Heart of Darkness (29 page)

She felt herself being rolled over, so that
she was on top and he at the bottom and Isabeau cuddled against
Wolfe. This was one part of their love-making that she always
enjoyed. Being so close to him, hearing his heart beat against her
ear and smelling the scent that was him...it was like manna from
the Gods to her. His hands stroked warmly over her back, threading
through her hair.

That he seemed to revel in it too, that he
kept close to her during the entire night when he should have been
moving around the house and taking care of his business, filled her
soul with a sustenance it desperately needed.

No matter how hard she fought it, it was
futile. Every day, she fell deeper and deeper into love with him
and frankly, she did not know how she would survive, when the time
came to leave.

Chapter Eleven

Sleepily blinking, Isabeau eyes rested on the
handsome fire that blazed hotly in the huge hearth of Wolfe's
study.

For the last two days, when the castle had
been hit with a rather nasty storm that was a portent of the colder
seasons to come, this place had been her refuge.

Not that she needed a refuge in Sinclair
Castle, but this room seemed to have the largest fireplace and
that, in her mind at any rate, was definitely a good thing.

Like the bedroom hearth, the fireplace in
Wolfe's study was large enough for her to stand in and the flames
could and did lick the very top of the flue.

Although tonight, it was quieter. The
gales that had appeared days before seemed to have
dis
appeared again and while every now
and then, a shrill whistle of piercing wind would blow around the
castle and buff its strong sides, there was very little that
remained of the stormy and tempestuous weather that had arrived so
spontaneously. The rain had pattered to a halt this afternoon and
only the cold remained.

So here she sat and as her nanny had once
said, “As snug as a bug in a rug!”

One of the wolfhounds that caroused about the
property had his head on her lap and every now and then, when he
made a mewling sound, she'd pet his forehead and even though she
knew dogs didn't have the required organs, Isabeau was sure he
purred.

She knew for a fact that she also did not
have the necessary organs, this room, being with the man she loved
and in the warmth, she was near to purring herself!

The scratching of the nib against the paper
Wolfe was writing upon and the flickering tongues of fire were a
soothing background noise and in her position of comfort, in a
leather wingback chair with a blanket over her knees, she knew she
was close to falling asleep!

Tucking her head into the wing, she settled
down for a nap and seconds later, felt her hand being tugged
upwards and her body being jolted out of the chair.

Her head fell backwards in shock as she was
pulled to her feet and with a grimace, she rubbed the back of her
neck with her free hand then glared at Wolfe.

“What...?” she asked, but was
interrupted.

“Come with me,” Wolfe whispered.

There was an urgency in his voice that had
panicked butterflies taking residence in her stomach and with a
gulp, she retorted, “Why are we whispering? What's going on?”

He held his index finger up to his mouth and
hushed her. The gesture made her peevish and she narrowed her eyes
at him menacingly. As menacing as a woman her size could be, at any
rate.

“Come. Now. Quickly!”

His hand curled around her own and before she
could tug herself free, he'd clamped his fingers down and was
pulling her across the room. Almost immediately, Isabeau stumbled
and he had to pause to catch her. But the frown of impatience he
shot her was hardly necessary. In skirts that clung to both her
feet, ankles and legs, how on Earth did he expect her to be able to
run?

Men!

She pursed her lips but sped up. A part of
her wondered where he was taking her, but the other part simply
wanted it to be over so that she could return to her earlier
position. She'd been comfortable, damn his hide.

By now, he no longer had to half-drag,
half-tug her along. She'd collected her skirts in her free hand and
could run with more ease, although the boots she wore were hardly
practical. She hoped to high heaven that whatever he intended to
show her, was worth it.

Through the corridor, into the Great Hall and
out of the door, they ran and even though, whenever Isabeau
happened to walk that particular route she never saw a single
person, for this event it appeared that the entire staff had
congregated. Not purposely, but they all seemed to have tasks to
complete here.

A flush overcame her cheeks at the
thought of the maids and footmen seeing her with her skirts hooked
over her forearm. Even her mama, as disenchanted with the ways in
which the
ton
raised their
daughters, would have scolded her for this effrontery.

She ducked her head and vowed to avenge this
humiliation later in some unspeakable way that would have Wolfe
howling for mercy at her feet and Isabeau intentionally sped up so
as to be free from the stares of surprise that were shot her
way.

As their feet hit the graveled drive way,
Isabeau wryly conceded that her slovenly and relaxed behavior of
the past week had been of no good to her body. She'd dined like a
Queen and although she hadn't gained any weight, which she could
only assume was thanks to all of their bed sport, it hadn't
improved her running skills at all. Her stamina was laughable and
her lungs felt nigh on close to exploding.

She sucked in a deep breath, one after
another, and managed to stop the lightheadedness from turning into
a full blow swoon, but her pace had slowed. By the time they
reached the clearing that led into the woodland, Wolfe was the only
one of them to still be running as he pulled her along and led her
into the depths of the forest.

He slowed down once the trees covered
their heads and she tugged her hand away from his and pressed both
palms to her knees and attempted to retain her composure
and
more importantly, her
breath.

When Isabeau could finally breathe again, she
came to a standing position and noticed that there were five tiny
balls of light before them. Hovering delicately at their feet.
Ignoring them, she turned to Wolfe and hit him with her arm.

“My dress is hardly lightweight, Wolfe!
I'm hardly
Pheidippides- I can't run
to Athens from the Plains of Marathon in a full length velvet dress
complete with crinoline, damn it
!”

Irritation surged through her as he chuckled
and then subsided to a pout, when he tugged her hair and she
realized that inadvertently, Isabeau had triggered the so-called
mesmerizing gift she had. “Hair down, Beau. I have something to
show you and if you stun me, then I can't!”

“What's so damned important that you have to
drag me out of my chair and take me running?!”

He hushed her. “Speak quietly. I want to show
you an animal. He's very, very shy and will flee if you make too
much noise.”

Mollified, as she knew his talent with
animals was the stuff of legends within the castle kitchen, Isabeau
allowed her arm to be grabbed once more and willingly followed
him.

She supposed that it was highly unlikely he'd
have dragged her here unless it was a legendary animal, for the
everyday forest creatures could be easily spotted at any time. And
at the thought that she might be seeing something magical, a large
and excited smile ran across her mouth.

He'd told her of some of the more malevolent
beasts that resided within the depths of these trees but had hardly
mentioned any of the beauties. She began to feel more and more
enthusiastic and now wished that they could run as they had
earlier!

At the same time, however, she recognized it
as being impossible, for even with their quieter stroll, their
footsteps were completely audible and that was with her entirely
human hearing. To an animal it would sound like a five piece
orchestra! Were they to begin stampeding through the woods, the
creature would have disappeared completely by the time they
arrived.

Regardless of her excitement, Isabeau knew,
that had she not been with Wolfe, she would have felt terrified.
The tiny balls that hovered before them lit their path, but did
little else, although she was grateful for their presence.

The trees were heavy and again acted like a
thick blanket of almost atmospheric gloom. Only the stimulus of
what she could potentially see prevented a chill of fear from
oversetting her.

Animals scurried around on every side of her
and she did not like it, not one little bit. The noises they made,
the sounds of the paws close by...it was very discomforting.

The longer they walked, the deeper into the
forest they seemed to stride and she knew that they were at the
very heart of its depths, as she heard something that Isabeau
hadn't even known existed within this area--a brook. The tinkling
and rushing sounds of water brushing across rocks and tumbling
downstream was very easily heard, even at this distance.

She had believed the trees to blanket this
whole piece of land, but it seemed that Wolfe controlled the growth
in this particular area for a few moments later, the brook was
highlighted by the moon and Isabeau could see both its surprising
size and its beauty.

The clouds of earlier seemed to have
disappeared with the storm and whilst it was not a full moon, it
was bright and large enough for her to see the patterns it made on
the trees that were reflected from the brook's rippling
surface.

He walked to the edge of the water and then
led her along its length, which quite frankly was incredible and
truly opened her eyes to the size of the forest.

She trod carefully amongst the leaves and
debris that were strewn at the edge of the brook and kept her head
ducked down and her eyes wide open so as to be entirely aware of
what she was stepping in. To fall into the water with the leaden
velvet dress about her would not be a pleasant activity. She did
not fear drowning, but hypothermia.

The thought made her smile, for it was hardly
that cold, but...still.

She took another step and walked into Wolfe's
back. His arms swept upwards and away from his body so that she
could cling on to them for support and she did so, then proceeded
to stand on tiptoes to peer around his upper arm.

What she saw, had Isabeau gasping and her
knees trembling.

She blinked. Once, twice and then three
times, before she realized that her eyes did not deceive her. There
was indeed a gleaming white horse supping from a pool that had
formed in the brook. It had a golden, shimmering horn that was
almost the length of her forearm and carved into it, was indeed a
thick spiraling rut.

Gulping, she lifted her hands and grabbed
Wolfe's upper arms. Her fingers dug into them as Isabeau absorbed
what she was actually seeing.

A unicorn.

A myth.

How was that even possible?

The question made her laugh inwardly, as her
subconscious answered it quickly: Why were there griffins and
gytrashes and asrais in the forest? Because it was enchanted. Wolfe
had said as much.

Her eyes literally ate up the sight of the
gleaming white beast and when it raised its gloriously regal head,
Isabeau felt sure that it stared directly at her. Its magnificent
mane was suddenly flung back as it reared upwards, neighed
majestically and then raced back into the woods to head for places
she did not know.

Feeling almost as though she'd been
traumatized, although in a good way, Isabeau quickly sat down on
the forest floor with a slight bump. Wolfe dropped to his knees
beside her and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Glad I made you run the twenty six miles to
Athens?” he asked sardonically.

“Don't forget the three hundred and
eighty-five yards,” she replied weakly.

“Oh, I didn't. Just didn't want to tax your
already over-loaded brain, Beau.”

“You're so kind,” she said with some of her
usual bite. “Was that truly a unicorn?”

“Of course. Do your eyes have a tendency to
lie to you?”

She sniggered. “In this castle and in these
grounds--yes!”

“I concede that,” he replied with a laugh.
“But yes, it was a unicorn. The male. His mate and their colt will
be around somewhere.”

“Mate? Colt?” she asked breathlessly and
lifted a hand to her forehead. Not just one of the glorious
creatures, but three!

“Aye.”

“I thought they were either a myth or that
they had died in the time of Arthur!”

He grunted. “They were almost wiped out by
foolish bastards. But there are about three hundred remaining in
England. They can never truly die out as long as they have one
refuge and I intend to provide that for as long as Sinclair Castle
stands.”