Whispered Music (London Fairy Tales #2)(58)

Without excusing herself, she made her way into the large ballroom, where she was certain the music was coming from. It reached high into the ceilings, begging to be released into the night sky. The notes swirled and danced around her and she almost lifted her hands above her head in worship—for music had never truly been this beautiful.

As she entered the large ballroom, her eyes fixed on her husband's back, she could think of nothing except caressing those scarred hands, which brought forth so much beauty. Hands that played through haunting pain.

“Beautiful.” She placed her hands on his broad shoulders and sighed as she felt the muscles flex beneath his dinner jacket. His head tilted back. Eyes closed, he continued to play with his head rested against her body, inky black hair falling over one eye.

A thrill shot through her at the intimate notion, as if her body was inspiring him, her love, her touch. Spellbound, she watched as his beautifully marked hands flew effortlessly over the keys of the piano, as if man and instrument were one and the same.

Without thinking, she placed both hands on either side of his face, and leaned forward, gasping at the feel of his lips against hers.

Desire made her lips quiver at the touch of his tongue as it parted her lips. Obviously more talented than she realized, he continued to play as his mouth sent delicious shivers down her spine. As his tongue flicked across hers and then withdrew, the music stopped. With a groan he turned around and pulled her across his lap.

His kiss was hot and urgent, reckless, but like his music, unique and beautiful. His lips beckoned her, called out to her, sung to her. She could not stop if her life depended on it.

Abruptly, he slowed the kiss, his lips dancing merrily across her chin as he grinned and then with his teeth tugged at her bottom lip, alternating between sucking and licking before he reached his hands into her hair and jerked her forward against his hard body.

“Ahem,” a male voice said through the haze of passion. “As much as I enjoy watching you two engage in such… hobbies. Especially considering I am a young virile male without companionship, it seems the guests have all but arrived and are ready to enter into the ballroom. I have tried to keep them busy, poured wine, though I find it beneath me, told jokes, though nobody laughed… Alas, my only other option was to interrupt… this.” Hunter’s voice feigned indifference. Truly he would be a fabulous butler. Not that she would ever say as much to his face lest he give her another one of his infamous glares.

“No,” Dominique answered roughly against her mouth. “Send them away.” He reached his hand around to her bum, pulling her roughly against him.

“Blast it all, it’s like watching a naughty play,” Hunter complained. “Dominique, you invited them here. Devil take it! Now show your wife a good time.”

Isabelle giggled. “Oh, I’m having a good—”

“Isabelle!” Hunter scolded.

With great effort she pried herself way from Dominique’s arms, and nearly lost her nerve at the look of passion in his eyes, half-lidded with promises of seduction, and secrets of a night full of pleasure, if only she would take him up on the offer. Obviously lacking any sort of proper self-control, she leaned forward again, despite Hunter’s curses, but Dominique stopped her.

“Hunter’s right, love.” He kissed her nose. "Besides, the ball is part of the surprise."

“And our guests?”

“The staff and their family, welcoming you to your home.” He brushed his thumb across her bottom lip, dipping it slightly into her mouth and closing his eyes. “And Hunter did go to a lot of work to carry out my instructions with the decorations.”

“Decorations?”

Dominique grinned. “Are you to tell me you haven’t looked at your surroundings?”

Isabelle lifted her head slowly to the ceiling, and then to the walls of the ballroom. Tears welled behind her eyes.

“How did you—”

“Hush.” He kissed her lightly across the lips. “You are deserving of far more.”

Isabelle shook her head as she slowly rose to her wobbly legs. “It looks enchanted.”

“Thanks to Hunter's skill of persuasion, manipulation, and apparently decoration, we have given you just that. An enchanted castle.”

“Heard that,” Hunter muttered as his footsteps echoed across the marble floors. People began filing in as he opened the doors, musicians, families, and servants with goblets of wine. Why there must be at least a hundred or more people!

Isabelle looked at the ceiling, draped in white billowy fabric. Lanterns of every shape and size fell from the tall ceiling, though she wasn’t sure how it was managed for they were ridiculously high. The room was bathed in whites and golds, and the candlelight made things come alive.

Considering how old the castle was, it was no surprise to see the gargoyles that decorated the main ballroom. Bronze and gold plated, they glowed in the candlelight, almost giving them a life-like effect that both thrilled and scared her.

The servants and their families formed a sort of circle around her and Dominique. He winked, and bowed over her hand. “May I have the honor of this dance?”

Breathless, she nodded, and gave a low curtsy.

The entire room erupted into applause as he pulled her into his arms. Floating, she was floating across the room, with the beast turned prince. Her smile hurt, it was so wide. Perhaps it was worth all the pain, to arrive at this exact moment. A moment when a much traumatized little boy finally turned into a man.