Whispered Music (London Fairy Tales #2)(32)

Isabelle began to shake in Dominique’s arms. He held her close and kissed her head. “Are you all right?”

“Y-yes. I thought we were safe here! Heavens! What if they would have seen the horses?”

Dominique grimaced. “Yes well, we were fortunate that they didn’t notice much of anything, we weren’t exactly concealed.”

“How did you know there was danger? It could have been an animal, or even Hunter.”

Dominique actually blushed and looked away. “We should return.”

Isabelle put her hands on her hips. “Not until you tell me. What are you, some kind of spy? Is that how you and Hunter are friends? You both work for the Crown? Is that just another secret you’re keeping from me?”

Dominique’s face turned murderous. Isabelle backed up, knowing she'd pushed him too far, and so soon after the progress made!

“I am not a spy,” he spat. “And if you must know, I am a trifle mad, at least that’s what you’re going to think.”

“I would never.”

“Save me your pity. Yes, you will.” Dominique mounted his horse, not giving his aid for Isabelle to mount her own. “I heard the music.”

“The music?” Isabelle repeated dryly. “I didn’t hear anything.”

Dominique let out a heavy sigh. “You wouldn’t. You don’t have my curse. I hear….” He swore and took a deep breath. “The reason I took you when I did was because I heard music. It was the same music that haunted me when tragedy struck my heart as a boy. And when the twig snapped, I heard it again.”

“So you…hear… music.” Isabelle had to say it aloud to believe it herself.

“Yes, I believe that’s been established.”

“And it tells you things.”

Dominique cursed and stopped his horse. “It doesn’t speak to me. Well, I guess in a way it does. Just...never mind.”

“When you saw me, when you took me, you said the music changed, were you…” Isabelle swallowed the dryness in her throat. “Were you worried for my welfare? Was I truly in danger?”

Dominique shifted on his saddle and looked away, before digging his heels into the horse’s flesh.

“No…Dominique, wait.” She pressed her boots into the horse's sides to catch up to his trot. “I’m just trying to understand.”

Dominique laughed bitterly. “You will never understand. Nobody will ever understand me. Don’t you get it?” He urged the horse faster; she increased the pressure in her heels to keep up. “No matter how many walls you break down, no matter how many lessons you give me. You will never understand my pain, you will never be close enough to understand what haunts me.”

“I want to be.” Her voice trembled.

“No, no you don’t. You want to fix me; you think you can heal what’s been broken, what’s been so utterly destroyed. But you cannot redeem the damned, Isabelle. No matter how hard you wish it.” His words were just above a whisper when he said, “I thank you for trying. And as I have shown you, I will try as well, but please, do not continue to wish for things that will never be. I will never be more than I am right now. You must accept that.”

Isabelle nodded as she watched him gallop off. He didn’t hear her say I do, nor did he see the slippery tears that ran down her cold cheeks. It was more than the physical scars that kept him so tortured, though she hadn’t seen any evidence of such in all her days with him. But she decided then and there that she was going to discover what haunted him, even if it killed her.

She watched him jump off of his horse and stomp through the back door. With a sigh, she brought Horse back to the stables and slowly made her way back to the castle. Hunter greeted her, a grim look on his face.

“I take it things did not go well?” Hunter offered his arm. She took it as he led her into one of the salons.

“You could say that.”

“Truly, I do not understand why you would have so much difficulty. He’s such a shy, gentle fellow.”

At that precise moment a loud bellow was heard throughout the house and then a thunderous yell, followed by something shattering.

“I’m sure he’s just redecorating. Hates the color purple, often makes him agitated and prickly,” Hunter offered.

Isabelle laughed in spite of the somber mood she was in. Perhaps Hunter would tell her what haunted Dominique so.

“Won’t you tell me about my husband?” Isabelle gave him her most reassuring smile, the same one she used to give the cook in order to receive the hottest biscuits in the mornings.

Hunter’s eyes widened just slightly before he leaned forward and clasped his hands. “You’re good, I’ll give you that. Put you in a room with a few French soldiers and they’d blurt out every battle plan and strategy that existed, and all for one of your smiles or for a kiss. But I am made of stronger stuff.”

“Of course you are,” she said, breathlessly.

“As I said not a few seconds ago, I admire your flirtation, and I would normally take you up on such an offer, though we both know you’d rather be shot than lie with a wolf. Not when your heart so irrevocably belongs to him.” Hunter sighed and pushed away from his seat, he walked in front of the large window.

Isabelle watched his taut muscles flex and stretch beneath his fitted jacket. Lifting a hand to his head, he rubbed then cursed. “It is not my story to tell, Isabelle.” He looked agitated and uncomfortable before taking a seat again. “Sometimes, it is best for the ones who have been wronged to tell how they were wronged. For me to steal that from Dominique would do irreparable harm to your relationship, for how can you be the salve that heals him when he doesn’t trust you with his life? I cannot take that from him. I refuse to steal the one thing keeping you apart from one another.”