Page 53 of Beauty's Beast

“You never answered my question.”

He blinked at her. “What question?”

“Will you come home for Christmas?”

“I don’t know.”

He flinched at the hurt in her eyes. She looked at him for a long moment, then turned and walked out of the room.

He waited until he heard the bedroom door close and then, with a sigh, shrugged out of his shirt and breeches and began to wash the blood from the bites and scratches that ran along his left arm and leg and chest.

She stood in the bedroom, her back against the door, trying not to cry. What had she done? Why did he hate her so? The last night they had spent together had been wonderful, at least forher. She had thought he was starting to care for her. How could she have been so wrong? Did he find her so repulsive, now that she was pregnant?

She placed her hand over the burgeoning swell of her belly. He had seemed pleased when she’d told him about the baby. Had she been wrong about that, too?

She couldn’t sleep, couldn’t go back to Hawksbridge Castle without knowing what had gone wrong between them, why he had left her without a word. Couldn’t wait until morning for answers to the questions that plagued her.

Gathering her courage, she opened the door and walked swiftly down the hallway.

She came to an abrupt halt, a scream rising in her throat as she stared at the figure illuminated in the lamplight. Thick black hair, like that of a wolf, covered the left side of its body. But this was no wolf … nor was it a man. Tales of werewolves flitted through her mind, and then, slowly, the creature turned toward her, and she saw the mask.

The room began to spin before her eyes. A hoarse whisper of denial rose in her throat and then she was falling, spinning down, down, into blessed oblivion …

Chapter Fourteen

Erik reacted instinctively. Lunging forward, he caught Kristine in his arms. She felt so light, so fragile. In the pale glow of the lamp, he could see that all the color had drained from her face. He held her for several moments, then carried her swiftly down the hallway toward the larger of the two bedrooms. Gently, he placed her on the bed. After a moment’s hesitation, he removed her riding boots, his hand lingering over the soft swell of her calf. Knowing she would not welcome his touch, he jerked his hand away.

Unfolding the heavy quilt at the foot of the bed, he drew it over her, his gaze lingering on her face. How beautiful she was. It hurt too much to look at her, and he turned away.

Mindful of the storm raging outside, he drew the heavy drapes over the window and lit a fire in the small hearth. A last look, and then he stalked out of the room.

He dressed quickly, his mind numb, his heart bleeding, his soul shattered. After months of hiding, she had seen him for what he was, what he was becoming. He did not fault her for her reaction. It was what he had expected.

Taking his greatcoat from the hall tree, he slipped it on, then left the lodge.

Misty stood outside, her head lowered, her back turned against the storm. She whinnied softly as he took up the reins.

Leading the mare, Erik made his way through the thick mud to the stable.

Raven snuffled a soft greeting when he opened the door.

“Easy, boy,” Erik murmured. He dropped the heavy bar in place, locking the door behind him, then walked to the horse’s stall, the mare at his heels. He ran his hand down the stallion’s sleek neck. “I brought you some company.”

Moving quickly, grateful to have something to occupy his mind, he stripped the saddle and blanket from the mare, then dried her with an old piece of sacking.

After settling the mare in the stall next to Raven’s, Erik shrugged out of his greatcoat and hung it from a nail in the wall, thinking, as he did so, that he would soon have no need for clothing or a coat.

Overcome with a sense of despair, he sank down on the straw in an empty stall and closed his eyes. Man or beast, he knew he would never forget the look of horror he had seen reflected in Kristine’s eyes.

Kristine woke feeling groggy and disoriented. It was the worst nightmare she had ever had, she thought as she sat up, worse than her dreams of being locked in a dark place when she had been a child, worse than the nightmares she’d had after stabbing Lord Valentine.

She shook her head, hoping to dispel the lingering images of the beast that had troubled her dreams. She frowned, surprised to find herself in bed. She didn’t remember coming in here last night.

Throwing back the covers, Kristine slid her legs over the edge of the mattress and stood up, noting, as she did so, that someone had swept up the broken glass.

Padding to the window, she parted the drapes and looked outside. The rain had stopped, but dark, heavy clouds hung low in the sky. Chilled, she pulled on her boots, thinking that she didn’t remember taking them off. She wrapped the quilt around her shoulders, then went to look for Erik, determined to make him tell her why he had left Hawksbridge Castle, to tell him she missed his company and beg him to please come home.

He was not in the house, but he had lit a fire in the hearth and filled the wood box. She peered out the front window. Her horse was gone. No doubt Erik had gone out to feed the horses. He would be chilled when he returned.

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