Whispered Music (London Fairy Tales 2) (17 page)

He tossed the gloves to the floor and brought his scarred hands to the piano. It was always a magical thing, the way his warm skin used to feel against the cold keys. And then the music would dance into the air and it would consume everything about him. A trance would take over and he would imagine himself floating above, basking in the joy of the music.

Even the haunting song brought him respite. Perhaps being with Isabelle was better for him than he realized. For the first time in fifteen years he was able to play the song without crying.

Or cursing.

Or throwing things, which Miss Ward would truly appreciate.

****

Isabelle awoke with a start.

The room, once bathed in the afterglow of love-making, was cold and lonely. She reached out her hand and ran it across the empty side of the bed where Dominique had just slept. Memories of a few hours before bombarded her brain. A nervous tremble ran down her body as she closed her eyes in remembrance of his erotic touch.

The way his lips pressed against her neck.

His hot breath tickling her ear.

And then she heard it.

Classical music.

The notes reached deep into her soul. An urge, stronger than she had ever known, came over her as she reached for her dressing gown and walked to the door, toward the direction of the music.

It grew louder as she descended the stairs.

A light glowing from the practice room drew her attention. Dominique had told her never to go into the room. But surely after everything they had shared that night, he wouldn’t mind if she listened?

The music stopped. Disappointed she walked to the door and leaned against it. It creaked open, and her feet moved her forward on their own accord. Tingling awareness washed over her as she took a tentative step into the room.

Dominique’s back was to her. His head hovered over the dusty piano. He began playing the same haunting song again, and she fought to keep her eyes open when all she wanted to do was close them and get lost in the beauty of the music. It was bittersweet, just when the melody began to climb, it would fall back down and drown within the sharp notes, making her want to weep.

As he continued to play, she watched as his muscles tensed in his back, stretching underneath his white shirt. His fingers moved so fast, so effortlessly. She could only see a blur of his hands, only the pinkish skin protruding from the cuffs of his shirt.

With a sigh, she looked around the room, only now noticing the disarray it was in. Glass covered the floor. Curtains fell haphazardly across the windows, pieces of material torn and filled with dust. The marble floor had lost its shine. Everywhere she looked there was dirt and debris. Why hadn’t Dominique or at least the servants cleaned up the room? It was obviously still in use, so it made no sense whatsoever that they wouldn’t at least try to tidy it up.

Lost in thought, she didn’t even realize the music had stopped. She looked up and took a step closer to Dominique. A loud crunch was heard, followed by her scream as a piece of glass lodged itself into her foot.

Dominique turned around, a horrified look on his face. Concern washed over his features, softening them just a bit. The edges of his mouth turned downward into a frown, and his eyebrows lifted as he looked at her cut foot.

Isabelle let out a pitiful whimper as it began to throb with pain. Dominique walked carefully over to her and knelt, his hands reached out to pull her foot onto his bended knee so he could retract the piece of glass.

Isabelle’s eyes fell on his hands. White and red scars pinched his skin all the way from his fingers up his forearms where the scars were hardly visible, just slightly discolored. Fascinated, she leaned forward just as Dominique, with a curse, stumbled back; expletives flew out of his mouth as he grabbed his gloves from the piano and put them on.

“So, you’ve come to get a look at the beast?”

Isabelle choked on her words as she tried to get them out as fast as possible. “No, no, I just heard the music, and it was so beautiful and—”

“Beautiful until you saw my scars, is that it?” Dominique roared.

“No!”

“Well, if you want to look, look!” he yelled, stripping off his gloves and throwing them at her feet. “Take in your fill! It wouldn’t be the first time someone was curious. Surely it won’t be the last! You should at least see what type of creature shares your bed, touches your body, and brings you pleasure.”

Isabelle kept her hands firmly at her sides. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying. The pain in her foot was intense, but the pain in her heart, the way it skipped a beat when she saw the visible hurt across Dominique’s features, nearly killed her.

“Here! Feel!” His eyes held unshed tears as he gave a mocking grin and pulled her hands into his.

She pulled back, not out of repulsion, but out of fear. He was acting mad, yet after all they had been through the day before, she knew his tactics well.

Hobbling over to him on her aching foot, she took his hands within her own and kissed the jagged scars, allowing her tears to flow freely over the marred white skin.

Dominique shook; his eyes were fixated on her face in a mixture of awe and outrage.

“I kiss the beast, I kiss the man, I kiss my husband, whom I love. Look into my eyes, Dominique. This is not the look of disgust, it is the look of acceptance.”

His eyes closed and a tear escaped his before he could reach up and stop it.

“I cannot keep you,” he choked. “I cannot do this. I—” He jerked away. “This is my life, my burden, my darkness. Isabelle, you do not belong here. You belong in England, where men will fall at your feet and women will adore you. Eventually your flame will go out. Isn’t that what fire does when exposed to the cold, damp, darkness of the world? I cannot be responsible for it.”

“Am I not strong enough to help us both?”

“It isn’t a matter of strength, love.” Dominique cursed and ran his scarred hands through his hair. “It’s a matter of choice. And I’m making the choice for both of us. I’ve already made arrangements—”

“You’re getting rid of me?” Isabelle cried. “Why, why would you do this? After everything we’ve shared? I don’t understand. After your pretty speech about me staying? Do you even know your own mind?”

“Understand this.” Dominique grabbed her arms, pulling her flush against his body, and kissed her forehead. “You are perfection, but beauty and beast do not mix, they do not pair. The beast will eventually devour your beauty, and I refuse to let that happen. Now run along to bed.”

Despite the throbbing in her foot, Isabelle felt numb. Nodding her head, she limped back to her rooms, but felt nothing at all, not even the pain in her foot. Sleep wouldn’t come, so she changed into her riding habit and went down to the stables.

Hunter was already there, readying his horse.

“Take me with you?” Isabelle asked in a small voice.

Hunter cursed. “What did he do?”

“Nothing.” Isabelle began crying all over again. “He’s—he’s giving me up!”

“To Napoleon?” Hunter asked with eyebrows lifted and an amused grin plastered across his handsome face.

Stupid man! Why did he have to jest at such a time! “No, you idiot! He’s sending me back home! And we, that is to say, I mean, last night...”

“Blast! Did he…” Hunter's face turned a bright red as he cursed and kicked the cold ground with his boot. “Let me speak to him, just, please wait before you do anything…irresponsible.”

Isabelle nodded and patted the horse already saddled and grazing near her.

Chapter Twenty-one

I shouldn’t drink. The music always blurs when I numb my mind with brandy. I promised myself I would never be the type to drink over a woman. Lovely, proving one’s theory so horribly wrong.

—The Diary of Dominique Maksylov

“I am not your nurse maid!” Hunter yelled, pushing the door open to the practice room where Dominique had fallen asleep the night before.

“And aren’t we all so grateful that you aren’t.” Dominique yawned. “What the devil are you doing up at this ungodly hour? There are no tavern wenches, nor do I see any French soldiers within my vicinity. Can you perhaps bellow elsewhere? My head aches.”

“Does that hard head of yours remember any conversations from last night? Or have you chosen to forget that you told your wife you no longer needed her?” Hunter paced in front of Dominique, slapping his leather gloves against his thigh.

Dominique winced. “I did nothing of the sort. I merely explained that I didn’t want her to feel trapped. I want her to choose to be with me, not be here because she is married to me or feels there is no other option. I stole that choice from her; yes, I protected her from danger. But I’m sure things have righted themselves within her family.”

“Interesting,” Hunter murmured, pausing in his stomping.

“What?”

“Your stupidity. Such a horrid case of it that I’m more amazed than appalled.” Hunter cursed and took a seat opposite Dominique. “When a woman is told she should scurry on home, she takes it literally. She thinks you do not want her.”

“I slept with her last night, she knows I want her.” If her screams and womanly sighs were any indication, she enjoyed herself as well as he did.

“There it is!” Hunter said sarcastically.

“There what is?”

“The stupidity. It was speaking again. Furthermore—” Hunter leaned forward, “when a man sleeps with a woman he does not follow the deed by telling her he no longer wants her to live with him. Sends the wrong signals, if you get my meaning.”

“I am helping her!”

“You are a fool if you think that is what you are accomplishing. Now run off and grovel, get down on your hands and knees, confess your stupidity, then take your woman to the bedroom and pleasure her again and again until she forgets the stupidity that briefly took over your body.”

Devil take it, Hunter would have been a good general.

“So the final words you leave me with are
pleasure her
? Sounds frighteningly normal.” Dominique rose to his full height. “For what it’s worth, Hunter, I do apologize for last night. You are truly the best friend a man could ask for.”

“Yes, yes, I know. Now go find the girl.”

“My lord?” Cuppins limped into the room. “I’m sorry to disturb that lovely speech on your intelligence—”

Hunter gave a hearty laugh.

Dominique scowled. “Yes?”

Cuppins clenched his hands and shook his head. “This just came for you. I imagine it is information regarding the French. The fighting has been getting closer and closer and although I find us to be quite safe, I think you better read it.”

“Why, when you already have?” Dominique lifted an eyebrow toward his old, retired butler.

“It isn’t safe for the lady to go riding alone anymore. The letter says the area is littered with French soldiers and she’s as English as they come.”

“Right, well, good thing I was just on my way to break fast to see her.”

Hunter paled and grabbed Dominique by the arm. “She isn’t breaking her fast.”

“Of course she is. Isn’t that where you two had your intimate chat?”

Hunter cursed and ran for the door. “She was dressed for riding and at the stables. I told her to wait, but...”

Dominique stopped listening when he heard
stables
. Fear pricked at his heart. If he lost her, he would die.

Chapter Twenty-two

Helplessness is the worst feeling imaginable. It is akin to swimming through the dark waters of the ocean not knowing which way will give you air and which way will be your death. Most of my regrets are directly related to helplessness. I was helpless to save my mother, my father, my teacher, and in the end myself. Perhaps that is why when the music calls to me, when it says there is danger, I heed the call regardless of the repercussions for I refuse to allow myself to feel helpless again.

—The Diary of Dominique Maksylov

The air was too quiet, eerie almost. After waiting five minutes, Isabelle decided to take the horse that Hunter had already saddled. After all, she was only going to for a quick ride to clear her head, and she couldn’t imagine him being with Dominique for any less than an hour. She looked down at her skirts, obviously she was properly attired, but the saddle wasn’t what she was accustomed to. She looked back in the direction Hunter had left and exhaled, her breath dancing in front of her face. The horse neighed, decision made, she managed to sit across the horse and gain her balance.

The horse was weighed down by some of Hunter's belongings but she didn’t care. She had no desire to run, merely to wander to the clearing that Dominique had shown her. The only problem was, she couldn’t remember the way. After the thunderstorm last night it had rained, melting the snow into tiny icicles that froze over all the trees.

She continued in the general direction of the forest. The white crystals strewn through the trees were breathtaking; the ground was hard but no longer covered in snow. Isabelle’s thoughts went to the night before.

Of Dominique’s hands on her thighs, of his lips nibbling her ear. The air should have chilled her, but the idea of their skin making contact threatened to make her sweat. Isabelle shook the sensual thoughts from her consciousness and looked around again. The trees all looked the same. Perplexed, she bit her lip and continued riding in the general direction she assumed the little ice sculptures were.

Now, deeper within the forest, she was able to see through the trees to the little clearing where she and Dominique had spent their time. Excited that she had found it, she kicked the horse into a slow trot. Once she reached the clearing, she let out a little laugh and slid off the horse. It was just as magical as she remembered it. Perhaps the rejection of her husband, the idea of him not wanting her after such a wonderful night, maybe it wouldn’t be as hard to deal with in this place. She twirled around, once, twice, and finally stopped.

“
What have we here
?” A foreign voice penetrated her magical world.