Page 21 of Beauty's Beast

“I release you from that vow.”

He stood there, unmoving, hardly daring to believe that she had spoken, certain he had misunderstood.

“Kristine, do you know what you are saying?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Slowly, he turned toward her, his gaze searching her face. “Are you certain?”

She nodded, her green eyes luminous in the light of the lamp.

On legs that trembled, he moved toward the bed, his gaze fixed on her outstretched hand as he blew out the lamp.

And once again, her delicate fingers closed over his gloved hand. Heart pounding, he sat on the edge of the mattress. “I’ll try not to hurt you.”

She nodded, her eyes widening as he lowered his head to capture her lips with his.

She was sweet, even sweeter than he remembered. He drank from her lips, heat and desire spearing through him as he pressed her back on the bed, his ungloved hand sliding up and down the length of her thigh, delving under her gown to stroke the warm, soft skin beneath.

With a muffled groan, he removed her gown, baring her body to his gaze, to his touch. Then he removed his shirt and breeches.

His tongue stroked hers, and she writhed beneath him, her body molding to his. He felt her hand caress his back and he jerked upright. “Don’t.”

“I’m sorry. I forgot.” She gazed up at him, her dark green eyes filled with confusion and hurt. “Why can’t I touch you?”

“I have my reasons.” He took a deep breath. “Do you want me to go?”

“No, my lord.” Her eyelids fluttered down, but not before he saw the single tear that welled in the corner of her eye.

Cursing himself, Trevayne gathered her into his arms, his hands lightly stroking her smooth flesh, slowly arousing her. When, in the throes of passion, she reached out to touch him, he captured both her hands in one of his. He kissed her and caressed her until he was on fire, until her body was ready for his; and then, with a cry of mingled pleasure and pain, he sheathed himself deep within her. And for those few moments, he forgot what he was, forgot the fate that would ultimately be his. For those few moments, he was only a man …

She fell asleep in his arms, and he held her for a long while, stroking the soft, silky cap of her hair, wishing he could continue to lie naked beside her, feel the warmth of her body pressed against the length of his own.

But it was not to be, and wishing would not make it so.

Just before dawn, he kissed her cheek, then slipped out of her bed, pulled on his clothes, and returned to the cold comfort of his lonely room.

“Why won’t you tell me what he’s hiding beneath that mask?”

“I cannot tell you.”

“Cannot, or will not?” Kristine asked.

“Cannot, my lady.”

“But you know, don’t you? You know what he’s hiding.”

Mrs. Grainger shook her head. “I don’t know, dear. No one has seen his lordship’s face in almost four years.”

“But why?”

The cook shrugged. “Rumors abound. I’m sure you’ve heard them all. Can I get you anything else, my lady? More tea, perhaps?”

“No, thank you.” Kristine rose from the table and left the dining room.

She questioned Nan and Yvette, but both claimed they knew nothing.

Later that afternoon, she went out to the stable and questioned Mrs. Grainger’s two sons, but Brandt and Gilbert only looked at her and shook their heads.

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