Whispered Music (London Fairy Tales #2)(57)

“Fine. I’ll be just over there—” Hunter nodded to where the brandy was, “Attempting to drink myself into a stupor. Perhaps I’ll be too foxed to remember the smell of sweaty meat. One can only hope.” With a nod, he hastily made his way toward the liquor. “Cheers,” he grumbled.

Dominique couldn’t even muster the ability to feel guilty for his threat. Quickly he reentered the room. Isabelle was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, examining her gloves.

“Do you like them?” he asked once he was close enough to talk to her without shouting. Her eyes twinkled with delight as she held her hands out in front of her and squealed, “They do not even look real!”

Pleased, Dominique grinned and brought her hand to his face. “They are made of the softest silk. It was near impossible to sew the gloves together for the fabric had the tendency to tear.”

“How did you manage it?”

“Magic,” he whispered against her lips. And he believed it. For the first time in his life, he truly believed in the fairy tales. That a man's job was to chase after the princess, rescue her from the horrid beast, even if the person he was rescuing her from was himself.

Perhaps his mother was right. Hadn’t she said that one day he would storm a castle in hopes to secure his own love? At the time the vision had been of him galloping into a large estate on his horse.

Now, older and hopefully wiser, he realized what his mother meant. Sometimes, it takes no great feat of physical strength, but that of emotions and will, for the walls one has to break, the ones that hold the greatest threat, are the ones around a person's heart.

He would secure her heart, once and for all, tonight.

Pulling away, he bent low before his wife, and kissed both of her hands before offering his arm. “After dinner, we will dance.”

“I cannot believe you would throw a ball for two people.”

Dominique grinned. “Love, who ever told you there would only be two?”

Isabelle opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Dominique’s clap. With a jerk and a gasp, she looked around the dining room table. Blanketed in a pool of light, the area looked like something that when future generations asked him how he had won the heart of the beauty, he would have trouble explaining just how breath-taking it had been.

Sconces lined the walls of the room, all lit, and blazing light into the otherwise dark, cold, dining area. The long table held candles of every shape and size, and in the middle, an ice sculpture of two people dancing.

Dominique and Isabelle.

Cuppins had outdone himself, if the smirk on his face was any indication as he sat in the corner of the room.

Dominique was slightly worried the sculpture would melt with all the candles near it, but it seemed to be holding its own. Thankful, he led Isabelle to the table and pulled out her chair, shaking his head to the servant who had stepped forward to do so.

If anyone was going to touch his wife, it would be him.

Not a servant.

Certainly not Hunter.

And tonight, not even her lady's maid.

The thought brought a smile to his lips as he pushed her chair in and took a seat opposite.

“Dinner is served.” Cook walked in, proud as a peacock. Dominique had requested that the servants involve themselves in the explaining of the dishes; it seemed Isabelle was always asking questions. To satisfy her curiosity about the local dishes, he asked Cook to explain each and every one of the foods that graced her plate.

****

Isabelle wasn’t sure she could eat another bite. Not used to such rich food, she felt positively ready to burst. But ladies never said such things aloud, so she bit the inside of her cheek and declined Cook's invitation to have a bite of dessert.

Never had she seen Dominique look so carefree. The candlelight danced on his sculpted features, making his face appear like a live painting. She found herself shamelessly staring at him more often than her own food. The planes of his face were smooth with sharp angles. His full lips would part as he smiled seductively at her. More than once she felt herself overheat, and then tremble just by the mere sight of his smile! Merciful heavens, he was beautiful, and she could not gather the strength to look away. Her eyes, it seemed, had a mind of their own, as they stayed focused on the most beautiful man. Surely it did not go unnoticed by the staff, as well as Hunter, who every few minutes entered the dining room to pour himself more brandy and found the need to continuously roll his eyes at them in exaggeration.

His bad attitude gained him two swift kicks in the shin until finally he mumbled an apology and glared into his glass of brandy, looking as if he wished it to turn into a beautiful woman. Truly, the man needed to get a hold of his lust before Dominique did it for him. It wasn’t natural for a man to look so interested in spirits or food as if gorging himself of those simple things would sate his desires.

She looked back to where Dominique was sitting and noticed he no longer occupied the seat. Glancing around the room, he was nowhere to be found. Panic seized her. What if he had seen her glance at Hunter? Truly it wasn’t that she held a secret tender for him. If anything, she was concerned for his welfare. Bile rose in her throat, the last time she had talked with Hunter, Dominique had thrown a fit.

Rising quickly, she was just about ready to make her apologies, when a beautiful masterpiece reached her ears.

It was painfully obvious Dominique was gracing the piano with his presence, but the music, the song pouring forth, was magical. It reminded her of fairies dancing in the forest. Of sea nymphs swirling in the ocean. It held no hatred, no anger, no darkness.