Heart of Darkness

by Jaide Fox

  She quickly stomped it against the table and smiled as the room became awash with light. Hurriedly, Isabeau moved towards her bed and released the little kits on to the mattress. Then, she tugged the bell to summon one of the maids.

  Laughing as she watched the three little bundles of fluff fall all over each other, Isabeau realized that they all had different coloring, which was rather strange. There was one that was black with tiger orange stripes and then a tabby with black streaks. The third had white and orange stripes, which was rather amusing and she wondered what pedigree the mama and papa had.

  The maid bustled in, but ducked her head shyly as she curtsied. “Yes, mum.”

  Her accent was thick with the smog of London and reminded Isabeau unbearably of one of her old governesses. Miss Clara had been with her from Isabeau's birth until she died when Isabeau was eleven. Although Miss Clara had had a very polished diction, there had been many night time stories with characters talking in the maid's strong voice that Miss Clara had learned from her numerous positions in the capital.

  “Look, Daisy, some little kittens. I found them in the gallery. Could you bring me some milk? And...well, I'm not sure what kittens eat, but if you could bring me some scraps or something?”

  “We ain't got no house cats, mum. Ain't necessary. His Grace managed to rid the castle of rats and mice many a year ago.”

  Isabeau raised a brow at that. “He did?”

  “Yes, mum. Talked them into living in the forest, he did.”

  “How novel,” she remarked with a faint grin. She could just see Wolfe conversing with the head of the castle's rat population. How on earth had he done that?

  “He's mighty clever, mum, but I'd watch out. If those little pests be from the forest, then it ain't too wise to separate them from their mum, mum.”

  Frowning in incomprehension, Isabeau realized that Daisy's pronunciation of ma'am and the London term of mum had the same enunciation.

  “If the mother comes she's welcome to take her babies, but I didn't want them to die in the gallery, Daisy.”

  The maid looked shocked. “As if we'd ever let that happen, mum! And his Grace neither!”

  Realizing that she'd inadvertently caused offense, she backtracked and murmured, “They were hidden, Daisy. I didn't mean to say that you'd leave them to die!”

  Looking a little mollified, Daisy mumbled, “Tis alright, mum. But His Grace would have heard them. You mark my words. Last year, in one of the lofts, there was an owl with a broken wing. We ain't never had no real cause to go up there. It's used for storage mainly, mum, but the owl was in pain and was dying. In truth, I ain't got a clue how it managed to get up there. So weak it was, mum. But His Grace heard and went up there his very self!

  “His Grace helped to make it better and now, you can still see old Tinker flying about on some nights. Mrs. Hardcastle says that it always lived in the woods, but I don't believe her. She might be housekeeper, but she ain't in communication with the animals, not like His Grace, mum. I think Tinker stays to be close to His Grace, like.”

  “I'm glad to hear that you still see Tinker, Daisy,” Isabeau replied with a soft smile. Again, touched by another display of Wolfe's mastery over the animal kingdom.

  “I'll be off for some milk now, mum. And some scraps.” Daisy bobbed another curtsy and quickly left the room.

  Five minutes later, the kittens were ensconced in a ratty scarf that the maid had found in the rag cupboard and there was a small dish of bread soaked in milk, which the kittens had desultorily snacked upon over the last few moments.

  She watched them play for a few moments and then with a soft smile, noticed they had settled down into a small triangle of fur balls and were about to sleep.

  The scarf-bed was on her bed and she decided to sit and watch them a while. There was something very relaxing about it and it triggered off a desire to sleep in her own body. The arm that had carried the candelabra ached and after her adventures roaming the castle, she felt herself grow drowsy and within moments, fell asleep.

  Then, what felt like mere seconds later, she awoke and when the sound of ripping tore through the bedchamber, she realized why! Isabeau sat up with a jolt and was faced with less carnage than a battle field on the Peninsula! Perhaps that was a tad melodramatic, but it was the truth nonetheless and the damage that had been wrought and in such a short period of time was incredible.

  The embroidered duvet that covered the bed had large tears and holes in and amongst the stitches. Earlier, she'd checked their tiny paws to see how sharp their claws were and had felt comfortable in letting them sleep on the bed on top of the scarf. But apparently, she'd been wrong, to which the disaster area that had once been Wolfe's mama's bedchamber could attest.

  Moaning, she sat up and glimpsed at rugs that were torn and chairs that were...overturned! How on earth had three tiny creatures created such havoc? Bottles on the dressing table were resting on their sides. Some broken, others spilling their contents on to the surface.

  The curtains that hung from the posts on the bed now had tattered edges and she looked on in horror as she noticed the ties that gathered the curtains and secured them to the posts, which when not in use, had tassels on them. That had probably been like waving a red rag in front of a viper!

  The tassels were now battered and the once opulent wealth of material looked distinctly as though it had seen many a hard winter and perished!

  Isabeau glanced around with despair as she noticed more and more sights of destruction and she wondered how on Earth she would tell Wolfe! She damned herself for having slept through this onslaught of almost military proportions!

  “Oh my goodness!” she cried and stared down at the angelic-looking visages of the little kittens. “How could you do this?” Isabeau scolded. “You naughty things. What on Earth am I going to tell Wolfe?”

  “What are you going to tell me about what?” came a loud voice from the doorway and she stiffened then spun around to face him.

  “Wolfe! I'm so sorry. I had no idea that they would make such a mess.”

  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 Isa
beau 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.