Beauty’s Beast(66)
Author: Amanda Ashley

He released her hand, his tongue stroking lightly over the marks his teeth had left in her tender flesh. Forgive me, beloved, forgive me.

And then, with a growl, he shook his head again, needing to make her understand, desperate for her to know that there was no way to break the spell, that anything Charmion promised would be a lie. Only Dominique had the power to revoke the hideous curse.

He tried desperately to form the words, howled with frustration when he could not.

Caddaric helped Kristine to her feet and drew her away from the bars. “Come,” he said. “I think our presence is upsetting him.”

“I’ll come to see you later,” Kristine said. Blinded by her tears, she let the wizard lead her away.

“What solution have you found?” Kristine asked.

“I do not trust Charmion,” Caddaric replied. He sat on a low sofa beside Edith, holding her hand. “We cannot allow you to go to her with the child. In her own realm, her power is far too strong. She could take the babe and destroy Erik, and there would be nothing you could do to stop her. Nor can we allow her to come here, to Hawksbridge.”

Edith looked up at her husband. “Caddaric, what are you trying to say?”

“We need to find neutral ground, someplace where her dark magic will have no power.”

“Where might that be?” Edith asked.

“You are certain you wish to do this, Kristine? Certain you want to exchange your child for Erik’s life?”

“Yes.”

“Very well. Her evil magic is of little effect within the sanctuary of holy ground. We will meet at the chapel near Hawksbridge Cross. The priest there will be entrusted to hold the child and instructed to give the babe to Charmion only when Erik has been returned to his human form.”

“But if her magic is of no effect in the chapel, how will she revoke the spell?”

“Revoking an evil spell is not considered evil magic. There is a room in the cellar of the church. We will put Erik there. Once Erik is human again, the priest will give the babe to Charmion. When she is gone, we will free Erik.”

“How will we keep Erik from going after her?”

“That, my dear, will be up to you. However, if I know Charmion, she will not return to Cimmerian Crag.”

“Why not? It’s her home.”

“Only one of many. I think she will take the child to her holding in the south. It is a far more cheerful place, if any place where that witch dwells can be considered cheerful. Dominique was born there.” Caddaric drummed his fingers on the ebony table beside the sofa. “The other alternative is to put a spell on Erik that will make it impossible for him to find Cimmerian Crag, should she return.” The wizard grunted softly. “That may be the wisest thing to do, in any case.”

Kristine nodded. Would the wizard’s plan work, she wondered, and then thrust all doubt from her mind. It had to work.

It was their only hope.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

It started at midmorning, a dull ache low in her back, gradually escalating, until she knew it wasn’t just another pain, but the onset of labor.

She rang for Leyla and Lilia, who smiled and patted her hands, then went to gather fresh linens.

Edith and Caddaric came to sit with her, but it was Erik she wanted. Erik she needed. Wolf or man, he was her husband and she needed him beside her.

“I want Erik.” She clasped Edith’s hands in hers. “Please, I want Erik.”

Edith sent the two silent women from the room. “Bring him,” she told her husband. “If it will ease her mind to have him here, then bring him.”

Caddaric shook his head. “How can you suggest I bring him here? We know not how he will react to her cries, or to the scent of blood.”

But as the hours passed and Kristine’s labor grew more intense, when she writhed helplessly on the bed, crying Erik’s name, screaming Erik’s name, the wizard relented. A wave of his hand brought the wolf to Kristine’s bedside.

Erik rested his head on the edge of the mattress, eyes closed as Kristine’s hand moved restlessly over his head, clutched the fur at his neck as another contraction ripped through her. It grieved him to see her in pain, to hear her soft cries. He damned Charmion for the hideous curse she had placed on him, railed at the fate that had transformed him into a beast, making it impossible for him to hold his wife’s hand, to speak words of assurance and comfort to her, to promise her that all would be well.

Mute, he stared at her, at the perspiration that dampened her brow, at the lines of stress and pain around her eyes and mouth, and wished he could endure the pain in her place.

Fear engulfed him as he recalled the last time he had watched a woman labor to bring forth his child. Kristine’s whimpering tore at his heart, reminding him of Dominique’s last, heart-wrenching cries.

Lifting his head, he howled his frustration, felt Kristine’s hand stroke his head.

“It will be all right,” she said. “I will not leave you as she did.”

Whining low in his throat, he licked her hand, howled again as she cried out in pain.

After another half a dozen contractions that he was sure would rip Kristine in two, the child was born.

The scent of the blood, the afterbirth, filled his nostrils and he backed away from the bed, watching as Edith bathed the child, then wrapped it in a soft blanket and laid the babe in its mother’s arms.

He growled, drawing the wizard’s attention.

“’Tis a healthy girl,” the mage said.

A girl. As Charmion had predicted. Erik padded toward the bed and placed one paw on the edge of the mattress.

Kristine blinked back her tears as she lifted the child so Erik could see his daughter. “I shall call her Erika, after her father.”

Erika. She was tiny and perfect, with dark blue eyes and thick black hair. Rising on his haunches, his forelegs resting on the mattress, he breathed in the child’s scent, then gently licked one tiny dimpled hand.

“She is beautiful, isn’t she?” Kristine murmured.

“You should rest now, daughter,” Edith said.

Kristine nodded. “Erik . . .”

“I’ll look after him,” Caddaric said.

“Let him stay.”

“Kristine, he’ll be safer back in the dungeon.”

“No. He doesn’t like being locked up.”

“It’s for the best.”

“No.”

Caddaric took a deep breath, prepared to argue as long as necessary, when there was a knock at the door.