Beauty of the Beast (Fairy Tale Retellings Book 1)

by Rachel L. Demeter

The following morning dawned in a burst of sunshine. Winter was at last fading for the season, giving birth to spring. Adam stood on his balcony and admired his gardens. A gentle breeze ruffled his hair and shirtsleeves, sending with it the honeyed scent of his roses. For the first time in longer than he could recall, he felt free, liberated, even happy.

  His mind traveled back to evenings ago—to how Isabelle had chased away his shadows and stayed with him throughout the night. Something powerful stirred in his chest and sent his emotions spinning. He lifted a hand to his heart and massaged the tender ache. Day by day, moment by moment, Isabelle was easing her way inside and hounding away the shadows that had so long eclipsed his world.

  He used to suffer from the gaping hole inside of him with every sunrise. It was where his heart had once been, and now where the memory of his family lived on. For years, grief and self-resentment had filled the rest of that inner void. But now, with each passing moment, those feelings were fading—and Isabelle was claiming their place.

  As he studied the lush forest that lay beyond his thousand-acre property, a spectacular idea took shape. Smiling to himself, he shot inside his bedchamber and set off to prepare for the day.

  He found his beauty reading in the library an hour later. Seated beside a curved conservatory window, she was sprawled across the luxurious chaise. Stranger sat beside her, loyal to the core, snoring lazily within a patch of warm, shifting light. One of Isabelle’s legs hung off the seat and dangled in midair. Adam watched as the slipper threatened to fall off her delicate foot, which was swinging back and forth, as if dancing to a melody only she could perceive.

  Sunlight wove through her long and loose curls, infusing those lush strands with golden highlights. Leaning against the doorway and transfixed by the vision, Adam observed while varying emotions crossed her features. She gasped aloud and shook her head, totally immersed in the story—then eagerly flipped the page and read on.

  Adam couldn’t suppress his chuckle. The book nearly tumbled out of her hands as her face jerked toward the noise. Stranger rose from the floor and gave a talkative, protective bark, the cheeky bastard. When he realized his master stood in the doorway, he limped toward Adam, his thin tail slicing the air with erratic wags. He groaned with each step, favoring his right leg more than he ever had before. “Stand down,” Adam ordered. Stranger plopped onto his bottom and stared up at him expectantly.

  “Oh, Adam!” Isabelle exclaimed, pressing the book to her heaving breasts. “You gave me quite a start. How long have you been standing there?”

  “Only a couple of minutes,” Adam replied with a sly grin. He knelt to the floor, dropped the large satchel he’d been holding, and gently rubbed Stranger’s left leg.

  Isabelle surrendered to a smile that lit up both her face and the entire library. Then she set her book on the chaise, stretched her slender arms, and lounged her body against the lush throne of pillows. A mountain of books towered beside the yellow, damask chaise; Adam couldn’t harness his grin.

  The encounter was perfectly ordinary—mundane, even. Yet he relished the simple pleasure of watching Isabelle relax and read, the ease of their small talk, how morning’s light wriggled through the lace curtains and set her tranquil expression aglow. They were modest pleasures—ones he’d believed he would never experience. Even more, she gazed upon his naked face without fear or revulsion. Instead, a soft emotion appeared in her stunning gaze, and she seemed to rather enjoy his company.

  Swallowing the knot in his throat, Adam returned her smile as a distinct warmth spread through his limbs. He climbed back on his feet—to Stranger’s groaned dismay—and stepped toward her cozy nook. She straightened her posture and played with one of her loose curls. Her velvety brown eyes traveled over his body in an admiring perusal, visibly drinking him in from head to toe.

  How he wished her eyes were hands.

  Yawning and stretching like an elegant feline, she gestured to the satchel with a wave of her fair hands.

  “It’s such a perfect day,” he said, his voice a low whisper that forced her to lean forward to hear. “I thought we’d venture outside. Experience the world a bit. Maybe have some lunch.”

  Isabelle jumped to her feet without warning, her smile growing indefinitely. “Oh, really, Adam? I would love that!”

  Nodding, he bridged the space between them and held out his gloved hand. His heart gave an eager jolt as she grabbed hold, not showing the slightest trace of hesitation or revulsion. On the contrary, she appeared elated and flooded with anticipation and excitement. Adam’s fingers closed over her delicate hand. “Go and change, Isabelle. Meet me in the stable.” Then he tapped his thigh and called out to Stranger, “And you—come along, ol’ grump.”

  A half an hour later, Isabelle stood with her back firmly against the stable’s wooden panels. Adam set down the satchel as he saddled Spirit, who was quite restless from her confinement.

  He tensed while Isabelle drew near, his body perfectly in tune with her invigorating presence. She reached out and ran her fingertips over the mare’s silky head.

  Adam paused as he examined Isabelle, his heart in his throat. He stood beside her and placed his hand on top of the mare’s muzzle. His and Isabelle’s fingers nearly brushed against each other. Then Spirit dipped her stark-white nose, and Adam’s palm slid downward until his thumb and forefinger collided with Isabelle’s.

  She cleared her throat, ceased petting the creature, then stepped back with a small blush. Adam wrestled not to take offense to the gesture, though a lifetime of insecurities reared in his gut and eclipsed his thoughts.

  He recalled the prostitute’s disbelieving stare as she’d lit a branch of candles and studied his scarred face. Adam had immediately veered into the shadows like some wounded beast. Her mouth had fallen open in a silent scream while she’d scrambled for her cloak. Crossing herself, she’d cried out, “The devil take you! Leave me and go! No—don’t touch me! Keep away... Loathsome monster—”

  Adam snapped out of the memory and swallowed against the lump in his throat. Isabelle is different, he reassured himself, remembering how she’d comforted him in his bedchamber. Tightening the satchel and saddle around Spirit’s powerful girth, he whispered, “Fits her well, if I may say so.” Isabelle flashed him a warm smile. She ventured to the corner of the stall, where a wooden trough sat. She retrieved a handful of hay, and then offered some to Spirit, who gave a talkative nicker before devouring the treat.

  “I assume she’s not your horse,” Adam said in a cautious, low tone, as an image of the Dumont carriage blazed through his mind. “Nor the brougham.” Silence swelled the musky stable, pressing between them like a tangible force. “Do you know the Dumonts very well?”

  Isabelle’s smile melted away. A harsh darkness flitted across her hazel eyes, and her posture stiffened. Haphazardly she dropped the remaining hay onto the straw and dirt covered floor. Then she shook her head and exhaled a long-suffering sigh. “Too well. And hopefully, I shall never have to cross paths with him again.”

  Adam ached to ask a thousand questions, yet he knew it was neither the time nor place. This afternoon would be a day of beautiful memories, a day of light and adventure. He swooped behind Isabelle in a smooth movement and planted his hands on either side of her small body. She emitted an audible gasp, then glanced over her shoulder and met his gaze. He stood intimately close. Close enough to fully embrace Isabelle. Close enough to kiss her. The front of his body grazed her own from shoulder to bottom, and his staccato heartbeat thundered against her. Adam glanced down, observing how his large hands covered the entire span of her waist. His eyes closed against the surge of arousal.

  Then he urged her forward with his shaking hands, directing her inside Spirit’s dusty stall. The wooden door swung open and released a soft creak. “You ready, mademoiselle?”

  It was a loaded question.

  She hesitated. When she finally answered, her reply sounded quite breathless. “Absolutely.”

  His eyes held
on Isabelle... on the pale column of her throat, on the way her lush curls brushed against her rosy cheeks and tumbled down her slender back in spirals. His fingers slid away from her waist and coiled in those silken curls.

  Without another thought, he gently lifted her in midair and placed her onto Spirit’s back. Then he led them across the straw-covered floor by the leather reins. Adam took a moment to fill his lungs with fresh air, to concentrate on nature’s sweet scents and the gentle feel of the wind blowing through his hair and against his nude face.

  Adam swung onto Spirit’s back in a swift movement, positioning himself in front of Isabelle.

  “Hold on to me, and don’t let go.”

  Isabelle hesitated, wrapping her arms around his midsection. He felt his pulse at the base of his throat, in his wrists, even behind each eye. His heart thundering, he gave Spirit a gentle kick, and she trotted past the castle’s looming front gate and into the thicket of trees.

  Riding tandem with his beauty shoved his thoughts into a dangerously erotic territory. Warm, supple hips rocked against him, causing his groin to harden and wicked ideas to invade his mind. A gentle breeze swam through Isabelle’s waving curls, bringing with them the delectable scent of the fresh roses she’d used in her bathing water. Long, slender legs brushed against him and made his entire body ignite with desire. The whisper of her breaths tickled his nape and nearly pushed him over that edge...

  Adam wrestled his emotions and battled to focus on his surroundings. Brilliant shafts of light splintered through the trees, reaching for him and Isabelle like beckoning fingers. A light foliage covered the branches, which had been all but bare not long ago. The only sounds that breached the quiet were the crunch of fallen leaves beneath Spirit’s hooves and the alluring melody of Isabelle’s breathing. It continued to waft against his neck and send shivers racing through his granite-hard body.

  With a slight quaver in her voice, she asked, “Do you often venture out-of-doors?”

  “No. Hardly ever, in fact. But when I do... I go to a very special place.”

  Adam urged the mare into a gallop, and Isabelle rejoiced at the liberating sensation. She felt like she was flying. Soaring. Cool air struck her flushed cheeks, and the wind caused her curls to dance behind her like a banner. She held tight to Adam’s solid waist while Spirit’s undulating body moved under her. She gazed down, watching in breathless fascination as the frosty forest floor zoomed below the thundering hooves. Isabelle feared she’d fall and break her neck—yet, holding Adam’s strong body, she felt safe. Secure. Enthralled. Within this enchanted moment, he was her pillar of strength.

  Soon Adam tugged on Spirit’s reins, slowing her to a brisk canter. The sound of rushing water washed over Isabelle. Patches of sunlight dabbled the pathway in bright splotches as they rode through the forest at a leisurely stride. Eventually they arrived at a clearing; Isabelle felt the breaths empty from her lungs while Adam urged Spirit to a halt.

  This small corner of the world might have been stolen from a storybook. A glittering waterfall pooled into a small lake, and a prism of light danced across its restless surface.

  Adam slid off Spirit’s back, then pulled Isabelle down after him and removed the satchel. She stared at the sparkling waterfall, mesmerized, entranced, unable to bring a coherent word to mind. Slowly she turned to Adam and captured his soulful gaze. He reached out and grazed her cheeks with his fingertips, drawing a shudder from deep inside her belly.

  “It’s like from a dream.”

  Isabelle listened to the melodic sound of the thundering waterfall and allowed her eyes to drift shut.

  “For so long, I’ve lived as if I’d died. I’ve forgotten how it feels to be alive, to breathe fresh air and feel the sun on my face.” Isabelle’s eyes snapped open. She watched beneath hooded lids as the sunrays shimmered across his tranquil expression and set his dark hair aglow. An echoed peace flushed through her and summoned a feeling of true contentment. “I even avoided this spot,” Adam murmured, “I suppose as self-punishment.”

  Silence wrapped around them. But it wasn’t quiet. The hammering of their heartbeats and heated breaths filled the atmosphere. The faint melody of the waterfall. The tempo of their pulses. The sensual crackle in the air.

  Then he clasped her hand, which was trembling, and brought her to the foot of the lake. A smile sprung to Isabelle’s face as heat wafted from the water; indeed, it wasn’t a lake at all.

  “A hot spring! Oh, Adam! I’ve read about these.”

  She dropped to her knees without further thought as the heat circulated below. It swirled into her face and caressed her, causing wayward strands of hair to dampen and curl against her nape. Seduced by the promising warmth, she unsheathed both hands, set her kidskin gloves aside, and reached down.

  A moan slid from her throat. The water encircled her fingertips and summoned delicious waves through her body. It was much hotter than she’d imagined. The contrast of the crisp air and tepid liquid felt invigorating. Thrilling. Delicious. All the while, she felt Adam standing beside her, towering above her like some dark, solemn angel. Shaking her head, she laughed aloud at the dramatic comparison.

  I’ve indulged in one too many Gothic novels.

  “Incredible. At first glance, I would have never guessed it was a hot spring.”

  “Things aren’t always as they appear to be, I suppose.” The richness in his tone demanded her attention. She glanced up at him, her heart in her throat. A gust of wind whispered through his dark hair, sweeping the forelock from those mesmerizing eyes. His gaze held her own, and the smile faded from his mouth. In its place, an intense emotion surfaced—and she felt a resounding chill trickle down her spine. That stare was penetrative. Thrilling. Seductive.

  Things aren’t always as they appear to be.

  Truer words were never spoken.

  A mischievous glint sparkled in Isabelle’s eyes. She sprang up from the ground, quick as a lightning strike, and spun away from Adam. He admired her slender back and swanlike neck, how those thick chocolate curls swirled down her body and kissed the pert rise of her bottom. He clenched his gloved hands as he battled the urge to sweep forward, to clasp his arms around her waist and press a deep, sensuous kiss to her neck. He yearned to rotate her slender body, to drag his mouth down the elegant column of her neck, all the way to the lush rise of her breasts…

  He relished watching Isabelle in her element—out-of-doors, the sun shining on her face and weaving through her loose hair. Indeed. Her adventurous spirit unfurled like a rose opening to morning’s light.

  The sound of rustling fabric cut his thoughts in two—and Adam realized she was undoing the fastenings on her cloak and dress.

  “Why, shame on you! No peeking, monsieur.” A smile curled her mouth, and laughter warmed her hazel eyes.

  He couldn’t tear his gaze away. He hardened as she shrugged off the dress, allowing the fabric to drop in a muslin puddle around her feet. Then she stepped over the heap of material, bent down, and unlaced her high boots. The curls tumbled down to the ground like a velvet shawl. Sunlight limned her body, lending her a classic beauty that made his breath catch. She scooped the mass of curls into her hands and pushed them over one shoulder. Adam saw her pale nape flush a bright red, and he felt his wretched body stir to life. He yearned to press his mouth against the creamy patch of skin... to slide the dress down her body and worship every centimeter of her with his tongue and fingers...

  “You are mad, ma belle. Have you any idea how cold it is?”

  “Not inside that water.” She glanced up at him and arched a fine brow. “Don’t tell me you’ve never taken a dip in this spring?”

  “Never.” The single word lodged inside his throat. He ran a shaky hand through his hairline while his gaze roamed over the white fabric of her chemise. Sunrays flittered across the material and silhouetted the lush curves of her body. The outline of her slim back and bottom made his blood rush southward and burn hot. Her lush hair acted as a curtain, which half v
eiled her body from his sight. Adam clenched his fingers, overwhelmed with the need to sweep those curls aside. The dark strands pooled behind her body in a cascade of silk. He raked at his hairline some more, fidgeted with the damn signet ring, even counted backward from five. None of the rituals sedated his nerves or helped to temper his searing desire.

  Isabelle kicked her boots aside, then glanced over her shoulder. Her mouth curved into an alluring smile. “Why, you are peeking again!”

  Adam felt as a blush seared his cheeks. He tried to respond with some clever quip, but no coherent sentence came to mind.

  Dressed only in her chemise, Isabelle scooted to the edge of the spring and slid into the water. She rotated toward him and sank neck-deep, hiding her body beneath the rippling surface.

  Suddenly she looked quite shy and speechless.

  “Join me, Adam. Today is supposed to be our grand adventure... remember?”

  Adam almost refused her offer—felt the words pierce the edge of his tongue. But his body betrayed him; he glanced down to find his fingers working the clasps of his cloak and shirt.

  Surely the sight will repulse her.

  She’d seen his burned body before—but never in broad daylight. Never like this.

  Shame welled inside him. He shrugged away the garments as fast as he could. His boots, gloves, and socks followed. Cold gusts of air slammed against his newly exposed, blemished skin and took him by surprise. He shuddered, caught between Isabelle’s steady gaze and the crisp atmosphere.

  “You made it look so easy, stripping down in winter,” he muttered, his hands working faster still.

  “Actually, it’s nearly springtime, monsieur.”

  “And still damn cold.”

  Yet his body was on fire. He gave Spirit a quick glance, who was grazing at the frost-covered grass. Then he hesitantly joined Isabelle in the water. He half expected her to leap from the spring and run from him; instead, she gifted him another alluring grin.

  Time stood still as she waded toward him, and the white fabric of her underclothes billowed behind her. The waterfall thundered in back of her, feeding into the spring and transforming her into a mythical water nymph. Adam held his breath. Arranging her body beside him, she leaned against the back of the spring, heaved a deep sigh, and shut her eyes. Dark lashes fanned against her velvety skin, casting crescent moons upon her cheekbones.