Whispered Music (London Fairy Tales #2)(3)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

“My health is none of your concern. Believe me, if I desire for a nursemaid, I would have married one, instead of you.”

“Married?” Isabelle nearly choked on the word. The man was mad! He had kidnapped her! The thought had occurred to her that she would be well and ruined, but never did she think she would be saddled to such a man as this! “What do you mean, ‘married’?”

Dominique’s head tilted, like that of a feral cat inspecting its meal. “I mean to make you my wife.”

“Wife?” Isabelle repeated slowly.

“Yes, you do understand the meaning of the word, don’t you? Or are you so young and innocent that I’m going to have to explain every little thing to you? Where we are, why we are going in that direction. Why the trees grow so tall, what is expected of the marriage bed. Truly if you mean to torture me, ask questions now so I can relax in the silence once your speech tires.”

Isabelle’s eyes widened until she was convinced all he could see was white peering back at him. Her fingers reached to grip the seat and she scolded her lip inwardly for trembling so. Yes, her feelings were hurt. So abrupt was he in his manners and temper! He needed a good lesson, or a paddling, or a mother! Truly, to speak to her in such a manner was beastly, and it was in that moment she decided it was no outward scar that marred him. The scars were on his heart, etched with darkness and bitterness. And even though she was sure he had meant to push her away, he did nothing but convince her all the more to play right into his hurtful words.

He had no reason to lie to her, and she did have all her trunks, but her own mother hadn’t even said goodbye to her! Why was she taken away so abruptly?

She told her lip to stop trembling again, carefully folded her hands in her lap and managed a tiny smile as she leaned forward. “It pleases me to no end to discover your ability to read minds, my lord! To think, I was pondering on every one of those questions and was so fearful to ask them. That is, until you so graciously offered your assistance. So tell me, why do the trees grow so tall?”

Dominique flinched as if someone had hit him and, with a scowl, looked out the window as he answered her. “You mock me? Do you truly wish to vex me this entire trip? I save your life and the thanks I get is a nattering woman who wishes to know why trees grow so tall. Lovely. Although I’m quite surprised your virgin mind didn’t first venture to ask the most important question of all.”

“And what is that, my lord?” Isabelle leaned even closer, only a breath away from his face. She meant to challenge him, to notify him of her strength so he wouldn’t focus on her weakness.

“The marriage bed. After all, we shall be sharing it as soon as we get to my estate, and perhaps earlier if fortune smiles upon you.”

He was bluffing. For the first time since their journey she saw doubt in his eyes; either he wasn’t used to talking of such things and therefore was not as wicked as he wanted her to believe, or he in his own way was afraid of marriage and the love that came with it.

“Then tell me—” she challenged — “After all, I am such a curious sort. Innocent of the ways of the world. Regale me with stories, my lord. I wait with bated breath. After all, I grow bored and you won’t even tell me how far we are in our trip to your estates.”

****

Dominique kept his face impassive as he watched the whirlwind of emotions cross the beautiful Isabelle’s features. The minx was bluffing, but he hadn’t the heart to be so cruel to her in such short time. Granted, he wasn’t sure he had a heart to begin with, but for some reason she tugged at him, which truthfully irritated him all the more.

And the blasted music rolling off of her was the most soothing sound he had heard in years. The chit would probably think him unhinged if she knew that every time she smiled he heard the trickling melody played in the key of G.

Swallowing, he slowly scanned her face, taking in every plane of her soft features. One such as he should not be rewarded with the perfection sitting across from him. Not after doing what he did.

“We, of course, need to cross the channel, then it is only a days’ ride to my estate. I imagine we have at least a few days worth of travel with one another.”

“You ignored my other question.”

“What other question?” He lifted his eyebrow trying not to be amused at her bravery, stupid as it was.

“About the marriage bed.” Her blush was becoming and he found a smile trying to crack through his stony features. Blast, it had been years since he felt a genuine smile.

All it took was reminding himself of women’s deceit, folly, and finally, of his mother and the worst betrayal of all. It was as if a bucket of cold seawater had been thrown over his head. With a grimace he answered, “Ah yes, the marriage bed. I’ve half a mind to show you rather than tell, after all, you will soon be my wife, and if anyone needs a lesson in silence, it is you, my dear.”

“I dare you.”

“Pardon?” Was the woman mad? Did she not know who he was? What he could do to her? The absolute power he had over her tiny, insignificant life? “You dare me?” At that, he did laugh, good and hard.

Isabelle’s chin tilted up, her eyes challenging his.

He must be cursed, or mad, or dreaming, for he had never met a woman who would willingly dare him to do anything, especially when it included ruining her so thoroughly.

Before she could change her mind, he slipped his hands behind her head, jerking her closer. Warm, innocent lips met his with confusion, and then fear as they trembled under his touch. And he meant to make it worse, to make her loathe him, for it was the only way to keep himself safe.

He plundered her hair, wildly pulling the lush golden-brown strands as his mouth accosted hers. However, when she gasped against his lips, his blood roared, and he found that he couldn’t stop the challenge even if he wanted to. With what felt much like a grunt or beastly roar, he drove his tongue into the ecstasy of her mouth. Desire shot through him at alarming speed when her tongue met his, carefully at first and then as wrapped up in passion as he. Her hands went to cup his face, softly rubbing his beard, his jaw, not once repaying his savagery with scorn of her own, but tenderness.

Enough to shatter the walls around his heart.

Her taste was sweet, but the need to protect himself was survival, so with great force he pushed her back against her seat and left her.

Her cherry-red lips stood out in contrast to her bright blue eyes as she stared back at him. Her hair was undone to her waist, wavy and thick, glistening in the carriage as if it was merely reflecting off her glowing face.