Heart of Darkness (28 page)

His eye traveled about the room and she
followed it. She lifted her skirts when she realized the kittens
had decided to hide underneath them and shooed them off. If Wolfe
was about to punish them, then it served them right, she thought
resolutely. Then bit her lip and hoped he wouldn't be too harsh.
Although they had destroyed his mama's bedroom, they
were
only young after all.

She remembered Daisy's words and then
recalled him telling her about his talent and inwardly, she
breathed a sigh of relief and simultaneously scolded herself for
thinking so poorly of him.

“Where did they come from?”

Ducking her head, Isabeau looked at her
hand, her nails then her shoes and then the kittens. She bit her
lip and said, “They were in the gallery. But their mother wasn't
about and I didn't want them to starve. I'm so
sorry
,” she finished

He nodded his head slowly and she studied the
movement anxiously. From their conversations about his relationship
with his mother, she knew that he loved her. And sometimes, words
weren't necessary...When there was a room that was in pristine
condition. Where the clothes a woman had worn almost two decades
ago were in the same state and as perfect as they had been when
first purchased...That was a measure of silent dedication.

It wasn't just with his mother, either. She'd
seen his study and it was exactly the same as it had been when his
father had been alive.

Of course, he simply might not have had the
time or inclination to change any aspect of the castle, but she
knew that not to be the case. From her dreams, which had continued
over the last week but not in any traumatic sense. Dreams of him as
a child riding on a horse named Blackie with his father. Of a stiff
interview with his mama.

Memories that showed very little but in the
same breath, showed a lot. The tightness about his mother's mouth
when he was called before her and the fact that she very rarely had
eye contact with the young Wolfe. Almost as though she couldn't
bear to look at him. It had shown Isabeau the arrogance in her
face, as well as the great beauty that had so entranced his father.
Provincial life had not dampened his mother's need to present a
beautiful face to the world at large, that Isabeau had also
seen!

His father's strictness was another
heart-wrencher for Isabeau. To see the young boy on the back of
what had to be his very first horse and then see his father
commenting and critiquing his posture atop the saddle, had been
rather saddening. Where was the love and the tenderness and the
softness that all children should have received from their
parents?

Isabeau could remember her first horse,
rather ironically, Snowy, a white dappled horse that she had had
throughout her childhood. Isabeau could remember her father's pride
at her seat and the pleasure he had shown at her enjoyment. There
hadn't been the fierce sternness on his face as he had looked at
her. It had been love.

She licked her lips as she watched Wolfe
stride forwards and grab one of the kittens. From happy ball of
fluff to a spitting, hissing cat, which instantly desisted as he
caught it by its scruff and the kit was immediately disarmed as its
entire body sprawled loosely.

Somehow, it still managed to shoot Wolfe a
malevolent glare, which did the incredible- made him roar with
laughter. Not with anger, but with humor! She felt almost faint at
his reaction. Only the good Lord knew what she had thought he'd do,
but it wasn't that! Roar with anger and hurt and dismay, not with
bloody laughter! Her heart felt as though it were about to start
palpitating!

“I think we should call this little kit,
Beau, don't you, Isabeau?” he teased. “As I distinctly recall this
reception when I first met a certain lady!”

She scowled. “You were trying to
abduct
me, Wolfe! What did you
expect? A kiss and a cuddle?”

His lips twitched again, but he ignored her
comment. “Do you want to keep them?”

“What? The kittens?” He nodded. “No, I only
took them just in case their mother didn't come back for them.”

She watched as his eyes disturbingly turned
black. At first, she didn't understand what he was doing, then when
the color receded, Isabeau frowned in concern as he looked directly
at her.

“She won't be coming back. She's in the
forest.”

Isabeau blinked. “Why didn't she take them
with her?”

He smiled. “Because you adopted them.”

Rolling her eyes, she murmured, “And their
mother knew that?”

“Of course. They're now yours.”

“But… this room? I can't keep them! They're
little monsters! They should be with their mother, in the
wild!”

“Too late. They're yours now,” he teased and
put the kitten back down on to the ground. Before she could
protest, he continued, “Come here.” And strode towards her with a
gleam of intent in his eyes. “I think you should charm me into
forgiving you for this rampage!”

That gleam and his words were enough to shut
her up and instead, smile provocatively up at him. When he grabbed
her and she willingly let herself be captured, she replied, “Why,
sir, what on Earth could you want from me?”

He grinned and her heart reveled in the
happiness on his face. The more she was around him, the more she
noticed that he smiled more with her. Gerard, his agent, had also
noticed. Isabeau had seen the surprise on his face on the few
occasions they had eaten together and she had managed to tease
Wolfe into a smile, a grin or a laugh.

“Your body, wench.”

She pouted. “Only that?”

His hands groped at her buttocks and he
lifted her up and against him. When he pressed his face into her
breasts, his words vibrated against the sensitive flesh there.
“Nay, I want all of you.”

Her eyebrows twitched in surprise at the
depth that was behind his statement, but she dropped her head and
pressed a light kiss to the top of his head.

The heat of his breath against her
breasts and the press of his manhood at the apex of her thighs
combined with his words sent mixed signals to her rather
inexperienced brain. His hold seemed more like one that was for
comfort rather than to arouse, yet
his
arousal was pressed at her center.

She swallowed a little convulsively, as
uncertainty rode her nerves, but she reacted instinctively by
tightening her arms about him and nuzzling her face against him. He
seemed to need comfort, why she was unsure, but if he needed that
from her, then she was perfectly willing to give it to him.

How long they stood there, she didn't know,
but it truly affected her. Made her heart pump wildly in her chest
and had her wishing for things that she couldn't ask for.

She sighed and it must have nudged him into
movement. For minutes later, he was moving forwards towards the
bed. He turned around so that his back was to the bed and slowly
sat down. He then lay backwards and she put her hands either side
of his arms so that she could sit up and look down at him.

His eyes were dark and stormy but his voice
was mild, when he said, “Are you only wearing a chemise under that
dress?”

Gulping, unsure of where he was heading with
that question, she focused her gaze on his and nodded slowly.

“Come here,” he grunted and grabbed her hips
and dragged her forwards.

Yelping, she almost fell forwards and had to
grab the post behind her to stay upright. By the time she realized
why he'd asked her that question, it was unimportant. It was
already happening! He was underneath her skirts and his tongue
was...she closed her eyes and shuddered at the twisting movements
he was making with his lips on her little nub of pleasure.

Seeing him disappeared under her skirts was
an erotic image, as powerful as the tug and pull of his lips and
fingers on her moist cleft.

She pressed her weight into the post and let
it take all of her body, for as soon as Isabeau experienced the
welter of sensation that flooded through her from that tiny tug,
she lost all muscle strength in her limbs.

He'd told her that that part of her was
called a clitoris, and that it was filled with nerves. He'd made
her touch it and fondle it and she could easily recall the pleasure
it caused. Isabeau knew that Wolfe enjoyed kissing and tasting her
there. Over the last week, a night had not passed where he had
failed to lick or suckle her there. Although she was grateful for
it, sometimes his teasing caused unbearable sensations to rush
through her and he'd make her beg for his possession. On that, she
wasn't so keen.

There was something about this particular
situation whereby she felt almost as though she was overloaded with
arousal. It was different to anything they had done before. Her
skirts covered his head entirely and it did not seem to matter to
him. A part of her wondered how on earth he could breathe and then
another part simply did not care, just did not want him to
stop!

A cry was ripped from her, because his teeth
had nibbled at that eager nubbin and was then quickly soothed by a
flicking of his tongue. She felt him suckle it and rub it again and
this time, she could not help the whimpers that escaped her
throat.

Her position was awkward, she was twisted
backwards and to the side to lean against the bed post, his hands
were clamped around her hips to keep her close to his mouth and as
pleasure to end all pleasure rushed through her body,
systematically rupturing every single one of her nerve endings, her
arms shook as she tried to keep herself up.

Her eyes were clenched shut and her body was
shuddering as she experienced the ultimate in sensation. It was
almost painful to feel that rush. Painful to feel the surfeit of
pleasure that he was pushing her into with his continued tasting of
her most intimate of parts.

She screamed when he bit down again and her
voice was a sob, when he suckled again and she called, “No, no, no,
no. No more. Wolfe. Please. Please, no more. I cannot take it.”

He ignored her and pushed her higher into
realms she felt she'd never experience again. Especially without
this man.

Her heart felt like a panicked dove locked
into a too small cage and her lungs were pumping fiercely as she
struggled to suck in sufficient air.

Her reaction to his touch this time was too
powerful to keep herself upright. She fell, part forwards and part
backwards and his hands pulled out of her skirts to support her
utterly lax spine.

Although she could feel herself being lowered
to the bed and Wolfe rolling to her side and out of her skirts, it
didn't particularly register with her. It was happening, but seemed
almost as though it wasn't happening to her.

She only felt herself start to react
again, when his mouth pressed against hers and his tongue pressed
into her mouth to tangle with her own. It jolted her into action,
for Isabeau was surprised to taste
herself
on his lips. It wasn't unpleasant, but it
was unusual and it took her a while to react to his
kiss.

His hands fumbled again at her skirts and she
felt them being pushed up and her legs being gently separated as he
rolled in between them. When she realized what he was about,
Isabeau felt her blood begin to heat up again and their mouths
began to literally eat at each other. Her hands clutched over his
back and she dug her nails into the muscles there, uncaring of
whether they left a mark or not, simply needing to do something to
express the emotions the man inspired in her.

When his hips slid against hers and she
realized that somehow, in the interim, he'd managed to denude
himself of his clothes. The slide of his cock against her was
almost deliriously exciting and as she was so wet down there, it
seemed to slip through all the folds of her quim and inadvertently
touched her nubbin. She cried out and her hands dropped down to
grip at his buttocks. Her nails moved from their excavation of his
shoulders to the flesh there and she urged him inside her, faster
and harder.

But that first, long, slow slide into her was
almost electrifyingly good. Her insides literally melted as he
touched every single part of her, igniting her nerve endings as
only he could.

Desire built within her. She grabbed his
buttocks tight, reveling in the flex of muscle there, urging him
with frantic need. She shuddered as he sank full to the hilt,
filling every inch of her slick channel.

A moan rumbled through his chest,
reverberating against her.

She quivered around him as he began to move.
His hips rocked deeply into her and she cried out and began to
counter-rock her own to meet him.

Isabeau called out as he pulled almost
entirely out of her and then plunged quickly into her again. He did
that repeatedly until she screamed out her climax and strained
against him, as a velvet flash of pleasure rushed through her and
she peaked a crest that she had never reached before.

The final
piece
de resistance
was the slight pressure that came from
his own orgasm and the sounds of release that he made, were music
to her ears.