by E J Kitchens
“There’s not really a rabid raccoon out here somewhere, is there?” he asked some minutes later, breathing heavily from his mouth and looking around warily.
“Not that I know of.”
“But—”
She scrunched her nose against an odor she’d been trying to forget. “But there is an irritated skunk.”
“I thought as much.”
“Yes … that was an unfortunate accident.”
“But you made the most of it, and I’m grateful.”
Belinda’s cheeks pinked, then her eyes twinkled. “That lady was so busy trying not to gag she couldn’t stop me from shuffling her off to the carriage. You should’ve seen the looks her servants were giving us, all wrinkled noses and wide eyes.”
A deep chuckle rumbled in Beast’s chest, and it warmed Belinda to hear it.
Then it died.
“Stay away from her, Belinda.”
“She’s hardly the sort of woman I’d choose for company.”
“I meant … stay away from me on these … excursions. If she knew you were associated with me … well, she’s dangerous.”
“That frilled peacock?” Belinda huffed. “I’m dangerous too.”
Beast’s laughter ended in a wince as a pronounced limp to his right leg unsteadied them. “Not in the same way.”
Belinda stopped, insisting more than merely allowing Beast to lean on her to rest his ankle. She cocked her head to look up at him. “In what way is she dangerous?”
Beast eyed Belinda’s cheek with an icy anger.
“Other than her being a fierce slapper?” Belinda asked, wondering why it was so unsettling to have Beast angry on her behalf.
“It’s not something I can explain,” he said, “but believe me when I say she’s not to be crossed.” He settled his foot down, easing his weight off Belinda, and they started walking again. “And your daily doses won’t help against her.”
“You know I don’t take those, right?”
“I wasn’t quite sure, to be honest, but I’m glad you don’t.” He paused a moment. “You know I don’t fatten people up to eat them, right?”
“Well, I was a bit worried …”
He looked down at her nestled against him, one hand around his back and his arm over her shoulders. Amusement lit his eyes. “Yes, I see how frightened you are of me.” The spark of humor softened into one of curiosity and awe.
Belinda turned away, a warmth in her chest she didn’t know what to do with. “About that day when you were hunting, I’m … I’m sorry about what you had to do. But I’m grateful.”
He stiffened and watched the path ahead. “It was the right thing to do, so I did it. … And Belinda”—his tone pulled her eyes back to his—“it was worth it. Even without what you did today, it was worth it.”
His expression warmed her and made her uncomfortable at the same time. “Thank you,” she said quietly, looking away again quickly. Her gaze settled on the presumed safety of the path. Only Beast’s feet got in the way of her view as he stepped forward. Blood was oozing down them to leave a crimson trail.
“Your ankles are bleeding an awful lot. Did you try gnawing the rope off?”
“So you do take me for a wild creature? And here I thought you’d decided I was civilized.” Despite Beast’s rumbling laughter, Belinda led them to a sizable boulder at the stream’s edge.
“Let’s rest a moment before we tackle that stream bank,” she said. “It was a climb getting up that mountain.”
Beast made no protest when Belinda dropped him on the boulder, but did when she knelt at his feet.
“Miss Lambton, take your rest. My ankles can wait until the castle.” He scooted his feet away from her, but she merely followed them.
“A rope shouldn’t cause this much bleeding. I can bind each ankle with strips of my petticoat. No sense getting blood on the castle floors again.” She carefully lifted the fur trousers he wore over his cloth ones.
“Belinda, please—” He sighed, his shoulders slumping as she sucked in a breath.
“Your ankles are shredded!”
“Miss Lambton—”
Ignoring him, Belinda ran her fingers over the remaining rope. Her fingers stilled, and she gaped up at him, horror and anger in her eyes. “There are rocks and glass buried in the rope.”
“It’s an effective method of keeping one from slipping a rope.”
“It’s barbaric!”
“I told you she was dangerous,” he said softly.
“Yes, but—” Belinda opened and shut her mouth a few times, then bent angrily over his foot and began sawing at the rope with her knife.
“Leave it for now.”
Blinking furiously, she shook her head.
Beast reached down and put a gentle paw on her shoulder. “Leave it, please. The rope will keep dirt from the trail out of what wounds it covers.”
Her hands stilled, then Belinda nodded and clicked the knife shut. Beast pushed himself up and offered her his arm. When Belinda eyed him doubtfully, he bared his teeth in a grin. “I can hobble just fine under my own power—and I don’t want to give Lyndon any more gray hairs by hobbling in on your shoulder.”
Belinda took his arm, and they slowly crossed the streambed. As the gates came into view, Beast’s limp grew more pronounced, the furrows of his brow evident despite his shaggy fur.
“Belinda,” he said seriously. “I meant what I said about her. If you hadn’t been wearing the dress you are—had she not thought you a woman of fortune and protection—she would’ve horsewhipped you, not merely slapped you.”
Belinda set her jaw, despite the lingering sting. “I can take care of myself.”
“I thought so too once,” he said so softly Belinda didn’t hear him as Lyndon called to them from just inside the gates.
Chapter 10
The household was aghast as they entered, aghast at Belinda’s smell and Beast’s ankles. They were shuffled off to their rooms and “seen to.” It was only after three baths and much perfuming that Belinda was considered “seen to” and allowed her freedom.
The library was empty as Belinda made for her desk. She grabbed a sheet of stationery and sketched the coat of arms on Lucrezia’s carriage. She’d be more likely to match images without her nose itching than directly searching for the coat of arms in Dirke’s Peerage.
She’d like to get her hands on that Lucrezia woman. Belinda had thought Gaspard bad, but this woman had crossed the line. And Belinda was not going to let her Beast marry anyone like that.
Belinda collected Dirke’s Peerage and began her perusal. There were a lot of noble families in New Beaumont, she decided a half hour later, still searching.
The door opened and she spun around guiltily, and didn’t see anyone.
“Yes?” Belinda asked, searching for the telltale waver.
The rustle of a maid’s dress as she curtsied preceded a quiet voice. “I beg your pardon, miss, but the master requested your presence for lunch in the conservatory.”
“Me?” Belinda said, rising without realizing it. He’d never invited her to lunch before.
“Yes, miss,” the maid said, a hint of amusement in her voice that steadied Belinda.
Of course he’d invite her. She had saved him, after all.
“Well, I am hungry, so you may tell him I’ll join him presently.”
Belinda was halfway to the conservatory when she realized she’d been distracted from her pursuit of identities, only without her nose itching. When she arrived and saw Lyndon’s pursed lips and Beast’s set jaw, she began to suspect her invitation was something of a distraction as well. One against Lyndon trying to convince Beast to give up his curse?
Why wouldn’t Beast? What reason did he have to put up with the body of a beast and morning presentations and that lady?
That lady.
Belinda’s footsteps stuttered as Lyndon guided her to a chair across from Beast, whose bandaged ankles were propped on a footstool. A gray chill settled in her c
hest.
Observatories were usually intended to be employed at night. Why would anyone question her for wanting to see the stars from a great height in the most unusual observatory there was?
Still, Belinda softened her steps as she spiraled her way up the tower sometime after midnight. When she reached the landing, she paused and listened. Hearing nothing and seeing no light, she tiptoed to the door of the observatory and lifted its latch.
Moonlight magnified through glass chased away the darkness. Dust motes drifting in the air shone like stars as Belinda stepped into the glass room. Her breathing suddenly eased, something about the stillness of the semi-dark and peaceful moonlight releasing a tightness she hadn’t realized had constricted her heart. Forgetting about the ground far beneath her, she stared at the moon and its missing sliver, glorying in its light and the fine lines of its pockmarked face, before turning to the desk and its mirror.
Her chest tightened again as she set her candle beside the mirror and wrapped her fingers lightly around the mirror’s silver handle. Its face was merely a reflection of hers.
She almost hoped it would stay that way, that it wouldn’t answer her questions.
Belinda set her jaw and spoke, breaking the silence with a soft command. “Show me my father, please.” Her breath puffed out visibly into the fireless room.
The image of a long lump under a thin sheet appeared, topped with a familiar head covered in loose gray hair resting on a pillow. Soft snoring faded out and back in as Belinda loosened and tightened her grip on the mirror’s handle. Her fond smile was quickly strangled as her stomach tightened. The mirror answered familiar, possessive pronouns. She’d have to ask.
“Show me Beast’s fiancée.”
The mirror’s face went blank.
Belinda slumped in her seat, a relief she wasn’t willing to admit in her sigh. Well done, Detective Lambton, she told herself quickly, straightening. Beast wasn’t retaining his curse as protection against an unwanted marriage. One theory down. Now she only had to make up more to cross off.
“Show me Beast’s parents,” she hurried on, not caring to dwell on the lightness fluttering in her stomach, or the itch of her nose. An image of a violet appeared. “Yes, yes, I know. That’s forbidden knowledge,” she said, tapping her fingers on the desk.
“Show me Lucrezia, only child of the Duke of Marblue.” Belinda had been able to “thoughtlessly” match the image of the coat of arms against Dirke’s Peerage entries after lunch. Lucrezia was the daughter of the most powerful duke in the land, the king’s loyal right hand man. Belinda didn’t like what that meant about who Robert and Beast were.
A young woman appeared, asleep in a richly furnished room. It was her all right. It was a pity Belinda couldn’t reach through the mirror and brain her, or at least slip her a sleeping potion so she’d not chase Beast tomorrow. He deserved at least one day of peace.
Well, not exactly. He could have it, if he wanted it enough.
But it was still a pity. It was also a pity Belinda couldn’t use the mirror during the day without getting caught. She might catch Lucrezia plotting. Her lips settled into a mischievous tilt. Maybe Beast kept the curse to keep the mirror to be a spy.
“Show me Prince Rupert of New Beaumont.”
The prince slept soundly, covers thrown back, windows open to the cool night air. He wore plaid pajamas. A faint red glow came from a hidden corner of the room. She snorted and rubbed her itching nose. Plaid. And not even in the kingdom’s colors. She’d have to remember that should blackmail ever be needed, she said, distracting her thoughts.
The mirror at this time of night was less useful for spying than her dreams. She pulled her yellow shawl closer about her shoulders, letting the image of the sleeping prince fade away.
“Show me my father again, please.” Smiling sadly, Belinda watched her father’s chest rise and fall in a slow, peaceful rhythm. Moonlight gave a pale glow to the room as it flowed in through an open window. The prince might like it cold—which was understandable for him—but her father didn’t. Was he still someplace so warm as that? He ought to be well on his way back.
If she gained him the reward Lady Violetta promised, would he be able to stay at home with her? Would they move? Or if travel was needed, Belinda could travel with him, free of Gaspard and independent of Beast. Once Beast transformed, she’d not be able to stay with him again. Or even speak with him.
After a few minutes, weariness and a touch of gray began to wear on her, and Belinda returned to her room. She fished her satchel out of the closet where she’d tossed it and pulled out Beast’s discarded letter. Lyndon had gone to town that afternoon to hire a courier to send the disgraceful note-from-a-twitter-brained-fop. He was going to stay with them instead of returning to Beast’s parents.
Sighing, Belinda sank onto her bed and slapped the stolen letter against her palm. She knew more now than she had before, but she was no further along in her quest to sever the curse and time was running out … The time until the rose-metaphor-thing Lady Violetta mentioned happened, until her father returned, until Lucrezia caught Beast. The lady would stop at nothing to gain Beast’s proposal.
Belinda’s eyes narrowed as she touched a hand to her tender cheek. She’d stop at nothing to protect him.
And to earn the reward for her father, for she wasn’t that devoted to Beast.
Belinda was up and outside the castle gates even before Beast. Even before the sun.
Her breath fogged, a lighter tone of silver than the misty woods around her, as she puffed her way up the stream bank into the forest beyond. She had a moment’s panic as her breath disappeared into the darkness. What if the castle didn’t move until Beast stepped out the gate or beyond the stream? What if she were still at yesterday’s village?
Calm down. Spells are midnight things. The castle’s moved already.
Taking refuge behind a wide beech hugged by rhododendrons, she bounced up and down on her toes and rubbed her arms to stay warm and awake. She needed one, maybe two to three days at most, depending on the postal service, then Beast would be free of proposals and that lady. Until then … A pistol-shaped lump in her bag banged against her leg. Some good old-fashioned scare techniques might work. Maybe.
Crunch.
Belinda crouched. The sound of leaves crushed underfoot in a familiar tread grew louder, slowed, then picked up again in a slightly different pattern before fading. Had he been sniffing the air when he slowed? Well, if he had, his nose failed him.
Crowing silently that she had escaped the dreaming by being out of the castle, she rose and backed out of the rhododendrons.
The dark green leaves suddenly blurred, and her heavy limbs dragged her to the forest floor. Curses, curses, curses. The dreams always were delayed, weren’t they?
Beast slunk through the pre-dawn forest like an overgrown rabbit. Ripe for the picking by Huntress Lucrezia.
Something thumped. Like a body crashing onto something feeling closer to bedrock than a leafy mattress. Dropping to all fours, Beast spun around and raced to where Belinda lay sprawled out, half in the shrubbery.
“I thought I smelled something familiar.” A heavy sigh from Beast ruffled her hair. “Meddling females,” he groused as he carefully disentangled her from the rhododendron and picked her up. His limp as he carried her out of the shrubbery caused her head to jostle against his chest. Why was he limping so? He claimed his ankles had healed.
He propped her sitting up against the beech trunk. “Serves you right. And, yes, I know you can hear me!”
Belinda slid down in a heap to the scaly beech roots as Beast began to limp away, quickly bringing him back again. “Remind me to start locking you in your room at night.” Shaking his head, he straightened her out flat on her back, then took off his fur overcoat and stuffed it under her head.
“And don’t drool on my coat. You’ll mat the fur!” he called over his shoulder as he jogged off, his limp quickly disappearing into his normal easy, athletic gait.
Mat his fur indeed. Belinda’s dream self crossed her arms. If he wanted to cower where he used to walk with such pride and ease, what was it to her?
Let the lady catch him. He deserved it.
Leaves crunched underfoot, and Beast stilled, then slipped into the shadows of a cedar. Belinda’s heart thumped as she drew back and sought the source of the sound. But nothing claimed it.
No Huntress showed herself then, or at all that morning.
Taking a day off to plan another strike?
Sometime later, Beast returned to the castle, carrying Belinda in his arms.
Belinda woke in her chair in the library with a headache and a sense of lingering anxiety, and a bit of temper she couldn’t put off any easier than the bits of leaves crushed into her hair.
Chapter 11
Belinda glared at Beast throughout breakfast, but he only smiled smugly. Arrogant, overgrown teddy bear.
“I’m going for a ride,” she announced as the servants cleared the breakfast trays. “I’m taking my pistol, so there’s no need for anyone to accompany me.”
“There are no more bears on the estate, so go ahead. But do watch out for rabid raccoons.”
With a huff, Belinda raised her chin and left.
She needed a new hat, she decided a quarter-hour later. But she couldn’t very well ask for one that matched her gown when she was sneaking out, now could she?
Well, sneaking might be an exaggeration. They knew she was going out—she’d just dissembled about where.
She pulled the brown wool hat she’d worn to the castle nearly three weeks ago down to shade her face, then guided her horse through the castle gates. She couldn’t help a glance over her shoulder at the gates’ twisted beams as she trotted beyond their short noontime shadows. Would she be able to return without Beast at her side?
She shook off the thought. Lady Violetta would make sure she did. And if Beast had control of the barrier, then he … probably would too.