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

“Shh...” Dominique mumbled in her ear. “One cannot appreciate music if one is constantly blocking it out with a voice.”

Enraged, she fought to kick him, but he embraced her even harder.

“Listen, love.”

Listen? Love? Was the man insane! He made demands of her day and night, didn’t as much as ask how she was doing, and he was calling her love? And ordering her to listen? Her, of all people? The man couldn’t listen if he was ordered by royal decree.

And then Dominique began to sway behind her. “Shh, just listen.”

Defeated, Isabelle stopped struggling and did as he said. Only there was nothing to listen to, save her own treacherous heart as it slammed against her chest.

Insane, yes he was insane, but she continued to listen, and again all she could hear was her own heart. It sped up, slowed, and then sped up again like she was taking flight in the air with the birds.

“One, two, three—” he breathed in her ear and moved his hand down her throat to her chest. “One, two, three.” He repeated this time, lightly patting her chest with his hand in perfect cadence with her heart. “Feel it, Belle, feel the music.”

Her eyes closed of their own accord and she began to concentrate on her breathing as Dominique’s hand grew warm on her chest.

“One, two, three.” His other arm encircled her waist, leading her toward the far end of the room where the piano stood.

“Listen to the rise and fall of your own breath, the rise and fall of the music of your heart. Do you hear it?”

“Y-yes.” Isabelle stumbled on the word all too aware of the warmth his body gave her. Of the way his touch burned her skin. Though he still wore his gloves, his fingers blazed a fiery trail of need into her flesh.

“Now, keep your eyes closed,” he whispered, leaving her body aching, wanting, and alone.

A single note was played, followed by another, as her heart kept perfect rhythm with the music, perfect timing. And then more notes flowed forth.

A deep male voice penetrated the music, so beautiful, so achingly beautiful. She opened her eyes to see Dominique hovered over the piano, singing. The song was unlike anything she had ever heard.

Or Dominique had ever composed.

It was heart-breaking and beautiful at the same time.

“Merciful Heavens!” A female voice burst into the room. “I thought—”

Miss Ward promptly dropped her tray onto the floor and began hopping on one foot. “Oh dear me, I’ve ruined everything. My apologies, master, I thought you were—”

“Killing her?” he offered with an amused smile.

“Well.” Miss Ward crossed her arms and turned slightly pink. “You have to know we haven’t heard such glorious music in an age! What else was I supposed to think?”

Isabelle gasped. Dominique’s once cheerful face turned hard as granite. “Yes, well, I won’t make the same mistake again. Apologies.” He turned to Isabelle. “I will expect you tomorrow at the same time for lessons.”

“Lessons?” Isabelle squeaked.

“Yes. Lessons,” Dominique ground out. “So vases cease from breaking and stray animals stop arriving at my front door in hopes of mating with one another.”

“Dominique!” Miss Ward stomped her foot. “Of all the asinine things to say!”

Isabelle felt hot tears at the back of her eyes, forcing themselves forward and down her cheeks. The knot in her throat increased until, with a cry, she quit the room and ran up the stairs, away from the insufferable man. It wasn’t until she slammed the door that she remembered the reason for going down to the practice room in the first place.

Were lessons his twisted idea of wifely duties? And why did it leave her feeling even emptier than before?





Chapter Eleven


Where words fail me, music never does, for its very essence explains what I cannot, yet not everyone understands the language of a song, so I am brought back to words. And I am loath to admit, I do not understand how to use them.

—The Diary of Dominique Maksylov



“Bravo!” Hunter clapped. “Magnificent performance, wouldn’t be surprised if the girl was at this moment trying to scale the wall in hopes to escape you.”

“Glad I amuse you...” Dominique had been sitting in the practice room for two hours since Isabelle’s hasty departure.

“She’s not coming back down here,” Hunter observed. “Perhaps you should seek her out?”

“Seek her out?” Dominique repeated. “I’d rather stay in here without food or drink.”

“No you wouldn’t.” Hunter scowled. “Admit it, you like her, even if her voice reminds everyone why women would be best to be seen and not heard.”

Dominique couldn’t help but laugh.

“Go after her. Rumor amongst the servants is she likes books.”

Dominique’s head snapped up. “Truly?”

“No, I’m lying in order to see you more depressed, if that were possible. Yes.” Hunter shook his head. “Now go after her. You do realize I’m only giving you a few more weeks before I seduce her and steal her away from you, right?”

“Remind me why we’re friends again?” Dominique cursed and rose to his full height. “What do I say?”