Читать книгу Dominic - Elizabeth Amber - Страница 9

Twin beams of quicksilver lit the darkness, gleaming at Emma like the eyes of a cunning predator on the hunt—a lone beast lurking in the twilight while others more civilized than he had already sought the warmth of home and hearth with the coming of dusk.

At her gasp, the voyeur stepped over the threshold, immediately commanding everyone’s attention. By candlelight, his face was arresting. Its Creator had originally shaped it to be a handsome one. But time and experience had hardened it into something raw and pagan. His voluptuous lips bore a ruthless curve, his hair was a midnight tangle, and a thin scar ran the length of his strong, square jaw.

As tall as Nicholas and as massive as Lyon, he cut a compelling figure—brawny, broad-chested, and soldier straight. Unsmiling, he faced them all with his muscular arms tensed at his sides as if prepared to ward off an attack. Or to wage one.

Nicholas and Lyon were nearest to her, and she felt them bristle with aggression, rallying to protect their family. Strangers rarely visited the compound. Theirs was a small clan with reason to be secretive.

“Stay back,” Lyon growled, stepping in front of Jane and Emma.

Emma peeked around him, watching as the interloper advanced into the light. He wore the same gray uniform as Carlo. Austere in design, it had nine buttons aligned down its center, each made of some indeterminate metal mined in Else World. Oblong and plump, they had a sanguine cast and had always reminded her of the grapes on the vines of the Satyr estate. A daggerlike weapon identical to Carlo’s hung at his hip.

If this man had been on the same side of the fighting as her husband, surely he was no threat to them. She glanced over at Nicholas and Raine. All three brothers had formed a physical barrier between him and their women, their bearings rife with animosity and suspicion.

“Entrare, entrare.” Only Carlo had brightened at the unknown man’s approach. There was a lightness in his step as he wove through the assemblage in the vestibule to usher the gentleman—if he could be called that—forward. “Calm yourselves,” he told the family. Slinging an arm across the newcomer’s back, he companionably hooked his hand at the man’s opposite shoulder. Emma stared at that hand, astonished at how easily her normally standoffish husband had embraced this stranger.

“Everyone, this is—”

“Dominic Janus.” The deep timbre of the man’s voice superseded Carlo’s and sent prickles over Emma’s skin. His speech was tinged with an accent she couldn’t place, and she briefly wondered what his native tongue sounded like.

“Guardians of portals and passageways,” she murmured.

Though she’d spoken softly, the stranger heard, and his eyes flashed in her direction. “My sect serves in the way yours does, though we guard the gate between our worlds from its other side.”

The secret gate between Earth World and Else World, he meant, for it was hidden deep in the heart of the nearby forest on Satyr land. Nicholas, Raine, Lyon, and their ancestors had secured it against trespass since ancient times.

Everyone visibly relaxed at the news of the visitor’s lineage, though something in the three Satyr siblings’ expressions remained dubious.

“Come, Dom, and meet my brothers,” Carlo effused. Though he liked to call them such, his precise blood tie to the Satyr lords was actually unknown and was likely far more distant than a fraternal one.

After Carlo had presented the rest of the family, Jane surreptitiously elbowed him and nodded her way. Though Emma appreciated her sister’s good intentions, her actions had only drawn attention to his oversight.

“Of course, of course. Scusa, darling.” Belatedly Carlo gestured Emma forward and held her to stand before him so she faced his friend. “And lastly this is my lovely wife…Emma.” He sounded almost reluctant to claim her, and she cringed inwardly.

“Welcome to our home, signore.” Lord, the man was even more imposing up close. She peered up at Dominic through her lashes and found that his gaze had fallen to her most prominent feature—her rounded belly. It seemed to permeate the layers of taffeta and silk, and she fought the inclination to hide the bulge of her unborn child under her palms.

She hadn’t ventured from the estate even once over the past month. Not since Carlo had gotten her with child. Therefore, aside from the family and the servants, no one had witnessed her physical condition. Didn’t this man realize it was rude to stare so? Though she knew it was silly, it embarrassed her to think he might be dwelling on the fact that her expanded waistline was the obvious result of copulation with her husband.

Silver eyes lifted at last to meet hers. “My pleasure,” he solemnly informed her.

The velvet rumble of his voice drove a shiver of awareness down her spine. She might not have Jane’s Fey ability to read strong emotions, but her Human intuition told her she intrigued him more than the others did.

Something brushed her skirts, and she glanced down, relieved to have a reason to look away from Dominic. Lyon’s panthers had sidled closer. Lured by the smells of food from her kitchen, they no doubt hoped to sneak into the house while everyone was preoccupied. She stroked their silky heads, and they angled their faces against her hand, marking her with their ownership.

“Wait your turns, you two,” she scolded softly. “You’ll get leftovers as usual, after we’ve eaten.”

“Out!” Carlo commanded, pushing her aside with a brusque nudge and shooing the animals away with slaps upon their rumps. Liber, the larger of the two, snapped at him with his spiked pearly teeth. Carlo drew back a hand to strike him more fiercely.

Before Emma could raise her own objections, Lyon caught Carlo’s arm with stern fingers and glared at him. Like his pets, Lyon had never quite warmed to her husband.

Sensing imminent conflict, Juliette stepped between the two men and took Lyon’s arm, urging him toward the interior of the house.

Emma pasted on a smile. “Excellent suggestion, Juliette. Let us all adjourn to the sala da pranzo,” she told the group at large. “Dinner is prepared and waiting to be served.”

Turning, Emma went to the front door and gently coaxed the panthers outside. They went, grumbling in a way that struck her as similar to the behavior of the men she and Juliette had just ushered down the corridor. A small, genuine smile curved her lips at the comparison.

As she began to close the door behind the animals, a hand caught its edge. Dominic’s. His powerful warrior’s body leaned closer, and he braced his other hand on the doorjamb, caging her in the rectangular opening.

Disconcerted, she flattened a palm to his chest and then yanked it away when she realized what she’d done. “What are you—” she sputtered, recoiling from him and the frightening rush of attraction she’d felt.

His eyes caught hers briefly, and heat flared in them, stealing her breath. He loomed nearer until she felt surrounded by him. She garnered the distinct impression that he was contemplating drawing her with him outside into the shadows.

He reached out, and she parted her lips, intending to call for help. But his outstretched arm only moved beyond her to retrieve Carlo’s bag from where he’d left it on the porch.

“Mi scusi, signora,” he said, straightening as he hoisted it and dropped it just inside the hall.

“Yes. Yes, of course. Thank you.” Feeling a bit ridiculous for her wild imaginings, Emma slipped under his arm and rejoined the rest of the family, hearing him shut the door behind her.

As she, Dominic, and Carlo trailed the others, her husband slung a proprietary arm around her in a rare display of possessiveness. He seemed to have picked up on his companion’s interest in her, and he didn’t like it.

Though curious at Carlo’s uncharacteristic desire to claim her, Emma allowed the embrace, glad Dominic bore witness to this reinforcement of the fact that she was linked to another. Held tight to Carlo’s side, she turned her face into his uniform jacket and away from the larger man.

Almost absently, he shrugged her away as he instructed a passing male servant to deliver the bag Dominic had left in the entry hall to his bedchamber.

His rejection went unremarked. But she felt Dominic’s sharp interest as he took in every nuance of their byplay. Impossible to know what conclusions he drew, for the easily interpreted emotions he’d displayed a moment ago in the doorway had now fled his expression.

“Dominic will be staying with us tonight,” Carlo informed her.

“Of course,” she replied, mentally sifting through the available quarters.

Though their renovated carriage house was not as luxurious as the castellos in which the others dwelled, she was thankful it was large enough to afford privacy. She’d make sure their visitor was stationed as far from their bedchambers as possible. There must be no chance of him overhearing any telltale sounds of concupiscence that might issue from their rooms during the night. Her cheeks pinkened at the thought.

“If you are sure I do not put anyone out,” Dominic murmured. She was surprised to note the barest trace of masculine humor in his voice, as if he’d read her mind and been amused by her modesty.

“Any acquaintance of my husband’s is most welcome,” she replied, relieved when they arrived at their destination at last.

“Grazie.” Those sinful lips of his curved upward, sending a fresh jolt of awareness through her.

What was wrong with her? she wondered as she instructed the servants to set an additional place and commence the serving of the meal.

Something about Carlo’s friend flustered her, but she shook off the feeling. It wasn’t him. It was his type. Charismatic men had always made her uneasy. He was too large. Too confident.

Nicholas, Raine, and Lyon were, as well, but they were an entirely different matter. She’d known them for fifteen years, ever since Jane had married Nicholas and brought her to live on the estate. They were comfortable and familiar, like brothers.

Perhaps her discomfort was simply due to the effects of impending motherhood, she decided as she sat at the opposite end of the table from her husband and his guest.

“Tell me, Dominic, why haven’t we encountered you previously?” Nicholas said once they were all seated, launching what she suspected would be a lengthy interrogation.

“Or even heard your name spoken?” added Lyon.

“I have no idea,” came the blithe reply. Dominic was toying with his food, and Emma suddenly wondered if it was unfamiliar to him. She motioned to the servants to offer him some of the other platters and dishes.

“You must understand that the nature of our work is sensitive and necessarily clandestine,” Carlo hastened to explain. “When the fighting today brought us close to the gate, we were temporarily severed from our regiment. As I’d already planned to come here to Emma, it seemed safest to simply bring Dom with me.”

“Only for the night,” Dominic remarked. “Tomorrow I go.”

“Will trouble follow on your heels?” asked Raine.

“I lagged behind in order to ensure we were not trailed,” Dominic assured him.

The soup tureen was offered to him, and he took its handles from the disconcerted servant and then stared at its contents, as though unsure what to do next.

“Cristoforo, do please ladle some soup for the signore,” Emma bid the servant, trying to smooth over her guest’s faux pas. Fortunately the serving boy was quick-witted. With a small, improvised bow of gratitude to Dominic for holding the tureen, he simply took the ladle from it and filled his bowl with soup before seizing the tureen and resuming his route around the table.

“Your scent,” noted Raine, who was gifted with the most acutely sensitive and capable olfactory abilities of the family. “It’s nonexistent.”

Dominic shrugged, unconcerned. “Excised at a young age in order that I might fulfill the secretive nature of my duties.”

“Which are?” Lyon enquired.

Dominic lifted a haughty brow. “Secret.”

Lyon leaned forward, scowling. “I ask not out of curiosity but because we have our own secrets and our families to protect here—”

“Cease!” said Carlo, throwing his hand up as if to slice the conversation and render it dead. “Suffice it to say that I’ve known Dominic for some time. He is what he says and no danger to us.”

Lifting his wine, Nicholas stepped in to defuse tempers. “Very well. Tell us, Carlo. What news is there of the war?”

“The peace talks have disbanded,” Carlo responded, eagerly latching on to the new topic. “Two of the attorneys involved on our side were severely maimed by our enemies, and the rest have fled the negotiations for fear of similar retaliation.”

“Is it known who was responsible?” Jordan asked.

“I’m not privy to the nuances of what transpired. But the war rages on, and I hear no more talk of progress toward peace. Our stronghold in the east fell last week. Even the temple of Bacchus isn’t sacred to some. A month ago, it was attacked.”

“By whom?” all three lords demanded simultaneously.

“Demons, most likely,” Carlo informed them, earning himself a sharp look from Dominic.

Seeing it, Carlo set a hand on his friend’s sleeve and ducked his head close to speak in an undertone. “The term doesn’t carry the taboo here in this world that it does in the other. You may speak freely.”

Emma gaped at that hand, wondering anew at her husband’s easy way with this man. When it was withdrawn, she raised curious eyes to Dominic’s face.

In the depths of his dark-lashed gaze, she detected a challenge of some sort directed her way. Did he think she would be jealous because Carlo had made a friend? On the contrary, she was glad someone had been watching out for him on the battlefield. However much emotional and physical distance there might be between them, she would prefer that her child not lose its father before it was even born!

“What of the mirrors?” Raine asked, his intelligent brow creasing.

“Only the statue in the front exterior niche of the temple was destroyed.”

“‘Only,’ you say?” Lyon echoed, sounding flabbergasted. “What of the statue’s contents?”

Carlo shrugged. “Dominic has been to the temple in the aftermath. Let him tell you more of it.”

“The amulet was stolen,” Dominic put forth as he stabbed several slices of venison from the platter a servant offered to him. Though an expectant pause fell, he seemed to think his words sufficed, for he didn’t elaborate.

Carlo filled the breach. “The rumor is that although most of the statue was smashed, two pieces of its anatomy were left in pristine condition.” He paused for dramatic effect. Once the four women had leaned in, he said, “Its right hand. And its male organ.”

Juliette gasped, putting a hand to her throat. Lyon slid a huge paw around her, offering his wife a reassuring smile.

“Each was painstakingly severed from the body,” Carlo gleefully continued.

“Carlo! That’s hardly conversation fit for the dining table,” Emma scolded, but he only shrugged, an unrepentant grin playing on his sulky mouth.

“Grim news,” Jane added. “But let us save such talk for tomorrow. When everyone is less…tense.”

An intimate glance heated the air between her and Nicholas. Emma automatically looked away. Having grown up in their home, she’d witnessed thousands of similar private exchanges between them over the years. Even at the age of twelve when she hadn’t yet understood the precise nature of what such glances between men and women meant, she had already begun to feel like an intruder when she’d intercepted them.

A desire to avoid making more such intrusions was one reason she’d leaped at the only invitation to marry that had been presented to her. However, the happy state of all three of the Satyr lords’ marriages was an all too painful contrast to the sorry state of her own.

For the duration of the meal, Emma said little, and Dominic was equally quiet. Whenever he did speak, she noticed a formality in his way of phrasing things, as though he was uncertain of his Italian.

She was glad when his voice came, for it gave her an excuse to look his way. On each occasion, she drank in the sight of him from a safe distance, fascinated by the strange pull he exerted. It was as if he were a steady, sure planet and she a hapless moon wobbling uncertainly within his orbit.

However, he spoke little, and she wondered if he kept his thoughts to himself fearing a misstep with their language. The idea that there might be a chink in the self-assurance of this rugged male softened her toward him. When he looked up and read the gentle sympathy in her face, his expression lit with a blazing heat that was so quickly snuffed she thought she must’ve imagined it.

Still, it left her breathlessly wary.

As it often did when the family gathered, dinner conversation eventually turned to the ancient vines that covered the sloping hills at the center of the Satyr compound, and the wine they produced.

But as the daylight further waned, talk dwindled, too, and the atmosphere grew ever more charged.