Chords That Bind Ch 10

Dear Readers,

As an apology for a long wait, I give you a long chapter. I'm excited to say I haven't been writing here because I FINALLY got a job, and then got a promotion... I still have every intention of seeing the story through to completion. Thank you to everyone who has submitted encouragement and feedback. It makes me giddy to know you like it. You are all wonderful in suspending your disbelief. As always, please remember this is entirely a work of fiction and this author does not condone or endorse anything done to any human being without their consent. Without further preamble, Chords that Bind: Chapter 10!

~Poeticlicense91

Being promoted to soloist meant that Clara had even less free time than before. Her rehearsals ran later, and her cross training seemed longer, and she was sometimes quite drained by the time she came home, but she always made sure she spent time with Cecilia, who, after her conversation with James, seemed to be healing inside her mind, as well.

Cecilia felt secretly ashamed that she had lumped the people in this house in with the monster her Master had been. Clara was sweet and undaunted by her short answers and long stretches of silence. Now that she knew Clara was honestly trying to help, Cecilia felt an obligation to be more responsive to her. Abraham was not the hulking monster she had feared would subdue her. He doted on Clara with limitless affection and smiles. James was still maintaining his distance from her. She figured she was a burden on him. She didn't want to bother him, and so kept her interactions to a minimum.

Dr. Patel had come one more time, and gave Cecilia a clean bill of health. Her ribs were all in one piece, and her back was healing without any indication of illness or infection. The good doctor was also reassured by Cecilia's mannerisms. She didn't appear nearly as traumatized as she had bee when he examined her the first two times.

Once the doctor had cleared her for physical activity, Clara invited Cecilia to reconsider coming to watch a ballet rehearsal. The company was performing

Alice in Wonderland

by Christopher Wheeldon again, and Clara was thrilled to be performing a solo this time. Cecilia thought that it was the least she could do for Clara who had been so steadfast in trying to befriend her. She agreed. Her fear momentarily banished by Clara's triumphant smile.

***

Almost three months had gone since James had won the auction. He had submitted documents to a few refugee organizations and had won Cecilia temporary amnesty at his residence, naming himself as her protector and responsible for her in case of legal or medical emergencies. The U.S. embassy however, was proving to be more difficult to deal with. He called Joshua Howland, an American classmate from Oxford who worked at the embassy, but nothing could be expedited.

"I'm sorry old friend. I can't do anything." Josh said over the phone. "Temporary amnesty in England is not enough to guarantee that she isn't a criminal or terrorist. You'd do better to let this girl come to the embassy herself."

"You know as well as I do that you wouldn't let her leave if we did that."

"We could expedite the process if she were on the premises. How did she get into the country without a passport anyway?"

"You have the forms from the women's organizations. Do you think she did this on her own?"

"How am I supposed to determine that without even speaking to her? What happened, and for that matter, how did you get tangled up in all of this?"

"I'm her lawyer, and she asked me to keep what happened to her confidential. Stop being thick Josh! You can piece together that she was brought against her will."

"If that's the case, then we need to investigate and extradite the person who did this James."

"She's been through enough already. She doesn't want an investigation, she just wants to go home."

"That's all well and good James, really," Josh's American accent was grating on James nerves over the phone now, "but you can't expect me to pull strings then. I've got your word and an expired ID backing the girl's identification, and you want me to just give her a passport? I don't have that kind of pull, and frankly, if you weren't a college buddy, I would have to file an inquiry. As it is, I already should have. If you want to avoid all of that, then her case will have to wait. I can't put it in high priority. I'll issue the passport and visa in due time, after I'm sure I can do it without drawing undue attention. That's the best I can do."

James voice was tight. "Thank you Josh. I appreciate it. Let me know if anything changes or if I can supply you with anything else." James hung up on Joshua without another word.

Bloody Americans! Everybody was a terrorist to them! They didn't clear anyone of suspicion. It was going to cost Cecilia more time, and strained his temper enormously.

He strode out of his study. The house was empty, Cecilia had tagged along to watch Clara's rehearsal, and Abraham had been extraordinarily busy with some new consultant work. Hungry, but feeling lazy and moody, James pulled out a menu for Indian takeout. As he heard the phone on the other end ring, Cecilia walked through the door alone. Her face was flushed from the wind, and her hair damp from the rain.

James hung up quickly, and looked at Cecilia, who had more life in her than he had yet seen. She quickly lowered her gaze, acknowledging his dominant presence without consciously knowing why. She felt just as shy around James as she had before, even if it was for different reasons now. "Sorry to interrupt."

"No matter. Er- where are Clara and Abe?"

"Oh, they went out for dinner, I caught a cab home- I mean- here." She seemed pleased at being able to manage the feat on her own. James caught himself smiling.

"Didn't they invite you?"

Cecilia felt awkward, as if James didn't want her there. "They did. I just- well, I thought maybe they might want some time alone, without me, you know? I'll just... go upstairs now..."

"No, wait." James realized he offended her, even though that wasn't his intent. "Aren't you hungry? I was ordering takeout."

"Well- I can just make a sandwich- Don't go to any trouble on my account."

"No trouble at all. I was ordering some lamb roganjosh. Do you like Indian?"

Cecilia licked her lips. "Do you have chicken tikka masala here?" James gave a real smile then. Oh the irony! Chicken tikka had been Josephine's favourite.

"Of course. Care to split a samosa with me?"

"Yes Sir." Her voice was quiet. Then she winced. In the few interactions she had had with James, she instinctively called him Sir. It just seemed natural, something that lingered from her training with Master. James had always corrected her, telling her he wasn't her owner, that he didn't expect it from her. This time, James didn't correct her though; he just hit the redial button and called Jade India, placing their order, requesting extra na'an, spicy mint chutney, and sweet tamarind chutney.

"The food won't be here for a bit, if you wanted to freshen up." James suggested. He was pulling plates and silverware for two out of the cupboards and drawers.

Cecilia felt herself being dismissed, and went to shower. She came down dressed strikingly like Clara did when she was relaxing at home, looking like a curvy, off-duty dancer. She seemed to really like his old Oxford sweatshirt, which Clara had given to Cecilia without asking. It was too big and hung off her shoulders, revealing the strappy top or sports bra underneath. Her legs were in clingy black leggings with bright green socks covering her feet and calves. Cecilia caught him staring. "Is something the matter?"

"No. Not at all." James shook himself, guilty for indulging his desire even with just a few glances, "I was just wondering if you danced too. You... have a dancer's build... you look just like Clara dressed like that."

Cecilia blushed and shook her head. "No. Not very coordinated. I used to be a cheerleader though."

"Oh." James felt lame that he had nothing to say to that. Mercifully, the bell rang, announcing the arrival of their takeout. "I'll just grab that, shall I?" James didn't wait for a reply as he ran to get the door.

The plastic containers were scattered over the butcher-block island, and the two served themselves the fragrant jasmine rice and aromatic braised meat. There were three samosas in an order, and James gave Cecilia the extra one. They started eating awkwardly in silence. Cecilia cut the fried potato dumpling in half and plopped it down on James' plate with a friendly smile. He returned the smile, but said nothing.

After a moment, James stood up, went to the refrigerator and peered inside. "Care for a beer? Or wine?"

Cecilia looked at him shyly under her damp curls. "I'll have what you're having," she said, trying to be diplomatic and polite.

"I guess, in that case, I'll open a bottle of white." He brought two marquis glasses down from the cabinet, and poured the Italian white, first for Cecilia, and then for himself. "Cheers!" James intoned, trying to be light hearted.

"Huzzah!" Cecilia replied, happy that she remembered. James smiled sadly as he repeated the toast.

They were about to return to that awkward silence, but James couldn't bear to hide the truth anymore.

"Cecilia, I have to tell you something."

"Yes?"

"I've been in contact with the embassy." Cecilia's eyes lit up. Was she going to go home?

"I suppose I should have kept you better informed, but I didn't want to worry you with all the mundane details. I was able to get you temporary amnesty. So long as you're in my care, and I assume responsibility for you, you can stay in England for twelve months while we secure your passport and visa."

"That's good right?" Cecilia asked, all of this way over her head.

"Yes, but the U.S. Embassy isn't prepared to issue you a passport or visa, at least, not immediately. I gave them documents indicating you're a refugee of... trafficking, but they aren't prepared to take me or temporary amnesty from the English government at our word that you aren't a terrorist or a criminal."

"That's ridiculous! I'm not a terrorist!"

"I know that. And the English government trusts me to know that, but the U.S. government is very suspicious of anyone trying to get into the States from Europe without proper identification."

"But- how will I get home? Will I ever be able to get home?"

"You will. The U.S. government is just going to take their sweet time about it. I have someone at the embassy who will help you, he just can't make it happen any quicker."

"How long?"

"Honestly? I don't know. But I swore to you I'd get you back, and I will. It's just that it's taking longer than I thought. I just thought you'd want to be updated, to know I was working on it."

Cecilia felt her panic disperse as quickly as it came. She had been afraid that she'd never be able to leave, or worse, that they'd imprison her.

"Okay" She said, as if there was any other response to the man who, she now understood, had saved her.

James almost told her the second option, that she could more or less surrender herself at the embassy, but risk incarceration and having to undergo an investigation. Maybe that was what she

should

do. Joshua was an infuriating bureaucrat, but he wasn't a bad man. He'd probably look after her. But James didn't want her to have to go through the investigation. It wasn't just Cecilia he was thinking about, he would most assuredly be implicated in the inquiry if they took that route, and he didn't see how it would help Cecilia or himself to go undergo that kind of scrutiny. No. He was going to keep her safe as long as it took to get Cecilia back home, and make sure it was as stress-free for her as possible.

He promised that

he

would see her back to America, and truth be told, the responsibility he felt for Cecilia bordered on obsession. How could he be sure of her safety? He was being just as ridiculous now. His conversation with Abe came back to him. He

did

want to keep her. James clenched his fist at the realization, hating himself for this continued weakness, justifying his actions to himself as being in Cecilia's best interest.

She broke him out of his reverie though. "You play the piano very well. But, I guess you already know that." She had so little confidence around this man. With Abe and Clara she was able to be playful and talkative, but something about James made her uncertain about everything. Perhaps it was the strange assortment of things she knew about him, and the fact that she still didn't know

how

they were connected.

"Thank you." James said stiffly. Cecilia felt apologetic at his reply. "Sorry. I wouldn't have said anything, but I can hear you sometimes when you play."

It was true. Cecilia still heard when James roused himself to practice early every morning. She felt the music under her skin now, and felt desire course through her every time he pressed the keys, weather she knew the song he was playing or not. She had tried to come multiple times, often succeeding in the most disappointing tremours that could hardly be called a climax. But she wasn't going to tell that to James.

"Nothing to be sorry about. I'm sorry if I wake you. I'll be more mindful of that."

"No. It's not like that. I like it... it's beautiful." Cecilia was blushing. She couldn't recall a time she had been so honest, and so alone, with a man before. Well, before Master had taken her and tore honesty and orgasms from her, like a seam ripper tears at fabric.

James felt compassion at her obvious discomfort. He decided to make himself as vulnerable as well. "I didn't always play. I was a barrister first, to make my parents proud. But my uncle, well, he was the one who taught me to play, the one who encouraged me to pursue music with an appetite."

"Ohhh..." Cecilia said slowly. That had confused her. She signed his papers, giving him power as her lawyer, but didn't understand what he did. "So, that's how you're able to talk to the embassy?"

"Yes. Before I abandoned the bar I was 'James M. Ashton QCMP'." Seeing the confusion on Cecilia's face he added, "Queen's counsel, member of parliament... I used to prosecute for her Majesty's government. But that still didn't satisfy my parents." James finished ruefully. "You know, I studied at Curtis too."

"The Curtis Institute? In Philly?"

"The very same. Before I had a healthy practice, I used to spend summers taking classes. It took awhile, balancing briefs and Beethoven, but I did graduate eventually, in classical piano performance. I've even performed at the Kimmel."

"I've been there. Oh! That's amazing!"

"Mmm. Small world, right?"

Cecilia gulped at her wine, and nodded, not knowing what else to say. James felt strangely ill at ease. He hadn't spoken about his change to music from law before. He had just made the decision, and watched the fallout in his relationship. Josephine hadn't cared that his decision was in honor to his late Uncle Clive. She only cared that he was giving up the letters after his name. Funnily enough though, he had earned his knighthood because of music. He had been invited to Buckingham Palace on more than one occasion to play for her majesty. Oh, how he would have loved to see the pride in his uncle's face, and the distain from his parents when he was knighted, earning the 'Sir' in front of his name as the Queen's favourite concert pianist, even playing the last night of the Proms one year. Abe, and later Clara, had been supportive though, knowing without saying a word, that he was finally pursuing something that fed his soul.

"Well, I guess it turned out all right, I have lots of concert dates now. It was the professors at Curtis that helped me, suggested I take auditions and put my name out there. I resisted at first, but when my Uncle was dying he made me promise to consider performing. He had an artist's soul, Clive did. 'Law is reason free from passion' said Aristotle. But Clive said that reason without passion was worthless, and since I had both, I might as well make a go of it... He was right.

"But knowing the law has its advantages. Like now, I wouldn't be able to help you if I didn't know how to navigate the legal landscape." James smiled. He was done talking. That was too much information for the poor girl. She didn't care anyway. Why should she? She just wanted to go home, and he was holding her hostage to his whims and stupid nostalgic stories.

Cecilia poured him another glass of wine. "Thank you", was all she said when he finished speaking.

"Don't thank me. Please." James dismissed the idea entirely, "If you're done eating, I'll clean up." He put the wall back up. He couldn't afford to confide in her and get close to her. It was too easy, and she was too frail to defend herself.

"I'll help." Cecilia offered, and James was too torn between being nice to her, and keeping her safe from himself to object.

***

Clara and Abraham were thrilled to see Cecilia coming out of her shell. Cecilia had been coming to Clara's rehearsals and making friends with the dancers. She looked less pale and sickly, smiles crossing her face with more and more ease. She developed a rapport with Abraham that was teasing and friendly, no longer afraid he would hurt her in any way. Cecilia had more confidence, and even made a delicious lasagna for dinner one night, a surprise she concocted as a way to thank the three, for all they had done for her.

James noticed the improvement as well. What he didn't notice, was that on the days that Cecilia stayed at the townhouse, she sat for hours on the stairs leading to the attic, listening intently as James poured his soul out, funneling his inner turmoil and self recriminations into his music. After the night they had shared Indian together, she began to sneak up the stairs to listen, enjoying the music in it's own right, as though drawn to it like an addict, seeking the pleasure she had come to associate with the music. More often then not, Cecilia would withdraw when her body became too fevered, as she always felt the arousal trained into her, come unbidden as James played. Always, she felt the embarrassed disappointment that she couldn't achieve the height of orgasm that she had been made to feel with Master, and was ashamed that she still sought it out. Something was wrong with her that she wanted it.

One day, just as James had finished running his fingers through minor and chromatic scales, he dove headfirst into the Pathetique. He was working on memorizing the beast, and felt excitement as he heard all the right notes and chords answer his frenetic fingers. This was pleasure, sheer joy, even though the emotion of the music was a roller coaster, James felt as if he was in the perfect mindset to join Beethoven for the ride. Passion, fear, anger, pity, acceptance, rapture: James was in tune with it all as he listened to the space between the chords and the resonance that filled the room. It had been a long time since he practiced this much, had immersed himself in the minds of the greats. He was getting back the intuition that comes from being solely intent on the art he was participating in. It was euphoric to have this singular purpose coalesce.

Cecilia was there; crouched on the stairwell, aware that James was playing the piece differently today. It was her favourite, and the drama in the piece combined with James' enthusiastic performance made her hot and bothered quickly. She knew this piece as well as the others now, and heard each run on the piano almost before it was played, enjoying the familiarity even as her nipples tightened under her sports bra, and her pulse settled deep in her core. Closing her eyes, Cecilia drew her hand to her neck, raking her hair with her nails, succumbing to the music more readily than she ever had.