by Jaide Fox
“Wolfe!” she repeated until she gained his attention. As she was actually not attaining his recognition, she cupped his face between her hands and instantly, shot power through him. Her ring was still in the coach, but this was far too important to waste time. She knew not how long Jaegar would give her and Isabeau had to hope that this would work. Only an hour or so before it hadn't and now, more than ever, she needed Wolfe at full strength.
She concentrated on that kernel of knowledge within her. The very root of herself, of what made her Isabeau and she focused upon it and watched it flourish and blossom until it was no longer a root but a tree filled with the heaviest and juiciest fruits and the richest and most gleaming of leaves and flowery blossoms. Looking deeply into her heart, the part that connected Wolfe to her, she encouraged the healthy tree to grow and develop in Wolfe and almost as though it was relieved for more space, her mind actually felt the sudden expansion of the tree into Wolfe.
Her ears heard him gasp and pant for breath, but her mind was focused elsewhere and she could only concentrate on that and on no other place, lest her talent failed her and left him unhealed and partially injured. His good health was paramount to her and whether he returned to her or not, she wanted him safe.
It had not escaped her that he had not declared his love for her and whilst that hurt, she recognized that from his background, trust was important and he had had neither the time nor the inclination to either trust or grow to love her. Where Jaegar had promised her his name, Wolfe had not done so and she could only wonder why.
She did not hold it against him, for Isabeau could have made him wed her before bedding him--it may not have worked, but she could have at least tried. It all led to a confounded situation, where she was in love with a man who had been scarred for life, both by those who had murdered his parents and had tortured him. And by parents whose shared emotions had been so damaging, so negative, that it was no wonder he could not share her sentiments.
An obsessed and rich father who could buy his way into matrimony and an apathetic mother, whose bitterness towards her son's father dimmed the light in which Wolfe should have been raised.
Isabeau accepted this and even though it killed something inside her, she could do naught but recognize that Wolfe may never love her nor was it certain that he would have the opportunity to do so. At this moment in time, she wasn't sure which was worse.
Exhaling deeply, she withdrew the healing power and murmured, “You should be all right now.”
He nodded roughly and accepted that he was now pain free. His visage had completely changed from moments ago. Gone were the swollen eyes, the broken nose and the split lip. The bruised and cut jaw had also disappeared and been replaced with smooth flesh that she loved to kiss.
She could only believe that any injuries to his inner body had also been healed and at that moment in time, even though being a Sidhe had caused her to be in this situation in the first place, Isabeau thanked God for her nature and for her talent. If it could heal the man she loved more than her own life then she was more than simply grateful! She was on her knees with thanks!
“Let him go now, Jaegar. I have agreed. Free him.” Until the last word, she kept her eyes on Wolfe and attempted to memorize every inch of his face so that she could recall it at will in the uncertain future that lay ahead. She spun around and faced Jaegar and watched him nod and click his fingers. Suddenly, the soldiers that had dispersed to a looser position, returned and they unchained him.
“Isabeau,” he said and waited until her eyes were focused on him and not on Jaegar. “Reversus sum.”
She watched as his gaze flickered to Jaegar and he nodded slightly, almost as though he were telling her that Jaegar had not understood. Isabeau nodded serenely as though he had not just set her heart alight by telling her he would return and then pursed her lips as though she were kissing him. He walked backwards for a few moments and kept his attention focused on her, before he spun around and then ran along the driveway they had just traveled on and into the darkness.
Her eyes followed his journey and she watched the bobbing of the lights he summoned at will until she could no longer see them. When she felt a hand tug at her arm, she jerked her elbow and freed herself. Before Jaegar could comment, she reached down, shook out her skirts and then walked regally to the open and back lit door to the house.
****
“I met your father once, you know.”
That had Isabeau halting in her tracks. Enough to have her almost falling up the stairs!
“How? When?”
Jaegar reached for her hand and tucked it into the crook of his elbow. He led her through the front door to his property and as soon as she stepped within its walls, she disliked it.
Surprising as it was, size-wise, it was on par with Wolfe's castle. With his circumstances, and the environment in which he had been raised, a part of her had expected him to live within diminished circumstances. But as soon as she saw the interior of his home, she realized how stupid a belief that had been.
Wolfe and Jaegar's father had been a Duke. For a woman to be married to a Duke, her own father would have had to be a high in rank for the match to be suitable. Or alternatively, she and her family were lower in rank, but richer in pocket!
Her eyes took in the grandeur of the hall and instantly, knew that the property was a manor house. Not a castle as was Wolfe's home. It was on a large scale and richly and expensively decorated.
Directly opposite the entrance, was a grand staircase that led to two off-shooting sets of steps with a royal peacock blue runner. To the left of the main flight, was the opening to a corridor and the same was to the right. But before it was a large, circular, walnut table upon which rested an enormous bouquet of seasonal flowers in an artful array.
He led her down the left corridor and almost instantly into a study-like room. In her time, she had seen her father's study, Wolfe's and that of her maternal grandfather's, and if she was honest, they had all been of the same ilk. But this one was completely different. Whilst there was evident wealth in the furnishings, there was none of the heart and soul of a room that was loved. It was a strange verb to use, but it was the truth. There was a coldness at the depth of the study.
A desk sat in the very center of the room and that was strange in itself. There was equal space all around the heavy, oak table, which was laden with papers and blotters and the requisite desk sets, which to her eye at least, appeared to have a Louis XVI style about it. From the ornate standing clock to the ink vessel and the pen holder. The large desk, which had a leather blotter covering the center of the surface, was laden with what appeared to be almost twelve separate yet matching pieces from the same set.
To the left and right of the desk but to the back of him, were two large and laden bookcases. To the right side was a large fireplace, which flickered merrily in the night. In front of him were two chairs and a drinking table, upon which were a myriad set of decanters and each liqueur all in a varied golden amber shade.
A stand-alone globe that had the patina of age stood to an angle in front of his desk and there was an enormous antique Persian rug on the floor that seemed to cover the entire level, whilst leaving a foot or two of gleaming and richly waxed floorboards around the perimeter of the room.
She turned her attention from her examination of his bureau and returned her gaze to him. There was a slight smile on his face that told her he'd been watching her. The thought was not a pleasant one. Whilst she recognized the need for her to be within his web, she did not enjoy acting like the entangled and squirming fly.
“You were saying?” she remarked pointedly, returning him to the subject in which she had a lot of interest. That of her parents.
Even though she had known them for a longer period of time than Wolfe had known his own, Isabeau still felt as though she had been cheated. Her relationship with her mama and papa had been uncommonly good and Isabeau had always rather looked forward to a future, where she could grow to know
them even further.
That she hadn't had that meant that if Jaegar could divulge any little tidbit about her papa, then she was a welcome and eager listener.
With another smile, one that reminded her of that confounded spider bestowing a sticky and inveigling grin to the trapped fly, he murmured, “We share the notoriety of being schooled at Worley. He and the head were chums, I believe. He visited once or twice and each time, I seemed to somehow cross his path.”
“How?” she asked curiously, eager to hear something of her father. Something she had never before known.
“Once I dropped my books on his boots. By accident, of course,” he said with a slight laugh. “That was the last time though. My grandfather soon afterwards took me out of school and I was tutored...until the Milesians came and permanently disrupted my education. Unlike Wolfe, I never saw the benefits of learning Latin. I can recognize it, but can't understand it. What did he say, my dear? Something tediously dull?”
Raising her chin into the air, Isabeau murmured, “Care will kill a cat, Jaegar.”
“Indeed it shall, milady.”
“Regardless of your lack of care for Latin, sir, you appear to be well-rounded and educated in other degrees. Just as Wolfe. Do you truly believe in the legend?” she asked, but her scornful tone turned it from a question into a statement.
He laughed. “Yes. But not in the same way as Wolfe does. How much do you know about being a Sidhe, Isabeau? From your hesitancy with your talent I would say not long, but I could be wrong. Or am I being too curious now?”
She ignored his wry expression and shrugged. “Perhaps. But you are correct. I only became truly aware of my status as a Sidhe, when Wolfe took me. But I've known of my powers these four years past.”
“Has he explained to you what we are and what you are?”
“Partially,” she admitted.
“Did your parents not teach you of their and our ways?”
“No. About ten days before they were killed, my mama handed this ring to me,” she said and indicated the heavy piece of onyx jewelry on her right hand. “And said that I would learn from and because of it. But that is all I know. Until Wolfe told me, I thought that as I was last of the Hart line, I was the last one with this kind of power.”
Isabeau intended to take full advantage of Jaegar's loquaciousness. While Wolfe had attempted to impress upon her the fact that Jaegar could not be trusted, she believed that in this regard, there was no reason for him to lie. In his eyes, he had her. There was little else of import to him apart from imparting knowledge to her.
“A Sidhe comes into their power at adulthood. Normally, most parents have their children grow in the environment, but this world is intolerant to our kind and with the Milesians hounding us at every turn, it is not unheard of for parents to shield their offspring until it is vital to tell them.”
“I believe I would have preferred to be fully aware of my background, rather than have it forced upon me blindly!” she retorted in a huff.
Jaegar shrugged. “I would imagine that most children raised like you would agree. Unfortunately it is for the parents to decide what is best for their child. Anyhow, we digress. By the time I had been taken by the Milesians, I was but a few years away from gaining my powers. My father was light and my mother of the dark. In my case, it was possible for me to be either. In Wolfe's case, his mother was also of the light.
“Ordinarily, we go for opposites. But in my father's case, he was blinded by Wolfe's mama.” He shrugged that off as though it was of no import, but she could see from the tightening about his mouth that it was. “For Wolfe, it is an atrocity that he is of the dark. The Milesians changed him intrinsically. But in love or in our search for a mate, there is no fairness. You are mine.”
Isabeau's lips tightened but she merely replied, “I am no one's. I choose who I want to be with.”
“Aye,” he retorted with satisfaction. “And you have chosen me have you not?”
She cocked a shoulder. “Do you think it's fair to take something away from a man, who desperately needs...I suppose the word is salvation?”
“As I said, in this case, I have to be fair to myself. You are more than just a Sidhe of the light, Isabeau. You are a ring bearer. Did Wolfe inform you about a ring bearer's importance to the Sidhe world?”
She shook her head.
“Your strength, your abilities are twice that of an ordinary Sidhe. In one sense, you are correct. You were the last Hart to bear the ring. Very few are tolerant to the gold for it is charmed. And very few can channel their magick into the minerals and have it respond.”
“Why is it important that I am the ring bearer?”
“For Wolfe, tis the legend. For myself, I require a mate who is as strong as I.”
“How charming to be desired for one's jewelry!” she mocked. “While I thank you for the information and knowledge you have imparted upon me, it has done you little favor. You are taking me from someone who I not only love, but whose child I could be carrying and who genuinely needs me.”
“You overreach yourself, Isabeau. I have shown you my softer side in deference to what I wish you to be to me, but do not take me for someone who can be easily manipulated!”
“Did I say that you were? But perhaps you should take into consideration that when you touch my ring, it causes you pain. For Wolfe, it is as though it were any type of precious metal. What does that mean to you, hmm? You talk of mates...I assume we speak of a mate of the soul? Would it not appear correct to you, Jaegar, that my mate would be able to touch the ring bearer's ring?” she murmured softly but with the skill of sliding a dagger into the heart within one attempt. Cocking a brow, she let him glare at her and then slotted in, “Where are my quarters?”
“With me, naturally,” Jaegar murmured, regaining his composure quickly.
“I think not,” she retorted swiftly. “You may force me into this damned farce of a marriage, but you cannot force me into the marriage bed.”
He shot her a narrowed glance but bowed at the waist and then said, “Would you prefer me to show you or a maid?”
“While it saddens me to be parted from you, Jaegar. I believe that I can cope with a maid.”
Jaegar nodded and smiled thinly. He walked towards one of the bookcases, beside which was the dangling beribboned bell. He tugged it and moments later, she was being delivered out of the room and into the hallway by a shy and blushing maid.
****
She was led into a luxuriously appointed room, but once again, it seemed to be all looks and no substance. There was a true coldness about this place and she realized that she didn't like it. Not at all.
Where Wolfe's castle had been huge and like a warren of rabbit hutches, a room leading to another totally incongruent room and the sheer vastness of each area still did not diminish the fact that the castle was a home. First and foremost, always that.
But this manor house was completely the opposite and coming from her background, where regardless of the size or the number of properties they had, her mama had always made each of their residences as pleasant and comfortable as possible. Of course, there had been that rich patina of wealth behind it, but there was here. So a lack of funds was no excuse.
With a jaundiced eye, she took in her chambers and immediately took a dislike to both the furnishings and the decorations. She wished more than anything that she was in Wolfe's bedroom. She had grown rather accustomed to the overlarge bed and the warmth that simmered within from the large fire during the cold, early hours of the morning. Her eyes warmed as she recalled, how only last night, the covers of the bedspread had been almost at the bottom of the bed and she'd been wrapped solely in his arms.
If she tried, Isabeau could still feel that burning heat Wolfe always seemed to emit and when it was combined with the high atmospheric temperature, she had been deliciously warm.
How she longed for that memory to be real. With an ache that shocked even her. It made her close her eyes as that wish resonated insi
de her body and she had to hold back tears so as to retain control. For as soon as one single drop trickled down her cheek, that would be it. It would be impossible to stop!