Whispered Music (London Fairy Tales #2)(52)

“You cad!” With a thud she whacked him with her reticule and pushed away from the floor. “And to think I felt sorry for you!” A smile curved at her lips, but she looked to be desperately trying to keep it from showing.

“I was injured, truly out of my mind. No idea what came over me.” As the lie tumbled out, he chuckled and rose to his feet. “Now that I’ve not only embarrassed myself beyond all reason by first falling and then being so uncomfortably aroused I fear I won’t walk straight again, should we go to the village?”

Isabelle flushed and he could tell she was trying very hard not to peek at his afflicted area.

“Perhaps,” conquering a grin he walked over to her and lifted a hand to rub the side of her neck with his thumb, “when we return we can read some more?”

“Read.” Her lips quivered, a blush stained her cheek. “Is that what you are going to call it from now on?”

“Call what?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, you rake.” Her eyes narrowed.

“Truthfully, I’m in no mood to read, that is unless you plan to read in hopes to advise me the best position for me to—”

She clamped a hand over his mouth.

He nipped at it then pulled her roughly across his chest, kissing her lips, stealing the breath straight from her lungs in hopes that she would have no other choice but to inhale all of him. “Don’t bother ringing for your maid when we return, love.”

Reluctantly, he released her and offered his arm. With a sigh and a dramatic eye roll, she took his arm as he led her outside to the waiting carriage.

Once they were seated comfortably, mind you, not seductively or sensually as he would have liked, but comfortably apart from one another. He began to put his little plan into action. It had taken not only a generous amount of blunt, but also seamstresses, who agreed to make alterations to one of the pre-made ball gowns in the village. It was supposed to be of the newest style, boasting a rich burgundy and an almost backless dip. Just hearing about it made Dominique think all sorts of improper thoughts.

“What are we to do in the village?” Isabelle asked, interrupting his vivid fantasy of what a chocolate-dipped female would taste like.

“Er…” Dominique stuttered then coughed. “I have a few matters to take care of, and you, my dear, need some new gloves, and slippers, and well, sadly, we never purchased your trousseau. I have decided to amend the situation immediately.”

“For your own pleasure, no doubt.” Isabelle lifted an eyebrow in his direction then used her hands to smooth out her skirts. “Now, what is Hunter to be doing all day? And do not lie to me, I can tell when you are trying to avoid the truth, you always bite the inside of your cheek.”

“I have never lied to you!” Dominique tried to appear offended while racking his brain for instances of dishonesty.

“You said you enjoyed your morning tonic.”

“I do. You bring it.”

“Lie number one.” Isabelle counted off on her fingers. “You also said you lack the patience to read.”

“I find large words terribly troublesome.” He feigned boredom and looked out the window.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Isabelle shake her head. “Right, which explains why Cuppins claims you’ve mastered six languages and hold an honorary degree in botany from Oxford.”

“Can a man help that he enjoys roses?” Dominique countered.

“Tell me, do you lose often at the tables?” Isabelle leaned forward. Dominique wrenched his gaze from her pert décolletage and struggled to pull his mind away from the vision in front of him.

“I do not gamble.”

An amused grin spread across her face. “You wouldn’t.”

“Whatever do you mean?” He leaned forward to meet her in the middle of the carriage.

“A man like you wouldn’t gamble money. You do not take chances, or at least you do not enjoy the risk in doing so. Besides, as I said, you bite your cheek when you lie. You’d lose the entire estate in a manner of minutes.”

Dominique leaned back and grumbled. “Fine, now, let us talk of other things. I find it uncomfortable when you examine me so closely.”

He had just opened his mouth to steer the subject elsewhere when she asked in her soft voice the question he was hoping to avoid.

“Why?”

Time stood still. He looked out the window, noticing the way the snow melted and dripped off the trees. “Because, I fear you will find me lacking.”

Only cowards made admissions and refused to look into the person's eyes when doing so, but he found his old insecurities crawl back full force. The weight of rejection heavy on his chest yet again. Would he never be rid of it?

Isabelle sighed, then pulled the drapes across the windows. In an instant she was straddling him. Lifting her skirts over his form it was truly something he would remember for his entire existence. Especially the way her legs braced either side of him. How pieces of hair fell out of her hat. The smell of berries from her breakfast warm on her breath. She bit her lip and cocked her head to one side.

His pulse pounded in his neck; no doubt she could see it. The whole blasted world would be able to view it. But he could not stop the blood roaring in his ears, or the distinct arousal emblazing his body. He wanted to stay there, in between her thighs forever. Even if she was clothed the entire time. Her warmth, her body, embraced his in such an intimate way that he wondered if he ever truly knew passion until this day.