Whispered Music (London Fairy Tales #2)(13)

Every girl dreamt of a moment when her husband-to-be gazed upon her, gave her the pretty words she craved to hear, and walked down the aisle with such fervor as to claim his prize. With each strip of clothing removed, her vulnerability increased and the dream became harder to believe in.

But nothing was so horrible as when, Dominique her husband, her protector, and soon to be lover, sneered at her near nakedness. “As I said before, a cold English fish. At least you have curves. I’ll give you that much. Now hop into bed before I change my mind about taking the only valuable thing you possess, your virginity.”

The tears that Isabelle had been holding in burst. Unable to even see which direction the bed was in, she stood and cried like a small child. Bitter tears choked her throat threatening to close it.

And then Dominique was there, cradling her in his arms. “Shh,” he said softly in her hair. “Believe me, it is better this way.” He tucked her into the bed and wiped a tear from her face and scowled. “I do not take kindly to tears.”

“Well, I don’t take kindly to being insulted and forced into marriage, then threatened to be killed!” Isabelle jerked her head away from his touch.

“Regardless of your feelings, Isabelle, I mean to protect you from evil men like the man who sold you to me, to keep you from the darkness, so you may possibly mature into a young woman without vanity and selfishness. And my protection must be firm with you, for I must protect you from the biggest threat at present.”

“And what threat would that be?” Isabelle sniffled.

“Myself.” Dominique gave her a sad smile and moved to the hammock on the other side of the room.

Confused and hurt, all Isabelle could do was watch.

****

He was going to Hell.

At least he would be in good company. Hunter's many sins weren’t doing well to earn him a spot in Heaven.

Dominique wanted to break something. He was no better than the man Isabelle left, but he couldn’t find the balance between keeping her fearful and leery of him, and wanting to protect her from everything.

The truth of it was she reminded him of when he was a small boy. When he wrote music about princes slaying dragons. His mother told him stories at night about such things; she said that since he was a prince, he would one day need to find a princess and rescue her.

Apparently he had found his princess.

Unfortunately, he treated her as a nuisance.

It wasn’t just his mistrust of women. No, it was the absolute loss of control he felt in her presence. What had he been thinking? To bite her? And lick her milky skin? His thoughts had been initially to shock her into submission so she wouldn’t cry. Instead, he had gotten entirely carried away, almost following through with his urge to bed her.

But as his hands moved down her supple body, his eyes caught a glimpse of his gloves and he remembered. Everything.

The blood, the scars, the pain, and the betrayal. But most of all he remembered the monster he was, and realized that he would rather hurt her beyond saving and have her hate him than have her pity, for if she pitied him, his heart just might break, and he hadn’t the strength to put it back together again.

For how could a Beauty such as she ever hope to love or care for a Beast?





Chapter Six


The melody haunts even my dreams, it seems every time I write it down I never allow myself to play it. I merely throw it in the fire and pray that God sent my father into the very fire he dipped my hands in. For I would give my soul, my gift of music, I would give my life, just for a chance to go back…

—The Diary of Dominique Maksylov



The following morning did not start off as Dominique hoped it would. For one thing, the sheet on the bed had fallen completely off, leaving Isabelle draped across the mattress looking like a goddess emerged from the sea. Temptation to take his wife, because after all, she was his, was so strong that he poured himself another brandy and then another.

Hunter chose that unfortunate time to barge into the room. His golden eyes fixated on the goddess in question before turning an amused expression to Dominique. Laughter soon followed when he approached the woman and watched as she dozed, looking completely untouched. Dominique scowled as Hunter motioned to the drink in his hand.

He had half a mind to throw it at his hateful friend. Hunter shook his head in merriment and made a motion for Dominique to follow him out to the deck.

The salty air rejuvenated him, but only slightly. “What is it?”

“Snappy this morning, eh?” Hunter elbowed him. “Your tone speaks not of a man who was satisfied throughout the evening. A little cold was she? Perhaps I should warm her up first? You don’t mind, right? After all, you mean to push her away until she hates you as much as you hate yourself.”

Dominique cursed. “You go too far! Don’t for one minute think that because we are friends that I wouldn’t shoot you for touching her.”

Hunter eyed him patronizingly. “Come, Dominique, we both know you excel in fencing, not shooting. Besides, I was merely jesting, at least about the warming part. I stand by everything else.”

Dominique glared and chose to ignore his friend’s ramblings. “We should make haste. The ship will be docking soon, and we have a long journey ahead of us through the woods.”

“And through the trees to Dominique’s house we go!” Hunter added with his singsong voice. Oh, what Dominique wouldn’t give to punch his happy friend in the face.