Page 65 of The Beast of Ashwood Manor

I closed my eyes and burrowed my face into his chest, trying to get warm. The fire had long died out, and the room was so cold.

He must have been awake too, because he moved and pressed his lips against my neck. I nuzzled against him and tangled my legs in his. We stayed this way for a long moment before he got up and lit the fire in the hearth again.

As I was relieving myself in the bucket near the door, shivering from the sting of winter’s bite, I looked outside to see snow falling. I hurriedly made my way back to the bed, curling up in the blankets as best as I could until he got there.

“I always hated cold nights as a boy,” I told him, as he climbed back in beside me.

“Did you grow up on a farm?” Gil asked.

“No. I only worked for others. Tending to pigs, chickens, much like I do here. I shoveled more manure than I want to think about.”

“You said your father was a carpenter?” He took my cold hands in his, warming them.

“Yes, but he died about twelve years ago.”

“Leaving only you and your mother.”

Nodding, I hesitated with the next part. I didn’t want him knowing my mother was the village witch, and instead said, “My mother made medicines for people to keep us going, and I worked the farms. By then, I’d had enough of the village and went to Tolburg.”

“And how was that? Do you like it there?”

“Yes, but I didn’t really have anyone to call family or friends there. I suppose if I’d stayed there, I would have ended up a hermit somewhere.”

“Well, I suppose we have that in common, then,”

I looked at him and smiled. “What about you?” Now that the room was growing warmer, I leaned up and moved over onto his chest as he laid on his back. Looking up at him, I asked, “How did Gil become lord of a cursed manor?”

He caressed my hair, gazing down at me before averting his eyes to the ceiling. Heaving a sigh, he said, “I was sixteen, and I’d just acquired the manor from my father. He wanted to move on to bigger and better things. It angered my aunt, for some reason. I suppose she wanted the estate. I’d wondered if she had a part in the curse, and after going over it so many times, it only makes sense. For something to be cursed into another realm takes more than a witch. It takes a sorceress, perhaps a demon who knows both worlds.

“I’m still not entirely sure how it happened, only that the day before, my aunt told me I was a disgrace to the family, that the manor and estate belonged to her. I shunned her, banished her from the manor, and the next day, a woman showed up. She was homely, wearing rags and asking for food. Rather than help her, I sent her on her way, but before she went, she spoke strange words and then disappeared.”

“And you know nothing else about it?”

Gil shrugged. “Only that I was cursed to become something I never want you to see. Each time I become that beast, I find it harder to shift back into myself.” He looked away, as if he’d said too much.

“What about Ashwood? It’s called that here and also in the real world.”

“Some forests transcend realms. The beings here took to the name and it stuck. My family owns a good portion of the land. I suppose that’s what my aunt was after for some reason.”

“Are you saying your aunt is a demon?”

“No, but she might have worked with one who dwells here.”

“Then . . . is this the Unseelie Court?”

Gil furrowed his brow. “Have you been talking to Mary?”

I smiled. “Yes.”

“I thought as much. We talked about it once, but I don’t think it is. I’m not sure what this place is besides a nightmare.”

“And yet, you’re still here, fourteen years later.”

“Barely.”

“I like that you’re telling me about it.” I drew circles in the middle of his chest, where his patch of hair was. “I never want to hurt you. Know that I never will.” Gil nodded, but he didn’t seem convinced, which only hurt me inwardly, and I changed the subject. “Gil isn’t your full name.”

“No, it’s not,” he said, placing one of his arms behind his head. “It’s Gilbert.”

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