by E J Kitchens
“The suit stays on.” Beast crossed his arms as Gaspard removed his jacket. “I wouldn’t put you at a disadvantage by taking it off.”
“Beast,” Belinda hissed, grabbing ahold of his furry but very muscular bicep. “What are you thinking? You can’t do this. You know better!”
He cocked his head to look at her, his expression one of complete confidence. Her heart did that strange flip-flop. Blast blue-eyed men and beasts!
With a growl of her own, Belinda lunged forward, seized Gaspard’s pistol, tossed it into the bushes, shoved Gaspard after it, then leapt onto Marigold and galloped away.
They wanted to fight over her? Fine. But they’d have to catch her first.
It didn’t take Beast long. He caught up with them as Marigold leapt over a fallen limb. He landed on all fours beside them, keeping pace. It didn’t seem to bother Marigold that her master was racing her, which made Belinda wonder if Beast had raced his horses before.
So much for her impression of an indolent Beast. He’d apparently managed to fool even his enchantress.
“I’m not in that much of a hurry to get home,” Beast huffed, “and it is a … huff … lovely afternoon. … huff … Do you think you … huff … could slow your pace?”
Gaspard was nowhere in sight, so Belinda reined in Marigold. Beast helped her dismount, then led them to a hidden glade on the castle side of the stream and settled Belinda on a moss-cushioned rock. He let Marigold free to graze, then stretched out on the ground beside Belinda. They sat there quietly, Belinda listening to the birds and breathing in all the earthy scents, simply delighting in nature, Beast doing the same, though his gaze strayed to Belinda more than to the birds flittering about.
As the sun began to set, Beast offered Belinda his paw and motioned for home. As they left the glade, Belinda leading Marigold by the reins, Beast thumbed back toward the village, breaking Belinda’s sense of peace. “He’s the reason you followed me home that day, isn’t he?”
She lowered her gaze to the dust-covered hem of her apricot gown. “Yes.” She added in a murmur, “Arrogant jackanapes. Thinking he can order everyone about. Home, Belinda. Marry me, Belinda.” She huffed. Beast asking her in concealed politeness was bad enough, but Gaspard’s unrelenting insistence and barely concealed threats were too much.
Beast chuckled. Piqued, Belinda spun around to poke him in the chest. “You think that’s funny?”
He shrugged as he caught her hand. “I can’t fault his sense in them where you’re concerned. I could think of much less reasonable things to insist on.”
“He’s not above doing more than insist.” The comment escaped as a twinge of unease shimmied up her spine.
“What?” Beast said sharply, his expression hardening in a dangerous way. His hand tightened around hers, large and furry and clawed, yet somehow safe.
And that made her heart ache.
But Belinda Lambton wasn’t the type to suffer from things like heartaches. Those were for other women, not for her.
“He might try anyway,” she said, forcing spirit into her voice as she freed her hand. She poked Beast on his velvet-coated chest. “And don’t think you can order me around. I pack a gun, and I’m not above rapping you upside the head with it if you get bossy.”
“You can’t reach my head.”
“When you’re cowering on the ground trying to avoid my wild shots, I can.”
He arched a furry eyebrow, then patted her on the head and strode past her. “I’m returning to the castle, Miss Lambton. If you don’t wish to get left out with the wolves and the Gaspards, then you’d better step lively.”
Half a dozen feet away, he looked back. Belinda’s glare had melted into a grin. She flattened it out and tugged Marigold’s reins, starting her forward. She took Beast’s proffered arm as she reached him. He shortened his strides and she lengthened hers to match, and they walked on together.
Chapter 12
Lyndon wasted no time in giving Belinda both a hug and a scolding. Belinda accepted both, the former as her pleasure and the latter as her due, then excused herself and returned to her room. There was someone she wanted to talk to.
“Lady Violetta.” She paced in front of her vanity and repeated the call. “Lady Violetta.”
Stealing a glance in the vanity mirror, she picked up the silver hairbrush to give her hands something to do and tweaked her clean gown—one of her finest. Somehow, she thought it might make the enchantress more amenable if her delicate sense of fashion weren’t violated by Belinda’s appearance. “Lady Violetta,” she called again. “I need you.”
She jumped but easily stifled her scream when a burst of vibrant hues of blue and sparkling white resolved behind her into the enchantress. The latter was dressed in a six-foot-round dress that made her look like the goddess-like centerpiece of an azure fountain.
Belinda blinked, momentarily dazzled.
“Yes, dear?” Lady Violetta nodded graciously as she took in Belinda’s gown. Her self-satisfied expression indicated she was still basking in Belinda’s evident awe. Which was probably well for Belinda.
Belinda crossed her arms and leveled the enchantress with her most dissatisfied glare. “Will you remove the daily proposal requirement for Beast?”
Dragging her gaze from Belinda’s slippers, Lady Violetta cocked an eyebrow. “Why should I?”
Belinda narrowed her eyes. “Lucrezia Marblue … and ropes embedded with glass and rock.”
Lady Violetta stumbled back, barely remembering to magically whip up a chair before attempting sitting on air. “Lucrezia,” she muttered.
“Well?” Belinda said a moment later, tapping her toes as a reminder that she was awaiting an answer. “Do I need to tell Beast’s parents about it?”
The play of colors, like a rainbow in mist, about Lady Violetta’s dress poofed out. “I see your point,” she said, nodding as she spoke, “but I’m afraid I can’t.” She shrugged, somehow making the gesture look elegant. “Once an addendum is added to a curse, I can’t just do away with it. You know no magical wedding will suddenly take place if someone accepts him. Nothing will happen, I think …”
“Only that Beast will feel honor-bound to marry the one who accepts him. I won’t ask him to give up his honor or to marry someone like that woman. You must do something.”
“I can’t. I’m bound by the curse’s rules too.”
Belinda stifled a curse of a different kind. “Then can you change the rotation of the villages?”
She shrugged again. “I could try?”
“Then try.”
Lady Violetta nodded, her eyes on her lap, her gaze constantly shifting as if watching something in her thoughts. Her violet eyes snapped back up to Belinda, startling her. “You wouldn’t know when your village returns. Or do you wish me to keep it at its original rotation, six weeks after you arrived?”
“Keep it the same.”
“Are you sure? You seem hesitant.”
“Keep it. But change it by a day so she won’t show up. And I need a copy of the new circuit.”
“You’re very demanding today.”
“I’m trying to do what you asked me to.” Or at least keep Beast safe until he gave up his curse, if ever.
Lady Violetta settled into her chair and rested her hands in her lap. Belinda didn’t really care to have the enchantress studying her, but she refused to look away.
“How are you and Beast getting along?” Lady Violetta asked at length.
Belinda mimicked Lady Violetta’s elegant shrug, her chest tightening. “Well enough.”
“Your cheeks are pink.” She cocked her head to study her. “You like him.”
“He saved my life,” Belinda snapped. “Of course I like him. In a way.”
“He saved your life?” Lady Violetta started. “Perhaps I should reconsider that dress, after all.”
“Oh no, you don’t. I—I wouldn’t be fit to marry him.”
“You would if you were wearing one of my dresses.”
<
br /> “Do they enchant people to approve of you?” Belinda said with distaste. “Turn you into a proper lady?”
“Don’t look at me that way, young lady. I am not one of those fairy godmothers.”
Belinda tightened her grip on the hairbrush. Or was she?
“But,” Lady Violetta added after a significant pause, “they might not be as vehement in their objections as they might otherwise be, at least until after the wedding, at which point it will be too late and they must learn to deal with it.”
“I’d prefer our families to like one another. And be of similar social standing.”
Lady Violetta shrugged again. She looked down at her nails, smoothing the painted tip of one with her fingernail.
“Did you mean earlier,” Belinda said carefully, stepping closer, “that there are other fairy godmothers who might stoop to giving their favorites the power to control another?”
“Yes. Though it’s not allowed officially.”
She took another step. “Are you familiar with a wealthy man of military bearing called Robert, who’s associated with this beautiful-to-look-at, mean-as-a-snake Lucrezia?”
Lady Violetta’s eyes flared wide in stunning violet, like the violet of a sunset cloud. It was tinged with the pink of her eye shadow. “Why do you ask?”
“I take that as a yes. I suspect Lucrezia has some kind of enchanted control over him. He seems very nice, and I don’t like her messing with him. And I don’t want her to use him against Beast.”
Lady Violetta became very still.
Belinda stalked forward. “You didn’t grant her any favors, did you?”
The floor between Belinda and Lady Violetta expanded.
“Now, dear,” Lady Violetta said warily, holding her hand up, palm out, though Belinda quickly realized she’d never cross that stretched stretch of floor. “We’re required to do pro-bono work as fairy godmothers to stay licensed in the Guild of Practicing Enchanters. And if I did act a little hastily in choosing a recipient for a good deed the night before the deadline—the girl was crying so pathetically and showed such excellent fashion sense and I didn’t have time to thoroughly research her—you can hardly blame me. I had to grant a wish by midnight. It wasn’t until later that it occurred to me to be suspicious that she had a spell picked out for me. She said her steward was mismanaging her estate and she was powerless to stop him on her own. With a control spell, she could manage what was her own. Fairy godmothers aren’t normally expected, you know.”
“Fortunately, she got you,” Belinda said sourly, “because the spell was botched and put Robert under her influence instead of the one she surely intended it for—Beast.”
Lady Violetta winced. “After this case, I shall retire and devote myself to fashion,” she murmured. “Well,” she said, rising, “I’ll see about the new kingdom tour plan. Do keep doing whatever you’re doing. I think it’s having an effect, though I’m not exactly sure what kind.”
“Wait. Will Lucrezia be able to get a copy of the new plan?”
“It’s possible. I must give it to Beast’s family, after all.”
“Which means Lucrezia will make Robert get it for her.”
“I could request he not have access to it.”
“I’m not so sure that would stop her.”
Lady Violetta sighed as if in agreement, then raised her wand, which was showing signs of a building glow. “Take care, my dear. I’ll see what I can do.” The wand brightened.
“Wait—just once more.” Belinda held out her hand. “Thank you for coming, Lady Violetta.” She smiled meekly. “And for being willing to help.”
Lady Violetta’s eyes widened, but then she smiled in return, a simple, genuine smile. “I think,” she said, “that when he asks the question and is answered affects everything.” She gave Belinda a look meant to tell her something, then disappeared.
Belinda slumped into a chair. A new route would only help for so long. What else could Beast do? And how could she alert him to the new plan without revealing how much she knew? Her stomach knotted at the thought of him knowing she knew Lady Violetta and thus about the proposals. He likely suspected already, but the longer they could pretend she didn’t understand him, the better. As long as it was pretend, she didn’t have to give an answer. Not a real one, anyway. A tacit rejection through silence wouldn’t cause either pain.
“Beast,” Belinda addressed him halfway through the main course and a discourse on favorite composers, “you need a chaperone for your daily ramblings. I don’t think your parents would approve of the way you harass the women you meet while out and about. If I’m with you, I’m sure I won’t dream.”
A leg of lamb halfway to his mouth, Beast froze, then blinked. “No.” The leg of lamb resumed its path.
“Beast,” Belinda said halfway through dessert and a conversation on the best cheese base for fondue, “do you have any relatives among the werewolves? Because someone might mistake you for one and impale you with something deadly sharp and silver unless you have someone with you to vouch for your good character.”
“No.”
“Beast,” Belinda began halfway to the library and halfway through a discussion of the superiority of Shakespearean tragedies or comedies, “do you—”
“No.”
“You know where this is going, don’t you?”
“Yes, and the answer is no.”
With her sunniest grin, which wasn’t difficult to conjure, she turned her face to Beast’s. “At least I got you to give one affirmative.”
Beast’s furry face shifted, and he limped, a slight list to the right. Belinda, her arm through his, compensated.
“Are your ankles healing?”
“Yes, the limp was … something else, I think.” His face shifted again, to a thoughtful, almost frowning line of fur. He didn’t resume his support in favor of tragedies. “I meant what I said about her,” he said as they reached the library door.
Belinda’s jaw ticked, but she forced a smile. “How about a deal? If she doesn’t show tomorrow, then I can go with you? I’d rather walk with you than be forced into sudden slumber every time you go out. It’s most disconcerting. Not to mention rude to whoever I’m talking with.”
“You talk to so many people here,” Beast said drily. “And the answer is still no. She undoubtedly will show tomorrow, so I don’t understand why you’d even suggest—” Beast stopped and spun Belinda to face him, his eyes bright and all hers. “Belinda! What do you know?”
Belinda. How many times had he slipped and called her that today?
It might have been the two furry paws clasping her shoulders like a heavy stole, but Belinda felt warm to her toes. “Well, you know … this is an enchanted castle, and things happen and well …” She pulled a neatly rolled parchment tied with a rainbow-colored ribbon from her sleeve. “Here.”
Her heart did a painful twist as Beast released her shoulders and took the parchment. Honesty is always best. No relationship can thrive without it. Her father’s words brought a stab of regret. She wanted to be honest with Beast, but didn’t think Lady Violetta would approve. Any more than Belinda wanted to face Beast giving a blatant proposal. Or have him think she lied her way here, that the enchantress sent her.
“The schedule’s changed,” he said, dumbfounded, then his face broke into that ghastly grin. “It’s changed!” A spark of lighthearted happiness lit his eyes as he stepped forward, his arms out. He froze and backed away, still beaming, but not as brightly. He offered her his arm. “To the library, Miss Lambton? Our schedule hasn’t changed. Even the length of your stay is practically the same.”
She took his arm and let him lead her with a tug of regret. She was almost positive that, had he been a man, he would have picked her up and spun her around in a dancing kind of joy, but the beast kept him from it. She was also almost positive that the recognition of that need for restraint didn’t do more than faintly dim his joy.
But even as an uncursed man, it’d be better if he di
dn’t, and he knew it as surely as she.
“You know this is likely only a temporary reprieve, don’t you?” she said, fighting a ridiculous sadness trying to creep into her voice.
“Yes, but I’m grateful for even that. I will change my routine, go at different times of the day than previously. I had grown too predictable, and I—”
“And you enjoyed the challenge of the escape, playing the wily fox.”
“Yes,” Beast said, “how well you know me, Belinda!” He added quietly as he settled her into her wingback chair, “But the game is too serious now.”
Belinda hesitated and studied the fire, focusing on each dart and retreat of the flames. “Will you not give it up?” she asked quietly.
He was silent a moment. “No,” he answered softly. Belinda felt he’d looked many places during that long moment, including her. “We are back,” he added with false cheerfulness, “to our earlier conversation, it seems, a series of no’s. Come, let us read. I believe you’ll approve of what I’ve selected.”
Though the familiar pressure of gray settled on her chest, Belinda eyed the title, then flicked her hand dismissively as she raised her chin. “Your copy of Pride and Prejudice is not worn enough to suit me, sir.”
“Ah! You desire to read for Lady Catherine?” He bowed low and said with affected solemnity, “May I compliment your taste in literature, architecture, music, and everything else, your ladyship?”
“And tell, with utmost gravity, the mother of any single young lady of the charm and beauty of her daughters?”
He bowed again. “Mr. Collins would tell it so much better than I.”
Her laughter as she accepted the volume rang out surprisingly full, though it came from a chest that felt empty. Beast must have thought it full though, for he gave her one of those ghastly, ivory grins.
“Very well then,” she said, her heart twisting at a sudden image of a grin on an unscarred, Robert-like face. “I accept your request. What scenes are we to read?” By which question, she meant, “Which proposal?”
It was to be Mr. Collins’s. Her heart beat easier. That would be a proposal she could enjoy rejecting.