Heart of Darkness (20 page)

Love brings freedom.

Love turns the black of dark to the shining
gold of light.

One pure soul, one pure heart, one pure love
fuses another life and shall darkness turn.

Til light becomes haven and dark the peaceful
harbinger of sleep.”

Sighing out roughly, as though the recital
had taken all his breath, he looked up with hungry eyes at his
friend.

“What do you think to that, then?”

“I think you're mad to put your hopes into an
old legend such as this. But then...you have the funds to feed such
madness.”

The equally lanky and unhealthy looking man
stepped away from the armchair. Both men were stooped at the
shoulder, almost as though they were old men and had seen far too
much horror for their years to be able to withstand the pressure
against their bodies and spines.

“You'll help me though?” Wolfe asked
insistently.

“When have I not?”

Wolfe clapped him on the back and suddenly,
the vibrant scene disintegrated into nothingness. Into blacker than
black darkness and so dark was it, that it roused Isabeau from her
slumber.

With her eyes wide open, Isabeau stared
blankly at the fabric ceiling of the bed she lay in. The four
posters shielded her on all sides and had she but closed the
curtains, she could have lain in the oppressing heat of the bed and
more than likely sunken back into sleep.

Had she not once again dreamed about Wolfe's
childhood, that is.

Isabeau's heart ached from the sights she'd
seen and she was a grown woman! Not a child. How had he handled
seeing his mother and father so viciously slain?

Shaking her head against the pillow, she felt
tears start to tumble down her cheeks.

When she remembered the second half of the
dream, when he'd read what could only have been a letter written
before his father's death and given to someone to keep until Wolfe
came of age, she felt his pain as though it were her own.

To hear him recite the legend again made her
both nervous and oddly excited. A bizarre contradiction but that
was how she felt nonetheless.

After seeing more of his childhood, what had
to be parts that he pondered on a daily basis, thrust away any
anxiety she had over his need to be 'cured'. If bearing him a child
could take some of his torment away, then she would do so and do
all she could to help.

Even though she was not connected to his
emotions, Isabeau could see that the wound of what he had been
forced to suffer had yet to heal. If something of that magnitude
could ever be healed...was something she did not know. The man in
the armchair, Gerard, appeared to have been through the process of
being turned into a Sidhe of the dark with Wolfe. He seemed, while
not happy or content, satisfied with his lot.

That was not a fabulous way to feel. Merely
satisfied. But it was better than the bitterness and resentment
that still rode Wolfe as though he were a stallion.

A part of her wanted to heal that pain.
Wanted to cure his heartache, but even though her desire to help
was there, she very much doubted he would let her.

He seemed to be totally fixated upon the fact
that were she to bear his babe, he would instantly be cured.

As little experience as she had with the
Sidhe, or its legends, a part of her knew that it could not be that
simple. That before he looked to be 'cured' elsewhere, he needed to
cure himself and from the inside out.

If she could help with that process, even in
the smallest of ways, then that would settle her soul.

Blowing out a breath, she calculated the
time. Her eyes glanced out of the windowpanes and while the sky was
not purple yet from the ascending rise of the sun, she could feel
the hum in her veins that told her in a few hours it would be
approaching.

Rubbing the onyx stone between her thumb and
forefinger, Isabeau attempted to call him. She had never done this
before. Earlier, she had managed to summon him with a bead of blood
and wishful thinking. But relying on the ring solely for this
purpose was beyond her.

She settled on focusing upon him and begging
him to come to her.

Within moments, she was surprised to hear a
door open. It was not the door they had used previously to enter
and exit the bedchamber but a side door.

She sat up with a frown and watched the light
glare from behind the hulking shadow that was Wolfe.

Her eyes took in as much as they could of the
space behind him and she realized that it was his bedchamber.

She scowled a little, realizing that of
course, he was using the master bedroom and that this was that of
the mistress'. They would have interconnecting doors. Which meant,
that he'd had access to her bedroom for these nights past.

Licking her lips, she shook off the thought.
For he was still her captor. He'd had whatever access he'd
necessitated! He had not forced her within that time, despite the
power being in his hands and she had to remember that.

“You summoned me?” he asked wryly, and her
lips twitched, for he was amused. Not angry. That was always a
plus.

“Yes,” Isabeau replied huskily.

“For any particular reason?”

“Why don't you cross the threshold and find
out...” she murmured breathily.

Isabeau heard him suck in a breath. “Are you
certain, Isabeau? If I cross this threshold I can make no promises
as to whether you remain as virtuous as you are at this moment in
time.”

“I'm counting on that, Wolfe.”

She watched, intrigued, as he clicked his
fingers and instantly, the lights in the room behind him whooshed
out and two tiny balls of flames fluttered through and headed for
her four poster bed. They settled in the top, left hand corner and
the bottom, right hand side.

The light they provided was minimal.
Dimmer than candlelight even. But he would be able to see her and
her, him. If the former made her nervous, the latter inspired her
to act upon those nerves. The thought of seeing him,
wholly
seeing him, was more than
simply appealing!

Where these thoughts came from, she did not
know. But around him, Isabeau felt almost like a completely
different person. She had feelings, and experienced emotions that
not once had she ever before known.

He closed the door quietly behind him and
strode over towards her.

In the dim baby lights, she could see that he
was wearing the shirt from earlier, only the cravat was tied
loosely about his neck and not in any style that a valet would be
proud to put his name to, anyway! He looked wrinkled and ruffled
and she thought he'd never looked better. Never had she found him
more attractive than she did at this moment.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and
shrugged off his shirt again. She watched, slightly awe struck as
he then started on his long trousers and was soon almost naked.
Gulping, she realized he must have walked in barefoot, for he
hadn't asked for her assistance in removing them...the thought had
her holding back laughter and the few nerves that remained inside
her disintegrated instantly.

When he turned to her and sat there on the
edge of the bed, entirely nude, she licked her lips and heard him
groan from the small gesture.

“I truly believe you have no idea as to how
you appear, sitting there like a water nymph. A siren of times
past. Your body beckoning me and the fire of your hair calling me
to come and quench your need,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“I'm no nymph, to tease and play. I admit
that I'm a virgin, Wolfe. But regardless of that fact, it does not
make me want you less. But more.”

Slowly, he nodded and climbed on to the
covers and beneath them.

She still wore the indecent red velvet, had
fallen asleep with her breasts and stomach bare and the skirt
twisted about her feet and lower limbs.

He slowly divested her of the dress. He
did not
seduce
her out of it.
Merely helped her divest herself of the cumbersome garment. Almost
as though a nanny would her rowdy charge at the end of a tiring and
boisterous day.

She let him undress her and when she was
finally bare and the dim lights shined a golden glow over her body,
a part of her truly felt as though she had come home.

It was an inappropriate time to feel so.
Wolfe hadn't offered her a future, secure or otherwise. Merely a
promise to care for her and the child. In their world, that was no
promise. Only a wedding band on the left hand and a sharing of vows
was deemed sufficient for what he wanted.

But she did feel that way. Did feel as though
she were home, as though her body was where it belonged and was
being looked upon by the only man who should see it.

She therefore felt no shame or anything of
the like. Isabeau felt proud of her beauty and reveled in the
effect it had upon his body.

When he lifted his hand and slowly trailed it
along the curvy line of her body, she arched and reveled in his
caress almost in the same way as a cat would. His fingers stopped
to explore along his path, a tweak of a nipple here, a soft caress
of her waist there. He bent down low over her and pressed a kiss to
her belly and then dotted more along the central line of her torso.
It meant that he traveled between her breasts, then upwards between
the nodules of her collarbones, then the arch of her throat and
finally the tip of her chin. She moaned breathily as he covered her
mouth with his own and slid his tongue into the open orifice and
against hers.

Back and forth, back and forth, he teased her
tongue and she moaned through the caress as one of his hands began
to explore the rounded edge of her hip, then down the length of her
groin to her inner thigh. The small 'V' of space that was there
between her upper legs became his new home, as he stroked fingers
along the silken flesh there. Her heart began to pound in her chest
as he slowly tickled her in that most sensitive of zones and at the
very apex of her thighs, she began to feel the strangest heat and
the most bizarre need resonating from her.

Wetness flooded her sex, and his fingers
slipped in her cream, swirling it slowly through her tender lips
and rounding her tight hole.

Her hips rocked back into the bed, seeking
what, she did not know. Her back arched against him, which ground
her torso against his and she reveled in that contact. His
hardened, muscular flesh, laden with short, bristled hair scratched
roughly against her chest and it was enough to make her groan and
her nipples harden to tight, achy peaks.

In less than five minutes, he'd seemingly
made her entire body totally sensitive to his touch. She had never
experienced the like. It was the most unimaginable thing ever yet
it seemed also to be a part of her soul. She was born for this! To
experience this and him.

Impatiently, Isabeau grabbed the hand that
tormented her quivering inner thighs and dragged it to the place
that was begging for him. The first accidental slide of his hand
nudging her sensitive nub almost had her jumping from the mattress,
with only his weight keeping her down. A whimper-cum-shriek escaped
her throat at the same time and had him laughing.

Hoarsely, she complained, “You can't laugh at
me!”

“Why can't I?” he said, his voice a husky
murmur.

She scowled up at him but closed her eyes,
when his fingers moved with more purpose. He tweaked her swollen
bud, rolling it between his fingers until every nerve in her body
seemed to direct to that tender point of contact. Her tongue
appeared between her lips as though she sought to concentrate and
her hips rocked incessantly. Slightly at first then faster as she
began to grow agitated with his teasing touch.

“What is this?” she asked, her voice breaking
a little as pleasure shot through her. The tips of his fingers had
started to rub a particularly sensitive area of flesh down there
and she groaned again as they trailed down and from somewhere,
there was moisture. He spread it over the sensitive button and
began to move against her faster and faster. His thumb nudged her
hole as his fingers toyed with her swollen clit, and the
alternating contact had her gasping and bucking against his
hand.

When something shot through her...a beguiling
mixture of pleasure and need and excitement and desire, she cried
out. Louder and louder. As it seemed to continue. Her legs crossed
and tightened about his hand to ensure he remained there and the
action had her chest popping upwards. His mouth dropped and his
lips curled around one of her pink nipples. As more pleasure shot
out and ringed through her body, she felt almost struck as she
experienced something that she was sure only the angels knew.

Gently, his mouth suckled at her and she felt
her now looser body start to roil with pleasure as his hands swept
along the length of her outer thigh. Perhaps the moist digits that
had explored her should have been off putting as he trailed them
inadvertently against her skin, but she relished it! She enjoyed
it. So earthy and deep and natural. She could not understand why
women complained about the marital bed if this was what they
experienced!