Heart of Darkness (23 page)

He broke from her neck with a smack and
settled above her, his hair hanging around his forehead, making him
appear wild and untamed. His near black eyes met her gaze, locking
onto her as he pressed within her slick channel and claimed her,
pumped into her hard and long until she could feel the rising tide
of pleasure once more.

He hiked her leg up, wedging a hand down to
tickle her anus again. The area was lubricated with the cream of
her body and he stroked it with his alternating drive into her. The
sensation of being touched there was almost too much for her.
Incredibly, she felt a tension rise down there. He pushed a finger
into her bottom, and she screamed when he curled the tapered digit
inside her.

Delicious ripples of pleasure emanated from
her core, increasing with the drill of his shaft inside her, the
strange tickle of his finger in her other hole. She was filled more
than she thought possible, stretched almost to the point of
burning, but it felt so right, she thought she could die.

“You are killing me,” she cried, bucking and
writing beneath him, clutching at his arms with desperation.

She kept her eyes trained on him, begging for
love, which he gave her. His arms tensed, his fingers felt rough
and strong on her, and soon, the ecstasy rolled through them both,
alighting her every nerve in a white-hot fire that had her
screaming his name and arching her back and neck.

As the orgasm increased to its greatest
height, he removed the pressure of his finger from her bottom.
Incredibly, it made her come that much harder.

She gasped and cried, tightening and
shivering around him as pleasure filled every pore and she drowned
in it, mindless.

He cried out with her, shuddering and
groaning, moving fast and furiously until she’d greedily milked the
sap of his body and drank her fill of him.

****

When she awoke the next morning, Isabeau was
surprised to find that she was not alone. Having fully expected to
find herself waking up with an empty space beside her, she didn't
even know how to react as the roughened legs resting upon her lower
limbs and the heavy arm slumped around her waist, kept her pinned
to the bed.

It wasn't an uncomfortable feeling, merely
unusual. In fact, it was more to the contrary. There was a sense
of...protection. It felt strange to consider it so, but she truly
felt as though his possessive hold was protective.

The room was dark, pitch black but she felt
the zing of energy buzzing around her system that told her it was
morning. From the heat and the darkness, it told her that during
the night, he'd awoken and closed the curtains. Which, while
unimportant in itself, meant that he'd made a conscience decision
to sleep with her.

Was that promising?

Did men sleep with their women after sharing
a bed?

She thought not, for why would there be two
bedrooms? One for wife and one for husband, if a married pair
shared a bed?

Isabeau had to admit that she liked the idea
of him choosing to stay with her. She liked it very much
indeed.

Although now, she needed to wake up and
climb out of bed and
move.
Her
body held none of the tension that it had yesterday. The ring and
the remnant aches from her tumbles had completely
dissipated.

She was unsure as to how to move away without
waking him. Rocking against him made him grunt a little, so
carefully, she rolled and managed to free herself from his tight
clasp. As soon as she was free however, Isabeau instantly wished
she could be back within his warm grasp. Talk about contrary, she
thought with a wry grin.

Quickly, she jumped out of bed and rapidly
shut the curtain. Although she'd seen him around in the day time
and he hadn't disintegrated into dust, there had to be a reason why
they all slept through the day. When he'd come and fought off
Jaegar's henchman, he hadn't looked out of place. He had looked
normal. Yet when he talked about himself, the words he used, the
way in which he described himself...Well, it was almost as though
he thought he were a monster. But she'd seen him, his face hadn't
changed and he hadn't turned into something that only belonged in
nightmares!

Isabeau shrugged and thought that maybe it
was more to do with how he perceived himself, rather than a
faithful depiction of what he actually was.

The morning light blared into the room with a
glimmering gold that had her eyes blinking at the sheer radiance of
it and then, enabled her to notice that there was another dress
resting on the chair. A yellow silk patterned with lavender flecks
in the grain that instantly appealed to her. Although it was almost
ten years out of fashion, it was again something that reminded her
very much of her mother. It would appear that Wolfe's mother and
her own had shared similar fashion tastes.

She wandered over to the screen, washed
herself in what she noted was fresh water scented with lavender,
then quickly pulled on the yellow silk. It was a little on the
large side, the shoulders drooped, but it was wonderful to be in
something different. That was one very superficial aspect of life
on the run that she had detested. Wearing the same old dress, time
and time again. Even though she could change her body into the
molds that she needed with her glamor, the dress came with her in
whatever disguise she chose.

Wolfe did not snore like her papa had, but
his deep and leaden breathing told her that he would not awaken if
she were to throw the water jug out of the glass window!

Isabeau wandered over to the door and tested
it...It opened.

With a raised brow, she wondered what that
actually meant. Was it a mistake on his part? Had he simply
forgotten to lock the door after he'd gone for her dress? And that
in itself spoke loudly. By bringing her another dress, that
facilitated her, what could be considered, escape, she had to
believe, for what else could it be, that he'd grown to trust
her.

Remarkable, but it had to be true. He'd given
her clothing, when she'd been naked and therefore, tied to this
room. He'd left the door unlocked as he slept...He must have
trusted her to roam the castle and not attempt to escape.

She wondered if it was trust, or simply that
he could tell she was slowly becoming besotted with him and
wouldn't leave even if he'd left all of the doors unlocked and left
a horse-drawn carriage in the driveway with a coachman to boot!

Grimacing at the thought, because it was
true, Isabeau realized that he'd already taken her heart captive
and without that, she couldn't go anywhere!

Stepping over the threshold, she decided to
head downstairs and wondered if the staircase that had so perplexed
her yesterday was still there.

Good God! Yesterday? She frowned at the
thought.

It felt like a lifetime ago!

Perhaps the more she thought about it, the
more she'd grow accustomed to realizing how short a time Wolfe had
been in her life.

When her mother had met her father, or so she
had told Isabeau, the minutes they had spent together at first--as
was only proper to an unattached couple--felt both like a lifetime
and then minuscule. The depth of learning between the two had been
instant and within moments. Her mama had said that she felt as
though she had known her soon-to-be fiancé inside out. Then, when
her duenna had separated them, although they had been together for
more than the permitted time, it had felt as though only two
seconds had passed.

Strange how love could inveigle its way into
a person's heart, so rapidly and so silently until it was just
there and one did not even know how it had grown. How had hate
turned to love? And so swiftly? It was like something from one of
her mama's old Minerva Press novels!

Had it happened because as he had talked to
her, as he had spoken about the past, she had allowed herself to
feel sympathy? From sympathy to care and then to intrigue and
desire, arousal to lust, passion to love.

Licking her lips, she shook her head and
dismissed her feelings as simply...well, she wasn't sure what.
Premature or delusional.

And Isabeau feared that she was edging
towards delusional!

Grimacing, Isabeau headed down the corridor
and was surprised to see that the stairs led downwards again. She
peered over the banister and spied the Great Hall. Treading slowly
down the steps, her eyes unerringly sought out the stone flags on
the floor.

The last time she had seen those particular
flags, Isabeau had seen Wolfe's mother dead and her lifeblood
spilling out.

Nausea rumbled uncomfortably in her stomach
and quickly, she rushed down the stairs and past the area. Knowing
that the door at the front would be locked for the day, she headed
down the corridor and into the first room she could see. It didn't
matter where or what type of room it was, she needed to leave the
confines of the castle and feel the sun on her face.

Heading into, what turned out to be a salon,
she ignored everything as soon as she spied the French doors.
Opening them with a flourish, she soon walked out on to a landing;
this then led to two separate branches of stairs that led into the
gardens at the front of the castle.

Having never seen the grounds in daylight,
even though it was almost the early evening, Isabeau couldn't
withhold the sigh of pleasure as she took in the manicured lawns
and tidy clusters of flowers, which seemed to flirt prettily with
the dying sun.

A part of her wondered why Wolfe obviously
spent so much money on caring for the gardens, when he lived in the
dark and during the night. But she supposed that he could simply
enchant those delightful orbs of light that he had at his
fingertips and have them swoop over the grounds so he could see the
beauty of his land.

This was definitely the place that she wanted
to sit and so, she turned around and looked at the salon. Her eyes
darted about the room and she spied a lightweight chair that would
do very nicely. Isabeau part-dragged and part-carried it to the
landing outside of the now-open French doors and took a seat.

She sighed in pleasure as the sun touched her
face and warmed her body. Isabeau could tell by the power of the
rays that she'd been wrong in her earlier estimation. They were
quite weak, glorious, but not at full strength and she discerned,
from that alone, that it was almost mid-evening and soon the castle
would be buzzing and teaming with life.

The thought made her smile.

She had never known anywhere that had a
routine akin to the one here. It was more than topsy-turvy that was
most apparent!

Deciding to risk being caught, she quickly
raised her skirts and balanced her legs so that they touched the
thick slab of stone that was the stair rail. When the sun kissed
her limbs, she sighed again in pleasure. It would be worth having a
maid pop in and spy her ankles to just feel the blissful warmth
against her flesh.

As she relaxed, Isabeau realized that there
was a real irony in the fact that she could simply walk out of
these doors and never come back if she so wished, but the thought
never even crossed her mind. Well, only to scoff at the idea!

A restful peace overcame her. For the first
time in four years, she didn't have to think about running away.
She could just sit here and relax. For the most part, anyway.

Having being hounded for many years by
someone, anyone...to finally learn who and why, filled her with
both relief and conversely, more fear.

Although she could relax, realizing that
Wolfe's parents had been caught and murdered here hardly inspired
confidence in the castle's defenses. But having seen one of Wolfe's
dreams, hearing him read out that letter, she realized that Wolfe's
father had been arrogant and over-confident in his capabilities of
protecting and securing his wife and child's safety. But something
instinctively told her that Wolfe would not be so lax.

Isabeau intuitively knew that Wolfe
would never allow the Milesians anywhere near him. If any were
foolhardy enough to enter his grounds, then they would find
themselves
sans
head! Or
grievously injured in another way. They would not be allowed to
leave alive, of that she was fully aware.

The thought settled some of her nerves and
she reposed in the chair, far more comfortable looking out on to
the woods and sitting in the sun than she was sitting in the
expensively decorated and delicately appointed sitting room.

Resting her head against the support, she
sighed and looked over the tranquil forest and the heavily
landscaped gardens and realized that this was one of the most
peaceful places she had ever been.

She sat quietly and even ignored the opening
of the door and the footsteps that led into the room. Uncaring if
one of the servants happened to see her unshod lower limbs! The
thought made her lips twitch--how rebellious she was!

Isabeau remained silent until Wolfe, for she
had known that as soon as he walked out of the French doors, knelt
beside her chair and asked, “Would you like something to eat,
Isabeau?”