Heart of Darkness

by Jaide Fox

  “Yes, I did.”

  He cleared his throat. “You meant it then? It wasn't just the stress of the moment?”

  She felt not one ounce of embarrassment at her feelings and looked him directly in the eye as she clearly said, “Yes. I meant it. I love you.”

  Silence reigned for a few moments and then, she started to feel awkward. He just continued to look at her and a blush began to spread across her cheeks. A part of her had hoped that he would share the declaration, but instead, he just nodded and dropped his head to press a kiss to her cheek.

  Disappointed, she smiled weakly and let him take her hand. He walked her out of the chapel and then led her down the corridor and to the main hall. There was a major difference between its occupants. Before, men at arms had filled the chamber, now there were soldiers here but they all had rather familiar faces. Men that she had seen about the castle and had not had her fearing for her body.

  Outside, hovering in the driveway was a carriage, into which Wolfe helped her. The drive that returned them to the castle was equally as silent as his lack of declaration had been and again, Isabeau felt that awkwardness and felt most discomforted by it. His silence...and lack of declaration, what did that actually mean?

  She feared it meant that he did not love her. But she was his mate- what was that? Someone who the Fates deigned yours and yours alone. Surely that was love?

  With a faint frown, Isabeau opened her mouth to ask him, but abruptly closed it, when a call shot out of nowhere and she realized that they had crossed into Wolfe's land.

  When the carriage rumbled to a halt outside the castle door, the apparatus bounced a little as one of the footmen jumped to the ground and rushed around to help her exit it. She alighted swiftly and was soon joined by Wolfe, who took her arm as he walked her up the front stairs of the castle's entrance and through the door.

  She stopped, startled as she look upon a hefty chunk of the castle's staff.

  Wolfe stopped before the butler and announced, “Your Duchess of Sinclair and Heath.”

  The pronouncement was met with a soft titter of applause and beaming smiles that were sent both of their way. Reverting to her mama's teaching, she slowly ducked her head to accept their congratulations and started to walk slowly down the line. The butler bowed, the housekeeper and cook curtsied and the footmen and myriad maids all showed their respect in the same way.

  It seemed that the whole castle was willing to progress with the charade that she had not spent countless nights in the Duke's bedchamber before their marriage had taken place! Otherwise, they would have politely shown their disdain for her. In numerous, hidden ways their disrespect and dislike of her would have been evident.

  She was most relieved that they liked her. A home in which one's staff hated one, was not pleasant. Not at all!

  When she reached the end of the line, in a soft, clear voice, she said, “I thank you for your welcome and hope that I can strengthen the ducal line of Sinclair and Heath for future generations.”

  She smiled faintly and then nodded her head at them in slight dismissal, before spinning around and walking with Wolfe to the stairs.

  Together, they climbed them and walked to his bedchamber. A part of her was relieved that he took her there and did not pause outside his mother's old bedchamber. She had feared that he might have left her there- but apparently not.

  The instant they walked through the chamber, she moved to the bell pull and tugged it, saying, “I desperately need a bath and to change out of this detestable apparel!”

  “We shall go to London within the next couple of weeks to have you fitted with some clothes of your own.”

  She nodded. “We should visit my father's solicitors also.” When he said nothing, Isabeau murmured, “I'm my father's heiress, Wolfe. God knows what has been happening with my inheritance these years past.”

  “I shall have Gerard make inquiries.”

  A knock sounded at the door. “Enter,” he called out and in walked the butler. “Bathwater, please, Saiville.”

  “Of course, your Grace. Will you be requiring anything from the kitchen, sir?”

  Wolfe looked at her but she shook her head and turned to face the fire that gleamed brilliantly there.

  “No. Just the bath, Saiville.”

  “Very well, your Grace.” With a low bow, the butler departed and left them to that damnably awkward silence, yet again.

  Unsure of what to say or do, she moved to the door that led to his mama's old chamber and was about to seek out a clean chemise and dress, when his hands grabbed at her shoulders when she was but a step from the door.

  “No! Isabeau, I won't let you sleep in there.”

  She frowned up at him. “I didn't intend to. I just wanted some clean things.”

  He looked immensely relieved but frowned nonetheless. “We have servants for that, Isabeau.”

  She sighed. “I'm not useless, Wolfe.”

  “Did I say that you were? Tis they're job. These little tasks are what feeds and houses them.”

  “I don't need a lecture.”

  “I fear you do, my Duchess.”

  She smiled faintly. “A Duchess. My Grandmother will be celebrating in heaven. She was a dreadful social climber, you know.”

  “We all have skeletons in the closet,” he teased and she laughed.

  “Ah, but Grandmother was a social climber of different sorts. She aspired to be a Patroness of Almack's. A Duchess for a Granddaughter would have strengthened her plight,” Isabeau finished with a slight grin.

  She looked up at him and noticed the fading amusement on his face.

  “I'm most glad that you are back, Isabeau,” he commented huskily.

  “Why?” she asked.

  Wolfe shrugged.

  It was not the reply that she wanted! Isabeau sighed with frustration and spun away from him. “Why, Wolfe? Am I truly your mate?” she asked impatiently.

  “Of course, you are,” he told her with a frown.

  “Then why have things grown awkward between us.”

  “Awkward?” he scoffed. “We've only been rejoined for an hour or so.”

  “Don't lie, Wolfe. Something is wrong. Why not tell me what it is?” she said and swept over to the drinks table to pour herself another brandy. Isabeau took it back then swiftly bowed her head to prevent the bout of coughing that always assailed her after she drank brandy.

  “I failed you, Isabeau. What is to say that it won't happen again?”

  At first, she thought he was playing. Or trying to distract her, but then she realized that that wasn't the case. His face had grown ashen and his jaw tensed.

  “What is to say that it will? You shall try your best, Wolfe. There is no need to have fear. What is life if we live it with fear? No life at all! For four years, I have lived that way and thought never to escape it. Perhaps we shall not be able to outrun the Milesians but we shall have attempted to do so and together. Tis not much, but it is enough for me. More than enough. To know that I'm bound to you fills with me happiness, more than I can even dare to admit.”

  “But why? Tis not as though we face a smooth future,” he protested.

  “No, but we shall be together. And we shall face it together. That, after far too many years of being alone, is quite quite sufficient. Indeed, more than sufficient. I told you, Wolfe, I love you. From my background, I know, that that is all that counts. And that you possibly don't love me, makes me more happy than words can express.” Her lower jaw popped out to the side as she tried to hold in her emotions and knowing that she could not, she spun away from him and hid her face.

  “You don't understand what a mate is, do you Isabeau? Truly?”

  “Theoretically, I do. Tis the same as a soul mate.”

  “In the world of the Sidhe, theory does not exist. Only fact. A mate is the other half of one's soul, as you say. But not in the way of humans. We are forged from the same fire. We are twins of the heart. When one has found their mate, it is as though the body cannot
function. You remember I told you of my Grandfather? His talent was for numbers and he gambled heavily?

  “After my Grandmother died, his mate, he lost his talent and died a year or so later. A mate is the most integral part of a Sidhe and many are unlucky and do not find theirs, but I have found mine and you, yours. Love...is far too...” He paused and considered his words for a moment, leaving her waiting with bated breath. “Love is so inadequate for what I feel for you. You are my past, present and future. To say that I love you is not enough. It cannot fully express how I feel for you. When you say you love me, that is because you know not of the Sidhe ways. Only of human. The length of our marriage will change and deepen your feelings for me, until what you now consider love is a mere smidgen of what you will feel.”

  His words were heartfelt and came from the soul. They were enough to have her stomach clenching and her swallowing convulsively with relief.

  “You're rather full of yourself, aren't you, Wolfe?” she retorted with a faint smile and was pleased when he chuckled.

  Before he spoke, he winked at her and murmured, “Confidence is a blessing, my dear. Not a fault.”

  She nodded wryly and eyed him as a knock sounded at the door and a barrage of staff entered. His gaze was filled with promise, both for the night ahead and the future and for the first time, in a very, very long time, Isabeau felt secure.

  Epilogue

  With a long, slow groan, Isabeau's hands clawed into the bedding beneath her. She felt exhilaration rush through her as Wolfe's fingers dug into her hips and then ran down along the curve of her overlarge stomach. His tongue ran along the length of her quim and a shudder quaked through her, as the tip of the muscle swirled around her clitoris and ignited a rush of pleasure to flood with liquid fire through her entire being. When it flickered back and forth, back and forth, every single part of her tensed and then released. Her muscles burned with unquenched need.

  “Wolfe! Please,” she grunted as he began to nibble it between his teeth. “Why do you torture me so?”

  “Say it.”

  “No.”

  Her words incited him to suckle her nubbin and a piercing cry escaped her. “Please!”

  “Isabeau, just say it. Three little words. That is all you have to do!”

  “It isn't becoming for a Duchess to say the like!” she gasped.

  Wolfe snorted and suckled at her a little more. “Since when has that counted for aught with you?”

  “Since we knew I was pregnant!” she retorted and pressed her forehead against the bedding. The muscles in her stomach clenched as his fingers ran down the length of her thighs and then slid inside her quim. He curled his fingers inside her channel, rubbing that delicious spot within her that only he could find.

  “You're my woman first, Isabeau. Then a mother, then a Duchess.”

  Even though he was torturing her, his words made her smile. For she knew of no other man, who would have said the like. Duchess first and above all else. That was always the rule.

  “Tis rude!” she gasped again, this time as his fingers slipped in and out in a parody of what she wanted most in the world! His cock thrusting into her and possessing her until she didn't know where he began and she ended.

  “Nothing is rude between these four walls...”

  She felt the cheeks of her buttocks separated by rough fingers and then the flicker of his tongue against the rosette that rested there. A quiver rushed through her and she rushed, “Please, fuck me.”

  “That wasn't so difficult, was it?” he murmured and then, she felt him move up behind her backside and finally, he did what she so needed.

  Grasping her hips from behind, his thick cock slid through the lips of her quim and when it brushed against her nubbin, she cried out, “Please! Fuck me. Fuck me!”

  He chuckled, satisfied at her submission.

  When he complied, she thought that she may have died and gone to heaven. His hips pistoned into her and the movement pushed him so deep that she began to cry. Her fingers ripped at the bedding and she screamed as he began to move into her faster and faster. Her elbows shook from supporting her body, feeling like jelly. Tension built within her, making her rock back against him.

  The sound of her bottom smacking his hips sounded loud in her ears.

  He covered her with his body and pressed his hands to either side of her own. The sensation of him touching her along the entire length of her body was wonderfully satisfying and had his thrusts penetrating her even deeper. She gloried in the rough haired feel of him against her back.

  His fingers delved underneath her body and began to flicker at her nubbin again. The strumming sensation had her quivering and as he pumped harder into her, touching every part of her and overpowering her with a welter of feelings, she channeled her over-brimming magick into her ring. Letting it blossom inside her, she forced it to spread to him and with two more strokes, she felt the blistering heat as he climaxed and it triggered her own pleasure.

  She felt so light, so free that her heart flew as well as her mind. Pleasure beyond pleasure rushed through her until she thought that she would collapse with it and when finally, it waned and her heart returned to its normal, steady beat and her lungs collected sufficient air to breathe as usual, Isabeau felt a deep contentment rumble through her.

  Wolfe's hands cupped the heavy weight of her belly and she felt herself be almost lifted and then rolled on to her back. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and then sunk down beside her.

  They both lay supine on the bed, almost as though they had been through a war and had lived to tell the tale. But the effects of climaxing through the ring were so explosive, that every time she did it, they ended up like limp moppets on the bed!

  The sun shined brightly through the curtains, for it was early afternoon and while her pregnancy had not been the total cure that Wolfe had aspired to, since their joining and the fruits of their loins had taken seed in her belly, Wolfe no longer had to sleep entirely through the day. He could awaken in the early afternoon, when the sun was at its zenith but the earth's power was not so strong.

  “Are you ready to meet with him?” she asked, her words piercing the quiet like a dagger.

  “No,” he admitted gruffly.

  “It's encouraging that he made the first move,” she replied and curled on to her side to nuzzle against him comfortingly. Two days ago, Jaegar had written them a missive stating that he wished to make reparations for his behavior and that he would be traveling to meet them on this day.

  Wolfe felt certain that they were on the edge of experiencing Jaegar's malevolence, whilst she hoped that it was the signs of a truce being declared.

  “Encouraging, perhaps. Although it depends upon his motives.”

  “Why must you think so bad of him?” she asked with a sigh.

  “You ask me that?” he retorted.

  “Well, it's not necessarily a question, Wolfe. More rhetorical.”

  She didn't have to see him, to know that he rolled his eyes. “About five years ago, he tried to bankrupt me, you know.”

  Isabeau gasped and rolled upwards. When she said roll, she meant staggered upwards and relied upon Wolfe to push her the last few feet upwards. At seven months pregnant, she was hardly as mobile as she'd once been.

  “He didn't! Did he?”

  He nodded. “The majority of father's wealth is in the entail of the estate, but Jaegar only discovered that when he took me to court. A very humiliating experience on both our parts. Not only did it drag our family history and reputation through the newspapers, but it was just another spiteful act on his part. So forgive me, Beau, if I can't forgive and forget. It takes a lot more than one missive to make things right or to make me believe in him!”