Upon a Midnight Dream (London Fairy Tales #1)(66)

A scream would not come, though Dominique tried. The blackness enveloped him and he felt once and for all he had truly died.

****



15 years later

The carriage dipped jolting Dominique from his nightmare. Always the same. Always that cursed song, why was he never given respite? He looked down at his hands, still covered in his gloves never to be seen by the outside world. For their hideous scars were the stuff of legends and dark fairy tales. Surely the girl sitting across form him would expire on the spot if she saw what gruesome brutalities lay beneath his torture hands.

With a sigh, he leaned his head back against the leather of the carriage. Had he done the right thing in taking her? Now he wasn’t so sure.

He looked across the carriage, his gaze resting on the young girl. Isabelle was her name. Or in his mind Belle, for the music surrounding her was true beauty, nothing he had ever in seen in his lifetime.

The carriage dipped again and the young beauty opened her eyes. “Are we there yet, my lord?”

“No.” Dominique clipped, he despised conversation of any type, especially with that of a woman. He hadn’t any experience with the lot of them unless needing to satisfy his beastly needs and even then he never looked at their faces, never kissed them, and never took off his gloves. Women were good for only one thing. Besides that, they could not be trusted.

The young maiden licked her rose colored lips and pushed her lustrous brown hair away from her face. “Are we close then?”

“Why?” he asked, irritated with her questions. Was she to plague him the entire trip?

“I’m thirsty.” She looked embarrassed; her hands were clenching her dress tightly. Blast, the girl was probably cold, too. What did she think he was about? Being her nursemaid?

“We’ll get there soon enough.” He cut off the conversation by looking out the window, so desperate was he to get the girl to stop talking or at least stop staring at him the way she was.

“Why did you take me?”

Dominique took a deep breath then turned his gaze back to the girl. Her piercing blue eyes made him slightly uncomfortable. If there was one trait he was always constant on, it was his honesty. So he told her the truth, not because he was being kind, but because it was the only positive characteristic he had. After all, his mother had lied, his father had betrayed him and his music hadn’t saved him at all. Honesty, it seemed, was his only mistress.

With a deep breath, he answered, “Because the minute I gazed upon you, the music changed.”





About the Author

Rachel loves to read almost as much as she loves to write. She resides in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and her dog Sir Winston Churchill. Although she loves to write contemporary romance, her heart will always be with historical and regency romances. Glittering balls and dangerous rakes hold her captivated like chocolate and Starbucks. You can follow Rachel on her blog, Twitter, or Facebook.