Beauty’s Beast(58)
Author: Amanda Ashley

“What?”

“Promise you will stay at Hawksbridge when we return.”

“I cannot.” How had she known he intended to leave as soon as he saw her safely back home?

“Yes, you can. At least until . . .” She choked back a sob. “Until the transformation is complete. Please, let us spend every moment we have left together.”

“Very well, Kristine, I shall stay.”

She flung her arms around him then, her face pressed against his shoulder as she fought her tears.

“Kristine, ah my Kristine,” he murmured. “Please don’t cry.”

The sound of his voice, the pain and regret he could not disguise, were her undoing. She wept bitter tears, crying for his pain and her heartache, for the separation that grew closer with each passing hour, cried until she fell asleep.

He held her close, watching as the stars slowly faded from the sky, winking out like tiny candles, felt the sting of tears in his own eyes as he accepted the fact that he would never hold her like this again.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Fidella roused them at dawn with the news that Caddaric had ascertained that the signs were favorable. It was time to leave.

“Please hurry,” she said. “He is most anxious to be away.”

“We will, thank you,” Kristine said. She smiled at the woman, then closed the door. Home. She was eager to go back to Hawksbridge, yet a little fearful of leaving the protection of the wizard’s castle.

“Our breakfast has arrived,” Erik remarked.

“What? Oh.” Kristine shook her head as she saw the silver tray on the table. It was most disconcerting, having meals that appeared out of nowhere, fires that started with no visible means, lights that dimmed at the wave of an unseen hand.

Crossing the floor, she sat down at the table, which had also appeared by magic. She stared up at Erik, who was standing near the window, looking out. “Will you not eat, my lord husband?”

He shook his head. He had no appetite for food this morning, could think of nothing but the journey home. His mother would be waiting there. Kristine would not be alone.

He had much to do when he returned to Hawksbridge, and only a short time in which to do it. He would have to summon his solicitor. There were arrangements to be made in regard to Kristine and his mother and the child to ensure their welfare, papers to be signed while his hand could still hold a pen.

A knock at the door drew his attention. “Enter,” he said.

Caddaric opened the door and stepped into the room. He wore a long black cloak over his black robe. “It is time.” He glanced at Kristine. “Are you ready, my dear?”

Kristine nodded.

“Good. Come, take my hand. You, too, Erik.”

“I thought we were leaving.”

“We are.” He smiled benignly. “Did you think we would go by horse or carriage?” He shook his head. “Mortal travel is far too slow and too tiresome for these old bones.”

“I can’t leave Misty,” Kristine said.

“No need to worry. Your mare and the stallion are already at Hawksbridge.” He extended his arms. “Come, we must away.”

“Have you done this before?” Kristine asked as she placed her hand in the wizard’s.

“Many times.”

The wizard grasped their hands in his. “Now, you two must also join hands.”

Kristine’s gaze met Erik’s as their fingers entwined. “I love you,” she whispered.

“And I you.”

“Ready?” Caddaric asked.

Kristine nodded, her hand tightening on Erik’s as she felt the wizard’s power flow into the room like the breath of a warm summer wind. There was a rushing sound, like the beating of mighty wings, an eerie sensation of being caught up in the middle of a storm. Breathless, she closed her eyes, her heart thundering in her breast, certain they were heading for destruction.

There was a whooshing sound, followed by a sudden calm, and when she opened her eyes again, they were in Erik’s chamber.

“Oh, my,” Kristine murmured. “Oh, my.”

“Kristine?” Erik placed his hands on her shoulders, his eyes worried as he studied her face. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. “I guess so.”

“That’s my girl. Why don’t you go tell my mother we’ve returned. And ask Mrs. Grainger to prepare a room for Caddaric.”

“Aren’t you coming down?”

“No.”

“Erik . . .”

“Not now, Kristine. Caddaric, is there anything you need?”

“No. Will there be a problem if I wander around the estate?”

“No. Please, make my home yours.”

With a nod, Caddaric took his leave.

“Erik, why won’t you come downstairs with me? I know your mother is anxious to see you.”

He shook his head. “I shall see her later. I have no wish to see anyone else. When you see Mrs. Grainger, tell her to send Chilton for my solicitor.”

“Your solicitor?”

“Please, Kristine, just do as I ask.”

It was rising between them again, that invisible wall that he hid behind when he wanted to distance himself from her.

“You remember your promise, Erik?”

“I remember.”

“Please don’t shut me out of your life. Please let us spend whatever time we have left together.”

“It is not my intention to shut you out, Kristine, but . . .” He took a deep breath. How could he explain it to her, this need to withdraw, to pull away from those he loved most in hopes that, when the time came, it would be easier to bid them good-bye? “Please, go and do as I asked.”

She stared up at him for a long moment; then, with a sigh, she rose on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Is there anything you need?”

“No.”

“Very well.” She smiled at him, trying to pretend that everything was all right, and then she hurried out of the room before he could see her tears.

Caddaric walked through the castle. Starting from the lowest dungeon, he made his way upward, until he reached the upper rooms. It was a vast place, Hawksbridge Castle, filled with ancient memories and old ghosts. Battles had been fought here. Children had been born within these walls, some had died. An unfaithful wife had been murdered. Prisoners had died in the cold bowels of the dungeon. A servant had plunged to his death from a tower room.

The spirits of those who had perished within these walls brushed over his skin, clinging like cobwebs. Life and death, fealty and treachery, love and hatred, joy and sorrow, courage and cowardice, all the threads of life were here, woven into a tapestry as old as time itself.