Whispered Music (London Fairy Tales #2)(51)

“Please,” both men said in unison.

“Care to explain the real reason I interrupted such a delightful lover's embrace?” Isabelle fought to keep a straight face as Hunter kicked Dominique in the shin.

To his credit Dominique didn’t wince, just smiled as if the world was exactly as it should be. “In due time, love. Now, for now, I beg that you accompany me to the village. It will be a short visit. Hunter has inquired and discovered that many of the French soldiers are no longer in this certain territory.”

Isabelle nodded. “When are we to leave?”

“As soon as you are ready, love.”

Smiling, she rose from her chair. “Well then, I better see to it. Gentleman...” She curtsied and turned toward the door, pausing before she left. “And, Hunter?”

His head snapped up.

“While dancing, it is important that you hold your partner closer. I trust you’ll work hard to remember those difficult numbers while dancing at the masquerade?”

“Yes, well, one, two, three, and four, are all such a mouthful. I have my doubts.” He seethed.

“Try.” Isabelle winked. “After all, we wouldn’t want people thinking you were stupid, would we?”

Dominique choked on his tea, but otherwise kept an impassive face.

“Right.” Hunter took a deep breath and leaned lazily back into his chair. “We wouldn’t want any of those women getting the wrong impression.”

Isabelle waved and made her exit, laughing all the way down the hall. Whatever those two boys— not men— were up to, it was amusing.

Try as she might, she could not push down the excitement that jumped her pulse when Dominique asked to take her into the village. She hadn’t yet visited, but imagined it would be ideal.

With a squeal, she went to her room and called for her maid.





Chapter Twenty-six


Lost... I am so hopelessly, joyfully, incomparably… Lost.

—The Diary of Dominique Maksylov



“Sometimes,” Hunter growled once Isabelle had left, “I wish I could wring your neck and throw you out the window. Perhaps you’ll allow me to use you for target practice while you zigzag through the forest, hmm?”

“Of course, anything you say.” Dominique had only partially heard what his friend nattered about. His focus, his only focus, was for his wife. The quirk of her lips, the lightness of her steps, her delicate hands. Blood surged to all the wrong places, making him uncomfortable. He wanted to possess her, to ravish her, but most of all, and he would never admit it aloud, he wanted to just touch her, breathe next to her in hopes that her air would mingle with his and he could savor her scent, taste her skin…

“And then I shall smite thee with my fist!” Hunter finished.

“What the devil?” Dominique turned to his friend who was now wielding a pretend sword in the air.

“Caught my performance did you? I nearly stopped once I had been acting out scene one for an ungodly amount of time, then got quite caught up. Done wool gathering, are you? Run along, it seems I’ve a ball to prepare tonight!” Hunter clapped his hands. “Now, do you remember the steps from the dance?”

“I believe so.” Dominique nodded his head. “I don’t remember it being that difficult.”

“It’s a waltz,” Hunter replied. “Not meant to be difficult, but sensual; it is the only dance you may dance in public where you can fully embrace a woman, feel her soft supple body against your—”

“Your eyes are closed. Tell me you’re imagining that doxy who took advantage of you and not my wife.”

“I wish it were anything but the doxy, but alas, she is the freshest in my mind. Blasted meat.”

Dominique bit his lip to keep from smiling and slapped his friend on the back. “Thank you, I owe you so very much...”

Hunter grinned wolfishly. “Yes well, there will be a time when you will pay me back in full. Now off you go, it seems I am to discuss food with your kitchen help, amongst other things.”

Dominique made his way toward the door. “Try not to scare the wits out of my staff, Hunter.”

“The wolf will not bare his teeth, beast, now go!” Hunter laughed.

Dominique was happy to find his wife at the bottom of the stairs, covered in a tightly-fitted pelisse that brought his eye to the trim feminine figure. Lined with fur, it seemed to be worn for two purposes.

Warmth and seduction.

At the moment he was imagining both, which was why, when his foot slipped on the last stair, he went flying to the ground at alarming speed, almost not catching his face before it slapped against the cold marble floor.

“Dominique!” Isabelle gasped, kneeling next to him on the floor. “Is it the fever? Is it back? Are you ill?” She pulled his head against her chest and kissed him on the hair; his cheek brushed against something soft, supple, distinctly feminine.

He moaned.

“Oh no!” Isabelle then cursed quite soundly for a female. “I just knew an outing was a tragic idea.”

Dominique nodded, allowing his cheek to rub against her chest. Bliss. Complete and utter bliss. If only she would move slightly to the right so he could…

Chuckling, because he truly could not help the mirth escaping through his mouth, he bent his head into the opening of her pelisse and kissed her exposed skin just below the neck.