Whispered Music (London Fairy Tales) Page 3

  “Those blasted eyes could make a man confess a multitude of sins.” Dominique swore.

  Hunter laughed. “Or a woman confess a night full of pleasure.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.” Dominique gave a hollow laugh. The idea that he’d soon have his bride in his bed to confess her pleasure passed through his mind and darkened his thoughts. “I seem to have bought myself a bride.”

  “Well, leave it to you to just come out and say it. Never were one to mince words, eh, old friend? So, what do you need me to do? Kill her? Find her long lost family? Seduce her dress right off her curvaceous body and—”

  “No,” Dominique said tersely. “I need you to help me… er... That is...” Blast. Why was it so difficult to ask for help? “As you know, I’m not currently in a position to… ahem.”

  Hunter burst out laughing, “Devil take it! You want help with the chit! Don’t even try denying it! You’re blushing!”

  “I am not—” Dominique roared and ceased his pacing at once. Desperation had made him send ahead for his good friend, but he hadn’t thought asking for help would be so blasted difficult. He just wasn’t sure how to treat a lady, and not just any lady, but one that represented so much goodness that he could hardly look into her eyes without drowning in the essence of her music. It was the first time in so many years, perhaps his entire existence that he felt at peace. She was the cause, and he could not help but think that perhaps he would be her downfall.

  Dominique cleared his throat. “I figured of all my friends, you being the dearest—Cease puffing your chest before I throw you into the sea! As I was saying, you being the most honest, would be able to help me in my pursuit.”

  “Of what?”

  “Getting her to marry me, of course.”

  Laughter was not the response he expected, though he should have. He had nothing to offer her save money, a title, and a royal lineage that could be traced back to the Czar himself.

  But women didn’t want such things. After all, his mother had been given everything. And look what happened? Still, it wasn’t enough. He could offer her nothing of value, nothing that a girl with such presence could possibly crave.

  She would desire children, and a warm bed filled with a man who could bring her pleasure beyond her wildest imaginations.

  What pleasure could he possibly bring with hands such as his? At first glance, Isabelle would despise his deformity, and if she truly knew the reason for it, she would flee.

  And no matter how dangerous having her near was… He desired her more than he’d desired anything in his entire existence. But she could never know that. No one could ever know.

  “Curious.” Hunter cleared his throat. “Why would you obtain a wife in the first place? Don’t take me wrong. I’ve always been a firm believer in using the fairer sex to get through lonely cold nights, but you’ve never shared that same sentiment.”

  Dominique wasn’t sure how much he wanted to reveal to his friend; then again, perhaps if he knew the reasons it would help his cause.

  “She was in danger.”

  Hunter leaned forward. “How so?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Hunter paused, his face a mix of confusion and calculation. “Care to explain?”

  “I heard it.”

  “Insanity calling your name?”

  Dominique itched to punch his very smug friend but tempered his irritation. “No, the music, the same music I heard the night my mother died. It followed the girl around the ballroom, and when she looked at me, I knew.”

  “That you were insane?” Hunter suggested cheerfully.

  “No,” Dominique growled. “That she was in danger.”

  “So you took her?”

  “Bought her is more like it.”

  “From?” Hunter examined his nails and waited.

  “You see, this is where the part turns into some sort of gothic horror story. Her father died, or at least the man she had known as her father all her life. But, he was truthfully never her blood relation. The man who sold her to me, the valet to be exact, had an affair with her mother. So you see, it was legal.”

  “I was worried you were going to say you killed him.”

  Dominique gave a humorless laugh. “Yes well, too many loose ends and all that. Regardless, I saved her from a fate worse than death, and she should be thankful.”

  “Yes, I’m sure she’s this very moment tracing your name with her hand and imagining what your children will look like,” Hunter said dryly.

  Dominique cursed and ran his hand through his hair. “It does not matter! I have her, and she is mine!” His fist pounded the table in front of them. “Will you help me or not?”

  “I’ll help you,” came Hunters swift reply.

  “Truly?” Dominique jerked his head up. “How?”

  “Lie, of course,” Hunter answered, examining his hand as he slowly withdrew one of his expensive gloves.

  Dominique growled.

  “Easy. It was a joke.” Both gloves fully removed, Hunter swiftly took off his cloak and popped his knuckles before he pulled the dagger from the sheath strapped around his waist and stabbed it into the table.

  “You have more than your music to offer the world, Dominique.”

  “Are you getting sentimental in your old age?”

  “No.” Hunter shrugged and flashed a smile. “Just telling you the truth. You do value honesty above all things and I value being honest to a man who I would rather die for than see hurt. If the woman cannot see what value you hold, then I pity her lack of heart.”

  Dominique shifted nervously on his feet not sure what to say after his friend’s bold outburst.

  A soft knock came at the door. It was her!

  “Yes?” He cleared his throat and tried to force his face into a smile.

  The door opened, slowly at first, then burst forth so hard he thought it would come off the hinges.

  Miss Ward had her hand pressed over Isabelle’s. It wasn’t difficult to deduce that Isabelle had been too slow in opening the door and Miss Ward found it irritating. The blasted woman always did treat him like a child, poking her nose in his business when he could take care of things on his own.

  “I believe you asked for the lady?” Miss Ward cleared her throat and shot him one of her looks that he imagined was supposed to cause his feet to shake within his Hessians.

  “That will be all, Miss Ward. If you’ll excuse us then?” He lifted an eyebrow, waiting for her to object, but instead she gave Isabelle’s arm a little pat and closed the door behind her.

  Chapter Four

  One cannot simply learn music. For a state of being cannot simply be taught. One must feel music, one must breathe music, and in the end, one must be willing to die for it.

  —The Diary of Dominique Maksylov

  Isabelle watched Dominique’s mouth twitch, but wasn’t sure if he was attempting to keep himself from growling or if that was his idea of a smile.

  Either way, it was frightening. It would be so much easier to be unafraid if he would simply do something about his state of dress.

  His face was now almost covered with a short beard, and his hair was falling into his eyes and down his shoulders. Yet, she could still see his piercing eyes, and for that reason alone, she remembered his handsomeness. Well, that and his blinding smile. But it wasn’t often that he chose to offer one.

  “My, my, you didn’t tell me how attractive she would be,” a male voice said from behind her.

  With a gasp, she turned and nearly fainted when the man set his eyes on her.

  Truly, it was as if her lot in life was to be surrounded by men with eyes that seemed to pierce a person’s soul.

  Liquid-golden brown eyes glowed back at her. The man’s face was undeniably handsome and strong. Thick black hair cascaded into a messy heap on his forehead; the man smiled revealing perfectly white teeth that much reminded her of a hungry wolf.

  “Forgive my friend, Isabelle, he seems to have forgotten how to beha
ve in front of a lady.”

  Isabelle snorted. “Yes well, that would put you in good company, wouldn’t it, my lord?”

  “Bravo!” The other man clapped. “And she packs such a bite too! Tell me, my dear, have you any interest in leaving him for me? I daresay I’d have you forgetting this beast’s name after a few minutes in my company.” He winked and folded his thick arms across his broad chest.

  Isabelle instantly backed away.

  “Sure, scare her more while you’re at it, Hunter.” Dominique’s voice held somewhat of a cheerful humor, giving Isabelle pause. She whipped around to look at her captor’s face.

  A weight seemed to have momentarily lifted, and she wondered if possibly it was because of the other rude man in the room.

  “This—” Dominique held out his hand and pointed at the other man— “Is my good friend, Hunter Wolfbane, Duke of Haverstone."

  Isabelle gasped. “The Wolf?”

  “Ah, my reputation precedes me. I always feel so jolly when others know of my certain skill set.” His golden eyes blazed a hot trail from her head straight down to her toes.

  And because she was exhausted, angry, and possibly a bit insane, Isabelle marched toward him and poked him in the chest. “Now see here! I may know who you are, but I also know you wouldn’t hurt a hair on my head, not with bigger beast a few feet away from me! Whoever taught you manners anyway? Gypsies?”

  “I think I’m in love.” Hunter tilted his head and sighed.

  Isabelle rolled her eyes. “I’m sick of being threatened.” She turned her fury onto Dominique, who had the good sense to back up as she marched toward him. “You demanded I eat with you, so let us eat. Otherwise, I’m leaving.”

  Dominique’s mouth opened then snapped shut. All the while Hunter clapped and howled with laughter.

  “After you.” Dominique pointed to the table on the far end of the room where a dinner lay in wait.

  “Thank you,” she huffed, still inwardly shaking over her outburst. Since being polite hadn’t worked, she thought of a new tactic. If Dominique was going to be such a beast, perhaps he only responded well when people poked at him.

  Which is exactly what she intended to do.

  Poke him until he relented and let her go home, or at least learned manners.

  All three of them sat at the table.

  Both men reached for the meat but paused their hands mid-air when she cleared her throat.

  “Gentlemen? We have not yet said grace. Now, please bow your heads.” She cleared her throat. “Merciful God in Heaven, we beseech thee…” Was beseech an actual word? She continued, “We thank you for this lovely meal, though I apologize in advance for the men disgracing your holy table.” A cough erupted, and then a foot began to tap on the floor. Isabelle was never one for church, and truthfully she hadn’t a clue what else to say, but in that moment, knowing she was irritating the very man she wanted to irritate the most, a wicked thought took root. She was going to recite the longest prayer known to mankind, even if her stomach growled in protest. And so she continued for ten long minutes. “…Thank you, Lord. Amen.”

  At the ending both men cursed, which she was certain meant they were going straight to Perdition, considering she had just been talking to God, and they grabbed at the meat, proving their nicknames to be correct.

  Beast and Wolf.

  They ate in relative silence, except for the loud chewing and smacking of their lips. Good gracious, she thought, they were even more like their nicknames than she realized. They even ate like absolute animals! Isabelle wasn’t sure which unnerved her more. The fact that neither man was speaking to her, or that the ship began to heave as it pushed away from the dock.

  Getting sicker by the minute, she managed to steal a look at Dominique across the table.

  “Did you know—” Hunter tore a piece of meat from the platter—. “That Dominique enjoys long walks around his estate?”

  “Hunter.”

  “He also enjoys furry animals, you know the ones. They live in the forest that surrounds his estate. I’ve heard he even has a squirrel as a friend.”

  “Hunter!” Dominique barked.

  “He’s a passionate lover as well. No lady leaves his bed without—”

  Why wouldn’t he stop talking? She felt slick with sweat and then the contents of Isabelle’s stomach heaved onto the floor.

  “Throwing up one’s countenance,” Hunter finished.

  Isabelle moaned, too sick to feel mortified that she had just retched in front of two infuriatingly attractive men.

  Half-expecting them to shy away from her in outrage, she was stunned to find Dominique immediately at her side.

  “Can you walk? Here, just lean on me.” He felt her forehead and mumbled something to Hunter, but she was barely listening. Her stomach did more flops.

  Dominique led her out of the captain’s quarters onto the deck of the large ship. They were already far away from shore, or at least it seemed that way. Everything was pitch black.

  “The horizon. You need to look at the horizon,” Dominique urged.

  “There’s nothing to look at. It’s all black,” she mumbled into his chest.

  “Try,” he demanded.

  Nodding her head, she looked out at the horizon and still saw black but felt immensely better being on the deck rather than cooped up with the two men.

  “You’ll get your sea legs soon enough.” Dominique sighed.

  “Mayhap it was your presence that caused me to become ill.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

  Isabelle's shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry. That was terribly rude of me. I don’t mean to constantly be on the attack, it’s just that…”

  “It’s better this way,” Dominique growled. “This way I know exactly where you stand. Far, far away from myself, on the opposite end of what I could never hope to deserve or earn. Truly, if you were kind to me I may just have to like you, and as it so happens, we aren’t in any danger of that happening—not now, not ever.”

  The man's mood swings were making her just as ill as the rocking boat. Shaking her head, she could only look at his stone cold face, the same face that minutes ago held compassion and tenderness. He either needed to visit Bedlam, or he truly was the type of man that would stop at nothing to push those away from him. Including her.

  “I say, are you all right?” Hunter came up behind them. “Miss Ward says you should return to your room for a spell.”

  “No!” she blurted. “I mean, that is, may I stay out on the deck for a while? I’m not used to being in such close quarters.”

  Hunter studied her for a minute. “As long as you promise not to throw yourself overboard. I’m a dreadful swimmer and this one over here—” he pointed at Dominique— “would surely drown with all that facial hair.”

  Dominique’s answer was to glare, but he didn’t deny the truth.

  Hunter was obviously trying to cheer her up, but the man was just as much a devil as Dominique was. Only more cunning in the way he minced words. Almost as if he was waiting for the right time for her weakness to consume her, before he devoured her. But then again, that could just be the sickness and imagination playing tricks on her.

  “I’ll try to restrain myself from such a calming idea,” Isabelle retorted, then walked away from both men.

  ****

  “Well, I believe that went swimmingly.” Hunter clapped his hands together then pulled a cheroot out of his jacket and lit it. The winter air was crisp which was exactly what Dominique needed if his blood was to cool from being in such close proximity to Isabelle.

  Her soft body smelled of lavender, and he found himself more than once breathing in the scent of her hair as he held her close to his body. For a moment he had forgotten who he was; his concern for her muddied his thoughts. That was until she stiffened beneath his touch.

  How could he forget? He was the beast, and would always be such.

  “Yes, well, I don’t believe I’ll be able to obtain her
matrimonial yes on a night such as this.”

  Hunter shook his head. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

  “What the devil are you talking about? She’s ill! Even if she were healthy she still wouldn't be in agreeable mood.”

  His friend blew out a puff of smoke. “She doesn’t have to be agreeable, she just has to agree, correct?”

  “She’ll agree. I own her.” Dominique reminded him.

  “Yes, but it seems to me she needs a little coaxing or reminding of that simple fact. She’s strutting all over the deck like a peacock, perhaps she should be reminded why they call you the beast, and me the wolf?”

  The last thing he wanted to do was threaten her, but he wasn’t the most dangerous man in the vicinity. They could easily protect her between the two of them, but he would feel better if she was staying with him in the captain’s quarters rather than on an entirely different part of the ship. And although he owned her, he still couldn’t bring himself to completely ruin her further by forcing her to share a bed with him overnight in such a small area without first saying the vows.

  And ship captains could perform ceremonies.

  There would be no reason to wait.

  Making his decision, he turned toward his friend. “How do we go about it?”

  “Simple.” Hunter shrugged. “Make her believe there can be an unhappy ending to this little fairy tale.”

  “Make her believe the nightmare,” Dominique finished.

  “Precisely, where men beat women, and women obey. We both know you wouldn’t raise a hand to her, but she doesn’t know that, nor does she know what secrets you hide, or the rage within you, or that you feel guilty when you accidently step on an ant. All she needs to know is that you’d be upset with her if she gave you reason to think she would not accept in front of the captain.”

  When Dominique didn’t respond, Hunter continued, “You hired me for a reason. I can be your greatest ally or strongest enemy. I’m good at reading people. She’s scared. She’s trying to provoke you and see how far she can push you. In order to provide her the protection of your name as well as your bed—you must give her a true reason to fear the Beast. If you cannot do it, I will.”