Whispered Music (London Fairy Tales #2)(50)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

Isabelle sighed and reached her hand to his beautiful face. “A man who has been very wronged, Dominique.”

“I have never spoken of it aloud.” He cursed. “I am a monster,” he said underneath his breath. “I turned into what I hated, by focusing my hate so fully on the one man who destroyed my happiness, I succeeded in ruining my own.”

Isabelle was silent for a moment. “You were but a boy, perhaps the hatred that you held is what sustained you, helped you get better. But with that hatred comes the responsibility to feed it, which you did quite well. I believe now—now you need to let it go.” She held her breath, unsure if he would lash out at her, or simply never speak to her again or trust her with his innermost thoughts and demons.

“I did.” Dominique sighed. “Let it go, that is, the moment I felt the beat of your heart against my hand. The steady rhythm pulled me back from the shadows when all I wanted to do was follow him into the depths of Hell.”

Unable to speak lest she begin to sob all over again, Isabelle held his head between her hands and rained kisses on his eyelids, his cheeks, his forehead.

“Thank you for trusting me with this.” Isabelle leaned forward and brushed a kiss across his lips. “Can you feel this?” She brought his scarred hands to her mouth and kissed across the pinkish white ridges.

With a deep breath, Dominique closed his eyes and sighed. “It feels wonderful. I should have lost sensation, and a whole lot more. Instead, it seems my senses are heightened on my hands.” He laughed. “It was an actual blessing, if you can call it that, for I feel the keys of the piano much better now. It was why I kept playing. My final vengeance against my father, that even in all his hatred he did not keep me from being what my mother wanted most.”

“And what was that?” Isabelle dipped her hands into his silky hair.

“To be a famous composer, a prodigy, something more than just heir to the royal line of princes.”

“You are much more than that, my love.” Isabelle smiled at her husband, bestowing all the love in the world with one single glance, or at least she hoped so. “You are, brave, extraordinary, gifted, and I l—”

Why couldn’t she say the words? He had given everything. Been vulnerable beyond all reason but the words stuck in her throat, the simple truth, which should be so easy, was now the most difficult feat imaginable.

“Shh.” Dominique pressed his finger to her lips. “I’m going to undress you. I’m going to kiss you, make love to you, make you forget the nightmares I just told you… and if you say no, I may not possess the strength to listen.”

Who could say no to such a good argument? Especially when his muscled body was so near hers that she could feel the heat radiating from him.

“Yes. Oh please, yes,” she whispered as he jerked her against himself and pulled at her hair; pins fell at rapid speed to the ground as his hands massaged her scalp and freed her hair of its confinement.

Each of his fingers delicately dug into her head sending shuddering sensations all the way down her body. His hands pulled through her hair allowing the tresses to lay against her shoulders and arms, tickling the sensitive flesh that had suddenly become enflamed by his very presence. Dominique exhaled, his breath a hot sultry mix of brandy and desire. Eyes aflame, he moved his hands to her shoulders slowly turning her toward the fireplace. Her eyes closed, it was just as before on the ship as he nipped her neck with his teeth, only this time she wasn’t afraid, just anxious to feel his heat against hers, pleading in her mind for him to touch her. Body aching, she would have fallen to the ground had he not roughly pulled her backside against him. His desire was obvious as he licked her earlobe, and the very tender spot on her neck just where her pulse roared.

Throwing her head back against his shoulder, she shuddered as his hands, scars and all, grazed her arms. As if he was studying every exposed part of flesh. Endeavoring to engrain and memorize the feel of her body, the taste of her skin on his tongue. Her every response should have been mortifying, instead she felt empowered as he groaned in her ear and aggressively grabbed her hips, most likely imprinting his hands onto her person.

“You’re so soft,” his voice was raspy, almost impossible to hear as he whispered little bits of adoration in her ear. It was music, whispered music, and for the first time in her life she understood the power of words, when said by the very person you love, they can destroy you or set you free. “You are so smooth.” His body shuddered behind hers as he held her firmly against himself, all the while continuing to kiss wherever he desired. She was, in a word, his prisoner.

Not that she cared.

****

He was going to die.

But oh, if death was this sweet, he would welcome it with arms open, smiling like the devil’s own fool.

His mind tried to catch up with every sensation he was feeling, every touch, every gasp for breath, the erratic beating of her heart. Oh, how he loved her heart and how it brought him back from the darkness.

Being a besotted fool had never been high on his list of priorities; to be quite honest, it hadn’t even been on a list. But now? Dear merciful heaven, he was drowning in it, lost in her, with no hope of being rescued.

So this was what it feels like to fall?

The exhilaration of the freefall was not terrifying as he had expected and always dreaded. No, in falling, he finally had freedom. Cynics would have liked him to believe that when he let go, he would lose his true self, but it was only when he finally allowed his heart to fall, that he found himself.

In a word, Dominique Maksylov had just been found.

Her heat scorched his body. With a gentle caress she shuddered, a quick nip on her neck and she moaned. Never had he fought so hard to keep himself in control.

And that was when he realized.

Control had been the very definition of his life.

And it was time to let his old life go.

With a smile that probably scared the blazes out of Isabelle, he turned her to face him. Her eyes were glowing, her skin so creamy, like satin. “I’m yours.” His voice trembled as he watched the smile broaden across her face.

“Yours.” He kissed one hand, then the other.

Lost in her gaze, he quickly, nimbly, removed all of his clothes standing before her once and for all, fully exposed within the light of the room, facing the very thing he feared the most in the entire world. Losing his heart, his very soul, to someone who had the power to destroy him.

With a coy bat of her lashes, she slowly, achingly, removed the top of her dress then turned. Devil take it, he was actually perspiring! No longer hindered by his gloves, for he had already decided to relish the feel of his bare hands on her skin forever, he quickly removed her dress and dropped it to the floor where it pooled by her feet.