The Heart of The Beast

by Susan Kohler

  He even brought her small presents, among them expensive lotions and soaps for her skin. He noted with pride that her hands no longer held any trace of the roughness they had when she first came to him. They were now truly a lady’s hands, soft and silky, meant for no harder task than stroking her lord as they loved each other.

  Truly, the Beast had learned how to coax the most passionate responses from her, and he soon enjoyed feeling her climaxes. He had learned well that pleasure was a game best played by two. It still took his complete control, but finally he admitted how much he enjoyed it when he allowed her to explore his body as he had hers that first night.

  And she did explore and play with his body, thoroughly. It was not the halfway and tentative exploration she’d been able to give him before he ended matters by entering her so brutally when he took her virginity, but instead it was a full exploration of a man’s body by a woman who matches his passion. Those times when she took the lead, he forced himself to relax and enjoy it as she explored his chest and his manhood, stroking him and gently cupping his balls. She suckled his male chest, licking his nipples, and trailed her mouth down his rippled abdomen before finally she took his penis into her mouth. He exploded with the sensations she brought him. They often made love long into the night.

  The Beast even learned how to really kiss, with nibbling lips, duelling tongues and tender caresses. The funny thing was that the better he got at it, the more he liked it and the more Beauty liked it too.

  His quick temper faded and he seldom spanked Beauty unless it was a playful tussle, a game meant to arouse and not to hurt. A few quick slaps that pinkened her skin and barely stung, followed by hours of lovemaking and laughter. His belt now only held up his pants.

  The Beast still had rough edges though, a quick temper and a thoughtless lack of concern for her feelings. He still barked out orders and expected them to be obeyed instantly. He still refused to consider Beauty as anything but a possession, refusing to give her the consideration and respect due a mate. Nevertheless, Beauty began to feel cautiously happy. It was only a fool’s paradise however; the Beast was not yet tamed, far from it.

  Several weeks passed peacefully, and the summer’s heat was fierce. The summer crops were practically burning in the ground and there was a rare shortage of water in the village. The villagers feared for their lives, for without the crops they faced starvation.

  More than a few reports came to the Beast of roaming bands of thieves robbing villagers and travellers, but until the end of summer none of the reports amounted to anything. One day late in the summer, the Beast saw one of his lookouts riding up to the castle at breakneck speed and knew instinctively that their relative peace was at a sudden and violent end. He ordered the guards and soldiers to arms before the rider even reined in at his feet. Without the Beast’s bidding, Tom saddled another horse for the lookout and took care of the sweating, exhausted horse he had ridden into the courtyard.

  The Beast called Beauty, kissing her goodbye in front of his men, before riding out to catch the villains. The thieves were an ignorant lot with no knowledge of battle strategy and very few weapons. They were used to preying on the weak and helpless, unprepared for the fury of a well-trained knight and his armed guards.

  It was a fast and furious chase, and in a very short time the Beast and his men had the small band of thieves cornered. The hapless miscreants had not gotten anywhere near the castle or even made their way to the village. They had, however, murdered a helpless old woman who had a hut on the edge of the woods outside the village. The Beast and his men found the hut almost burned to the ground. The old woman’s body was nearby, badly battered with her throat slashed. It made almost no sense to the Beast; the old woman’s hut was so poor it seemed rank insanity to rob her.

  The wanton brutality the thieves had committed on a helpless old crone sickened even the Beast, though he gave no outward sign of his feelings to any of his men. The anger he felt on the old woman’s behalf shocked the Beast to his core. Was he beginning to have feelings and to care for these serfs?

  One of the Beast’s foot soldiers hesitantly told the Beast that he thought the old woman might have had a young granddaughter, a girl around twelve. They searched the area but found no trace of the girl. Finally, they stopped searching for the girl and resumed the hunt for the thieves.

  The Beast’s men caught up with them at the edge of the forest. They surrounded the band of thieves and the fight began. It was one-sided but still a fierce and furious battle. The thieves were out numbered and not well armed but they knew they fought for their very lives, and they fought with the fierce desperation of men with nothing to lose. The Beast fought savagely, swinging his broadsword with all his might. He turned his horse and ran after one thief, a quick thrust putting the sword through the man’s back. He chased ruthlessly after another. This man turned to face the Beast, a sword in hand. It was a feckless touch of bravado and it was useless as a fast slash of the Beast’s sword took his head from his shoulders. The Beast dismounted and entered the fray on foot, killing two more thieves as his men captured or killed the rest.

  When the battle ended, six dead thieves lay on the ground along with two of the Beast’s guardsmen. Three other thieves were taken prisoner. They were bound tightly with rope for the long trek back to the castle and to their doom. The Beast and his men rested and tended the worst of their wounds. In a rare show of concern for the well being of others, the Beast himself tied a bandage to the wounds of two of his guards.

  A short distance from the fight, the guards found the young girl’s battered body. She was stripped nude and was badly beaten and bruised. The Beast could tell she’d been used sexually for there was blood streaking her legs and between her thighs.

  For the first time, looking down at the small bruised and bloody body, seeing her torn clothes on the ground beside her, the Beast felt a flash of empathy for a woman. It was a brief glimpse of how it felt for a woman to be brutalized and taken against her will. He squelched the feelings deep down, refusing to let himself examine why the small body affected him so much. In spite of his effort however, the girl’s bloody image remained in his conscience.

  “Bury her,” the Beast ordered his men as he turned away from the pitiful sight.

  “But M’lord... ” a young guardsman protested timidly.

  “Doest ye think to be too good to be digging a grave?” the Beast asked harshly. “Bury her now or you’ll need two graves, one for yourself.”

  The young guard straightened and faced the Beast. “Then you’ll need two graves, M’lord, for I’ll not have any part of burying a living girl.”

  “Living?” the Beast examined the small girl closer.

  He looked up at the young soldier with a trace of quick sardonic humour in his eyes. “Remind me to reward you for your courage before I beat you for your insolence, lad. You have saved a life this day. Mount up.”

  The Beast himself bundled up the girl and placed her gently in front of the young soldier for the ride back to the castle. He had the men take her back to the castle, hoping Beauty would know how to treat her and what to do with her. He never acknowledged this sign of his reliance on Beauty, not even to himself.

  “I have to stay here and make sure none of the thieves escaped.” He ordered the young soldier, “Take her to my lady. She’ll know how to treat the girl. She can save her if anyone can. Take a few men with you, the wounded ones. She’ll also see to their wounds. Tell Beauty I’ll return shortly.”

  The Beast searched the area for a few more hours but could find no sign that any thieves had escaped. Later that same evening the Beast would hang the captured thieves from the castle gates. The meagre possessions found on the thieves were given to the guards and foot soldiers.

  As he rode back to the castle eager to see Beauty, the Beast pondered several troubling things. Was his reputation as a warrior being undermined or were these men just ignorant of whose land they had crossed? He also realized that he needed to f
ind a few more guards, and that the guards he already had needed to train much harder. He also wondered about his head guard. Was Gerrin getting slack or soft? It did not seem possible as Gerrin’s bloodlust was legendary. Was he trusting the man too much? He’d heard several strange rumours about the fierce warrior he had beside him for so many years. The one thing he refused to ponder was his eagerness to return to the castle and to Beauty.

  While Seth and Gwyneth and even Beauty’s brother Tom tended the wounded soldiers, Beauty had taken charge of the young girl, doing all she knew to bring her back to health. She was badly injured and feverish, and some of her wounds were festering already.

  Soon Gwyneth joined Beauty. It took both Beauty and Gwyneth working together using all their combined strength and skill to care for the girl. They worked for several days but gradually the girl, whose name was said to be Claire, began to recover. Her outward wounds healed, the swelling in her face went down and thankfully, her fever broke. Her mind and spirit remained injured however, and Beauty feared that she would never fully recover from the trauma she’d suffered.

  Every night Beauty clung to the Beast and wept for the girl whose suffering touched her so deeply. The Beast would never admit it as he fought to keep from weeping himself, but he drew a curious comfort from giving succour to Beauty.

  Summer lingered and for the most part, a fragile peace was enjoyed by both Beauty and the Beast. The nights were filled with passion and hot sex. During the days, they got along fairly well, with affection and understanding growing between them.

  Life was peaceful and they were content enough except for one thing: The presence of the girl, Claire, who was still terrified of all men but most especially she feared the Beast. She ran screaming from him every time he tried to approach her. Beauty used all her patience and quiet strength to build an uneasy truce between the two but it was an almost impossible task. Gradually the girl put a strain on Beauty’s own still fragile relationship with the Beast.

  Real trouble between the Beast and Beauty came without warning on a hot summer evening almost two weeks later. Its cause was so simple as to be almost laughable. The Beast happened to overhear some of his guards talking. They were drunk, having spent the evening drinking stout ale and not as cautious as they should have been.

  One man belched, “Things are much nicer around here now that the little bit of fluff has tamed the mighty Beast. His lordship seems almost human.”

  “Beast! The skirt’s turned him into a lady’s lapdog,” another man laughed drunkenly.

  “And the little miss is holding tightly to his leash,” another hooted, slapping the rough wooden table.

  The head guard, Gerrin, remarked in a snarl, “I can’t wait until he tires of the little slut; then I’ll get my chance to crawl between her thighs and show her what a real man is. I guarantee it’ll be me what tames her and not the other way around. The Beast has grown too soft.”

  Overhearing this, a lifetime of beliefs, habit, training and painful memories built up within the Beast. He was a warrior! He was bred and trained to be strong, fearless and merciless, to protect his lands and serve his King! Long ago all signs of mercy or compassion had been literally whipped from his soul. It had been drummed into him that any of these emotions weakened him as a warrior, a knight, and a man.

  God above, he raged, he was no tame little lapdog and he certainly was not on Beauty’s leash! No woman ever born could bring him to heel!

  It was sheer chance that he was in the height of this rage when he next saw Beauty. It was a trick of fate that gave her terrible pain and great hope, great hope indeed.

  The Beast stormed into the castle and found Beauty busy talking to one of the servants from the kitchen. He was a young and very handsome assistant to the cook. Beauty was laughing as she stood close to the man and whispered. The rage simmering in the Beast exploded. Without a word, he grabbed Beauty by the hand and dragged her up the stairs. He never saw the terrified eyes of the lass, Claire, as he dragged Beauty past her on the stairs.

  “Beast! What’s wrong?” Beauty cried, sensing his anger. “What have I done to anger you?”

  “For one thing, I saw you flirting with that lad downstairs,” the Beast bellowed, unfastening his belt. “Disrobe.”

  “Flirting! Beast, no!” Beauty cried, ignoring his order for once. “I was not flirting!”

  She’d never seen him this mad, and for once she was truly afraid of him. “Why would I flirt with a lad like that when I have a real man like you?”

  “I do not understand the ways of women,” the Beast snarled, catching her and using a bit of cloth to tie Beauty’s hands together, he then tied her to the post at the end of the bed. “Perhaps you think that I’ve become a weakling. That I’m too tame for you.”

  “M’lord! I know you are not a weakling or tamed.” Beauty tried to speak calmly as she struggled against the bonds but it was difficult.

  Desperately she continued, “I have never tried to tame you, M’lord, only to make your life easier, to give you a quiet place where you could relax from your toils and worries and to make you happy. And why, M’lord, if I were to turn away from you because you’ve become a weakling, would ever I turn to an even weaker lad like the one downstairs?”

  “Because you can control him easier than you can me. You can use your wiles on him to make him do anything you want!” he roared, so angry that he failed to see how illogical his reasoning was. “Will you bed him too?”

  Unwisely, Beauty lost her own temper. “Oh yes, I’m such a slut that I’ll bed any man I can find, M’lord, even a mere boy like that. That’s why I was a virgin when I came to you. Remember, I’d be a virgin still if you hadn’t decided to hang my brother for no reason!”

  “But you’re no virgin now! You know full well the meaning of passion.” The Beast shouted as he then accused her, “Mayhap you’re yearning to try another man’s bed, to see if you can find pleasure in another man’s arms.”

  He’s jealous, Beauty thought! In spite of the danger she was in, her heart leapt in joy.

  Sensing peril but unable to resist goading him, Beauty asked, “Well M’lord, you claim not to love me; in fact, you swear to be incapable of loving me. So why should it matter? How would you feel if I bedded another man? Any other man? Why would you even care?”

  “I’d kill you both!” the Beast snarled as he exploded. He pulled her skirts up throwing them over her head and exposing her to the waist. His action was so sudden and forceful that he tore the fabric of the dress.

  In a temper he’d seldom felt before, he swung the belt. The blow landed, catching her full across her buttocks causing the skin to go white for the merest second before a long red welt appeared. The beating that followed was even longer and harder than the one in the woods. Beauty screamed and cried continuously throughout the ordeal. She begged for mercy, sobbing. She had welts all over her backside and even down her legs.

  Amazingly, the Beast was not totally out of control; he managed to stop himself short of drawing blood or causing her any severe or lasting injury.

  Trying to avoid feeling the pain, Beauty tried to keep her mind on something else. With every swing of the belt, Beauty asked herself over and over, is it possible? Is the Beast jealous? Does he really care enough to be jealous? For once, she almost enjoyed the beating. Well, not enjoy, but she felt hope at the motive behind it.

  Finally, the Beast threw down his belt and untied Beauty. He stood by the bed watching her sob into the pillow. As his temper faded, he began to feel something very unfamiliar to him. For the first time in his life he felt doubts and even a touch of shame for his actions. Clamping down those feelings made him even harsher.

  The Beast turned and left the room abruptly, leaving the sounds of her weeping behind him. As he entered the main hall, the first thing he saw was Claire, her small face pale and terrified, her eyes red with tears. He tried to ignore the girl as he strode through the hall and left the castle but he felt the accusation in those eye
s boring into him, almost burning his back. He went to the training field and worked his men brutally hard until he was exhausted. It was a long time before he returned to the castle.

  Without speaking a word to anyone in the hall, he climbed the stairs and entered the bedchamber where Beauty still lay on the bed.

  “M’lord, may I ask you, calmly, what I did to anger you?” Beauty asked, looking up at the sound of his return.

  She was surprised by the coldness in his eyes and his voice as he answered, “I’m not sure, mayhap nothing. What does it matter?”

  “I’ll admit it matters little to you that you’ve hurt me very much but I wouldst do whatever I can to avoid angering you so much again,” Beauty replied softly. “Please M’lord, what was my fault? What offence did I commit to anger you so terribly?”

  “Flirting,” the Beast replied. “I saw you with a servant.”

  “Look at me, M’lord.” She met his gaze with quiet strength. “You know I was not flirting with anyone, let alone that servant boy. Think! What man can compare with you? You are handsome, rich, powerful, and a good lover. There was no reason for you to be angry or jealous.”

  “Jealous?” the Beast gaped at her, shocked even as a nagging doubt formed in the back of his mind. Sternly he squashed it down. “I cannot be jealous of a possession. I but seek to hold onto what’s mine.”

  “You had no cause to worry, M’lord,” Beauty repeated, her voice sounding firm and calm even though she was far from it. “No other man can take your place.”

  “Mayhap not,” the Beast muttered wearily. “It matters not. I think you still mean to tame me, to make me soft and weak.”

  “What?” Beauty was genuinely astonished. “Why on earth would I want to do that? I admire your strong will and courage, truly. I but seek to give you my companionship, my support and my affection.”