Whispered Music (London Fairy Tales #2)(49)

Isabelle uttered a sigh and tentatively sat on the bed, as gentle as a mouse. “I—” she started. “I thought you were gone.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Dominique teased.

Poor timing on his part, considering Isabelle burst into fresh tears. With a chuckle he reached for her hand, knowing that his scars were visible in the morning light. “It seems as much as the devil wanted me, an angel needed me to stay here. Soft lips touched mine in the most achingly beautiful kiss I’d ever experienced. Tell me, was it you? Or my imagination?”

Isabelle touched her lips with her hand. “It’s silly really.” Wet, tear-filled eyes answered his question. “I kept thinking that if I kissed you, you’d awaken from your fever.”

“As in a true fairy tale, is that it? The prince is turned from a frog to a prince? The beast into a handsome man?”

Isabelle nodded, red creeping up her neck.

“Did it work?” Dominique asked. The room was still and silent except for their breathing.

Slowly, Isabelle craned her head tilting it this way and that as she leaned over his body and whispered against his lips, “Yes.”

What he wouldn’t give for a little bit of strength, anything to be able to pull her into his arms and prove to her how he would fight, how he would live, how he would die with her name on his lips. “Am I a prince or merely handsome then? Which fairy tale will I be? Hmm?” His lips found a delicate spot on her neck, just below her ear. Fascinated with that tender piece of skin, he flicked it with his tongue, waiting for her to answer.

“Both,” she whispered. “You’re both.”





Chapter Twenty-five


I’ve seen the sun for the first time. Imagine seeing the sunrise without looking out the window. For a moment, can you feel how powerful it would be to see light after experiencing a lifetime of darkness? Of blindness? I can. It is so sweet that it aches, so powerful that for the first time in my life I want to weep with joy, yet…I wonder how long this light will last, how long will it fight against the dark? Will it one day resent the darkness? Resent the way the darkness seems to swallow everything whole? I wonder, I wonder if it is enough.

—The Diary of Dominique Maksylov



Dominique awoke with a start. It had been three days since he had been brought back from the land of the dead. His strength had yet to return full force, and if Isabelle came in one more time yelling at him to lie in bed he was going to go mad. Either that or ravish her, both options seeming quite promising this early in the morning if his arousal and irritation were any indicator.

Footsteps neared his door. He flinched, and ducked under the covers like some small lad waiting to get his ears boxed. The knob on the door turned. He began to sweat. Please, let it be anything other than what he thought it would be. If Cuppins brought in anymore tonic for him to drink he was going to go mad.

Hunter burst into the room a smile plastered across his face. “I have returned!”

“Alert the Regent, it seems we are to have a parade. Let me just lift my wounded arm so I can notify him by letter, oh wait… I was shot.”

Hunter cursed. “Yes, and I rode for days into the middle of a battle. I imagine Isabelle has been nursing you to health quite well. Kissing all your bruises and brushing her breasts against your arm when she gets too close. Yes, it seems like you’ve suffered a terrible experience, while I had to be treated by a doxy who smelled of fresh meat and eggs. I shall never eat again, I fear.”

Dominique burst out laughing. “What was the wench's name?”

“I do not wish to discuss it. I barely escaped with my honor intact.” Hunter shuddered. “Have you ever been taken advantage of in your sleep? Drugged? Unable to move because the chit has poisoned your tea with opium? No?” Hunter lifted his coat tails and took a seat on the bed.

“You were able to deny her with opium in your system? Strong man!” Dominique cheerfully patted his friend on the back then bit back another grin as his friend cursed.

“I was unable to move.”

“So she...” Dominique tilted his head, biting his lip in thought. “Good heavens, you were accosted by a woman!”

“She forced herself.” Hunter shivered. “And do you know the worst of it?”

“I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

“She didn’t even offer for my hand afterwards. No apologies. I was compromised! And no trap of marriage! She slapped my b—”

Dominique lifted an eyebrow.

Hunter cleared his throat. “At any rate, I at least imagined some sort of thank you.”

“I take it you were given nothing of the sort.”

“Milk. She gave me milk and sent me on my way. I believe my nightmares will now consist of that woman instead of Napoleon.”

“How sad for you,” Dominique said dryly. “Now—” he clapped his hands together. “I need your help.”

“You do realize every time you say that, something bad happens to me, right?”

Dominique shook his head. “Stop complaining. You’ve just spent the night in a woman’s bed! You should be in a better mood!”

“Calling her a woman would be a large stretch, I imagine. Now, what do you need? You do realize I’m a spy, not your nurse maid, as we’ve discussed, so if you plan to trap me in this room with you then—”