Whispered Music (London Fairy Tales #2)(30)

It had been his sanctuary.

Until the night his father followed him and destroyed the magical sculptures. Dominique cried himself to sleep that night. A week later, out of sheer habit, he led his horse into the clearing and noticed a small sculpture, resting beneath a tree. The scene was a boy playing the piano. It was him. And ever since then, every winter, there was a sculpture waiting for him.

Perhaps it was foolish, but if he could share just a tiny bit of himself with Isabelle, this was what he wanted to share. The one happy memory he could think of. The only memory of his childhood that wasn’t stained with blood, pride, or betrayal.

“Where are we?” Isabelle asked. Her hand was still firmly clenched within his.

“You’ll see.” Dominique’s breath danced out in front of him, the temperatures were getting colder, and he only hoped Isabelle wouldn’t freeze during their little adventure. Of course, he could always pull her closer and share body heat, but that would mean touching her, and touching any more of her body would surely lead to things he had no business doing, considering they were in a snow-covered clearing. Though, it would keep him quite warm.

Isabelle gasped, releasing his hand and covering her mouth. He smiled at her response. For it was truly something taken straight from a fairy tale book. Crystalline icicles hung from the branches of the trees, glittering like diamonds, the poetic rhythm of the melting ice dripping into the pristine snow drifts. Everywhere one looked was a reflection of the icy cold of winter, yet strangely warm and intimate. Trees encircled the small area; it appeared untouched by anything. Isabelle's dark hair was a vivid chocolate against the white snow and her eyes sparkling sapphires as she smiled at him with appreciation. “It’s so beautiful! It feels like magic!” She ran into the middle of the clearing and twirled around in a circle. Pieces of snow fell from the trees onto her eyelashes as if they too wanted to touch her and add to the enchanting beauty she was.

Transfixed, Dominique watched, a smile spreading across his lips as Isabelle laughed and then stopped twirling. “What is this place?”

Suddenly feeling exposed, Dominique turned away from her burning gaze. “It was my sanctuary when I was a small boy. If you look just there—” he pointed beneath the largest of the trees— “You’ll find something I’m sure you’ve never seen before.”

Isabelle laughed and ran to the tree. “What is it? I don’t understand.”

Dominique was going to kill Cuppins Port, slowly… The sculpture beneath the tree was that of a beautiful young girl who looked exactly like Isabelle. But that wasn’t the most mortifying part. No, the worst part was that the girl was in a man's arms. Dominique’s arms to be precise, and they were sharing a passionate embrace.

His face heated as he struggled for words. Isabelle bent down and touched the sculpture. “It’s beautiful. Is it us?”

“I assure you, Isabelle, my intention was not to—”

She reached out her hand and lightly touched his arm. Rising to her feet, she stepped toward him. Time stood still, as if nothing existed but her eyes, her lips, and the vision of icicles glittering her hair. Frozen in place, he closed his eyes, as her hand traveled slowly up his arm and cupped his face.

Tender, she was tender and achingly slow in her examination of him. She removed her gloves and then her hands caressed his cheeks, skin-on-skin contact that singed him all the way to his frozen toes. Thawing much more than his body, but his mind. His heart. In that moment he believed in magic.

The magic of touch.

His eyes flickered open as he watched her examine him, and then her eyes closed as her cheek pressed against his and then he felt her plump, wet lips touch the side of his mouth. The words, his thoughts, everything was lost and forgotten in the beauty of her warmth.

He kissed her. It was as simple as that. Different than the other times because this particular moment was theirs, and only theirs. With nothing to prove, no pride in the way, and no hurt feelings.

It was them.

Gradually, she parted her lips. But he didn’t push the kiss any further than paying special attention to each corner of her mouth, as if a treasure was hidden behind the curves of her lips. Dominique reached out and touched her hair, smoothing it back behind her ear as he laid lazy kisses across her mouth and finally tasted her tongue. Slow, erotic movements made it absolute torture to keep his hands from traveling down the expanse of her body. He brought his hands around her waist and pulled her tighter against him, their breaths mingling in the air in front of them.

Heat spread through his body at their contact. Feminine curves fit perfectly into his arms, and he found himself needing to be closer to her, needing that completion that only comes with intimacy.

Oddly, this innocent kiss had turned into him wanting sex. Horrified, because it completely shattered this beautiful moment, he abruptly pulled back. Sex had always been identified with using women, never something so intimate as what he was experiencing with Isabelle. It was hard to fuse the two acts together. One was out of necessity and selfishness, whereas this, well it would be out of wanting to give all of himself to the one woman he knew he shouldn’t.

Never had his body been so aroused, so completely ready to give of itself, to take and take until nothing was left of the woman peering at him through thick lashes.

“I can’t…” Dominique swallowed and took a few deep breaths. Clearly Isabelle didn’t understand the seriousness of the situation. Had she any idea how close he was to utterly ravishing her on the purest of snow? He closed his eyes against the ugliness of his thoughts: Isabelle’s dark hair spread across the white covered ground, her cherry red lips swollen with kisses and then his blasted hands sans gloves caressing her body. Red, ugly scars ruined the picture of perfection, just as he ruined everything he touched.