“Lie, of course,” Hunter answered, examining his hand as he slowly withdrew one of his expensive gloves.
Dominique growled.
“Easy. It was a joke.” Both gloves fully removed, Hunter swiftly took off his cloak and popped his knuckles before he pulled the dagger from the sheath strapped around his waist and stabbed it into the table.
“You have more than your music to offer the world, Dominique.”
“Are you getting sentimental in your old age?”
“No.” Hunter shrugged and flashed a smile. “Just telling you the truth. You do value honesty above all things and I value being honest to a man who I would rather die for than see hurt. If the woman cannot see what value you hold, then I pity her lack of heart.”
Dominique shifted nervously on his feet not sure what to say after his friend’s bold outburst.
A soft knock came at the door. It was her!
“Yes?” He cleared his throat and tried to force his face into a smile.
The door opened, slowly at first, then burst forth so hard he thought it would come off the hinges.
Miss Ward had her hand pressed over Isabelle’s. It wasn’t difficult to deduce that Isabelle had been too slow in opening the door and Miss Ward found it irritating. The blasted woman always did treat him like a child, poking her nose in his business when he could take care of things on his own.
“I believe you asked for the lady?” Miss Ward cleared her throat and shot him one of her looks that he imagined was supposed to cause his feet to shake within his Hessians.
“That will be all, Miss Ward. If you’ll excuse us then?” He lifted an eyebrow, waiting for her to object, but instead she gave Isabelle’s arm a little pat and closed the door behind her.
Chapter Four
One cannot simply learn music. For a state of being cannot simply be taught. One must feel music, one must breathe music, and in the end, one must be willing to die for it.
—The Diary of Dominique Maksylov
Isabelle watched Dominique’s mouth twitch, but wasn’t sure if he was attempting to keep himself from growling or if that was his idea of a smile.
Either way, it was frightening. It would be so much easier to be unafraid if he would simply do something about his state of dress.
His face was now almost covered with a short beard, and his hair was falling into his eyes and down his shoulders. Yet, she could still see his piercing eyes, and for that reason alone, she remembered his handsomeness. Well, that and his blinding smile. But it wasn’t often that he chose to offer one.
“My, my, you didn’t tell me how attractive she would be,” a male voice said from behind her.
With a gasp, she turned and nearly fainted when the man set his eyes on her.
Truly, it was as if her lot in life was to be surrounded by men with eyes that seemed to pierce a person’s soul.
Liquid-golden brown eyes glowed back at her. The man’s face was undeniably handsome and strong. Thick black hair cascaded into a messy heap on his forehead; the man smiled revealing perfectly white teeth that much reminded her of a hungry wolf.
“Forgive my friend, Isabelle, he seems to have forgotten how to behave in front of a lady.”
Isabelle snorted. “Yes well, that would put you in good company, wouldn’t it, my lord?”
“Bravo!” The other man clapped. “And she packs such a bite too! Tell me, my dear, have you any interest in leaving him for me? I daresay I’d have you forgetting this beast’s name after a few minutes in my company.” He winked and folded his thick arms across his broad chest.
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.