Whispered Music (London Fairy Tales #2)(9)

Isabelle instantly backed away.

“Sure, scare her more while you’re at it, Hunter.” Dominique’s voice held somewhat of a cheerful humor, giving Isabelle pause. She whipped around to look at her captor’s face.

A weight seemed to have momentarily lifted, and she wondered if possibly it was because of the other rude man in the room.

“This—” Dominique held out his hand and pointed at the other man— “Is my good friend, Hunter Wolfbane, Duke of Haverstone."

Isabelle gasped. “The Wolf?”

“Ah, my reputation precedes me. I always feel so jolly when others know of my certain skill set.” His golden eyes blazed a hot trail from her head straight down to her toes.

And because she was exhausted, angry, and possibly a bit insane, Isabelle marched toward him and poked him in the chest. “Now see here! I may know who you are, but I also know you wouldn’t hurt a hair on my head, not with bigger beast a few feet away from me! Whoever taught you manners anyway? Gypsies?”

“I think I’m in love.” Hunter tilted his head and sighed.

Isabelle rolled her eyes. “I’m sick of being threatened.” She turned her fury onto Dominique, who had the good sense to back up as she marched toward him. “You demanded I eat with you, so let us eat. Otherwise, I’m leaving.”

Dominique’s mouth opened then snapped shut. All the while Hunter clapped and howled with laughter.

“After you.” Dominique pointed to the table on the far end of the room where a dinner lay in wait.

“Thank you,” she huffed, still inwardly shaking over her outburst. Since being polite hadn’t worked, she thought of a new tactic. If Dominique was going to be such a beast, perhaps he only responded well when people poked at him.

Which is exactly what she intended to do.

Poke him until he relented and let her go home, or at least learned manners.

All three of them sat at the table.

Both men reached for the meat but paused their hands mid-air when she cleared her throat.

“Gentlemen? We have not yet said grace. Now, please bow your heads.” She cleared her throat. “Merciful God in Heaven, we beseech thee…” Was beseech an actual word? She continued, “We thank you for this lovely meal, though I apologize in advance for the men disgracing your holy table.” A cough erupted, and then a foot began to tap on the floor. Isabelle was never one for church, and truthfully she hadn’t a clue what else to say, but in that moment, knowing she was irritating the very man she wanted to irritate the most, a wicked thought took root. She was going to recite the longest prayer known to mankind, even if her stomach growled in protest. And so she continued for ten long minutes. “…Thank you, Lord. Amen.”

At the ending both men cursed, which she was certain meant they were going straight to Perdition, considering she had just been talking to God, and they grabbed at the meat, proving their nicknames to be correct.

Beast and Wolf.

They ate in relative silence, except for the loud chewing and smacking of their lips. Good gracious, she thought, they were even more like their nicknames than she realized. They even ate like absolute animals! Isabelle wasn’t sure which unnerved her more. The fact that neither man was speaking to her, or that the ship began to heave as it pushed away from the dock.

Getting sicker by the minute, she managed to steal a look at Dominique across the table.

“Did you know—” Hunter tore a piece of meat from the platter—. “That Dominique enjoys long walks around his estate?”

“Hunter.”

“He also enjoys furry animals, you know the ones. They live in the forest that surrounds his estate. I’ve heard he even has a squirrel as a friend.”

“Hunter!” Dominique barked.

“He’s a passionate lover as well. No lady leaves his bed without—”

Why wouldn’t he stop talking? She felt slick with sweat and then the contents of Isabelle’s stomach heaved onto the floor.

“Throwing up one’s countenance,” Hunter finished.

Isabelle moaned, too sick to feel mortified that she had just retched in front of two infuriatingly attractive men.

Half-expecting them to shy away from her in outrage, she was stunned to find Dominique immediately at her side.

“Can you walk? Here, just lean on me.” He felt her forehead and mumbled something to Hunter, but she was barely listening. Her stomach did more flops.

Dominique led her out of the captain’s quarters onto the deck of the large ship. They were already far away from shore, or at least it seemed that way. Everything was pitch black.

“The horizon. You need to look at the horizon,” Dominique urged.

“There’s nothing to look at. It’s all black,” she mumbled into his chest.

“Try,” he demanded.

Nodding her head, she looked out at the horizon and still saw black but felt immensely better being on the deck rather than cooped up with the two men.

“You’ll get your sea legs soon enough.” Dominique sighed.

“Mayhap it was your presence that caused me to become ill.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Isabelle's shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry. That was terribly rude of me. I don’t mean to constantly be on the attack, it’s just that…”