Beauty’s Beast(16)
Author: Amanda Ashley

I am so lonely. . . . I pray that my womb may soon shelter a child. At least then I will have someone to love, someone to love me.

Chapter Seven

He stalked the night, as much a part of the darkness as the light of the moon and the glittering stars. The ground was damp beneath his feet as he tracked her across the moor. His nostrils flared, filling with the scent of her warm flesh. The smell of her fear trailed behind her, arousing his ever-growing lust for blood. He could hear the rapid beating of her heart as she realized she was being followed and began to run.

But she couldn’t outrun him, could never outrun the beast. He threw back his head and howled, the long, ululating cry filled with the certainty of victory.

Dropping to all fours, he loped after her. Saliva dripped from his jaws. And then he saw her, just ahead. Excitement flowed through him. The thrill of the hunt, the anticipation of the kill, made the blood roar in his ears.

She glanced over her shoulder, her face ghostly white in the moonlight, her eyes wide with fright. She tripped over a vine, a shrill scream of terror rising in her throat as she tumbled to the ground. And then he was on her, his teeth ripping through the thick velvet cloak, sinking into the soft skin beneath. The air filled with the sharp sting of her fear even as his mouth filled with the warm coppery taste of her blood. . ..

“No!” He howled the word, screamed it over and over again. Howled it in anguished denial as his razor-sharp teeth tore into her soft tender flesh. . ..

“Erik! My lord, wake up! Erik!”

Trevayne came awake with a start. Drenched in icy sweat, his heart pounding frantically, he glanced around the room. Had it only been a dream, then? But it had seemed so real.

“Erik!” He heard her fists pounding on the door, demanding entrance to his room. “Erik, let me in!”

He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, then plucked the mask from the table beside his bed and slipped it over his head.

“Erik?”

“I’m coming.” He took a deep, calming breath before he unlocked the door.

“Are you all right?” She lifted the lamp higher, her gaze sweeping over him.

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice rough.

“Are you?”

“Merely a nightmare.” He tried to smile and failed. “You’ve had them yourself.”

“Yes. Well, then . . .” Her eyelids fluttered down, but not before he saw the sting of his rejection reflected in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Kristine, I didn’t mean to be so curt. I . . . I appreciate your concern.”

“Would you like me to stay with you for a while?”

He glanced at his deformed hand, hidden behind the door, at his foot, hidden in the shadows. He should send her away, but he could not. The thought of being alone was beyond bearing. “Give me a moment.”

He closed the door, quickly removed the long shirt he slept in and pulled on a shirt and a pair of breeches. He slid his hand into his glove, stepped into a pair of soft leather boots. Taking a deep, calming breath, he opened the door and beckoned her inside.

“Can I get you anything, my lord?” She placed the lamp on the table beside his bed. “A glass of wine? Some warm milk, perhaps?”

Trevayne shook his head.

“Is there nothing I can do for you, my lord husband?”

“Why would you want to?” He sat on the edge of the bed and regarded her through narrowed eyes.

Kristine stared at him. All her life she had wanted someone to love, someone to care for. Her father had loved her, in his own way, and she had loved him, but he had ever been busy, too busy to shower a shy daughter with the affection she craved. As frightened as she had been when she learned that the lord of Hawksbridge Castle was to be her husband, she had hoped that he would come to love her, to need her, as no one else ever had. “I’m your wife.”

“Why do you stay here, Kristine? Why don’t you hate me? Why haven’t you run away?”

Her gaze slid away from his. “I have nowhere else to go, my lord, but if you wish me to leave, I shall do so.”

“You didn’t answer my other question.”

“I cannot find it in my heart to hate you, my lord.” Slowly, she lifted her gaze to meet his. “You saved me from a cruel death, and for that I shall ever be grateful.”

“And that’s why you stay, why you let me into your bed? Because you are grateful?”

He saw the blood rush to her cheeks and wished he could call back the words. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “Forgive me.”

She refused to meet his eyes. “It’s obvious you have no need of me, my lord,” she said stiffly. “I’m sorry if I’ve . . .” Her voice broke and he knew she was on the verge of tears. “I’m sorry for intruding.”

With a sob, she turned blindly toward the door, wanting only to get away from him. How could she have been so wrong? He didn’t need her the way a man needed his wife. And he never would.

“Kristine, wait.”

She hesitated, her hand on the latch, her whole body quivering with the effort to hold back her tears.

“Kristine, what do you want of me?”

“I want to be your wife.”

Trevayne stared at her back, noting the tremors that shook her, the slender shape barely visible beneath her gown. “I don’t understand.”

“I want to share your life. I cannot abide living the way I do. I feel like a prisoner. Oh, the castle is lovely, and the servants are kind, but I have no one to talk to, nothing to occupy my time. I’m so lonely.”

She had mentioned that before, he mused, but he had not really listened. “Go on.”

“I want you to take your meals with me. I want to go riding with you when you tour the estate. I want to . . .” She paused, and he saw the telltale flush climb up the back of her neck. “I want to sleep beside you.”

She wanted the impossible, he thought bleakly. She wanted a normal life, but he could not give her that. He closed his eyes, remembering his vow to get her with child, then leave the castle, to end his life when she had borne him an heir. Selfish lout that he was, he had never taken her feelings into account. What would it hurt, to spend a little time with her, to keep her company if that was what she wanted? He refused to acknowledge he wanted it, too, refused to admit that his solitary existence was slowly choking him to death. . .. Ah, death, it loomed before him, shining, beckoning, the only hope he had to end the curse that was slowly robbing him of his humanity.