Page 46 of Beauty's Beast

“The light. Put it out.”

Frowning, she turned down the wick, plunging the room into darkness.

“What are you doing here?” he growled.

“I … I saw you from my window. What were you doing out there? Are you … I thought … are you naked?”

“Go to bed, Kristine.”

“Erik, please tell me what is troubling you. Please let me help.”

“Kristine, go to bed.” He bit off each word.

“Yes, my lord.”

Turning on her heel, she ran out of the kitchen, through the dining room and hallway, then ducked behind the long curvedsettee in the parlor. A narrow shaft of moonlight shone through a slit in the draperies. Heart pounding, she waited.

And suddenly he strode into her line of vision. The moonlight slid across his bare shoulders. She could not see his face, only one arm and a long length of muscled thigh. He was carrying a wadded-up bundle that she assumed were his clothes.

She squinted, trying to see better in the darkness, but it was no use. He crossed the room quickly and disappeared up the stairs, leaving her to sit there, more confused than she had ever been in her life.

Erik felt every muscle in his body tense as he walked through the parlor, his face averted. He knew she was there, hiding behind the settee. Her scent filled his nostrils, as tempting as the deer’s warm blood. Revulsion rose within him. He had hoped to spend one last night in Kristine’s bed, to hold her close one more time, to make love to her slowly, tenderly. To memorize every soft curve, but he dared not go to her now, nor ever again.

Tonight, he would gather what few things he would need. When he was certain she was asleep, he would go to her room and take one last look, and then he would leave the estate. He had left written orders for Mrs. Grainger, informing her that she was to tell no one where he had gone. After the babe was born, she was to send him word. When the time came, he wondered morbidly if he would still be human enough to care that Hawksbridge had a new heir.

When he reached his chamber, he locked the door, and then locked the connecting door between his room and Kristine’s.

He heard her footsteps in the corridor a few moments later, heard her chamber door open and close.

Fighting the urge to go to her, Erik shoved a few items of clothing into a bag, grabbed a mask to replace the one he had lost in the woods.

He heard the soft rap of her knuckles on the door between their rooms. “My lord husband, are you in there?”

Heart pounding, he stared at the door, everything within him urging him to go to her, to seek the warm shelter of her arms. She had such a soft heart, surely she would be able to find some small shred of pity for the beast he was becoming. And then he looked down at the left side of his body, the thick dark hair, the deformed hand and foot, and knew she would run screaming from the sight of him.

“Erik, please answer me. Are you hurt?”

“No,” he replied, his voice sounding harsher than ever in his ears. “I am not injured. Go to bed.”

“I thought, that is, you said you would come to me tonight.”

“I cannot.”

“Very well, my lord husband. I understand.”

He heard the coldness in her voice, the hurt, the disappointment. She thought he no longer wished to bed her now that he had gotten her with child. Nothing was further from the truth, but he could not tell her that. There was no point in trying to explain. Let her think him callous and cruel. In the long run, it would be a kindness.

He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the paw that had once been his left hand, at the thick black nails, fascinated and horrified by the sight.A rutting beast you were, a beast you will become.

“Are you happy, Charmion?” he wondered aloud. “Does it give you pleasure to know what I’ve become? Does the horror that I’m living ease the pain of your loss? Do you think Dominique rests more peacefully because of what you’ve done to me?”

With a weary sigh, he pulled on a black shirt and a pair of breeches, donned his mask and gloves and boots. Unlocking the door that connected his room to Kristine’s, he stepped into her chamber. She was lying on her side, asleep.

He padded quietly toward her, his heart breaking when he saw that she had been crying.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, my lord.”

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