by Jaide Fox
Her reaction to his touch this time was too powerful to keep herself upright. She fell, part forwards and part backwards and his hands pulled out of her skirts to support her utterly lax spine.
Although she could feel herself being lowered to the bed and Wolfe rolling to her side and out of her skirts, it didn't particularly register with her. It was happening, but seemed almost as though it wasn't happening to her.
She only felt herself start to react again, when his mouth pressed against hers and his tongue pressed into her mouth to tangle with her own. It jolted her into action, for Isabeau was surprised to taste herself on his lips. It wasn't unpleasant, but it was unusual and it took her a while to react to his kiss.
His hands fumbled again at her skirts and she felt them being pushed up and her legs being gently separated as he rolled in between them. When she realized what he was about, Isabeau felt her blood begin to heat up again and their mouths began to literally eat at each other. Her hands clutched over his back and she dug her nails into the muscles there, uncaring of whether they left a mark or not, simply needing to do something to express the emotions the man inspired in her.
When his hips slid against hers and she realized that somehow, in the interim, he'd managed to denude himself of his clothes. The slide of his cock against her was almost deliriously exciting and as she was so wet down there, it seemed to slip through all the folds of her quim and inadvertently touched her nubbin. She cried out and her hands dropped down to grip at his buttocks. Her nails moved from their excavation of his shoulders to the flesh there and she urged him inside her, faster and harder.
But that first, long, slow slide into her was almost electrifyingly good. Her insides literally melted as he touched every single part of her, igniting her nerve endings as only he could.
Desire built within her. She grabbed his buttocks tight, reveling in the flex of muscle there, urging him with frantic need. She shuddered as he sank full to the hilt, filling every inch of her slick channel.
A moan rumbled through his chest, reverberating against her.
She quivered around him as he began to move. His hips rocked deeply into her and she cried out and began to counter-rock her own to meet him.
Isabeau called out as he pulled almost entirely out of her and then plunged quickly into her again. He did that repeatedly until she screamed out her climax and strained against him, as a velvet flash of pleasure rushed through her and she peaked a crest that she had never reached before.
The final piece de resistance was the slight pressure that came from his own orgasm and the sounds of release that he made, were music to her ears.
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 disappeared 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.”
“In forests such as these?”
“Aye. Mostly unknown but these three, I welcomed and they know they are so they very rarely hide. But since the colt's birth, they're more protective. It's only natural.”
“So they haven't always been here?”
“Until my father decided, in his arrogance but what he would term infinite wisdom, that we no longer needed the protection of magic. I managed to reintroduce a lot of the creatures here by persuasion.”
A surge of emotion rushed through her, so powerful that had she been standing, it would have knocked her to her knees. She gulped, then launched herself at him, which inadvertently pushed him sprawling on to the floor. Her arms clung to his shoulders and her mouth to his. Against his firm lips, she murmured, “You're amazing, Wolfe. Amazing.”
