by Marian Tee
At the far end of the pathway, an impressive outline started to rise, and her eyes widened. She had braced herself for chains and dungeons, but what she was seeing right now---
Her head snapped in Mr. Temps’s direction. “Is that where we’re going?”
“Oui, mademoiselle.”
Her confusion deepened, but she reminded herself to stay on guard even as the sprawling stone mansion ahead of them seemingly beckoned for her to come closer so it could welcome Arabella to its splendor.
“I hope you don’t mind we are entering through the back, mademoiselle. It is closer this way.”
Aurélien Sauvage’s butler was just so polite she couldn’t help but shake her head, saying, “You seem like a nice man, sir. Surely you must know I’m being held against my will.”
“I beg your pardon, mademoiselle?”
“I’m being held against my will.”
“My humble apologies. I didn’t quite catch that.”
Arabella said loudly and clearly, “I’m being held against my will.”
Mr. Temps shook his head sadly. “I still didn’t quite catch that, I’m afraid.”
Riiiiight. Arabella released a sigh, knowing when she was being stonewalled. If she wanted answers, asking questions obviously wasn’t going to be enough.
Upon reaching the twenty-foot tall back doors of the mansion, Arabella saw Mr. Temps pull out an iron key ring from his pocket. It contained a set of rusty skeleton keys, all of them about the same length as her index fingers. But most striking about them were their bows, shaped exactly like the rose found in the seal of the letter MDS sent.
A cold shiver skittered down her spine, and she instinctively hugged herself. Crazy or not, that rose was like an omen and a warning, a reminder that in this island, Aurélien Sauvage would be everywhere.
And there was no escaping him.
The heavy creaking sounds coming from the back doors being opened drew her out of her thoughts. When Mr. Temps apologized for the sound as they entered, she could only nod, entirely occupied with taking in the details of her gilded cage.
The back doors opened directly to what she imagined was the mansion’s main hallway, with its high ceilings and formidable length. Although most of the hallway was coated in darkness, light coming from the rows of Edwardian wall sconces on each side revealed a home of breathtaking beauty. The murals above her depicting whimsical imagery were reminiscent of Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. They were unquestionably lovely, but when combined with the bush sculptures of mythical figures, it did make one wonder. Could Aurélien Sauvage be so lost in his flights of fantasies that he no longer knew what was real or the difference between right and wrong?
Noted then, Arabella thought. She was up against a mysteriously reclusive French billionaire who might be a madman as well.
Arabella continued her perusal as Mr. Temps pulled the doors closed behind them. Every inch of the place was rich in history, and every piece of furniture seemed to be an invaluable piece of art. The intricately woven tapestries and rugs, mirrors framed in gold, paintings by the most famous maestros – all these things deserved light, not shadows, and turning to Mr. Temps, she couldn’t help asking, “Is the rest of the house as dark?”
“I am afraid so, mademoiselle.”
“I see.” Arabella mentally nodded to herself. It was confirmed then. Only a madman would want to hide such beauty in darkness.
As they walked farther down the hallway, Arabella Blume kept a steady stream of conversation, all the while looking for more escape routes. Mr. Temps knew this, but pretended not to notice. Her tenacity and steadfastness were quite admirable, and so the old man let it be, not wanting to ruin her fun. Sooner or later, she would come to realize that this mansion was no Disney castle. Following the attack, the master had turned the mansion into a fortress, one that could keep people in or out of it, depending on his whim.
From the main hallway, they went into the Great Hall, and from here they ascended a sweeping staircase that made Arabella think of Regency balls and noblemen and noblewomen falling in love---
No, don’t let its beauty distract you, Arabella quickly warned herself.
When they reached the mezzanine, she saw that the staircase diverged into two paths, and Mr. Temps murmured, “This way, mademoiselle.” The butler had chosen the stairs on the right, and Arabella filed this away in her mind, just to be sure. She would need to figure out why she was being directed here and what was on the other side of the mansion.
“We have prepared the tower room for you, mademoiselle,” the butler told her as they reached the last flight of stairs. “I hope you will find your accommodations pleasing.”
Arabella didn’t answer right away. Or rather, she couldn’t. For all of the mansion’s extravagant features, it did not unfortunately come with its own elevator, and Mr. Temps had just subjected her to a four-story torture test.
The butler stayed behind as Arabella stepped inside the bedroom, and like the rest of the mansion, no expense had been spared with its décor. The four-poster bed was the first thing that caught her eye; it was a work of exquisite craftsmanship, with bedposts carved to resemble twisting branches covered in silver and gold thread, and a headboard on which a floral masterpiece was painted – a bed of pink, white, and red roses dotted with crystals.
She couldn’t believe what she was seeing, couldn’t believe that this room was all for her, but when she turned towards Mr. Temps, she didn’t have to say a word.
“The master had our craftsmen working day and night to complete this in time of your arrival, mademoiselle.”
She shook her head incredulously. Why? Why go to so much effort for someone whose life he owned? She looked around her again, trying to take it all in, but it was impossible.
This room was –
This room was more than what she could even think of asking for.
Scrolled medallions decorated the room’s tall ceilings while a luxurious carpet the shade of lavender covered the entire floor. Across the bed was a velvet settee, set upon a magnificently woven rug and facing a grand fireplace with a marble mantel. Opposite the bedroom door was an entire row of bay windows, all of them furnished with padded seats and lace pillows.
Looking at Mr. Temps, Arabella said faintly, “I don’t understand. This room is fit for a princess. So why?”
Because it is what the young master intends you to be, Mr. Temps thought, and it is what we, too, hope you will be for him. But because the words were forbidden, the butler only smiled. “You are pleased then?”
She lifted her shoulders in a helpless shrug. “I am, but…” A cage was still a cage, no matter how lovely. She gnawed on her lip as Mr. Temps set her luggage down by the door. Was this it then? Was she really going to accept her fate just like that?
“Would you like a maid to assist you with unpacking?”
“Umm, no, I’m okay.”
“Then perhaps I could have a tray of refreshments sent up to your room in an hour?”
“No, really, I’m good.” But if Mr. Temps insisted on making it seem like she had merely booked a stay at some posh hotel, she might just go crazy.
“Then I shall take my leave, mademoiselle. Please do not hesitate to ring a bell if you require the staff’s service in any way.”
And that was it? As Mr. Temps reached for the door, she couldn’t help it, calling out, “Mr. Temps---”
The butler turned to face her again. “Oui, mademoiselle?”
“About Aurélien Sauvage---”
A polite mask fell over the butler’s face.
“Do you know---” She swallowed hard. “Do you know what he intends to do with me?”
Mr. Temps slowly shook his head. “I am sorry, mademoiselle, but it is not my position to ask such things of the master.” He hesitated then said carefully, “What I can say, however, is that the master is a fair and just man---”
A weak laugh escaped her. “Mr. Temps, how can you seriously say that, knowing wha
t I am?”
“I cannot explain, mademoiselle, but I stand by my words. The master is not evil.”
Maybe, Arabella thought darkly. Or it could be that the great Aurélien Sauvage simply owned everyone on the island, just like he now owned her, and no one was allowed to say a word against him.
When Mr. Temps saw the young woman’s gaze turn calculating as she glanced towards the windows, he immediately knew what she had cooking in her mind and said with genuine alarm, “Please cast that thought out of your mind, mademoiselle.”
Even as she felt her cheeks flush, Arabella hastily schooled her face to look innocent as she stammered, “What are you talking about?”
The butler sent her a severe frown. “What you are thinking of is impossible.” He couldn’t help shaking his head. The girl had spunk to even consider jumping out of a four-story window. And principles, too, Mr. Temps thought, to not let the master’s obvious riches sway her.
When he noticed Arabella still giving the window calculating looks, Mr. Temps sighed. “I am not lying, mademoiselle. The height of this room is as such,” the butler explained gently, “so that any attempt to enter the room – or leave it – through the window can only lead to death.”
Darn it. Arabella’s gaze immediately flew to the ceilings as she considered her next move. Maybe a vent---
But almost as if the old man could read her thoughts, the butler cleared his throat, saying, “I am sorry, mademoiselle. There is no vent in this mansion big enough to fit an adult.”
Even as she flushed anew at the butler’s patient tone, she insisted, “I truly don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Mr. Temps saw the young woman look at the marble fireplace, and he said gravely, “I’m afraid that’s not possible either.”
Darn it! It was just her luck to be imprisoned in the country’s second Alcatraz.
“Shreds of glass and blades have been fitted into the nooks and crevices of the walls, to prevent anyone from using it as a way in and out of the mansion.”
Arabella couldn’t help glowering this time. I’m not going to give up, Aurélien Sauvage. Her gaze turned towards the doors, her last resort.
Mr. Temps coughed.
Her teeth gnashed against each other at the sound. “Let me guess,” she couldn’t help muttering sarcastically. “The doors are locked from the outside?”
“Correct, mademoiselle.”
Just two words, and all her hopes for an immediate escape were dashed.
Mr. Temps watched in interest when a peaceful look settled over the young woman’s face as she closed her eyes. Perhaps she was meditating to control her fear? The butler nodded to himself. Yes, most likely.
He was wrong, though.
Arabella’s temper was her most shameful weakness, but poverty had forced her to learn the necessity of curbing her tongue. And so over the years, she had learned to satisfy herself by only letting her anger loose within the safe and private confines of her mind.
Like now.
FUCK YOU, AURÉLIEN SAUVAGE! ASSHOLE! JERK! BASTARD!
Arabella exhaled. There. She felt so much better now. Opening her eyes, she even managed a smile for Mr. Temps. “I know it’s not your fault, sir.”
What a sweet young woman, the butler thought approvingly. She was exactly what Aurélien Sauvage needed, with her gentle demeanor sure to be the perfect foil for the master’s brooding ways.
“I thank you for your open-mindedness, mademoiselle. And truly, I do mean what I have said about the master. He is a good man, underneath---”
The horns, the fangs, the claws?
Mr. Temps cleared his throat. “Deep inside he is a good man.”
Arabella hung on to her smile. “I suppose I’ll see that for myself in time.” Or not.
FUCK YOU, AURÉLIEN SAUVAGE! YOU WILL NOT GET AWAY WITH THIS!
Who’s There?
So this was Arabella Blume.
The beast stared at her through the two-way mirror, finally seeing her for the first time. She was sleeping peacefully on the bed, her long dark hair fanned wide against the silk pillows, the covers falling just below her full breasts.
She was smaller than it had expected and far lovelier, too. The latter fact might have pleased other men, but that was the problem.
The beast was not like other men, and no other men could be like the beast.
Swinging away from the sight of her, the beast paced broodingly, its mood made edgier by the claustrophobic narrowness of the secret passageway, which wound behind the walls of every room in the mansion.
Could it really be possible?
Could she be the woman the beast had been waiting for?
The beast wanted to believe it was so, but the cynical part of it scoffed at this.
What the beast wanted was a dream, an illusion.
And it would never come true.
A growl of frustration escaped the beast at the thought. The sound caused Arabella to stir on the bed, and the beast stilled. Damn. The beast knew it would only be mere moments before she came into consciousness.
He should leave now, the beast thought.
But instead, the beast found itself doing the opposite.
A swift push of a button had the wall sliding out of view, and it slid back into place as the beast stepped silently inside Arabella’s room. Her scent immediately reached out to the beast, and it closed its eyes, savoring and committing every nuance of her scent to memory.
This was perhaps one of the few advantages of being a beast: the ability to identify a person, not only by sight but also by their scent.
And some scents were more tantalizing than most – as Arabella Blume’s was.
Her scent was a mixture of pure innocence and fiery passion, of sunlight and roses that were just about to bloom. It was enthrallingly contradicting, this scent of hers, and the beast found itself moving closer towards her, wanting more.
But then Arabella suddenly stirred, and the beast stilled.
Even deep in her sleep, the woman had managed to feel its presence, and the beast’s nostrils flared at the realization of just how sensitive she was.
If she was this sensitive, then did it apply to the rest of her body?
Would Arabella Blume be as acutely responsive if the beast dared to touch her?
The thought came out of nowhere, and the beast inhaled sharply.
The beast tried to control itself, but it was too late. The enticing notion had already taken hold of its thoughts and erotic images flashed in the beast’s mind.
Her dress falling in a pool around her feet, revealing her silken nudity to the beast’s hungry gaze---
The feel of her skin under its claws, the way her gloriously large breasts would jiggle at its touch---
Liquid heat laced its blood, and a shudder ran over the beast’s large, powerful body.
Arabella.
Just thinking of her name –
Of being able to say it as the beast kissed her –
The beast’s cock swelled and hardened into a formidably hard erection behind its pants.
Mon Dieu.
How it wanted this woman!
But would she want the beast back?
Breathing hard, the beast turned away sharply at the thought.
Logic told the beast that wishing for such a thing was a sheer waste of his time, and yet –
It could not forget her words.
Although the beast had never left its island, it still retained full control of the family empire. It knew the business inside and out, and that included each and every person who worked in the company. Like the security chief, the beast believed that Maurice Blume had been a pawn, and it had been the beast’s idea to set a detective on the father and daughter’s trail, hoping that they would reveal something in their private conversations.
And indeed it had.
It revealed that Arabella Blume, daughter of a man accused of theft, might be the one woman in this world who could love the beast…because of her wo
rds.
Her very own words---
Not even if the whole world thinks you’re a monster.
I will always trust and love you.
Because I know you.
The beast could not help turning to face her again as her words echoed in its head like the most elusive of promises.
From that moment on, it had wanted her.
It had wanted her like it had never wanted a woman before –
More than Louise Baldwin even.
It had wanted her for those words alone, for the beautiful heart that could have given her the strength to speak such words.
It had wanted her before it had even seen her.
But the beast also knew wanting on its side was not and would never be enough.
Arabella Blume had to want him, too.
So could you do that, ma belle?
Could you want a beast like me?
A hiss of frustration escaped the beast before it could stop itself and this time, it was enough to wake the figure on the bed. As Arabella started to sit up, the beast swiftly retreated past the shadows, the wall soundlessly sliding shut behind it as Arabella rubbed her eyes.
The clouds of hair framing her too-pale face fell against her back as she looked around her, obviously searching for what could have wakened her up.
Time passed.
The beast stared at her through the mirror, willing her to let it go.
Go back to sleep. Forget what you’re thinking. Let it go –
So it, too, could walk away.
But she did not.
W-Who’s there?”
The quiver in her voice, the way her gaze kept searching for the beast in the shadows –
Even without seeing the beast, even when the stealth of its movements had never failed the beast before, even when it should not be –
Arabella Blume knew the beast was here.
Its heart thudded against its chest at what this could mean, but even so, the beast dared not let itself hope. It could not hope. It should not.
Or at least not just yet---
Not until she understood the only thing the beast had left of Aurélien Sauvage was his name.