Whispered Music (London Fairy Tales 2) (22 page)

But wonderful all the same.

The sleep did nothing to alleviate her worries, for although she felt more rested than she had in the past week, she still could not help but concentrate on his sudden change in behavior. With a sigh she leaned her head against the door and allowed herself a few selfish tears. She was so hopelessly in love with him.

What was wrong with her? She was made of stronger stuff, and yet she couldn’t help but have a heavy heart as she pushed open the door.

But the thing of it was…Well, it wouldn’t budge.

She pushed harder, this time allowing her whole body to move against it.

Still, no movement.

Panic overwhelmed her. Had Dominique locked her in her room?

She banged her fist against the door, twice. Before a throat cleared.

“Miss? May I be of service?” Her maid, Amy, gave her a slightly bewildered look from the open door in the bedroom. Drat, why hadn’t she thought of that? Clearly, sleep had done nothing to clear her muddled thoughts. If anything it had made it worse. How could she forget the actual door into the hallway?

“No, er, that is to say, I was just wondering where I might find my husband.”

Amy grinned and looked down at the floor. “Pardon my firm hand in this, my lady. But the master of the house has left strict instructions as to dinner this evening. If we are to be on time, we must get you ready.”

“But...” Isabelle put her hands on her hips and bit her lip. “Surely, he isn’t demanding I meet him for dinner? Are we truly back to the origin of how I arrived?”

Amy beamed. “Quite the opposite, my lady. Now, if you’ll just have a seat here. The gown just arrived an hour ago and has been pressed. If you’ll allow me, I’ll help dress you before I fix your hair.”

“Dress me?” Isabelle looked down. Indeed, her dress was quite wrinkled. Something fresh would be just the thing. But wait, hadn’t Amy said the gown had just arrived? “Was my gown misplaced for it to just arrive?”

Amy began the tedious task of loosening the worn afternoon dress from Isabelle’s body. “The dressmakers, my lady. They worked tirelessly through the day to finish it for you.”

“For dinner?” Isabelle asked, still confused and a trifle muddled.

“Yes, and the ball,” Amy said quietly.

“Ball?”

Amy nodded. “Now, that is all I am permitted to say, my lady. But may I just say, thank you again for the raises.”

“Raises?” Truly, had Isabelle woken up in a different time and place? What was the girl blabbering about?

“Oh yes,” Amy gushed. “Why the master said you were in full agreement that all the staff would receive a raise. I wasn’t to say anything, but I hadn’t a chance to express my thanks as of yet.”

“Tell me,” Isabelle tried to keep her voice knowledgeable as she bit her lip, “What did my dear husband decide on as adequate for a raise?”

Amy’s hands stilled on Isabelle’s back. “It isn’t proper to discuss such things.”

“I give you leave,” Isabelle said, amused.

“Double,” Amy mumbled.

“Double what?”

“Our salary. It was doubled. Did he not discuss the final number with you?”

“Oh he did,” Isabelle lied through her teeth. “Forgive me, I am still waking up from my nap. Now, let us hurry along with the preparations. I would hate to keep my generous husband waiting.”

Isabelle’s heart warmed at the thought. Her husband, the lying little beast, had set her up to be a part of his gift, when it truly came from his heart, not her own. She stifled a gleeful laugh and turned around to face Amy, but her maid was busy pulling out the most beautiful gown Isabelle had ever seen.

Dark burgundy material flew out from an empire waist bodice. Lower than something she would have ever chosen for herself, it boasted of see-through material across the arms, floating lazily down to an open back with a black-laced train.

It was the exact dress he had picked out, not hours before. Only this time, she suspected, it would fit her perfectly.

“Do you like it?” Amy asked, her voice hinting at concern.

“No.” Isabelle giggled. “I adore it.”

Amy beamed. “Wait until you see the gloves.”

****

Dominique paced at the bottom of the stairs. What the devil was taking her so long? He had specifically sent the maid in to help her get dressed over an hour ago. Surely changing gowns and fixing one's hair didn’t take this long?

Not that he had any experience in the matter.

What with only recently deciding to cut his hair and groom himself.

With a groan, he leaned against the stairway and crossed his arms.

“Impatient?” A familiar and altogether unwelcome voice said behind him.

“Hunter,” Dominique said through clenched teeth. “Aren’t you supposed to be making the final arrangements?”

“They’ve been made, thrice, now stop whining and let me have a look at you.”

Dominique scowled and reluctantly pushed away from the railing to face his friend.

“Dominique, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so cleaned up.” Hunter’s eyes held no amusement, strictly astonishment. Dominique wasn’t sure if he should be offended or complimented.

“Are you to say that I normally look disheveled?” He fired back.

“Disheveled?”

Dominique nodded.

“Of course not.”

He exhaled.

“That would be putting it mildly, I’m afraid. In the past you’ve always looked positively rugged, like a pirate lord ready to ravish the lady and take over another ship's treasure.”

Dominique bit back a sharp retort. “And now? Do I still resemble the pirate?”

Hunter smirked. “No, I imagine a pirate will be the furthest thing from your young wife’s mind. Though, I daresay she may mistake you for a rake if you don’t get that smoldering look under control, and please direct it elsewhere. It's making me deuced uncomfortable.”

“Apologies.” Dominique felt himself flush with embarrassment.

“No need.” Hunter slapped his back. “Just be sure to direct your gaze to your wife, and do not forget to please her tonight, lest I find myself on the other end of one of your lust-filled glances again and feel the need to punch you.”

“Agreed.” Dominique cleared his throat just as his gaze swept upwards to the top of the stairs, where the most beautiful woman in the world was making her descent.

Mouth dry, Dominique continued to stare a hole straight through the woman. It was near impossible to drag his eyes away from her face. Lit with excitement, her eyes dazzled with mischief. Lush brown hair was partially held with pins, allowing silky tendrils to dance over her collarbone.

Reluctantly, he allowed his gaze to trail down her graceful neck, to the swell of her bosom as her dress, as if painted on, unapologetically clung to every feminine curve. Her skin seemed to glow, almost translucent through the thin fabric, and he could have sworn he was given glimpses of her long legs as she descended the stairs.

Pride swelled within him. She was his. That was his wife.

He looked to Hunter.

Whose mouth was also gaping open.

Dominique briefly contemplated shooting him.

But then again, he was his best friend.

“One night,” Hunter whispered. “Just give me one night and I’ll secure her affection…”

Where were the pistols? Dominique growled, and pushed Hunter toward the entrance to the dining room, all the while keeping his eyes trained on his friend for any sudden movement.

“It was merely a jest.” Hunter argued, though his voice was husky and his face flushed.

“Do you hear me laughing?”

“No,” Hunter bit out. “Though I could have sworn you growled.”

Dominique smiled. “Yes, well. Beast trumps wolf, now, leave me and my wife a few moments of peace before we join you for dinner, and if you do not cease from making eyes at her I will gouge them out.”

“Truly?” Hunter gave him a knowing look and crossed his arms.

“Fine, I won’t cause blindness, but I will be forced to wrap a blindfold around your head.”

Hunter grinned. “Just makes things more amusing in the bedroom, don’t you think?”

“Hunter…” Dominique warned. “Any more comments such as that and you will truly know what it is like to spend the night with a tavern wench. Don’t make me locate the woman that near traumatized you for life just a few days ago. And don’t you deny it, I still hear you screaming in your sleep.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would, and I will. Don’t tempt me. What did she do to you again?” Dominique had just recently heard the full story of how the woman—Hunter swore it was indeed a woman though Dominique now had his doubts—tortured him and forced him to eat from her large, hairy hands in order to sustain himself.

“Fine. I’ll be just over there—” Hunter nodded to where the brandy was, “Attempting to drink myself into a stupor. Perhaps I’ll be too foxed to remember the smell of sweaty meat. One can only hope.” With a nod, he hastily made his way toward the liquor. “Cheers,” he grumbled.

Dominique couldn’t even muster the ability to feel guilty for his threat. Quickly he reentered the room. Isabelle was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, examining her gloves.

“Do you like them?” he asked once he was close enough to talk to her without shouting. Her eyes twinkled with delight as she held her hands out in front of her and squealed, “They do not even look real!”

Pleased, Dominique grinned and brought her hand to his face. “They are made of the softest silk. It was near impossible to sew the gloves together for the fabric had the tendency to tear.”

“How did you manage it?”

“Magic,” he whispered against her lips. And he believed it. For the first time in his life, he truly believed in the fairy tales. That a man's job was to chase after the princess, rescue her from the horrid beast, even if the person he was rescuing her from was himself.

Perhaps his mother was right. Hadn’t she said that one day he would storm a castle in hopes to secure his own love? At the time the vision had been of him galloping into a large estate on his horse.

Now, older and hopefully wiser, he realized what his mother meant. Sometimes, it takes no great feat of physical strength, but that of emotions and will, for the walls one has to break, the ones that hold the greatest threat, are the ones around a person's heart.

He would secure her heart, once and for all, tonight.

Pulling away, he bent low before his wife, and kissed both of her hands before offering his arm. “After dinner, we will dance.”

“I cannot believe you would throw a ball for two people.”

Dominique grinned. “Love, who ever told you there would only be two?”

Isabelle opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Dominique’s clap. With a jerk and a gasp, she looked around the dining room table. Blanketed in a pool of light, the area looked like something that when future generations asked him how he had won the heart of the beauty, he would have trouble explaining just how breath-taking it had been.

Sconces lined the walls of the room, all lit, and blazing light into the otherwise dark, cold, dining area. The long table held candles of every shape and size, and in the middle, an ice sculpture of two people dancing.

Dominique and Isabelle.

Cuppins had outdone himself, if the smirk on his face was any indication as he sat in the corner of the room.

Dominique was slightly worried the sculpture would melt with all the candles near it, but it seemed to be holding its own. Thankful, he led Isabelle to the table and pulled out her chair, shaking his head to the servant who had stepped forward to do so.

If anyone was going to touch his wife, it would be him.

Not a servant.

Certainly not Hunter.

And tonight, not even her lady's maid.

The thought brought a smile to his lips as he pushed her chair in and took a seat opposite.

“Dinner is served.” Cook walked in, proud as a peacock. Dominique had requested that the servants involve themselves in the explaining of the dishes; it seemed Isabelle was always asking questions. To satisfy her curiosity about the local dishes, he asked Cook to explain each and every one of the foods that graced her plate.

****

Isabelle wasn’t sure she could eat another bite. Not used to such rich food, she felt positively ready to burst. But ladies never said such things aloud, so she bit the inside of her cheek and declined Cook's invitation to have a bite of dessert.

Never had she seen Dominique look so carefree. The candlelight danced on his sculpted features, making his face appear like a live painting. She found herself shamelessly staring at him more often than her own food. The planes of his face were smooth with sharp angles. His full lips would part as he smiled seductively at her. More than once she felt herself overheat, and then tremble just by the mere sight of his smile! Merciful heavens, he was beautiful, and she could not gather the strength to look away. Her eyes, it seemed, had a mind of their own, as they stayed focused on the most beautiful man. Surely it did not go unnoticed by the staff, as well as Hunter, who every few minutes entered the dining room to pour himself more brandy and found the need to continuously roll his eyes at them in exaggeration.

His bad attitude gained him two swift kicks in the shin until finally he mumbled an apology and glared into his glass of brandy, looking as if he wished it to turn into a beautiful woman. Truly, the man needed to get a hold of his lust before Dominique did it for him. It wasn’t natural for a man to look so interested in spirits or food as if gorging himself of those simple things would sate his desires.

She looked back to where Dominique was sitting and noticed he no longer occupied the seat. Glancing around the room, he was nowhere to be found. Panic seized her. What if he had seen her glance at Hunter? Truly it wasn’t that she held a secret tender for him. If anything, she was concerned for his welfare. Bile rose in her throat, the last time she had talked with Hunter, Dominique had thrown a fit.

Rising quickly, she was just about ready to make her apologies, when a beautiful masterpiece reached her ears.

It was painfully obvious Dominique was gracing the piano with his presence, but the music, the song pouring forth, was magical. It reminded her of fairies dancing in the forest. Of sea nymphs swirling in the ocean. It held no hatred, no anger, no darkness.