The Beast (4 page)

How does he know that? My heart squeezes at
the reminder of his curse. Now I have a sense of how long it must
have lasted. He must have known the man in his youth. The Lafarge
family has always been rich. Ever since they laid claim to the
largest fields. They now own the majority of farmland and employ
the villagers to do the work, selling them back the fruits of the
land. Because most of the food come from his farms, Monsieur Jean
Lafarge, as the last surviving heir now holds the village in the
palm of his hand.

“Whom should I marry instead?” I ask
softly.

His feral gaze turns on me, blue eyes blazing
with jealous fury. But he does not offer an alternative. He takes a
deep breath and exhales it on a growl of annoyance. “Why did you
not tell me your family needed help?”

“And what would you have done, if I had?” The
Beast was – and still is – a solitary creature. He tolerates the
servants, because they are just as bound by the curse as he. And he
tolerates my presence because… because I am the only hope he has
left. But he cannot risk allowing others into his demesne. Even the
presence of my family could be dangerous. Should they decide to run
screaming back to the village, the Beast would have an army of
scared, angry villagers at his door, carrying pitch forks and
torches.

No, he and I both know that he would not have
done anything. Because he cannot expose himself.

“I would have found a way,” he says.

That is more than I expected. But too late,
nonetheless. “Thank you.”

He lowers his great frame to the floor, sits
at my feet and lays his great head in my lap. “I missed you,” he
says.

“You did not have to.”

“Lyssette, are you happy here with me?”

“Now that my father and sisters are here, I
am. I pretend that this is all there is, and that we can all stay
here forever, and everything will turn out well.”

He raises his head to look at me. “Why
pretend?”

“Because I am coming to realize that I am not
here to save you. All I can do is help you save yourself.”

“Even if that were true, it doesn’t make me
need you any less.”

There is that desperate look in his eyes
again, like a lost child looking for his mother. Without him
telling me, I know he fears I will leave. I want to reassure him,
but the truth is I do not know what will happen. When the curse is
broken, and all the world is his to explore again, he won’t need me
anymore. Will he even notice if I leave then? Will he miss me, even
a little?

My heart says yes. But my head doubts. I have
seen the Beast at his absolute worst now. I’ve felt like I was
fighting a lost battle. He is holding back from me; even after all
these months he still does not trust me completely.

“I am not going anywhere,” I say. And for
now, at least, it is the truth.

Tonight is the first night of the full moon.
The Beast and I both dread it. Though I have not told him, my
father senses the danger. He does not worry only for me. As my
sisters get used to their new surroundings they grow bolder each
day.

Marguerite already took to ordering the
servants around. She works her lady’s maid like a slave and I pity
the poor girl for having been dealt that cruel hand. I know
Jacqueline will never tell me, but I suspect Marguerite has struck
her a time or two.

Amalia is the curious one. She already found
one of the ruined portraits of the Beast and ran screaming from the
castle. She was not frightened, merely starved for attention. I
worry that she will wander where she ought not. The Beast will not
take kindly to such a trespass.

And tonight, of all nights, Marguerite
requested a family feast. Naturally she expects our host to join
us. I was never so ashamed of my own sister as I was yesterday,
when in a lofty tone she told Jacques that his master’s presence
was welcome at his own dinner table, where his own food would be
served.

Now I look at my own reflection, and a lovely
woman draped in a beautiful gown looks back at me worriedly
wringing her hands. I know this night will end in some sort of
disaster. Marguerite is not kind to those who spurn her.

Jacques enters after a polite knock. “My
lady, your family awaits you in the grand dining room.”

“Tell me truthfully, Jacques, do you regret
letting them in the front door?”

“My lady, I am merely grateful that I let you
in,” he says with a perfect bow.

Despite my worry, I smile. “Thank you,
Jacques. For every kindness you have shown me and my family.”

A few moments more of fussing and I am ready
as I shall ever be to face Marguerite’s wrath. The sun has gone
down. At this very moment, the man she is so eager to meet is
chained to the floor of his empty chamber. He will know of our
presence and I’ve no doubt he will be maddened. And tomorrow night
I shall have to go face him.

I take a bracing breath and step out of the
safety of my room into the hallway.

No!

The shock of what I see stops me in my
tracks.

He’s here!

Not chained in his chamber. Certainly not
raging impotently at another intrusion into his home. The monster
of a man the gentle Beast turns into is coming down the hallway,
dressed for a party and adjusting his cravat!

I feel my heart racing in my throat and
cannot take a breath. My face feels cold, leeched of all blood at
the sight of him. How can this be? How could he have possibly
broken free?

He sees me and a malicious grin spreads
across his handsome, cold face. I back away as he advances, but not
fast enough. He reaches me before I can escape and catches my arm
in a painful grip. “Hello, little bird,” he says at my ear.

“W-what are you doing here?” Despite my best
efforts, my voice quivers. I cannot be strong when fear courses
through me like Death’s whisper.

“Isn’t it obvious? I have been invited to
dinner, and that is precisely where I intend to be tonight.” He
tugs on my arm to make me turn. It hurts enough that I am forced to
obey. “Come, let me look at what I must wear on my arm.”

I hold still while his gaze moves over me in
a disgusting appraisal.

“I suppose you’ll have to do,” he says.
Judgment passed. “Now come, we don’t want to keep our guests
waiting, do we?”

I gasp. “No!” He is already pulling me toward
the staircase. I dig in my heels to slow him down. “Don’t, please!
Stop!”

“You will address me as ‘My lord.’ I suppose
you’ll have to use my name if we’re to pretend we know each other.”
His tone implies a very intimate sort of knowledge. I have no time
to be offended. “Call me ‘My Lord Bastien,’ then.”

“Please—”

He stops and whirls about so quickly I slam
into him. His chest is hard and unyielding as rock and I know the
heart that beats within is cold as ice when he looks into my wide
eyes and says, “Please, what?”

I know he is not asking what I want from him.
I swallow my pride for the sake of my family and answer, “Please,
my Lord Bastien.”

“Mmm, I like the sound of that.”

“What,” I say before I can stop myself, “the
sound of your own name?”

“The sound of you begging.”

“You cannot go down there.” No matter what my
condition, if he enters the same room as my father and sisters,
there will be a fight. I cannot allow that.

He laughs at me. “And what’s to stop me?
You?” The laughter dies away. “You…” With another appraising look
he releases my arm and circles me. “You wish me to abstain from the
company of your dear father and delightful sisters?”

“Yes,” I say, enduring his perusal.

“And what would you give me in return?”

“What do you want?”

“Ah-ah.”

My hands curl into fists at my sides. “What
do you want, my Lord Bastien?”

“Better.” He stops behind me and there is
silence. If it were not for his breath on my shoulder, I would
think he left. “You will come to my chambers tomorrow night.”

“Why?”

“Do you wish your family to dine in peace
tonight?”

“Yes,” I hiss.

“Then you’ll do as I say. Your brooding
monster of a hero cannot save you this time, little bird. I am free
and he’ll not restrain me again.
I
am your master now, and
you will do what I say when I say. Is that clear?”

I hesitate just long enough.

“Or perhaps we should join the others. It’s
quite unseemly to be so dreadfully late to diner.”

Helpless tears fill my eyes. “I will do as
you say… my Lord Bastien.”

“Now there’s a good pet. Run along now, your
guests are waiting.”

“What will you do?”

He does not answer. When I turn around, he is
gone.

There are no guards in front of the door. But
the hallway is, for the first time, lit with a dozen wall sconces.
It is bright enough to be day, though it is close to midnight. I
lick my lips nervously. Just as on that night months ago, I feel
like a sacrifice willingly walking to her demise. My palms are
moist and my limbs tremble. I know there will be no chains to hold
him back tonight. A spurned master, he will want to take his
revenge.

He warned me this day would come. But I’ve
grown so complacent, so trusting that my Beast would never harm me
that I chose not to believe him. More fool I.

I raise my hand to knock but the door opens
before I can rap even once. “You kept me waiting,” he drawls as his
gaze sweeps over me in a thorough perusal.

“I—”

“I don’t care.” He grasps my wrist and pulls
me inside, closing the door behind me. But he remains in place,
trapping me between him and the portal at my back. I shrink back
from the terrible light in his eyes. He is not wearing the Beast’s
tattered remains of clothing, nor is he clad in a crisp suit like
last night. Tonight he is shirtless, and infinitely more
intimidating because of it. He has no shame; his intent is to
humiliate me.

“What do you want from me?”

He sneers. “What do you think I want?”

I lick my dry lips. His gaze snares on them.
“I’m sure I have no idea.”

He shoves away and turns his back on me. The
candlelight makes his muscles stand out even more. Such strength
and power. So much energy and life. So much rage and cruelty
imprisoned in that body. “You will stay the whole night,” he
says.

“But—”

“Too late to turn back now, my pretty. You
and I have a deal.”

“And how can I be sure you will honor your
part of it?”

He looks back at me, his blue eyes mocking.
“I suppose you will have to take it on faith. And what have I told
you about using my name?”

“I’ll make a bargain with you.”

In the blink of an eye he is upon me. His
hands dig into my arms as he hauls me deeper into his lair and
shoves me against the wall. “You are in no position to bargain,” he
snarls.

“I disagree,” I say. I cannot tell where the
courage to do so comes from but the words do not stop until I have
said my peace. “You need me. I have something you want. I am the
only one who can set you free.”

He bares his teeth, livid and quivering. His
fingers dig in more and I stifle a wince.

“So you and I
will
bargain. Or I walk
out of here forever and leave you to enjoy the rest of eternity.
Three nights at a time.”

“I will skin you alive, you little
bitch.”

“What you will do is release me. Now.”

To my utter shock, he does. With a final
shove that bruises my back, he lets go of me and steps back,
glaring as though he would like nothing better than to follow
through on his threat. And I realize that I am not completely
powerless in this exchange. I’ve allowed my fear to rule me, blind
me to everything I should have been paying attention to.

This man before me is a clever, calculating
monster. But he is also crazed by his confinement and so desperate
to escape it any way he can that, like me, he is blinded to what is
right in front of him.

I draw a cautious breath and square my
shoulders. I am finished with him tonight. I turn toward the
door.

“Not so fast,” he says. Then he is at my
back, leaning in to me. He does not touch me, but his mouth is
right at my ear when he speaks again, and his hot breath tickles.
“You might be a necessary bane… but your family is not.” He moves
to speak in my other ear. “So our bargain still holds, mistress.
You will do as I say tonight.
Everything
I say. Or I pay
them a long overdue visit.”

My heart sinks. The proud set of my shoulders
slumps a little and my head bows in defeat. “What do you intend for
me to do… my Lord Bastien?”

His arm comes around me and there is a book
in his hand. “I intend for you to read,” he says mockingly.

I take the book from him and he retreats. The
light is not bright enough in here. I will have to enter his bed
chamber to see well enough to read. When I face it, he is already
lounging insolently on the grand bed someone has brought in. He
reminds me of a spoiled sheikh in a long ago story. One so sure of
himself and his claim to rule that he does not care for anything or
anyone.

He watches me come into the room, a satisfied
gleam in his eyes. “Over there,” he says, indicating a chaise near
the brightest light. It is the same one I used a month ago to read
to him, when he would hear none of it. Now he demands the written
words. And the chaise is not as I remember it. It is draped with
silks and there are pillows placed on it.

I sit. The title of the book is not familiar
to me. I open it to the first page and begin reading. “
Chapter
One. The first woman I have ever lain with had
…”

“Go on,” he says and I can hear the laughter
in his voice. I dare not look up. My eyes skim ahead on the page
and my cheeks flush. “She had… what?”