Page 12 of Beauty's Beast

Praying that she would soon conceive, he left her lying there, unloved, unsatisfied.

As soon as Trevayne left her chamber, Kristine slipped from the bed and drew on a robe of soft pale blue velvet lined with dark blue silk. Sitting at the little writing desk, she opened the small leather-bound book that Mrs. Grainger had procured for her. Kristine had protested that it was much too fine, that all she wanted were a few sheets of paper, but Mrs. Grainger had insisted she keep the journal, saying there were many more where that one had come from.

With a sigh, Kristine opened the book, picked up her quill, and began to write.

What a strange place I have come to live in. My mother-in-law makes her home with the nuns in the convent at St. Clair. My maids are both mute. By birth, I wonder, or design?

Hawksbridge Castle is an enormous house, one that seems to shelter many secrets. I doubt I have seen it all, yet there are only a few servants. Mrs. Grainger, Leyla and Lilia, Nan and Yvette. Just the five of them, yet the affairs of the castle run smoothly enough. Mrs. Grainger’s husband, Chilton, is in charge of the stable and grounds. Their two sons, neither of whom I’ve met, care for the gardens and help their father with the horses. Only eight servants to run this vast estate. I cannot help but wonder why there are not more …

If the castle is strange, Lord Trevayne is stranger still. I know all the stories, I have heard all the rumors. I can only wonder which tales are true and which are fables told to frighten children. Sometimes I feel like a child. I know so little of the world, only what my father taught me, only what I have read in books.

Leaning forward, she dipped the quill in the ink again, then paused a moment to reflect on her words before continuing on.

My wedding night was not as I had always dreamed. The act, which I had feared, was not so awful as I had been warnedor imagined, though my husband holds no love for me, nor I for him. I cannot help but wonder what peculiar circumstance prompted him to choose a bride who brings nothing of value to the marriage, and was also under sentence of death.

Last night I had a terrible nightmare. I was surprised when Lord Trevayne came to comfort me. He held me so gently, so tenderly, he hardly seemed the same man who comes to me in the dark of night. I feel my cheeks grow hot as I write this, as I admit, here on this page, that I look forward to his nightly visits, strange as they might be, to those few brief moments he spends in my bed. I wonder, does that make me dreadfully wicked?

I wish I knew what he is hiding behind the mask, why I never see him during the day, why he dines alone in his room, why he refuses to let me touch him …

This morning I saw him riding in the yard. He was surprised to see me, almost as surprised as I was to see him. How magnificent he looked, with his long gray cloak billowing behind him as he put his mount through its paces. A hell-black stallion ridden by a demon from hell, if town gossip is to be believed. But I do not believe my husband is a demon. Though he does seem strangely tormented, I do not give credence to the stories that he is a monster.

I have so many questions, and no one I dare ask for answers. I suppose that means I shall have to uncover the truth for myself …

Chapter Four

Kristine woke early the next morning, determined to discover what her husband was hiding beneath the mask. She was tired of wondering, tired of being afraid. She had married the lord of Hawksbridge Castle for better or worse, and she would not rest until she discerned all there was to know about him.

She had no idea where this sudden surge of courage had come from. She had always been a rather cowardly creature, afraid of the dark, frightened of the unknown.

Perhaps it was merely feminine curiosity, the same insatiable curiosity that had compelled Pandora to open that accursed box. Kristine only hoped that whatever she discovered would not prove to have such disastrous results!

Erik had never come to her during the day. So, if he would not come to her, she would go to him. Remembering that she had seen him riding early yesterday morning, she dressed in the clothing she had worn the day before, plucked her bonnet from the chair, tied the ribbons beneath her chin, and then looked around for her shoes.

Thinking that one of the servants might have put them in the armoire, she opened the doors. And blinked in astonishment at the sight that met her eyes. Dresses. More dresses than she had ever seen. Where had they all come from?

Frowning, she stepped forward for a closer look, her hands moving lightly over the bounty before her. Yesterday there had been only three dresses and a pair of half-boots. Today there were at least twenty gowns in a wide variety of fabrics—fine muslins, delicate silks, lush velvets and satins. And the colors! Rich blues, deep greens, warm reds. Stripes and plaids. There were matching slippers and boots. Petticoats. A dozen exquisite bonnets perched on the top shelf.

Turning away from the armoire, she opened the drawers in the highboy, a soft exclamation of delight rising in her throat at the bounty she found there—fans and gloves and lace-edged handkerchiefs, delicate camisoles and silk stockings.

As she dropped a pair of gloves in her pocket, she wondered again where it had all come from, though there was but one logical answer—Erik. She was the wife of a wealthy man. It was only fitting that she look the part.

After pulling on a pair of boots from the armoire, she ran down the stairs and across the yard toward the barn.

Hearing voices, she ducked into an empty stall, her heart pounding with fear at being discovered. Huddled in a corner, she heard footsteps as the stable boys led Erik’s horse out of its stall.

A few minutes later she heard the harsh rasp of her husband’s voice, the clatter of hooves as he led the stallion from the stable.

Popping up from her hiding place, she saw Erik walking his big black stallion across the yard toward the flatlands beyond.

If she hurried, she might catch him.

“You there!” she called to the stable boys, hoping her voice had the proper ring of authority. “Saddle me a horse immediately.”

The two boys whirled around. “My lady,” they exclaimed, almost in unison.

“My horse, quickly!”

The boys exchanged glances. “We had best do as she says, Brandt,” the taller of the two suggested.

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