Heart of Darkness (15 page)

He just hummed under his breath. “He will
come back, you know. So we'd best be off.”

“He won't be back, because griffins do not
exist!”

“These forests are filled with so-called
mythological beasts, Isabeau. You would be wise to remember that
the next time you decide to run through the castle and jump from a
window. It's a good job, is it not, that the ring decided it missed
you? No fall, from any of the levels in my castle, come without
injury. Even the ground floor--you can twist an ankle. Something I
did as a boy. So, it's most fortunate that you were wearing it. I
don't intend to lose you, my dear. Be warned.”

She sniffed inelegantly and murmured, “I
notice you don't even ask if I'm hurt!”

“Well, are you? Is there something the ring
cannot cure?”

Turning her head to the side, she gritted
out, “Yes! It can stop me from dying but it can't take the aches
away.” Her tone was slightly angry and slightly petulant.

“Poor baby,” he murmured huskily. “Would you
like me to kiss it better?”

Stunned, she froze and then heat, of a
different variety to the healing ritual, flooded her and melted her
bones. Isabeau wanted to tell him to go, to leave her alone, but
her body did not want that. It wanted him. She croaked out the
word, “No.”

“I think you're lying,” he murmured and
crawled towards her.

The crinkle of the leaves wase abominably
loud in her ear but her heart literally paused as she waited for
him to reach her.

There was no doubt in her mind that she
wanted him to touch her and the husky note in his voice told her
that he wanted to do just that.

She licked her lips and shuddered when she
felt the warmth of his body move nearer to her. Unable to help
herself, she lay down on the ground and waited for him to touch
her, waiting and willing for it to happen. A part of her knew it
was madness to accept and even want his touch, but it wasn't
necessarily Isabeau that wanted it. Her body craved his with a
hunger that surprised her. Having never experienced the like it
came as a great shock to realize that this was what passion felt
like.

When he neared her and she felt the slight
brush of his breath against her parted lips, she waited for him to
drop down to kiss her and wasn't disappointed when he did just
that.

The press was gentle at first, but all the
more powerful for it. His hand slid along the curve of her jaw and
down to her throat. She felt unbearably fragile, when her skin
reacted to his touch and she realized how large his hand actually
was. Isabeau felt supremely feminine at that moment and reveled in
it.

The callused palm scratched the tender skin
at her throat and slid along the curve of her shoulder. It was only
then that she realized the talons of the griffin had actually dug
rather deep and she hissed as his fingers moved away. Summoning the
healing spell for the third time that evening, she felt the bolts
of heat shudder through her and could actually hear the skin close
up as it fused together once more.

A slight...she could only call it a tingle,
told her that her healing energy was almost spent. She would need
to recharge, need to bask in the light of the sun if she were to
call on the powers again.

But she ignored that and noted that it was
his turn to hiss but rather than pulling away, he traced the
once-broken skin with his fingers and continued to kiss her. Her
tongue peeped out and once he brushed hers with his, she groaned
and opened her mouth further to welcome his explorations.

She felt both devoured
and
excited, as their mouths fought
one another in an almost intimate duel. It was a battle that he won
and she was glad he did.

When his fingers cupped the swell of her bust
and traced the sensitive flesh of the mound that was bare to his
gaze from the design of the dress' décolletage, she gasped.

Once more, her sounds of pleasure jolted him
from his perusal and he pulled away.

Gruffly, he muttered, “We must go. The
griffin will return, Isabeau.”

The huskiness in his voice did not abate the
tension in her body and even though she had welcomed his caresses,
had enjoyed and wanted more, she disliked how he managed to contain
his own feelings for her, where she couldn't. Perhaps it was
inexperienced of her, but she believed that for him to be able to
pull away as he had done twice now, that his feelings for her
weren't as strong as hers for him.

She sat up, embarrassed. Once again, she had
lain submissively, passively as she let him touch and kiss her. And
once again, he had been the one to disconnect their mouths.

It didn't matter that he was right. That the
griffin could and would come back. It hurt inside and she hated
that. It was strange to distrust her own body. How could something
her senses welcomed be so wrong for her?

She sighed when he jumped to his feet and
held out a hand for her to join him. She accepted it but pulled
away from him completely.

“Why don't you let me go, Wolfe? Either that,
or tell me what you want,” Isabeau muttered grimly, as they walked
through the woods. It was easier this time, for in Wolfe's hand--to
be precise, hovering above his hand--was a ball of flames that
guided their path.

Had she not taken part in his dream and seen
similar bolts being shot out of nowhere to alight the Great Hall,
she would more than likely have been terrified!

“I can't let you go, Isabeau.”

“Why not? I would have thought you would be
grateful to get rid of me! I've attacked you, hurt your...well,
your man thing, I've caused you great expense. Yet, all you have
done so far is lock me up in a gilded cage! At least tell me what
you want from me!”

He sighed and said, “You are so certain that
I want something from you? It's not just the ring?”

She stiffened at that and spun around to
shoot him down with a glare. “If you had only wanted the ring, then
you would have taken just that and left me in the woods, where you
found me. There is something that you believe you require from me
as well as the ring. Something that...Jaegar...obviously doesn't
know about as he only wanted the jewelry.” She paused. “Why aren't
you angry? I attacked you!”

“Feeling guilty?” he retorted mockingly.

She blushed but shook her head, furious. “No!
You deserved it! You may have treated me with kindness, but you
have still taken my freedom from me!”

“I'm not angry, because whilst it hurt, it is
nothing less than I deserve. I know it is wrong for me to have
taken you captive, Isabeau. I'm not a complete monster, you know.”
He laughed harshly at that, almost as though it were a private
joke. “I...I do need something from you. If you do it for me, then
I shall let you go.”

“Do I have your word on that?”

“I'm surprised you countenance anything
that I put my
word
to! But
yes, you have my word. I will release you if you help
me.”

Chapter Six

The walk back to the castle was fraught with
tension for Isabeau. She was both curious about why he needed her
help so badly. Then she was angry at his ability to pull away from
her during the throes of their passion.

Wolfe remained silent throughout the ten
minute walk and while she longed to start a conversation, speak
about why he required her aid and so desperately, she knew that he
wouldn't talk until he was ready. It was in the stern set of his
jaw and the grim cast of his features.

Whatever it was, it was clearly evident that
he did not look forward to discussing it.

An aura of glum displeasure settled about him
and it made her anxious, which merely made her inner tension rise.
What could it be? Was it really so terrible?

A part of her feared that it would be! That
it would be illegal or immoral. Involve a sacrifice or even
murder!

The longer the silence continued, the more
fanciful her imagination became and she grew more and more
creative. Picturing herself in a black robe with goat's blood on
her cheeks, she jumped, startled, when he gave her his hand and
helped her walk the stairs.

Inwardly, she was shocked at this gentlemanly
display, but she supposed it was better late than never.

The Great Hall was not only filled with
people, who she took to be a part of his staff, but also filled
with hundreds and hundreds of lights. So bright was the huge
chamber that it almost appeared to be daylight!

She blinked to dispel the darkness and
grimaced as her eyes adjusted yet again to this flood of
brilliance. Why everything of import over the last few days had
taken place at night, Isabeau did not know!

She felt at her best during the day and while
her powers of healing had remained strong, thank the Lord, they had
now almost run out. Not only that, but there was not a chance that
she would be able to sustain a disguise for a long period of time
without feeling the light of the sun on her face. Tomorrow, she
would have to feel the sun's rays upon her flesh, if she wished to
use her powers again.

If he upheld his agreement and allowed her to
leave his castle if she helped him, then she would need a disguise
to keep her safe as she traveled. Usually, she traveled in the form
of an old crone. She was left alone that way.

With an inner grumble, she nodded to the
butler and housekeeper, who bowed and curtsied respectively and
gave a blank smile to the rest of the gathered staff. When once
more she passed the stained glass window that depicted a griffin,
she finally understood why it was there--because the Sinclair's
wood homed....goodness knows how many of the rotten beasts!

Sticking her nose up in the air in annoyance,
she then proceeded to purse her lips, when the stairs to ascend
from the Great Hall appeared before her very eyes. The ones that
only a few short hours ago had disappeared!

“The stairs?!” she protested, confused and
angry.

“Enchanted, milady,” was all he said and that
was all the information she would receive out of his mouth! She
could tell by the sternness of his face.

With a pout, she took to the stairs and
within moments, Wolfe had returned her to his mother's old
chamber.

Rather than remain there, however, he led her
into another room, through a door she had not even seen! It was
hidden behind paneling and she gasped in awe as they walked into a
sitting room that was terribly charming.

Not only was it enormous, but it was also
wonderfully pretty. The walls were a charming honey color and
matched the deep, rich walnut furniture, which consisted of a huge
grand piano in one corner and a settee in another with a dark ocher
for its cushions. There were two surprisingly masculine, tan
leather club chairs clustered together around a teaboy, upon which
rested a fresh bouquet of spring flowers. The settee and leather
clubs squatted before a large Adam fireplace, above which, was a
large gilt, ornate mirror in definite Louis XVI style.

Altogether, it was a very pleasing room and
she could even imagine herself, sitting here one cold evening
before the fire with her embroidery as Wolfe drank a brandy and
studied the flames.

She closed her eyes at the thought, because
it simply wasn't done to imagine that kind of domestic scene with
one's captor!

Inwardly crying, she stalked forwards and
took a seat on one of the club chairs. In her years as a runaway,
she had grown accustomed to seating herself like a man, and so she
let her back touch the seat, but kept her legs tucked together in
the way she had been raised.

In this room, with this man, it felt very
wrong to be seated this way. It had been less of a serious
etiquette faux pas in taverns and the like.

He, on the other hand, ignored her sitting
position and for the most part, ignored even her! He stalked about
the room like an angry, wounded beast, until he reached one of the
French windows and finally grunted out, “You have oft asked me, why
you are here. Well. I shall tell you.”

He paused for such a long time that Isabeau
thought he had either forgotten what he was about to say, or he
simply wanted to frustrate her!

“You are...
aos
sí
.”

“I am?”

He grunted again. This time in
annoyance. “Do you not know of the
aos
sí
? You are a Sidhe.” He then amended on a rush. “Of
the light.”

“A sidhe of the light?” she asked and licked
her lips nervously.

He nodded.

Her jaw popped open and closed for a few
moments and then she coughed.

“I am...a sidhe of the light.” She
gulped.

“Are you just going to continue
repeating your
and
myself?” he
asked, his tone exasperated.

She coughed. “Well, excuse me for being
shocked! Does that mean, I'm what? A fairy?” she wracked her brains
as she tried to comprehend the magnitude of what he had just told
her.