Dominic (4 page)

his other hand on the doorjamb, caging her in the rectangular opening.

Disconcerted, she flattened a palm to his chest and then yanked it away when she realized what she’d done. “What are you—” she sputtered,

recoiling from him and the frightening rush of attraction she’d felt.

His eyes caught hers briefly, and heat flared in them, stealing her breath. He loomed nearer until she felt surrounded by him. She garnered the

distinct impression that he was contemplating drawing her with him outside into the shadows.

He reached out, and she parted her lips, intending to cal for help. But his outstretched arm only moved beyond her to retrieve Carlo’s bag from

where he’d left it on the porch.

“
Mi scusi,
signora,” he said, straightening as he hoisted it and dropped it just inside the hal .

“Yes. Yes, of course. Thank you.” Feeling a bit ridiculous for her wild imaginings, Emma slipped under his arm and rejoined the rest of the family,

hearing him shut the door behind her.

As she, Dominic, and Carlo trailed the others, her husband slung a proprietary arm around her in a rare display of possessiveness. He seemed to

have picked up on his companion’s interest in her, and he didn’t like it.

Though curious at Carlo’s uncharacteristic desire to claim her, Emma al owed the embrace, glad Dominic bore witness to this reinforcement of

the fact that she was linked to another. Held tight to Carlo’s side, she turned her face into his uniform jacket and away from the larger man.

Almost absently, he shrugged her away as he instructed a passing male servant to deliver the bag Dominic had left in the entry hal to his

bedchamber.

His rejection went unremarked. But she felt Dominic’s sharp interest as he took in every nuance of their byplay. Impossible to know what

conclusions he drew, for the easily interpreted emotions he’d displayed a moment ago in the doorway had now fled his expression.

“Dominic wil be staying with us tonight,” Carlo informed her.

“Of course,” she replied, mental y sifting through the available quarters.

Though their renovated carriage house was not as luxurious as the
castello
s in which the others dwel ed, she was thankful it was large enough to

afford privacy. She’d make sure their visitor was stationed as far from their bedchambers as possible. There must be no chance of him overhearing any

tel tale sounds of concupiscence that might issue from their rooms during the night. Her cheeks pinkened at the thought.

“If you are sure I do not put anyone out,” Dominic murmured. She was surprised to note the barest trace of masculine humor in his voice, as if he’d

read her mind and been amused by her modesty.

“Any acquaintance of my husband’s is most welcome,” she replied, relieved when they arrived at their destination at last.

“
Grazie.
” Those sinful lips of his curved upward, sending a fresh jolt of awareness through her.

What was wrong with her? she wondered as she instructed the servants to set an additional place and commence the serving of the meal.

Something about Carlo’s friend flustered her, but she shook off the feeling. It wasn’t him. It was his type. Charismatic men had always made her

uneasy. He was too large. Too confident.

Nicholas, Raine, and Lyon were, as wel , but they were an entirely different matter. She’d known them for fifteen years, ever since Jane had

Nicholas, Raine, and Lyon were, as wel , but they were an entirely different matter. She’d known them for fifteen years, ever since Jane had

married Nicholas and brought her to live on the estate. They were comfortable and familiar, like brothers.

Perhaps her discomfort was simply due to the effects of impending motherhood, she decided as she sat at the opposite end of the table from her

husband and his guest.

“Tel me, Dominic, why haven’t we encountered you previously?” Nicholas said once they were al seated, launching what she suspected would be

a lengthy interrogation.

“Or even heard your name spoken?” added Lyon.

“I have no idea,” came the blithe reply. Dominic was toying with his food, and Emma suddenly wondered if it was unfamiliar to him. She motioned

to the servants to offer him some of the other platters and dishes.

“You must understand that the nature of our work is sensitive and necessarily clandestine,” Carlo hastened to explain. “When the fighting today

brought us close to the gate, we were temporarily severed from our regiment. As I’d already planned to come here to Emma, it seemed safest to simply

bring Dom with me.”

“Only for the night,” Dominic remarked. “Tomorrow I go.”

“Wil trouble fol ow on your heels?” asked Raine.

“I lagged behind in order to ensure we were not trailed,” Dominic assured him.

The soup tureen was offered to him, and he took its handles from the disconcerted servant and then stared at its contents, as though unsure what

to do next.

“Cristoforo, do please ladle some soup for the signore,” Emma bid the servant, trying to smooth over her guest’s faux pas. Fortunately the serving

boy was quick-witted. With a smal , improvised bow of gratitude to Dominic for holding the tureen, he simply took the ladle from it and fil ed his bowl with

soup before seizing the tureen and resuming his route around the table.

“Your scent,” noted Raine, who was gifted with the most acutely sensitive and capable olfactory abilities of the family. “It’s nonexistent.”

Dominic shrugged, unconcerned. “Excised at a young age in order that I might fulfil the secretive nature of my duties.”

“Which are?” Lyon enquired.

Dominic lifted a haughty brow. “Secret.”

Lyon leaned forward, scowling. “I ask not out of curiosity but because we have our own secrets and our families to protect here—”

“Cease!” said Carlo, throwing his hand up as if to slice the conversation and render it dead. “Suffice it to say that I’ve known Dominic for some

time. He is what he says and no danger to us.”

Lifting his wine, Nicholas stepped in to defuse tempers. “Very wel . Tel us, Carlo. What news is there of the war?”

“The peace talks have disbanded,” Carlo responded, eagerly latching on to the new topic. “Two of the attorneys involved on our side were severely

maimed by our enemies, and the rest have fled the negotiations for fear of similar retaliation.”

“Is it known who was responsible?” Jordan asked.

“I’m not privy to the nuances of what transpired. But the war rages on, and I hear no more talk of progress toward peace. Our stronghold in the east

fel last week. Even the temple of Bacchus isn’t sacred to some. A month ago, it was attacked.”

“By whom?” al three lords demanded simultaneously.

“Demons, most likely,” Carlo informed them, earning himself a sharp look from Dominic.

Seeing it, Carlo set a hand on his friend’s sleeve and ducked his head close to speak in an undertone. “The term doesn’t carry the taboo here in

this world that it does in the other. You may speak freely.”

Emma gaped at that hand, wondering anew at her husband’s easy way with this man. When it was withdrawn, she raised curious eyes to

Dominic’s face.

In the depths of his dark-lashed gaze, she detected a chal enge of some sort directed her way. Did he think she would be jealous because Carlo

had made a friend? On the contrary, she was glad someone had been watching out for him on the battlefield. However much emotional and physical

distance there might be between them, she would prefer that her child not lose its father before it was even born!

“What of the mirrors?” Raine asked, his intel igent brow creasing.

“Only the statue in the front exterior niche of the temple was destroyed.”

“‘Only,’ you say?” Lyon echoed, sounding flabbergasted. “What of the statue’s contents?”

Carlo shrugged. “Dominic has been to the temple in the aftermath. Let him tel you more of it.”

“The amulet was stolen,” Dominic put forth as he stabbed several slices of venison from the platter a servant offered to him. Though an expectant

pause fel , he seemed to think his words sufficed, for he didn’t elaborate.

Carlo fil ed the breach. “The rumor is that although most of the statue was smashed, two pieces of its anatomy were left in pristine condition.” He

paused for dramatic effect. Once the four women had leaned in, he said, “Its right hand. And its male organ.”

Juliette gasped, putting a hand to her throat. Lyon slid a huge paw around her, offering his wife a reassuring smile.

“Each was painstakingly severed from the body,” Carlo gleeful y continued.

“Carlo! That’s hardly conversation fit for the dining table,” Emma scolded, but he only shrugged, an unrepentant grin playing on his sulky mouth.

“Grim news,” Jane added. “But let us save such talk for tomorrow. When everyone is less…tense.”

An intimate glance heated the air between her and Nicholas. Emma automatical y looked away. Having grown up in their home, she’d witnessed

thousands of similar private exchanges between them over the years. Even at the age of twelve when she hadn’t yet understood the precise nature of

what such glances between men and women meant, she had already begun to feel like an intruder when she’d intercepted them.

A desire to avoid making more such intrusions was one reason she’d leaped at the only invitation to marry that had been presented to her.

However, the happy state of al three of the Satyr lords’ marriages was an al too painful contrast to the sorry state of her own.

For the duration of the meal, Emma said little, and Dominic was equal y quiet. Whenever he did speak, she noticed a formality in his way of

phrasing things, as though he was uncertain of his Italian.

She was glad when his voice came, for it gave her an excuse to look his way. On each occasion, she drank in the sight of him from a safe

distance, fascinated by the strange pul he exerted. It was as if he were a steady, sure planet and she a hapless moon wobbling uncertainly within his orbit.

However, he spoke little, and she wondered if he kept his thoughts to himself fearing a misstep with their language. The idea that there might be a

chink in the self-assurance of this rugged male softened her toward him. When he looked up and read the gentle sympathy in her face, his expression lit

with a blazing heat that was so quickly snuffed she thought she must’ve imagined it.

Stil , it left her breathlessly wary.

As it often did when the family gathered, dinner conversation eventual y turned to the ancient vines that covered the sloping hil s at the center of the

Satyr compound, and the wine they produced.

But as the daylight further waned, talk dwindled, too, and the atmosphere grew ever more charged.

4

T
hough it went unspoken, everyone at the table was wel aware that once night fel, a carnal ritual peculiar to the Satyr would begin. This knowledge was

apparent in smal ways. In the manner in which each Satyr husband watched his Fey wife. And in the wanting glances and subtle touches that passed

between them.

From the corner of her eye, Emma saw that Nicholas had begun toying with her sister’s silky, blond hair. The knuckles of Raine’s left hand were

surreptitiously dusting Jordan’s nape. Lyon’s hand had disappeared under the table in Juliette’s direction, and although his wife avoided his gaze, her

cheeks had suffused with pink. The air around the three couples fairly hummed with their mutual desire.

Heat suffused Emma’s cheeks as wel when she thought of what would happen between her husband and herself, once they were alone.

She glanced to the far end of the table. Carlo had seated himself next to Dominic and was fawning on him in a manner that was almost flirtatious

—actual y going so far as to run his fingers along the other man’s sleeve or to offer him delicacies from his plate now and then. Carlo had always

gravitated toward weaker men he could dominate. Why had he chosen to befriend a man so imposing? On his part, Dominic largely ignored these

overtures and ate with the methodical precision of one who took in his food as fuel rather than for any sort of enjoyment.

They made an odd sort of triangle, for while her attention was on Carlo, his was on Dominic, who in turn had for some reason decided to focus on

her.

Was he perhaps wondering why Carlo had chosen to marry her? She, who was so different from the rest of them?

She’d wondered that very thing herself often enough. In the beginning she’d thought he loved her, but now she was sure he never had.

And why should he? She wasn’t as delicate and beautiful as her sister or her aunts, for they each bore the blood of a Fey king who’d selected their

beautiful Human mothers as his mates. Although she was blessed with a keen intel igence and an insatiable greed for the written word, such things didn’t

attract men.

She possessed no extraordinary abilities. In fact Emma was the only one in the family who was entirely Human.

Everyone else had the blood of either Faerie or Satyr flowing in their veins, mingling there with Human blood. Under the circumstances, she

couldn’t help but feel like an outsider.

“Is there more of the Sangiovese?” Carlo’s voice was beginning to slur from the effects of drink. She frowned at him and gave an imperceptible

shake of her head, but he mutinously refil ed his goblet.

As usual, wine flowed freely during and after the meal, al of it the best-quality vintage produced by grapes grown in the vineyard on Satyr land.

Thick green bottles and amber ones wrapped in raffia, al with the trademark SV molded into their sides, had been brought from the cel ar and uncorked to

celebrate the occasion of Carlo’s return.

The others were more conservative in their consumption, cognizant of the fact that it would soon be Moonful. Emma abstained from taking spirits