Whispered Music (London Fairy Tales #2)(31)

He winced, and stepped completely back from Isabelle.

She stepped toward him, trapping him between her body and the tree.

“Don’t.”

“Pardon?” His breath was coming out in short gasps.

“Don’t hide anymore.” Her voice was soft, angelic, sensual. He blinked several times trying to break the illusion of the compassion in her face.

“I think it’s time for a music lesson,” she said taking his hand.

The idea of her teaching him anything musical made him laugh aloud. Isabelle gave him a pointed look. “Never fear. I know where my strengths lie. I sometimes wonder, Dominique…”

“What?” His voice was hoarse with arousal. “What do you wonder?”

She stopped in the middle of the clearing and let go of his hand. “I wonder if all you know is music. I wonder if you understand things only in musical terms, but fail to comprehend emotions. It seems to me that you lack something important.”

He shuddered, unable to help it. This was the moment, the time when she would point out every insecurity, every single thing wrong with him. Just as his father had, and his mother and—

“You do not follow your heart.” She interrupted his thoughts. “So I’m going to teach you how to listen.”

Stunned, he merely stood there as Isabelle began to circle him. “Listen, Dominique, listen to the drops of water falling from the trees. Listen to your breathing, just as you showed me with the music. Listen.”

Satisfying her, he closed his eyes and did just that. He listened.

And then, sultry feminine hands wrapped around him from behind. The smell of lavender overwhelmed his senses. How the devil was he to listen when all he wanted to do was turn around and lay the woman flat on her back, possessing every inch of her body?

Her voice, so quiet and steady, whispered in his ear, tickling the side of his neck. “One, two, three. One, two, three.” She then put her hand on his chest and lightly tapped it in cadence with the same rhythm he previously taught her. Leisurely, she continued her tapping until finally he was facing her.

“You took a girl without knowing anything about her, saving her, at least you claim as much,” she whispered. “What does your heart say about that?”

“My heart—”

“And before you answer,” she interrupted. "Remember your head is not your heart. What does your heart say?”

Dominique exhaled. Truly, his head told him he was the worst sort of human being, that taking her defied all logic. Selfishness drove him to do what he did. Yet as he was thinking on it and as she corrected him, it was as if his heart burst forth with the correct answer—the real answer.

“My heart says there was no other way. It says the moment I laid eyes on you, the rhythm of my heart forever changed…and aligned itself with yours.”

If his response shocked her, it was impossible to tell, as she continued in the same fashion. “Relax, listen to your breathing, forget your thoughts, listen to the music of the trees. The music I know you hear. It sings to you, pulls you. Dominique, what does your mind say about me?”

“You said to listen to my heart.”

“Answer the question.”

Dominique sighed and hung his head. Eyes still closed, he answered. “My mind says I don’t deserve you. That you’ll run away screaming the minute you see me for who I really am. My mind cannot separate my need to have you and my selfishness for doing so.”

“And your heart?”

With a shudder Dominique turned to face her. “It sings your name.”





Chapter Fifteen


I fear losing control. I fear the day when I hold nothing back and there is nobody there to catch me when I fall. But most of all, I fear that someone will be there, they will catch me, and in the end will know all of my secrets, all of my lies. In the end I would rather fall, for then I would feel no shame in my lies.

—The Diary of Dominique Maksylov



Isabelle felt tears well in the corners of her eyes. She blinked rapidly, trying to remove the desperate urge she felt to weep for the man in her arms. For the vulnerability he had just shown.

She reached out to grab his hand. He pulled back, but she pursued, finally able to grasp at his gloves. She prayed her eyes said trust me, when she gazed into his. Fear was marked on his every feature, from the grim set of his lips, to the pale color of his face. Gradually his eyes closed. Black lashes against the perfect lines of his cheekbones. He exhaled, Isabelle pulled and then a branch snapped in the distance.

“Get down!” Dominique hissed, pulling her behind one of the trees between two large bushes.

Two French soldiers meandered into the clearing. They were armed, but discussing a recent fight that had broken out amongst the soldiers, nothing important was said. Isabelle’s heart slammed in her chest. Surely they were safe! After all, they were at least a few days' ride from Brussels. And Dominique would never knowingly put them in danger. She glanced at Dominique, he was frozen in place, did he too understand French? He had to, for the minute the Frenchman cursed the English, Dominique’s hand tightened on her waist.

Swallowing the dryness in her throat, she glanced at Dominique. He looked ready to attack, ready to kill. His eyes darkened as the men neared the tree where they hid, and then they were gone.