Heart of Darkness (40 page)

A lot of good it was going to do him to have
the damned casket now! The woman would be screaming down the house
if she discovered him, certain he was after her maidenly
virtue.

The thought had no sooner entered his mind
than he felt the irresistible urge to see just how close he had
come to pegging the woman.

Knowing he was probably going to live to
regret it, he peered through the slit as he heard her cross the
room.

The jolt that went through him when she
stepped into view paralyzed him for several moments, suspended even
his breath as if someone had punched him in his solar plexus.

* * * *

Melantha Mansfield uttered an unladylike
growl of impotent fury as she closed the door behind her. “Rupert,
you low down snake!” she muttered under her breath. Stalking across
the room, she flounced down on the bench before her dressing table
and began to snatch the pins from her hair. “Rusticate, he says!
Hunting! Hpmh! A likely tale, that one! Months on end we do not
hear a word and then he just sails merrily in with as rowdy a bunch
of ne’r do wells as I have seen him with yet and suggests
Grandmother and I take a trip to the seashore while he and his
friends do a bit of hunting!

“With what, I would like to know?

“And what would they be hunting at this time
of the year, I would like to know!

“Not but what Grandmother and I should not
have any trouble at all finding a place at Brighton just now since
no one goes there at this time of the year! But how we’re to pay
for it is beyond me since we’ve hardly a farthing between us!

“If they are hunting anything beyond tarts to
warm their beds I would be amazed. Grandmother simpering over him
as if he’s the second coming, and she without a notion of what he’s
about. Well I know and it cannot have been so long ago that she
cannot remember.”

Having disposed of the hair pins, she grabbed
the brush and raked it through her hair in angry, jerky movements
and tossed the brush back onto the dressing table.

Dragging her long hair over one shoulder, she
reached behind her to struggle with the lacings of her gown. “As
God is my witness,” she grunted as she wrestled with the lacings at
the awkward angle, “I will throttle that man if he looks sideways
at Nancy! I cannot do everything in this house by myself. I will
not leave her here with that rowdy bunch, I do not care what
Grandmother has to say on the matter! Or Rupert either!

“If Grandmother and I must go, then she will
go, too, and we will see how well he manages this blasted household
without a maid of any sort!”

Having finally managed to loosen the gown
somewhat, she got up from the bench, fought her way out of it and
threw it across the room. Reaching behind her, she began to pick at
the lacing of her corset, pacing now because she was simply too
agitated to be still. “Mark my words, he will be after Grandmother
first thing to hand over what little household money we have left,
for he would not be here if he were not run off his legs again. And
she will hand it over and apologize like a mealy mouthed simpleton
when he demands to know why there is so little.

“As if we subsist on air whenever he is not
about!”

Removing the corset at last, she pitched it
toward the window, wishing she had something heavier to throw.
Massaging her ribs briefly in relief as the pressure was removed
from them, she dropped her hands to her waist and untied her
underskirts next, let them fall to the floor and then kicked them
to one side.

“I will not go! And I shall tell him that
whenever he deigns to rise tomorrow. I am not a child any more. He
cannot make me!”

She looked down at herself, discovered she
was still wearing her stockings and slippers and flounced onto the
bench again to remove them. “I will think of something,” she
muttered darkly, staring at her bare toes and wiggling them once
she had removed the hose and shoes. “He has a hunting box. Why did
he not take them there if they were so keen to be all manly and
hunt and kill for sport?

“He has lost it,” she answered herself. “Or
he has come here for another reason altogether. What though?” she
asked meditatively, rubbing her temples. Nothing immediately came
to mind and after a few moments she got up and pulled her chemise
off.

* * * *

Dizziness reminded him to breathe and, as if
dragging in a gulp of air was sufficient to activate his brain, it
commenced to sputtering an assortment of disjointed impressions and
information. The instinctive side of his nature was working far
better than the cognitive side, however, and as the woman on the
other side of the curtain began to strip her clothing off layer by
layer, it became increasingly more difficult for the thinking side
of his brain to catch up since all of the blood in his body seemed
to be pumping away from his brain and into his cock.

There was nothing vaguely mannish or aged
about the woman striding boldly about the room teasing him with the
bare flesh she revealed inch by excruciating inch until he was in a
fever of impatience for her to reveal all. She stopped just shy of
removing her chemise and he ground his teeth in frustration, for he
could see just a hint of the pink tips of the heaving, bouncing,
enticingly rounded globes of her breasts through the thin
fabric.

Obligingly, she moved after a moment to the
bench again and sat to show him more of what he thirsted for.
Hiking her skirts up, she removed her shoes, untied her garters and
rolled her hose down her legs, revealing a pair of shapely legs
that sent another painful burst of blood into his groin.

He almost lost it completely, however, when
he had scanned her legs from foot to crotch. For she sat with her
legs splayed slightly apart, fanning them slightly and flexing her
feet and toes. And each time she opened her legs he caught a
glimpse of the gaping slit in the crotch of her pantelettes, a peek
of pink flesh and dark blond curls that set a pulse to pounding in
his temple hard enough he thought for a moment that he might black
out.

As frustrated as he was that he could catch
no more than a tantalizing glimpse to probe the mysteries of her
womanhood, however, his cup runneth over when she got to her feet
abruptly and stripped off the last barrier between his gaze and the
entire upper portion of her body, standing before him in all her
glory in nothing but a sheer pair of pantelettes.

* * * *

As Melantha dropped her chemise to the floor
she discovered she had tossed her clothing in every direction as
she had undressed. Shrugging dismissively after a moment, she moved
to the armoire and took out a night dress, slipping it over her
head and buttoning it as she turned toward her bed. She froze
abruptly as something out of place penetrated her anger. Pivoting
on her heels, she stared in disbelief at the open armoire, or more
specifically the bare spot at the bottom near the back.

* * * *

He wasn’t at all certain that his instincts
would have saved him if not for the fact that the woman took that
opportune moment to ‘bring the curtain down’ over the display that
was causing him so much pleasurable discomfort. His instinct for
danger did kick in, but sluggishly as she pivoted on her heel and
stared hard at the armoire. He rather thought it was the
expressions that rapidly crossed her lovely features that finally
penetrated the heated red fog that had been suffocating his brain
in favor of another portion of his anatomy, though, for she turned
first deathly pale, and then bright red before her face contorted
in a ferocious scowl.

Perhaps it was at least in part the hard
edges of the casket he became keenly aware of digging into his ribs
at just that moment. Whatever the prod, his decimated brain leapt
from the cabinet to the box beneath his arm and the threat of
discovery just as she whirled and stalked toward the door to the
hallway.

She stumbled over the shoes and clothing that
littered the floor on the way. “Damn and blast it!” she growled
furiously, giving them another kick and marching purposefully
toward the door.

The instant she snatched the door open, stuck
her head out, and bellowed a woman’s name, he closed and latched
the panel, gritting his teeth as the hinges let out the squawk he
had feared it would, and then peered into the room through the peep
hole.

She had heard it. She was no longer looking
down the corridor. She was staring around the room, her blue eyes
as wide as saucers.

An excerpt from Seduced by Darkness by Jaide
Fox (Erotic Fantasy Romance):

Touching an unconscious woman held no appeal
for Raphael. But the actions of a few rogue hunters forced him to
make amends.

The woman had been bathed, and her wounds
cleansed and tended to the best of their ability. It had done
little to ease the fever racking her body. Doubtless her flight
through the woods had only worsened her injury.

She’d been placed on his bed, soft furs
draped around her body. In the room, lit dimly by basins of flame
and the watery light of the red moon, she appeared unnaturally
bleached and sickly. Her dark skin was dry when it should not have
been--should have been soaked through with perspiration at her
heat. He wondered that the wound affected her so harshly, but
suspected dark magic had more to do with her illness than any
natural cause.

Raphael climbed into the bed and knelt beside
her. He smoothed a gold strung lock of brown/black hair from her
face. He’d never seen the like of it before and the highlights
threading through her coarse dark hair fascinated him.

Her eyes moved rapidly beneath her heavily
lashed lids, her body twitching slightly, her mouth parted on a
sigh. She was dreaming, likely of the chase or some other horror he
could only imagine.

Anger seeped into him. He clenched his hands
into fists, then realized what he was doing. Deliberately, he drew
and released a slow breath, forcing himself to remain calm.
Reckless anger would do neither of them good.

From Blasien, he knew the
kharez
was inherently sexual.
Blasien’s woman had healed him with her body and unintentionally
formed a connection between them. Sensual touch sparked the
reaction. And it was time to begin, before she worsened ... or
roused enough to refuse him.

Raphael traced a finger lightly over her lush
parted lips and down her right arm. Her skin was soft as down,
smooth and perfect. Taking her hand in a gentle grip, he lifted it
to his face and pressed his lips to her fingertips, feeling the
rapid pulse beat of her heart. He moved over each slowly,
lingering, sucking each small pad into his mouth to rake lightly
with his teeth and soothe with his tongue.

She moaned softly and shifted, drawing
closer. The furs slipped down at her movement, revealing the soft,
generous globes of her breasts, tipped with delightfully dark
nipples in the light.

His hands itched to curve around them, test
their weighted softness in his palms. Heated blood rushed to his
groin, his length swelling, hardening beneath his short kurt. Long
had he been without a woman to touch ... to taste ... to bury his
hard shaft deep inside. This woman--the human--tempted him.

Smoothing his palms over her alluringly
defined collarbone, he moved lower, watching her face for reaction
as he skimmed her breasts with the softest touch. Her lips parted
on a breathy sigh as her nipples pebbled, begging, needing
more.

He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. He
pinched the tight buds, rolling each between his thumb and
forefinger until she moaned and arched her back, thrusting her
breasts closer to him.

Unable to hold his baser side back, Raphael
growled low in his throat and descended, brushing his lips down the
column of her neck. He suckled her flesh, dipped his tongue into
the hollow of her throat, felt the fragility of her life beating
against his tongue.

His teeth elongated with the bloodlust
surging through him, the pulse beating at the base of her throat
tempting him to taste her life’s essence. He’d not felt such
longing in many years--had banished that side of himself that ached
for the taste of innocent blood.

He wrenched away from that temptation,
breathing ragged and harsh, but she caught him, held his arms
tight. Looking at her dark face, he saw that she watched him. Her
eyes were slumberous, dark and glazed with lust and fever. She
licked her lower lip, drawing his gaze, maddening him beyond
reason.

Descending on her with a ferocity borne of
long denial, he crushed his mouth to hers. Sucking her lips, he
nicked her with his sharp teeth. Traces of blood mingled with the
sweetness of her mouth, fueling the lust consuming his senses,
threatening to push him over the edge of control.

Swan made small, whimpering throat noises,
moans of pleasure as he thrust the furs aside and settled his body
against her naked flesh. He groaned into her mouth as she rubbed
her tight, lithe body against him. She closed her arms around him,
digging her nails into his back, clutching tight as he ravished her
mouth. Sliding his tongue inside, he probed her dark crevices,
curling his tongue around hers as she sucked him deeper.