The Heart of The Beast

by Susan Kohler

  “Shall we bathe first, M’lord?” Beauty asked, suddenly quiet. “Before we go to bed?”

  “If you wish, Milady. There are many pleasures to be found in bathing together,” the Beast grinned wickedly, “as you well know.”

  They took a long bath together, gently soaping and exploring each other’s bodies. They fed each other bites of the cheese and fruit, and shared a goblet of the wine. The Beast noted the small bottle and examined the contents. He laughed aloud.

  “What is it?” Beauty asked curiously.

  “One of the women put some blood for the sheets in here, just in case you’re not a virgin.” He laughed anew.

  “Why would anyone do that?” Beauty missed the humour. “They all know I’m no virgin. The whole village knows.”

  “It’s tradition,” the Beast explained. “Contrary to what your mother probably told you, many brides are not virgins on their wedding nights. Thank God for chickens; they give their lives so that proud grooms can hang a bloody sheet out the window on the morning after a wedding. Of course, they are also invited to be a part of the wedding feast.”

  “You mean it’s something everyone knows but no one admits to?” Beauty asked.

  “Sure,” the Beast nuzzled her neck, “but in my case, I know you were pure when I first took you. I know not why but I saved the bloody sheet from that night.”

  “So let’s hang the old sheet out the window and shock the shire,” Beauty giggled, putting aside the wine and taking up a cloth and the soap.

  “And everyone will think it’s just chicken blood,” the Beast laughed. “If they only knew.” Then he sobered, “I don’t think I’ll hang out a sheet at all. I’m more than satisfied with your purity. Tis no one else’s concern.”

  The Beast was soon in ecstasy as Beauty soaped his chest, her slippery hands moving ever lower. He moaned aloud as she brought him to a climax with her hands alone. He wanted to do the same for her but she held him back until she had finished the sensual cleansing of every inch of his magnificent body. She soaped and rinsed his hair before she let him begin on her.

  He started slowly, or so it seemed. He spent long minutes just soaping the fingers of her right hand. Just her fingers, she thought, amazed as she felt the arousal forming in her feminine parts. Heaven help me when he gets to my breasts. He moved slowly from her fingers to her wrist. She felt the pulse racing there under his gentle touch. Slowly he moved up her arm, her stomach quivering slightly as he gently soaped her elbow before moving further up her arm to her shoulder. She found it hard to believe there was another whole arm still to go. At this rate he’ll kill me, she thought.

  Luckily the cooling bathwater saved her. Not completely of course, as the Beast did soap every inch of her lovely body and wash her long hair. He did spend a short eternity with his fingers playing her, bringing her to a screaming climax.

  It was just lucky that the water cooled enough to speed the process along a bit, otherwise she would never have lasted through the bath. They sat back to back from each other, naked, on the fur rug in front of the fire and dried each other’s hair with the course cloth towels.

  Once again, Beauty took the lead, something that still surprised and delighted the Beast. Turning around to face the Beast’s back, she discarded her towel and leaned over to kiss his neck. He turned to face her as she continued, nibbling gently before trailing her mouth lower. She licked and suckled his nipples, traced his abdominal muscles with her tongue and laved his navel. Then she got sexy. Her damp, silken hair trailed across his stomach as she took him into her mouth and loved him. She used her lips, tongue and gently, her teeth to give him pleasure.

  Every time she felt him approaching his satisfaction, she slowed her motions, prolonging his sweet agony just a bit longer. Finally, the inevitable could be delayed no longer and she kept licking him until the last of the shudders left his body. Then she rose up and kissed him and he tasted himself on her mouth.

  When he could stand, he rose and pulled her to her feet and led her over to the bed. With Beauty still standing beside the bed, the Beast went down on his knees to kiss her as intimately as she had him. In his mind it was symbolic, this act of going down onto his knees before her. Before this he had knelt only in church, as a sign of respect for God, or in front of the King, as a sign of respect for him.

  Now he knelt in front of his wife, giving her all the sensual love she could ever want but also giving her his personal sign of his highest respect.

  After Beauty climaxed, he stood and kissed her. Then he explained why he had taken her that way, and what it had meant to him. That explanation and his simple statement of love were the best gift he had ever given her. Finally, they sank onto the bed and the real honeymoon began.

  They slept very little that night. They made love over and over again. They made love reverently, passionately and tenderly; they even made love laughing together. They cuddled each other, tickled each other and wrestled with each other.

  They tried every position they could think of and somehow wound up in a few positions they didn’t know they could even get into. At one point, when the Beast dozed off, Beauty idly stroked his back and firm buttocks. Failing to get the response she desired, she pretended fury. She gave him a sharp slap on his taut buttocks, then another.

  “Wake up knave and service me!” She spanked him playfully but smartly until with a low growl he rolled over and pulled her atop him.

  “Vixen!” he roared in mock anger. “How dare you presume to spank me! I am your lord and master.”

  “M’lord was sleeping when I required his services,” Beauty told him. ‘‘Tis most unseemly for a man to sleep when his lady desires him so greatly.”

  “Milady is very greedy tonight. She has worn me out,” the Beast teased, even as his body gave very solid evidence to the contrary. “Canst a man get some sleep?”

  “M’lord Beast can have all the sleep he wants,” Beauty replied as she straddled and rode him, “in another fifty or sixty years.”

  They awoke the next morning stiff and still tired, but very, very happy. They made love with exquisite tenderness before they dressed and went downstairs in search of food.

  At breakfast they noticed that Lady Margarite and Seth, who had joined them in the great hall, seemed likewise to be somewhat the worse for wear except for their silly grins.

  Gwyneth and Henry were nowhere to be seen at all, at least until it was time for Sir Richard and his retinue, including Althea, to leave. To be truthful, Sir Richard’s departure was delayed from the scheduled time. Lady Althea was nowhere to be found. Eventually she came out of the castle, disconcerted and dishevelled, and hurried to mount her horse. There was no grin on her face. Her lips were pursed so tightly that they probably ached from the strain.

  Beauty, the Beast and Sir Richard all noticed her tense mood but no one in the group had the nerve to ask her what was wrong. Tom never showed his face until the leave-taking was over and every last bit of dust from the horses’ hooves raised by the departure of Sir Richard’s great entourage had settled completely back down to the road. When he finally did come out of the castle his mood was as black as Lady Althea’s.

  The honeymoon continued long past the wedding night. Not just for Beauty and the Beast, but for all three of the newly married couples. Most of the time, Beauty and the Beast kept to themselves, content with making love endlessly and planning their future. They talked of the coming child and of other children they hoped to have. They made hopeful plans for their lives together. They even spoke at length of their plans for the village and the people who lived there. They had dinners with Lady Margarite and Seth fairly often and Beauty gently teased her mother because she and Seth always seemed to retire early.

  “Are you so eager to go to bed because you’re getting old, Mother?” Beauty asked with her eyes wide. “Or because you’ve learned you’re not so old after all?”

  “I’m not so very old, am I daughter?” Lady Margarite told Beauty smiling widely.r />
  “You’re not old at all, Mother, you have a beauty and youthfulness that’s eternal.” Beauty kissed her mother goodnight and watched her walk away with Seth.

  She turned to the Beast with tears in her eyes. “I’m so happy for her. I thought she would never know joy or love again.”

  The Beast enfolded her in his arms. “Then I’m happy for her and for you too. Your happiness is very important to me.”

  “As is yours to me,” Beauty whispered against his lips.

  Beauty and the Beast even sat down to dinner once or twice with Gwyneth and Henry. It was a novel sensation for the two servants, to be waited on and treated as if they were valued guests, but they enjoyed it. That is, they tried to enjoy it but Henry kept jumping up and going into the kitchen to check on the progress of the meal. Gwyneth’s eyes followed the servants around the room as they served the meal, and Beauty knew that those servants would soon get a long lecture about their manners and the quality of their service.

  The Beast trained with the guards enough to stay in shape but most of the training sessions were held under the direction of Tom. It was very arduous training as Tom was well aware that the villain Wolford was still at large, even though he had not been spotted for some time. It did not help the other guards that he was also in a black mood.

  The guards suffered from many aches and pains for it, but they were very well trained. Beauty’s brother turned his foul temper into hard work and he trained furiously and made sure all the other guards trained hard too.

  The only other time Beauty and the Beast were apart was when the Beast went into the village to speak with Tom Two, who had become both an overseer for the Beast and a spokesman for the villagers. Beauty usually spent her time away from the Beast wisely, sewing little baby clothes, dealing with the castle servants, walking in the garden, and talking quietly with her mother and Gwyneth.

  Other than these meetings, the newlyweds frolicked with each other almost continuously. They rode into the woods and made love in the grass. They returned the horses to the barn and made love in the sweet smelling hay. They ate dinner in the great hall and made love on the dining table. Then they went to bed and made love all night long.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The brisk but pleasant fall weather soon turned into a bitterly cold winter. In spite of the extremely harsh weather, with its excessive cold and deep snow, there was a real sense of peace and contentment both in the village and the castle. The crops, although not overly abundant, had been sufficient to keep hunger and starvation at bay for both the serfs and the castle inhabitants.

  There were still some problems with thieves, but the problems had decreased a great deal. Evidently most of the roaming bands of raiders had finally learned the harsh lesson that this was a village to avoid at all costs.

  There was one lingering problem however; there were reports that Wolford was still alive, robbing and attacking both peasants and the nobility across the land. The Beast kept a watchful eye and had many men out searching for the bloodthirsty bastard, but his exact location remained elusive.

  The Beast had a powerful reputation as a lord who ruled the village firmly but also guarded it very well and protected his villagers fiercely indeed. The villagers began to feel safe and were grateful to the Beast for his protection. They no longer felt any of the old resentment towards him.

  The villagers not only had enough food, they even had plenty of firewood and peat moss for once. The Beast and his men had helped them repair their small huts and fix their roofs. For the first winter in many years, the serfs were able to keep themselves warm, to be moderately but adequately fed, and even to be relatively safe and happy.

  The guards trained in the barn or main hall of the castle using straw targets mounted on the far wall as archery targets, and moved the tables to find room for fencing with each other. On any days that were even a little bit warmer, the guards trained outside, sometimes in deep snow.

  After all, the Beast reminded them sternly, when they grumbled about the cold, not all battles were fought on warm, sunny days. Still, the castle frequently rang with the clash of swords, and the servants were loath to enter the great hall without warning the guards of their presence lest an arrow fly past their heads.

  Lady Margarite and Seth spent much of their time in their own cottage but they managed to be with Beauty and the Beast often too. Lady Margarite enjoyed sitting with Beauty talking and sewing things for the coming baby and planning for the future. Margarite was overjoyed for her daughter. She had come to adore the Beast and was exceedingly happy with Beauty’s choice of a husband, as she was with her own choice. She had stopped haranguing and nagging the Beast and all the castle inhabitants. She now had the look of a well-loved woman, content and joyful. The coming grandchild was a token to Margarite, of a happy future for her daughter and her family.

  Gwyneth and Henry were likewise extremely happy with each other and with their lives as man and wife. They continued in their jobs, serving Beauty and the Beast, even though they had both been offered retirement to honoured positions as members of the household. They were grateful for the honour but preferred to work for their living. Still, they did enjoy a status far elevated from the usual servants.

  Nate and Claire continued to spend most of their time together. Frequently they were seen holding hands or kissing each other with tender, innocent kisses.

  Gradually Claire’s emotional scars faded and she started to become the happy lass she was meant to be. She grew prettier as she lost the haunted look she had since coming to the castle. She had come very far with her efforts to polish her speech and comportment, now seeming to be a very refined young lady of some rank. She continued to learn the basic duties of castle management and household tasks from Beauty. Her reading and writing, along with her math skills had improved dramatically.

  Nate spent his time, when he was away from Claire, training with the guards. He was very skilful with a sword and a more than adequate archer. He had grown much taller and began to fill out, showing signs of the man he was soon to become.

  In fact, the only three people in the castle who were not entirely content were Tom, Beauty and the Beast. It wasn’t that there was anything wrong exactly, it was just a few of the minor things.

  Tom had been in a foul temper since Lady Althea’s departure, only occasionally showing signs of being his old self. The castle staff soon learned to avoid him whenever possible. Beauty took him aside and lectured him sternly on his rude behaviour, an effort that made him act more civil outwardly but utterly failed to improve his mood. It seemed only the return of Lady Althea would accomplish that deed.

  The Beast was still frequently demanding and autocratic with everyone even though he had learned how to show his loving nature and how to treat the serfs with wisdom and mercy; even how to get their obedience and loyalty without the use of force or brutality. When his impatience was pointed out to him, usually by Beauty, he would shrug and shake his head ruefully.

  For her part, Beauty was awkward and uncomfortable with her pregnancy as her size grew larger. She suffered long bouts of morning sickness, almost constant backaches, swollen and sore ankles, and was very uncomfortable when she slept. She was often moody, sometimes as moody as the Beast. She was very tired of sitting by the fire and sewing. She truly loved the Beast and she valued the infant within her body but she would be greatly pleased when it arrived. She longed to hold the baby in her arms, not within her body.

  The Beast also looked forward to the birth of his first child with joy and pride. His only complaint was with Beauty’s suffering and strange moods, but that was simply because he was often the target of her temper when a bad mood hit her. He never knew when she would be amorous, angry or burst into tears at the mere sight of him. She also drove him crazy demanding odd combinations of food at strange hours of the day and night. He too would be very happy when the child finally arrived.

  There was one good thing about that cold winter in addition to the
anticipation of their child; Beauty and the Beast found out the frigid nights were perfect for cuddling up together. They spent long hours talking quietly in front of the fire in the great hall or the smaller more private fire in their bedchamber, and they spent even longer hours entwined with each other in their bed. As her figure grew more and more misshapen Beauty was shy and uncertain about how the Beast viewed the changes in her body, but he reassured her in the best way possible.

  He showed her through his actions that he still found her highly desirable. He loved her with exquisite tenderness and care. He repeated this demonstration of his love as often as was humanly possible. The Beast made love to her with extreme passion and delicate touches until she grew too large and even the tenderest lovemaking became too uncomfortable for her.

  Even after that he stayed by her side, tenderly holding her and often rubbing her back or stomach. He loved to place his hands on the mound of her stomach and feel the babe within kick.

  If the Beast was too busy to spend time by her side at certain periods throughout the worst months of the winter, Beauty would sit in front of the fire in the great hall with her mother and Gwyneth. The three women gossiped and sewed tiny clothes for the coming baby.

  One day Lady Margarite sat beside Beauty with a bemused look on her face. She said nothing but just sat there holding a blanket she was supposedly sewing for her coming grandchild and stared off into space, grinning a silly grin. Beauty herself was staring sightlessly at a tiny nightshirt in the throes of one of her own mood swings, but finally her mother’s strange frame of mind registered with her.

  “Is something wrong?” Beauty asked her mother with concern. “You seem to be in a very odd mood today, Mother. Is aught amiss? Is it Seth?”

  “Seth? No. What could be wrong with Seth?” her mother replied absently, smiling gently. “Seth is perfect, he’s a wonderful husband.”

  “So he makes you happy?” Beauty probed.