Heart of Darkness (18 page)

Crying out when he moved away from her, he
hushed her by rolling on to his back and pulling her atop him. He
called out, “Wait there. I shall be out soon.”

His hand stroked along the length of her back
and then curled in her hair. She felt as though he were almost
petting her as he would a prized poodle, but rather than irritate
her, it charmed her. He could have simply abandoned her. Left her
to recover from the mélange of volatile emotions that were
currently rushing through her. But instead, he stayed to soothe and
to calm.

When she felt almost as though she could fall
asleep, Isabeau was gently transferred from resting against him to
the bed. A gentle press of his lips to her forehead, a soothing
stroke of his hand along her arm and then the tug and weight as the
eiderdown was pressed over her to both cover and keep her warm, and
he was gone.

The feeling of loss that assailed her was not
to be denied and Isabeau forced herself not to think about it and
pushed herself to sleep. In the morning, she would have to be awake
to sit in the sun.

With that reminder, she closed her eyes and
awaited slumber.

* * * *

“Dammit, could it not have waited?” Wolfe
hissed as he pressed the door to Isabeau's chamber gently
closed.

Spinning around, he grabbed his shirt and
pressed it over his head and as he tugged it over his face, he
glared at his estate manager.

He received a wry and unangered response.

“Knowing as I do how important this mission
is, do you think I would have bothered you unless it was
necessary?”

Gerard's very sardonic reply made Wolfe
flush. Where he was angry, Gerard was calm. He'd been one of the
Sidhes that had escaped the Milesians all those years ago and had
become indispensable over the years.

The majority of the staff were Sidhe. But
where he had been fortunate and had come to age and inherited his
wealth, many had not had an airtight family trust to protect them.
The Milesians were tricky bastards and had friends in high places.
Because they could live freely, they had contacts upon whom they
could trust and whom could inveigle their way into places that no
one ought to tread.

The Sidhe, on the other hand, had to hide.
Whilst they grew wealthy, they could trust no one but their own
kind. And so, they had no one to protect them.

Gerard was one of the many who had come to
him for help. The Milesians had stolen their fortune through
corrupt lawyers and they were left without homes or funds to live.
Gerard was a Viscomte, what the revolutionists in France had left
him, the Milesians had taken.

How he could accept his fate so calmly, Wolfe
did not know.

“Well? What is it?”

“Jaegar,” Gerard replied bluntly.

“What does the bastard want now?” he gritted
out.

Lifting his chin and thrusting it at the door
to the bedchamber, Gerard murmured dryly, “What do you think?”

“Why he thinks he can simply make demands and
I'll follow through, is beyond me.”

“Probably a retrogression to our pasts. When
Jaegar, said jump, we merely replied, how high.”

“Yes. Well, times have changed, dammit. I'm
no longer a terrified and willful child and nor are you.”

“Thank the Lord for his small mercies,”
Gerard replied mock-piously.

Narrowing his eyes at his man, Wolfe scowled.
“What does he want then? In detail?”

“No details. Simply Isabeau and the
ring.”

Lifting an arm, Wolfe scratched the back of
his neck. “Arrange more sentries to guard the grounds. The woodland
is both our friend and foe. Stage men along every twenty yards and
tell them to be alert.”

“Already done.”

“You're too good, my friend.”

Gerard grinned. “I know. You can return to
your salvation now, if you so wish.”

Wolfe rolled his eyes. “I think you've spoilt
the mood, Ger.”

For some reason, that had him raising his
eyebrows. Wolfe irritatedly noted that they were near as dammit
touching his hairline.

“What?” he spat exasperatedly.

“I have never heard you say something like
that before. That is all.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Gerard shrugged uneasily. “If it
were...a tavern whore or your mistress, say, you would simply
return to the chamber and
un
spoil the mood.”

“Stop speaking in riddles, man!” Wolfe
grunted uncomfortably and loped the linen of his cravat about his
neck and looped it into a facile knot.

“I'm not speaking in riddles, you're choosing
to misunderstand me! She's, well...” It was Gerard's turn for
discomfort. “You're obviously growing...attached...to her.”

“I am not!” he asserted fiercely.

“You must be. Otherwise you would simply have
stalked back in there and seduced her into forgetting what a door
actually was! You forget, my friend, I have seen you in action.
Many a time.”

“You're wrong, Gerard.”

“I don't think I am. You're striding down
this corridor as though the hounds of hell are after you. Why?
She's coming to mean something to you...is that wise?”

“It does not matter, because she is not.”

“Why lie?” Gerard pointed out easily. “I
already know all of your secrets. And you mine. If you feel the
need to hide, then that merely confirms what I am saying.”

Wolfe grunted and as he vaulted down the
stairs, almost as though trying to escape Gerard's words as though
they were physical blows to his body, he strode into his father's
office which was just a way down the hall.

It was a room that would forever and
regardless of time, remind him of his parent. He could not think of
it as his own. It was his father's.

He slammed the door shut and grimaced as
rather than smacking against the jamb, it hit Gerard and was then
quietly closed.

That was one thing that he hated about the
other man. How he could stay so bloody calm in the face of anger.
Whilst Gerard had learned restraint and serenity at the hands of
the Milesians, Wolfe felt as though he had learned the very
opposite!

He headed to his desk, hesitated over the
seat then changed his mind and moved past the walls of books and to
the study windows. As he looked out on to the land outside, land
that as far as the eye could see, belonged to him, Wolfe sighed.
His eyes were caught by the moon and he grimly stared at it as he
replied, “What if I am...growing attached, as you put it?”

“Nothing.”

Wolfe glared at the glass panes then spun
around and faced his agent.

“Obviously you have an issue, otherwise why
mention it?”

“No issue. I'm just surprised. I
thought your...well, to be perfectly frank, I thought your mother
had entirely put you off women. Women are for fucking not for
keeping, is something that
you
said if I remember right?”

“I haven't promised to keep Isabeau. She has
agreed to this.”

“She's agreed? You actually asked her?”

“The woman is obviously willful, Gerard.
Let's face it. She wouldn't let me do a damned thing unless it was
rape. And then, knowing her, she would actually do something to
abort the child if she wanted. Although...I highly doubt that she
would do something like that. But, still, even though I would never
do so, she could be raped and still be in charge.”

“So you seduced her with words?” his agent
asked skeptically.

Wolfe laughed a little. “No. No seduction. I
told her the truth.”

“The truth?” Gerard sounded even more
shocked. If that was possible.

He shrugged uncomfortably. “It was...” he
paused and hesitated over his choice of words, which was telling in
itself. Especially to the man with whom he was speaking.
“...relevant.”

“Relevant.” Gerard clicked his tongue.

Sighing, Wolfe grunted. “Yes, dammit!
Relevant! It was
relevant.
She
wanted to know and I told her. I'm asking a lot of her, Gerard.
Asking her to bear my child. I'm not giving her my name. Not giving
her any security. And the legend might not even be
true!”

“You obviously believe in its viability,
Wolfe. You must have spent close to thirty thousand on finding
her.”

“Finding the ring. It's the
ring.
I was looking for a Sidhe of
the light with the ring, Gerard. Let's not forget that little
discrepancy.”

He conceded the point. “That I did forget.
But it seems to have worked out rather nicely, don't you
think?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“What? It has!”

Wolfe spun around and glared at his agent.
“You're not making this any better, you know.”

Gerard raised a wry brow. “You're
actually admitting that
this
exists, then?”

“Maybe I am. Whatever
this
is! Perhaps...Well, I cannot
deny that there is something between us.” Wolfe scraped a hand
along his stubbled jaw. The bristling sound eased some of his
tension. “I'm not actually sure about what it is.”

“Maybe it's the fact that she's willing to
drop out of one of the gallery windows?”

“Christ Almighty, the gallery? She said that
she'd fallen, but from the bedamned gallery!”

“I know. The men found that the area was,
let's just say, disturbed.” Gerard laughed a little. “It's a wonder
she survived.”

“There's more to the legend then we ever
imagined. It transferred to her.”

“Merde.
Really?
The ring transferred to her from your possession? But that is
impossible,
non
?
”

“Apparently not.”

“Well, if we ever had any disbelief about the
veracity of the legend...then, this surely strengthens it?”

“Yes. In fact, it does more than that.
It makes the stories
about
the
legend even more interesting?”

“You don't honestly believe that a child born
of the light and dark Sidhe with the power of the stone at his
fingertips will destroy the Milesians?”

Wolfe shrugged. “They deserve it, do they
not? For what they have done to us?”

“Only the guilty ones deserve to be punished,
Wolfe,” Gerard tempered.

“Perhaps.”

“Wolfe!” Gerard snapped. “There is only a
very small party of Milesians who hold a grudge against us!”

Clenching his jaw, Wolfe murmured, “It
matters not. I do not intend to raise my child to be a Milesian
assassin! It is simply...reassuring that is all!”

“Well, as long as that is all it is!”

“It is.” Wolfe, realizing that he was merely
prolonging a conversation he wished to cut short, said, “Is
everything arranged, then?”

“The castle is as safe as it can be. Jaegar
should not be able to reach the interior.”

“We shall just have to keep her indoors then,
won't we?”

Gerard nodded and spying that Wolfe wanted to
be alone, quickly disintegrated into the background.

Walking over to the side table that sat squat
at the entrance to the room, he poured himself a brandy and slugged
it back. Replacing it on the table, he placed his hands on either
side of the table and gripped the edges as the pull of the morning
started to call to him.

His hands tightened and the muscles in his
arms tensed. It wasn't that the morning was evil. It didn't turn
him into a monster. But it ripped at his control. Drained him of
everything that he was. Turned him into an almost ghoul-like
specter of himself.

Once, he too had shone like the light. The
gold, brightness of the sun had fed his soul and lit him from the
inside. He'd been like Charles and he'd been like Isabeau. Filled
with fire and life. Iridescent and illuminated with light.

Now, the dark fed him. Nourished him. And
because of it, he felt starved. He felt ill. Dying. He was slowly
but surely ceasing to exist and it was an endless, slow death.

Perhaps there was a reason why he and Jaegar
seemed to be one of the few ones who attempted to fight what the
Milesians had accursed them with. But whatever it was, he knew not
why. Gerard and the rest of his staff seemed perfectly content to
live with their lot.

And hark Gerard, who could even justify their
existence! Who said there were some Milesians who were
innocent!

Had he not been an innocent babe? Had Jaegar
and Gerard not been innocent?

Where had fairness played a role then?

Where had it?

It hadn't.

Wolfe had never started this process
for revenge. He'd never sought to impregnate and pass on his dark
seed to a light Sidhe with the intention of creating some
anti-Milesian warrior...but if that was a natural byproduct, then
it was beyond his control and the fate of the child borne to a
Sidhe of the light
and
the
dark rested in the hands of the Gods.