye on Ironwood, keeping his dagger out, Nicholas bent to retrieve a flat parcel, wrapped in parchment and tied with string. It looked as if it had come a great distance, whether that was miles or years.

Go on, open it, Ironwood said, clasping his hands behind his back.And, God help him, Nicholas did. He tore into the paper with one hand. Even before he saw the fabric—the sheer gömlek, the emerald chirka—he smelled jasmine; he smelled the soap-sweet scent of her skin.

Beautiful Mistake

The feeling in his hands was gone. His pulse began to pound at his temples. So much blood, the fabric was stiff with it. It flaked off as he ran his fingers across the delicate embroidery, moving along the seams of the jacket until they snagged at the ragged hole at the shoulder, where she’d been shot.A guardian sent these to me weeks ago, Ironwood said. As proof of Etta Spencer’s death. Her father claimed her body, but I thought you might want the reminder of her personal effects.

Memory would fade from him, her footprints would be washed away—this was all he was to have of Etta Spencer now.You did this…. He breathed out, his gaze snapping up. You—

Yes, Ironwood said, his face drawn, as if—as if he cared. As if he felt sorry for this. Nicholas’s fury overwhelmed him, and he slashed out with the dagger, catching the man across the chest. Ironwood leaned back in time to avoid being gutted, but a gash of red extending from his shoulder to his hip began to ooze. Nicholas felt frantic, sloppy, like he was damn near to clawing his own face off to try to release the boiling anger and grief. He did not want to collapse onto his knees. He did not want to scream himself hoarse.All because you want one blasted thing, when you already have everything! You aren’t satisfied with the destruction you wrought; you need the tool that will make it complete, Nicholas seethed, knowing full well that the man’s guards would be coming in, that they’d kill him where he stood. And yet, Ironwood didn’t move, didn’t taunt, didn’t defend himself.

Kill him—just finish him! his mind was bellowing, but he couldn’t move from that spot.What you feel now, Ironwood said, I have felt every day of my life, for forty years.

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