Beauty and Her Beastly Love (Passion-Filled Fairy Tales Book 2) (3 page)

The week passed with Beauty not speaking much to her father. Beauty had told her father that she understood and forgave him. She’d said it because that was the thing she was supposed to say to him, to lessen his feelings of guilt. And part of her did understand. If her life were in danger, would she not have made the same agreement? Probably. But she dreaded being handed over to this beast. He would not be a man like in her books. He wouldn’t be able to hold and caress her and treat her kindly.

And if he felt she stole something from him, would he murder her? The way he’d threatened to murder her father? She didn’t know, and that scared her. Part of her felt she should hate her father for what he had done to her, for promising her to this thing. Only, the truth was, she would have to be married to someone. That was the way of the world, the way of things. She had even been looking forward to it. But now, fear replaced that yearning. Fear that he would be as beastly with her as he had been with her father. Fear that he would be a brute who took her at will, rather than caressed and held her. Fear that he would become violent and angry.

Even though she was afraid, she had to go. Her fate had been sealed, so she went about preparations to leave. She taught her father to cook a few of the dishes he enjoyed. She’d always cooked for him, and she worried he’d have trouble getting along without her.

If only her father had told her his financial problems sooner, perhaps they could have looked for a different solution, something that would not have involved promising her to a suitor who was a beast.

Beauty packed her meager belongings into a large trunk. It had been her mother’s, the one her mother had brought from her family home to her marital home.

Celine had come from a respectable family and had been expected to marry someone of the same station, but she fell in love with Pierre and ran off with him. They had lived more modestly than Celine had been used to, but she had been happy, as far as Beauty knew. It seems, her mother’s station had been supporting them since her brothers died. Pierre had sold Celine’s jewelry. As a child, Celine’s father had lavished expensive baubles on his daughter, and the grownup Celine had brought them all when she ran off with Pierre. Even then, Celine had known, they’d come in handy. There was no jewelry left now, no remnants of the house that Celine had hailed from, no treasures that Beauty could have received from her mother and passed on to her own daughter.

Beauty cringed at the thought. Now, she would have no daughters. At least she didn’t think it would be possible to have a child with such a creature. And if it were possible, would the children look like little mutts? She really felt like crying this time. What had her father done to her?

What if she just refused to go? Just then, she heard the whinnying of a horse outside. It was loud and strange, a feral whinny unlike anything she’d ever heard before.

She ran to the door and slung it open. There in front of the house was a carriage, pulled by a horse but with no driver. She walked up to the carriage and looked inside. In shadow, she saw a figure, a hulking figure under a cape. “Get in,” it said. The voice was a growl, low and stern, and Beauty’s heart sank. Was this to be her life? What if she didn’t get in?

“Get in,” the voice said again.

“But I want to say goodbye to my father. He went into town to pay M. Dumas. He’ll be back shortly.”

“Get in,” the beast said again.

Beauty looked back at the house. She’d left the door open. “My things,” she said. “I need to get my trunk.”

“You need nothing. Get in. Now.”

His voice was clear and commanding, and something about it made her feel she must obey it. She nodded and climbed into the carriage. She sat down on the bench opposite the beast, looked out the carriage window and watched her house disappear behind her. She turned back to him, to ask him what next, and gasped. He was gone. She reached her hand over to the other side and felt the empty seat. There was nothing there. She looked on the floor, wondering if he could have hidden. But there was no place to hide. She decided to flee the carriage, and tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t move. It was locked.

Her father had said the beast lived in an enchanted manor. He had been right. She was afraid now. He had been here and disappeared. He had locked her in, made her leave without saying goodbye to her father. Made her leave all her things. Now it was time to cry. She leaned over in her seat and let the tears flow.

Beauty lay slumped in tears for the remainder of the carriage ride. This would be her purge. She would cry it out here, and then she would go meet her fate with good cheer. Or at least with the realization that there was nothing she could do to change it. She was bent over, her head resting on her arms, still sniffling onto her sleeves when she realized the carriage had stopped. She sat up, dried her tears, and looked out the carriage window.

Before her was a huge manor, three stories tall and made of stone. It had a small rounded tower on the top left corner. It was so big and so immaculate it reminded her of a church, or a palace. Those were the only buildings that got such care and beauty when built. The sun was setting, and the building looked luminous, bathed in the orange glow of twilight.

This would be OK, she told herself. Instinctively, she looked around to gather her things to take with her, but she had no things to gather. The beast had made her leave with nothing, nothing but the dress she wore. It was one of her mother’s old dresses. Not one of the nicer ones — a red, one piece dress that had a decorative ribbon tied around the waist. Apparently, her father had sold the nicest ones for money, to keep them alive and eating for as long as they had. She wished he’d worked harder on farming the vineyard, on earning money there, instead of selling her mother’s things. Only, how could she say that? She had been there, and she hadn’t insisted on finding out about the finances or offering to help him. Instead, she’d gladly accepted his suggestions to read more and enjoy long walks nearby. She hadn’t bothered to wonder how they afforded their lives, when the weather had not been good the past two years. The grapes had done poorly. The ones that had thrived were magnificent, but most hadn’t thrived.

So here she was, with nothing but the dress on her back, being sent to be the wife of this beast. She took a deep breath, pushed the carriage door open and descended onto the path that led to the front door. As she approached the door, navigating two small steps to reach it, it swung open by itself. She stopped, startled by the magic that was another confirmation that this place was enchanted. Hearing of it was one thing, but seeing it in person was frightening.

She continued on, entering the house, slightly apprehensive. After she went through the door, it closed on its own. The entryway was dark. There was a chandelier above, but it wasn’t lit. She wished it would brighten up, and suddenly the candles of the chandelier sprung to life, flickering gently above her.

She walked further in, and to her right there was a doorway to another room. It was large, and had a fireplace with a roaring fire, some chairs and a sofa. This must be the room her father had fallen asleep in. It was as he described it. Large and warmed by the fire that roared quietly in the hearth.

She went to the chair that had a table beside it and looked for a plate of food, wondering if she would have the same experience as her father. But, when she walked over to the chair with the little table next to it, there was an empty silver serving plate set on the table. No food. She frowned. From behind her, she heard, “Beauty?” The voice was low, but gruff, almost like a growl.

She blew out, squeezed her hands tight, mentally bracing herself for what she’d find when she turned around. Beauty turned slowly and kept her lips clamped shut, so she didn’t gasp. What she saw was a large creature. He stood on two legs, but he was as large as a black bear. He was clothed like a man, like a well-dressed, respectable gentleman, a fancy blue overcoat, black britches, and a decorative cravat. But everything that wasn’t clothed was covered in fur, thick black fur. His face had bestial qualities, his mouth sticking out slightly, like it was a snout, but not quite as long as any animal’s snout. When he opened his mouth to smile, she saw his fine, sharp teeth, the kind that would frighten anyone daring to get into a fight with him. Though, she couldn’t imagine anyone sane trying to fight with this creature. He was muscular — it shown through his clothes, the way he was stuffed into them, the way they practically burst off of him. Not the way fat, slovenly people’s clothes didn’t fit. He was well defined and toned. She couldn’t help but look down and notice he wore no shoes. Probably because his feet were like paws. Long and thick with pointed claws at the ends. His hands were similar, but on a smaller scale, probably more human in look, but with unkempt nails.

“Beauty?” the creature said again.

She couldn’t find her voice just yet, so she nodded her head and looked into his eyes. And that was the thing that struck her. While the rest of him seemed some combination of beast and man, his eyes, dark brown and deep with wonder, were completely human. There was something about them that pulled you to them and made you want to draw closer to him, even though everything else about him said you shouldn’t. She stared into those deep brown eyes and wondered how he came to be this way. Was his mother human and his father an animal? Had he been cursed — or enchanted — by this house? Who was he — this creature with eyes that said there was so much more to him than what was on the surface?

“You may call me Beast,” he said, approaching her, trying to look friendly with a smile, Though it was impossible for him to succeed at looking friendly with his long, sharp fangs jutting from his mouth. “Did your father explain the terms of your being here?”

Beauty nodded. “I am to be your wife and stay here with you.”

The beast chuckled, a sound that began with a growl and ended in a luscious, yet airy howl. “Maybe that is how your father looked at it,” he said. “You do not have to be my wife.” Beauty was surprised by this, but she just kept her mouth shut and watched, waiting for him to continue. “Your only obligation is to stay here with me, forever. If you want more, I would like that, but I won’t force you. The important thing is that you must stay here. You don’t get to leave.”

Beauty stared at him, trying to comprehend. “I don’t get to leave?” she asked. “I’m confined to this house?” She could not hide the alarm in her voice. The idea of being stuck inside all the time, of not going out, even if for a walk to see the birds swoop through the air or the ants build a little hill, frightened her.

“You can go anywhere on the grounds. The property is four acres. But, not beyond that. You must stay here on the estate.”

Beauty breathed out, slightly relieved. She could go outside, explore the grounds. That was better than nothing, but that hardly seemed enough. “My father,” she said. “May I go see him, or go back home to collect my things?”

Beast shook his head. “You must stay here.”

Beauty frowned. She’d have preferred a forced marriage, where she could occasionally leave to see her family, to the arrangement he was describing. She was stuck here with this beast until she died, and she could visit no one or talk to no one. “And if I refuse?” she asked. She thought she knew the answer, but she wanted to hear him say it.

“Your father and I agreed he could take enough gold to pay his debts and I would spare his life, if you came here to live. If you refuse, then his agreement with me would be null and void. I would claim his life, and his heirs, you, would have to repay me the worth of the gold he took. As I understand, he’s already spent it. Do you have means to repay the gold?”

His voice had been monotone through most of his little message, but at the end, when he asked his question, he stared at her bosoms and grinned.

“It doesn’t matter,” Beauty said, flushing lightly as he continued to stare at her chest. “I do not refuse. I will stay here with you.”

Beast nodded. “Let me show you to your room,” he said as he turned and walked out of the room, not looking back. He clearly assumed she’d follow, so she hurried behind him as he went back into the main hallway. She turned her head and briefly looked at the front door, wondering if it would open to allow her out. If it did, could she escape? Even if she did get out, he would come for her father, and then for her to repay the gold.

She turned back to Beast, followed him up a beautiful marble staircase, and turned right at the top. They walked down a long hallway, past a few doors, and then to one on the right. He opened the door and motioned for her to go in. She walked past him and into a peach-colored room, with a large canopy bed in the center. There were several windows in the room, letting in the remains of the day’s light. She imagined it would be bright and sunny at the start of the day. The drapes were open, but she could easily close them if she wanted darkness to sleep late. There was an ornately carved bureau, some plush chairs, a dressing table, and other accoutrements that she’d read that the wealthy have in their homes. Only, she’d never actually seen such things with her own eyes. It was much nicer than the little home she shared with her father. Only, at this moment, she felt keenly homesick for her tiny featherbed on the floor, and the coziness of curling up on it with one of Ferus Lucunditas’ volumes.

She turned to see Beast staring at her. He seemed to be waiting for her, perhaps for her to say something. “Thank you,” she said. He nodded, though he’d seemed to want her to say more. “Are there clothes?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said. “In the wardrobe, there are some dresses I thought you would like. But those are my tastes. If there is anything you want, just think it, and it will appear.”

Beauty’s mouth popped open. She’d known the house was enchanted, but she hadn’t expected it to be so easy to control. “Just think it?”

“Yes,” he said, as he walked closer to her. He stopped right in front of her, his barrel chest almost touching her bosoms. He closed his eyes and held his hand out to the side. A moment later, a book appeared on his palm. He grinned and offered it to Beauty. She looked down at the book: Volume 18 by Ferus Lucunditas. “I thought you might like this. Perhaps we could read it together,” he said, raising an eyebrow. As he stared, it felt as if he were undressing her with his eyes. As if he were imagining taking off the dress she wore and the simple chemise she wore underneath it, to stare at her naked body.

Beauty took a step back, but did not take the book. She stared at it, knowing the kind of story it held. One about a couple that yearns to touch each other, a couple who has a spark between them, the air practically humming with a quiet electricity when they are close. A hum that can only be muted by passionate, all-encompassing sex. She watched him look at her as if he were trying to make them connect, trying to make the air between them hum. For a second, she felt it, the gentle pull toward him, and a whiff of his musky scent that seemed to say he wanted her. And then she stopped herself. She was angry, because she felt this was some type of trick. The beast thought that because her father had tried to take one of those books for her that Beauty read them and enjoyed them. He thought that because she enjoyed those tales, he could have his way with her. He’d pretended downstairs that she had a choice. He’d said her only obligation was to stay, that she didn’t have to do more if she didn’t want more. But she realized now there was no choice. His eyes spoke the desire of his loins as they watched her greedily. She looked down and could see the burgeoning lump in his pants.

“You pretend I have a choice,” she said. “But, I know what you want. You can take it, because I can’t stop you, but please stop pretending I have a say. You want what you want, and you plan to take it.”

Beast’s nostrils flared, and the desire in his eyes turned to anger. For a moment, she thought he would hit her, that he would be cruel, that he would be the beast that he looked like. Instead, he leaned in close to her, placing a hairy finger on her shoulder blade near the neckline of her dress. He slid his finger down her flesh, following the curve of the neckline, which made a V intersection at her breasts. His finger lingered on the left breast a moment, and then he made a circular motion that sent tingles through Beauty. No one had ever touched her like that before, and it made her warm in all the right places. He slid his soft, hairy finger to the other breast, back up the neckline of the dress, to her neck, which he caressed lightly. Beauty found her breaths becoming shallower as he did this, the light tickling sensation making it hard for her to think clearly.

Beast leaned into her ear and whispered, “I will not touch you again without your permission. I will not talk to you about the books again, unless you ask me. I will not pleasure you from head to toe like Marat Rossini does to Helena in Volume 3, unless you ask me. But, when you do ask me, know that I will. I will do it, as much as you want, as long as you want, over and over and over again, if you want. There’s nothing wrong with me wanting to pleasure you, or you wanting to pleasure me.”

Beast took a step back, removing his fingers from Beauty’s skin. The spot he’d been touching still felt hot. It felt almost as if the heat from that spot could grow and consume the rest of Beauty’s body. It had left her alight with desire, but she didn’t want to show it. Beauty could tell her face was red, and her expression was still shocked. She watched as he turned and left the room without another word.