Beauty and Her Beastly Love (Passion-Filled Fairy Tales Book 2) (10 page)

Beauty nodded. “Excuse me father,” she said, getting up and rushing to her room. She picked up the book and opened it to the dedication page. She hadn’t remembered any of Ferus’ books being dedicated before. But this one was. Right there, typeset, just like the rest of the book. It said:

To Beauty.

My love for you endures. Please enjoy this tale as you care for your father. Then, hurry home to me.

Beast

Beast was despondent. He’d not been able to watch another second. He’d refrained from spying on Beauty, from not trusting her, from not taking her at her word. He’d seen how sick Pierre had been. Of course it would take longer than a few days to nurse him back to health.

But, it had been three weeks, and he was at his wits’ end. He should at least check to make sure they were alright. And then he’d seen them in the mirror. Beauty was radiant as always and they were having pheasant. She was telling her father she was leaving. That made Beast’s heart ecstatic.

But only for a second, because then she had said she was returning only because she made a promise. She would keep her word whether she wanted to or not. When her father had asked if she wanted to go back, she’d said, “No.” It was like a dagger to his heart. He’d heard enough of their conversation and cried out, “Stop,” to the mirror. He couldn’t watch another second. He’d felt so sure that letting her go was the right thing, that he was doing what you did with someone you loved. He thought that you let them take care of the things they needed. He thought that you helped them because you knew they would do the same for you.

He loved her, but it was clear that she didn’t love him. He was just her captor, still. After everything, he was still just her captor.

Beauty was shocked. It had been a long time since she had been shocked. But this had shocked her. The book,
Volume 19
, was her and Beast’s story. Only it started at the beginning. Before Beast had met her. There was an old woman who cursed him for trying to take the girl, Isabelle. She bound him to an enchanted manor, promising him death if he ever left the grounds. In Ferus’ book, there was no way to break the curse. Only, the old woman had said Beast could be happy if he found someone who loved him. The sorceress would not prevent him from being happy if he could find someone who would love a beast.

So Beast spent his first year in the enchanted castle sulking. But the next year, he decided to change, to devote himself to figuring out how to love. He wrote a story on parchment. A story that included detailed love scenes, but that was ultimately about a man finding a woman who would love him, flawed as he might be. The sex was there, but the story, the story was Beast pouring his heart out, hoping to be loved. And when he finished writing on the parchment, he signed it, on a whim, Ferus Lucunditas.

Shortly thereafter, the parchment with his story on it disappeared, and right before his eyes appeared a book, with a rose on the cover. It was a rose just like the ones that grew in his garden. A rose of golden color, but imprinted on the leather. And beneath the rose was Ferus Lucunditas, Volume 1. His story was there, bound and typeset, as if by magic. So, he read it over and marveled at the magic of the manor. Then he thought more and wrote another story over the next few months. When he finished the tale, it appeared there on his shelf again.
Volume II
.

He did this for six years. From that point on, Beauty recognized the story. She saw her father’s visit from Beast’s perspective. Beast was so angry with Pierre for stealing that he intended to teach the thief a lesson. Beast remembered the fear he’d felt with the sorceress and knew that fear of death often showed the true colors of a man. He wanted to see what type of man Pierre really was, so he threatened to kill him, dragging him out to the chopping block where he cut firewood. “I marveled at his selfishness,” Beast had written, “In offering up an innocent girl to pay his debts, first to a stranger, and then to me. Though he hadn’t really offered her to me. He was just telling me to explain. Still, I wanted her, so I decided I would take her. Or perhaps save her, for the man she had been promised to was as awful as I had once been. I made Pierre swear he would give her to me instead. I felt both hopeful, yet reviled, by what I’d done.”

Beauty read that passage again and again, and she read others. She saw their relationship from his point of view. His desire to give her a choice in everything that happened at the manor. His desire, his longing, to make her happy. This volume left out the part about his name being deadly, and left out a few of their squabbles, but it relived in detail their sexcapades. Beauty found herself longing for Beast, even more than she had before.

This book, Ferus Lucunditas’
Volume 19,
ended with Beauty returning and agreeing to be his wife. She closed the book. She wanted her and Beast’s real story to end the same way this book did — in marriage. She would return to the manor in the morning. She would apologize again for being so late. She knew he had to have seen her in the mirror, seen her apologizing. He was probably sullen that she hadn’t mentioned the book. That was probably why he hadn’t projected. She would thank him for it when she saw him tomorrow. She smiled to herself.

There was a loud banging at the front door. Beauty sat up on her feather mattress and tilted her head toward her bedroom door, so she could hear.

She heard the old front door creak open. “Monsieur Dumas,” her father said. “You are not welcome here.”

“And you are a liar,” Dumas said. “I had my men look into Emile de Verran. He disappeared seven years ago. He’s presumed dead. He is not married to your daughter. You are a liar, and you will pay for it with your life.”

Beauty ran to her bedroom door and opened it just in time to see Dumas draw his sword and point it at her father.

“Nooo,” Beauty screamed. “Don’t kill him.”

Dumas looked at Pierre, cowered before the sword. Dumas raised the sword and hit Pierre on the head with the hilt. Beauty gasped as her father crumpled to the floor. Dumas looked up at Beauty, satisfaction on his face. “I didn’t kill him, but I expect your cooperation for my unexpected kindness. I want to finally see what’s under your pretty dress.”

Beauty’s eyes widened as she realized what he meant to do to her. She pushed her bedroom door shut and tried to hold it that way. She wished the door locked. There was so little furniture in the house, there was nothing to even barricade the door with. “Beast,” she called out in her mind. “Please. Please help me.”

Beast wasn’t sure why he returned to the mirror. He supposed he wanted one final look at her. He planned to walk out of the manor tonight, off the grounds, and take his punishment: death. Living without her was too painful. Living with her because she was forced to be there was too painful. It’s why he had let her go.

But, he wanted one last look. “Show me Beauty.”

Before him on the mirror, he saw her, leaning forward, both hands pressed against her bedroom door, feet planted firmly on the ground, as if trying to keep someone out. Then she toppled backwards, falling onto the floor as the door burst open. It was Dumas. He was walking toward her, and she was shaking her head.

“No, please don’t do this,” she cried out. “Please, I swear to you I am married.”

“You are not married to Emile de Verran. That is a lie.”

She nodded. “I’m not married to him,” she said. “I am married to Beast.” Beast was so shocked by what she said, he could do nothing but watch. “He is the beast my father left me with. He loves me, and I love him. He is kind to me. But, he is cruel to anyone who would try to hurt me. He will kill you if he finds out you’re doing this. Just go. Go now, and you’ll be safe.”

Dumas cackled. “You expect me to believe that? Superstitions and sorcery. There is no beast, just like there is no de Verran. There is only the supple virgin I was promised, who I now plan to take.”

He walked toward her, and Beauty scooted backwards across the floor, putting distance between them. “I’m not a virgin,” she said. “We’ve consummated our relationship.”

Dumas smiled again. “You’ll say anything, won’t you?” He shook his head, stepping closer and then kneeled in front of her. “Am I really so bad?”

Beauty was perfectly still. She did not respond to his question. A wise move, Beast realized. She looked into Dumas’ eyes, fear in her own and said, “Please don’t do this to me.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, grabbing the hem of her dress and shoving it up, “You’ll enjoy this.”

Beauty began to kick. Dumas pushed her legs down and slapped her across the face, the sound reverberating so loudly that Beast thought he could feel her anguish. Beauty winced in pain and looked back at Dumas, her face filled with fear.

The cad smiled and spoke sternly. “You will stop fighting, or I will hit you hard, like I hit your father, and then I’ll do what I want. I’d prefer to hear your moans of excitement, but I’ll gladly leave you with a knot on your head. Do you understand?”

Beauty nodded. Beast had to do something. He couldn’t just watch. He closed his eyes, puffed his chest, tried to look menacing and projected. Dumas was unstrapping his pants when Beast growled, “Let her go.”

Dumas turned and shrunk back when he saw Beast. The projection was working, Beast thought. “Beauty,” he said to her. “Move away from him. This is like our first carriage ride together, so time is of the essence.”

Dumas looked at Beast, confused, then at Beauty, who stood and stepped away from Dumas. She walked toward the corner, where she stopped next to a window.

“Look at me,” Beast said to Dumas. “The man turned. She is my wife, and if you ever touch her again, I will kill you. Do you understand?”

Dumas nodded. Beast stared at him, growled, and tried to appear menacing. He hoped to give Beauty the time she needed. He watched her slip out the window. She just needed time to get to the carriage, and it would bring her back to the house. Claude was a fast horse, even when pulling the carriage.

“What are you going to do to me?” Dumas asked in a whimper.

Beast snarled and said, “I’m still deciding.”

“Please,” Dumas said, drawing nearer to Beast, getting down on one knee, “Please don’t hurt me.”

Beast looked at Dumas and wondered how any man could be so cruel to a woman yet such a coward when faced with someone his equal or stronger. He was so caught up with this thought, with projecting, with making sure Beauty was getting away safely that he didn’t notice Dumas draw his sword until it was too late. The sword sliced right through the Beast’s projection, dissipating it. Now Beast was staring at Dumas in the mirror, and Dumas was staring at where his sword had swung through the air. Beast was gone from the room, and Dumas appeared confused.

At that moment, one of Dumas’ servants ran through the open door into Beauty’s room. “I know you asked not to be disturbed, Master,” the servant said, panting. “But a carriage just left.”

Dumas sneered. “Take some things. Make it look like a robbery, then go home. I will go after the girl.”

Dumas ran out of the house, mounted his horse, and rode off after Beauty.

“Show me Beauty again,” Beast said to the mirror.

He saw Beauty in the carriage, her chest heaving up and down. There was relief on her face, but fear, too. He could tell she needed him. He projected himself again. “Beast,” she said. “Thank God. Thank you for doing that. I couldn’t have gotten away without you.”

He wanted to touch her, to hold her, to reassure her. But he couldn’t. He had to tell her the truth. “You haven’t gotten away yet,” he said. She looked alarmed. “He’s gotten on his horse. He’s chasing you.”

She shook her head. “No, he can’t,” she whimpered. “Please, you can’t let him get me.”

Beast nodded. “You’re in the carriage. Use what is there to your advantage, and conjure what you need — a weapon, or something to protect yourself. The carriage is bringing you home. Its enchantment will protect you until you arrive. Once you get here, I can protect you.”

“If I don’t get home?” she asked, the panic in her voice causing the words to run together. “If he catches up with me?”

“Stay in the carriage. You’ll be protected inside the carriage.”

Beauty nodded.

“It is hard for me to project and monitor what he’s doing. Is it alright if I leave you now to watch what he’s doing? I’ll be back as soon as you’re close to home, to let you know.”

She didn’t look like it was alright for him to leave her, but she said, “Yes,” swallowing hard, rubbing her hands on her skirt. “Go watch him.”

Back in the room with the magic mirror, Beast watched as Dumas pursued Beauty’s carriage, getting closer and closer. He knew the carriage wouldn’t stop, so Dumas would have to climb on top while it was moving in order to get to Beauty. Beast saw Dumas take out a small crossbow and aim it toward the carriage. It looked as if he might be trying to shoot the undercarriage, to somehow dislodge a wheel. It would take an expert marksman to make the adjustments at night at that speed. It was a stupid shot, but Dumas seemed intent on it. Beast watched as Dumas’ horse got closer to the rear of the carriage. He took aim, but didn’t fire. Instead, he slid the crossbow back to his side. Apparently, Dumas didn’t think he could hit that spot either. He whipped the reins on his horse, urging it faster, so that Dumas was now even with the front wheels of the carriage. A shot to the front wheels seemed no easier, so Beast wondered why Dumas was going to attempt that instead of the rear. That’s when he saw Dumas point his crossbow and realized the wheels were not the target. “Claude,” Beast shouted as the arrow hit the horse pulling the carriage. The animal twitched violently and fell down. The carriage jerked and slid along, the forward momentum carrying both injured horse and its’ tow forward.

They weren’t going to make it onto the grounds of the manor, and the enchantment on the carriage was coupled with the live horse pulling it. The carriage wouldn’t move without Claude. Beast wasn’t even sure the carriage door would remain locked.

They weren’t that far away, though. Many times, he’d seen that area when he looked out the window of the top floor. It couldn’t be more than five minutes from the manor. He could reach Beauty in five minutes. But, would he make it that long? Would he live that long? Leaving the manor meant death.

“Sorceress,” he said aloud. “You put me here for what I did, and you were right to do so, but I beg you that you let me save Beauty from the same fate I had intended for Isabelle so many years ago. Please let me save her before I die for disobeying you.”

With that, Beast, for the first time in seven years, fled the manor.