To Wear His Ring Again. Chantelle Shaw

words calmed her and she looked around at Carly and Ben and returned their smiles. During her marriage, she had tried to explain to Constantin that the band had become her family who gave her the love and affection that she hadn’t received from her father. After she had lost her baby, it had been her closest friends who had supported her through the darkest days of her life because Constantin had refused to talk about what had happened.

      Taking a deep breath, she walked out onto the stage and launched into a song that had recently been a number-one hit in the charts. There was applause from the audience, but Isobel blocked out everything else and sank into the music. Ever since she had been a small child and had picked out simple tunes on her mother’s piano, music had been her great love, her joy and her solace when she had needed an outlet for her emotions.

      * * *

      ‘...Constantin?’

      The sound of his name intruded on Constantin’s thoughts, and he tore his eyes away from the unedifying spectacle of his wife dancing with her very good friend, Ryan Fellows. A nerve flickered in his jaw, but a lifetime of disguising his true emotions came to his rescue and he smiled smoothly at the willowy blonde at his side, who was staring at him accusingly.

      ‘I’m sure you haven’t been listening to me!’

      Lying was pointless. The woman—Ginny? Jenny? he’d already forgotten her name—had sat next to him during dinner and seemed to think that she had exclusive rights to his attention for the rest of the evening. But ignoring her had been rude. He gave an apologetic shrug of his shoulders. ‘Forgive me. I have things on my mind and I’m afraid I am not an attentive companion tonight. But I’m sure there are many other men here who would enjoy meeting you,’ he murmured.

      The blonde finally took the hint and flounced away. Constantin watched the indignant sway of her bottom clad in tight red satin for all of two seconds, before his eyes were drawn back to the dance floor and Isobel.

      Listening to her singing earlier in the evening, he had been struck anew by the liquid quality of her voice, and he had been reminded of a crystal-clear stream tumbling softly over pebbles. He had never understood when she had said that music was part of her. But watching her on the stage tonight, he’d realised that she sang from her heart, from the depths of her soul, and he had felt an inexplicable ache in his chest, a longing for something that might have been, if he had been a different man.