Read Online Wandering Soul by Cassandra Chandler - Free Book Online Page A

bad as she is. That’s for me to do. Go on now.”
    Dante looked like he might object, but was distracted as Elsa nudged Leonardo from her lap, then tried to stand and fell right back in her chair. Her legs wouldn’t support her.
    â€œAllow me.” Dante swooped her up again.
    She couldn’t resist leaning against his chest. His arms were strong around her, lifting her with ease. She had never enjoyed someone’s touch so much.
    â€œWhere shall we begin?”
    Elsa had been staring again. He was polite enough not to mention it, so neither did she. She had to get herself under control.
    â€œHow about the library?”
    Some rooms hadn’t changed much in a century. Her library was full of books and the dining room held a table and chairs. They spent a long time in the entertainment room, talking about movies and television shows and the technology that brought entertainment so effortlessly into people’s homes. Dante seemed willing to stand there holding Elsa while she explained everything, but she insisted he at least set her on the couch for that part of the tour.
    He was particularly interested in how the remotes worked and asked for a demonstration. His eyes widened in wonder as the first images appeared on the screen. She convinced him to wait to actually start watching something until after they’d gone through the rest of the house. She was eager to show him the studio and the gardens outside, wondering if he’d love them as much as she did.
    She steeled her resolve before he picked her up this time. She would not lean into him, no matter how strong his chest felt. She would not melt into his arms, even though they gave her the first glimmer of what it might be to feel safe.
    The French double doors that led into the converted solarium were just down the hall. She waited for Dante to pause in front of the doors before saying, “I saved the best for last. This is the studio.”
    It was more than a studio, though. It was her sanctuary, her most holy ground. She reached down and opened the doors, watching Dante’s face as he took in the room for the first time.
    It was her deepest dream that the two of them would eventually spend many hours here together, whether working on a shared project or on their own. The openness of the room might be too much for Dante at first after spending so much time in the basement of his father’s theatre. She didn’t want to push him too far too fast.
    The exterior walls and the ceiling of the studio were made up of windows. In the bright afternoon sun, every inch of the room was illuminated with natural light. Flowers and greenery pressed against the steamy glass on the far wall.
    Dante walked to the center of the room, spinning in a slow circle. His gaze rested first on the easels in the painting corner, then passed to the workbenches where sculpting tools were set up. Against the interior wall, there was a sewing corner with a dress form and shelves filled with fabrics, paints, clays and every kind of tool for creativity that Elsa could think of. Her writing desk was nestled against the wall of windows.
    â€œDo you like it?” she asked, unable to contain her curiosity.
    A soft smile played at his lips, and his eyes were wide with wonder. “In the past few days, I have managed to convince myself that I had not died and moved to the afterlife.” His voice was low and reverent. “In this room, I find myself questioning that once again, for I can hardly conceive of a more lovely paradise than this.”
    Elsa’s heart seemed to explode in her chest. Visions of them spending time together in this room played out in her mind like a kaleidoscope. They would leave the second set of doors open to the patio to enjoy the breeze and have tea outside when they needed to let their creative energies replenish.
    She imagined them walking through the garden, arm in arm. They would pause beneath the climbing roses. Dante