Whispered Music (London Fairy Tales 2) (8 page)

Surely she was mad, for he was nothing more than a animal set to imprison her in the cold, dead walls of the rocks around her. It would be so much easier if it were ugly instead of beautiful. Or if the servants were mere shades of Dominique’s personality. Instead, they were lively, happy even. A trait it seemed Dominique hadn’t acquired in all his years.

“And here we are,” Dominique said, his voice a deep echo in the great hallway.

“And here is?” Isabelle asked.

“The wall of the strange and even stranger.”

“Pardon?”

“Strange, this wall. It’s ugly and haunting, and well, to be honest, I despise it, but I’ve been given the task of revealing all my family secrets to you. And reveal I will.”

His personality had changed again. Dominique looked irritated, nervous and uncomfortable as if the very pictures he looked upon would suddenly spring to life.

“Your ancestors, then?” Isabelle prodded.

“All of them, even Alexander the first.”

More evidence that he truly was a prince, the remainder made her all the more uncomfortable. “I imagine your family is proud of your musical accomplishments.”

“My family ceased being proud of me a great while ago, wife.”

What an odd statement to make.

Dominique pulled her hand as he led her hurriedly to the end of the hall. Just as she was about to round the corner, her eyes caught a glimpse of the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. With ebony hair and crystal blue eyes it was undeniable that it was Dominique’s mother. Next to her picture was a man, his large aristocratic nose framed by a harsh face. He looked every bit the type of diplomat that people would follow. A man who could lead.

“Who are they?” She pulled Dominique’s hand, hoping he would stop.

He looked at the pictures, his face a mixture of hurt and anger. “They are dead, and that is all you need to know.”

“But...”

“Enough!” His voice snapped and his icy blue eyes burned holes through her. “I will show you to our room, but there are a few things you must first know about the castle.”

“Other than it’s haunted, you mean?” Isabelle whispered.

“Cuppins likes to talk, do not take his words for truth.”

“So you didn’t run around naked during a royal dinner?” Isabelle wasn’t sure what made her feel the need to tease the man who merely seconds ago had scolded her so harshly. Perhaps she was going mad.

Dominique actually smiled, though she could tell he took great pains to hide it, which proved a simple task considering all the scruff on his face. “Yes well, when I was a boy I had a great need for affection. I thought nobody would ignore my presence if I were, uh, naked.”

“And did they?”

“Did they what?”

“Ignore you?”

Dominique swallowed and looked down. “Always.”

Isabelle reached a comforting hand to Dominique’s face. His eyes closed as her skin made contact with his.

“Please, don’t,” he whispered.

“Don’t what?”

“Pity me. I would rather you hate me, rather you dream about my death, than extend the same pity and compassion to me that you do Cuppins.”

It made no sense that the man wouldn’t want comfort, after all, hadn’t he just finished explaining the lack of attention he received as a boy?

“Why?” Her other hand went up to touch the other side of his face, bringing it dangerously close to hers.

“Because, I am undeserving. Of your loyalty, your goodness, your compassion. Everything. I would rather die than receive it.”

“Do any of us truly deserve loyalty? Love? Forgiveness? How can you earn such things in the first place, Dominique?” Her heart leapt as she said his name. She pulled back as if burned, noting the fierceness in his gaze as he looked at her lips then back at her eyes.

“What I have done has earned me a spot in the inner most circle of Hell.” His hand caressed her neck up and down, until she leaned in wantonly, needing more of his touch.

“The rules.” He cleared his throat and stepped back. “As I stated before, are simple. Dinner is always at eight, you are to dine with me every evening.” She opened her mouth to speak but he shook his head and continued talking. “You have free reign of the castle, but you may not under any circumstances enter the second practice room located near the stairs. It is locked, so it shouldn’t pose a problem to your morbid curiosity.”

Isabelle watched as he bit his lip in obvious frustration. “What’s in the room that you’ve forbidden me to enter? Corpses?” Her sarcastic remark was met with so much rage in his face that she took a step back. Truly, she had meant to lighten the mood with humor. Was it truly littered with such as she said?

“It is none of your concern! Do I make myself clear?” he roared.

“Y-yes,” she stammered.

He cursed and turned on his heel, pausing after only a few steps. “And Isabelle?”

She lifted her head just in time to see a devilish smile dance across his face, bringing wicked intent into his eyes. “You will share my bed. Every night.”

“But—”

He marched back in her direction and grabbed her arm, pulling her against him. “You are my wife, and you will act as such. In
every
way.” His eyes dipped to her bodice and then back to her lips. “If you find the idea so repulsive, then close your eyes. Hum a song, think on happier things. Blast it all, you can even pretend it’s Hunter rather than myself, but you will be mine.”

Cursing, he left her in the dark hall, his boots stomping all the way down the stairs.

****

Isabelle sat in silence, and watched as Dominique’s form disappeared. She still had no idea where her rooms were, nor in which direction to go. Within minutes, Miss Ward came up the stairs that Dominique had just exited and led her to a bedroom on the second floor of the castle.

By the time Miss Ward had helped her dress for bed, she was a bottle of nerves. The house did not boast of any lady’s maids, something she was told to take care of whenever she was ready, so Miss Ward took it upon herself to regale her with stories of the enchanted castle, all the while Isabelle had to fight to keep her teeth from chattering.

He would stay with her tonight.

He would be in her bed. Yes, he’d stayed with her before, but there had been something in his tone earlier that lead her to believe that things would change…and soon.

When Miss Ward left, Isabelle’s shaky legs took her to her side of the bed. She extinguished the candle and dove under the covers. The minutes went by with agonizing slowness, until finally she heard the unmistakable click of boots against the marble floors.

The bedroom doors opened in a rush.

Dominique stepped inside, though she could only see his shadow, nothing more. With jerky movements he pulled off his clothes, making Isabelle’s face heat even though she couldn’t see his form. She could imagine it, and an involuntary shiver ran down her spine. Soon, his weight forced the bed to dip almost causing her to topple towards him. And then, he exhaled and was still.

How in the world could he be still? How was it possible that the man wasn’t the least bit affected sleeping in the same bed as her?

At the Inn, they had both been exhausted, but now, here, in their bedroom, in the castle they would share…

He was sleeping.

And her body was refusing to relax.

Every muscle was clenched tight. She tried to breathe evenly but her breaths came out in short gasps, and then something touched her.

His leg moved next to hers, body heat radiating from his person. Her stomach tumbled and tightened. The feeling was foreign as if she was almost weak or exhilarated from his touch.

As she scooted to the farthest edge of the bed, a thought occurred. How was she to survive sleeping in this bed every night for the rest of her life?

Chapter Ten

Those who cannot carry a tune should not attain to try, for they try in vain and my ears can only take so much torment before I contemplate removing them with a blunt object to rid them of the ringing horrid music brings. If society stopped teaching young girls to sing and play piano when they showed no true talent, I would be much obliged. Yet, every year it seems a new debutante finds a way to torture me with a note not yet found on the scale.

—The Diary of Dominique Maksylov

Dominique winced. “What the devil?”

“Ah, so you hear it too then. I was wondering how long it would take for you to catch on to the little lady bird.” Hunter smiled and folded his broad arms behind his head as if readying himself for sleep.

How was the man even closing his eyes at such a time?

“Hunter? What the blazes is that noise?”

“Your lady bird.”

Dominique paced in front of him. “Do you truly think that pet name fits at this point in time?”

On cue another ear splitting noise broke into the room. Apparently the lady bird had discovered a new note that hadn’t yet been sung. Brave of her.

“I believe,” Hunter kept his eyes closed, “That she was trying to reach for a high C?”

“I believe,” Dominique mocked with a curse, “that she was trying to kill us off. That blasted noise has been waking me from sleep every single night this week! I thought it was—”

Hunter opened one eye. “A badger in heat?”

Dominique forced himself not to smile. “Yes, well, apparently I was wrong.”

The shrill voice continued to try at higher notes until Dominique was sure he was going to have an apoplexy.

And then an expensive vase, one purchased by his mother in France, chose the opportune time to shake and fall to the floor.

“Did you know?” Hunter slapped his knee and laughed. “I thought that only happened in books and plays! But her voice truly just made a vase commit suicide. Pity. It was such a beautiful vase.”

“Family heirloom.” Dominique grumbled, looking at the glass shards on the marble floor. “At any rate, we simply cannot have her continue to sing like this. My entire staff will quit!”

“Oh they’d never do that.” Hunter sobered. “They’re in love, every last one of them. Lucky sods, just yesterday I saw the groom nearly fall prostrate in front of the woman.”

“What the devil did she do? Offer him his weight in gold?” Dominique cursed and took a seat next to his nosy friend.

Hunter grinned wolfishly. “No, dear friend, she smiled, and I believe she said 'thank you'. Though I couldn’t be sure, you asked me to spy and make sure she was comfortable and adjusting to castle life, not make myself known as to her exact wording in every conversation. Say, would you prefer I take notes? I imagine it would be in my best interest to follow her around and write down every beautiful word flowing from her mouth.”

The voice heightened.

“Care to retract that last statement, friend?” Dominique smiled this time and then covered his face with his hands. He hadn’t slept in days. Make that weeks! The woman was impossible!

“She likes music,” Hunter pointed out.

“Yes, well, music doesn’t like her,” Dominique retorted.

“Teach her.”

Dominique froze, hands still covering his face. “You cannot be serious? Please tell me this is just another one of your jokes you say to amuse yourself at everyone else’s expense. She is unteachable!”

“You don’t know that,” Hunter argued.

“Yes, yes I do!” Dominique shot out of his chair. “She refuses to dine with me, she scowls at me at every turn, and her voice makes me want to cut off my own ears!”

“Only her singing voice. Her conversational voice is quite pretty.” Hunter let out a besotted sigh.

“The devil you say!” Dominique kicked a chair. “She converses with the great Wolf of Haverstone and refuses to even greet me in the morning!”

Hunter laughed and shook his head. “It does help to be polite. You do know what being polite is, correct? Perhaps it would help you to teach her. Mayhap it will help both of you to build some semblance of a relationship since you’re stuck together in holy matrimony.”

It was aggravating to say the least, that his friend had conjured words from the very woman that Dominique shared a bed with every night. She refused to acknowledge him in the morning, and often took her dinner in her room claiming she was sick.

Admitting defeat, Dominique took another seat and cursed. “I have no idea where to start.”

“Hello.”

“Pardon?”

“Start with
hello
, or perhaps
sorry
. You do offend her with every other word pouring forth from your mouth.” And with that Hunter stood and began walking toward the door. “Oh, and Dominique?”

His head jerked up.

“Do try to write a song worthy of the woman you’re teaching it to. It wouldn’t be right to have her throw herself from the highest balcony because your music depresses her very soul.”

“They couldn’t prove that!” Dominique argued.

With a laugh, Hunter waved him off and exited.

The cur! It had been years since anyone had brought that up! And it wasn’t his fault that someone found his music so moving that they wanted to promptly float into the afterlife! Or in the gentleman’s case, plummet into the eternal.

Though that cursed note he left gave Dominique pause. Perhaps Hunter was right. Not that he would ever say anything of the sort aloud, and to Hunter nonetheless, but the girl did like music, even if
it
despised her.

Perhaps it would be the only thing that would put them on common ground. With a sigh, a few curses and ten minutes of senseless pacing, Dominique had made up his mind. He would go to her, he would ask politely, and he would face rejection—again.

****

“My lady?” Miss Ward knocked on the door. “The master wishes an audience.”

“Perhaps he can pay some servants to listen to him roar and bellow orders. I’m busy.” Isabelle shifted the book between her tired hands and sighed. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could sit and read. Not that she hated reading, but only three books were in her room and though Miss Ward had hinted that Dominique had an expansive library, the last thing she wanted to do was ask him if she could see it.

He’d probably demand she see it at a certain hour and then blame her if for some reason all the books weren’t returned promptly the next day. Blast, he’d probably charge her too.