Page 54 of Beauty's Beast

She hummed softy, hoping to shake off the lingering vestiges of her nightmare as she went into the kitchen. A search of the cupboards turned up a tea canister and several delicate china cups. Taking the teapot from the stove, she went to the sink. She was reaching for the pump handle when she saw the bowl. But it was the rag inside the bowl that held her gaze. The dark brown stains could only be blood …

The teapot fell from fingers gone suddenly numb as she stared at the rag. It hadn’t been a nightmare after all. It was then that she saw the note, written in Erik’s bold hand. There were only two words:Go home.

Heedless of the impending storm, she left the house and slogged through the thick mud toward the stable. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves, then lifted the latch. The heavy door opened with a creak.

“Erik? Erik, are you in here?” She stepped warily into the shadowy barn. “Erik?”

She moved deeper into the barn. Misty snorted softly and shook her head.

Kristine stroked the mare’s neck as she glanced around the barn. There was no sign of Erik’s horse, or of Erik.

Grateful that he had taught her how to saddle the mare, Kristine quickly saddled Misty. She led the mare back to the lodge and tethered her there. Inside, Kristine put out the fire in the hearth. Grabbing the quilt from the settee where she had dropped it, she went back outside and climbed into the saddle. Draping the heavy quilt around her shoulders, she rode toward the woods. When she found the stream, she followed it eastward, as Erik had instructed.

She was going home, and then she was going to find some answers.

Kristine stood in the guest parlor of the convent, waiting for Lady Trevayne. Too nervous to sit still, she paced the floor in front of the fireplace, chilled to the marrow of her bones in spite of the cheerful fire that blazed in the hearth.

“You wanted to see me?”

Kristine whirled around at the sound of Lady Trevayne’s low, well-modulated voice. “Yes.”

Lady Trevayne crossed the room, her black skirts swaying gracefully. She sat down, her back straight, her hands folded neatly in her lap. “What did you wish to see me about?”

“Your son.”

Lady Trevayne stiffened visibly. “Has something happened to Erik?”

“Not in the way you mean,” Kristine said. “But there is something wrong with him. Something horribly wrong. And you know what it is, don’t you?”

Lady Trevayne stared down at her clasped hands. “Yes, I know.”

“What is it that afflicts him so grievously?” Kristine placed her hands over her womb, horrified by the thought of giving birth to a child who was deformed. “He told me it would not affect our child. Was he telling me the truth?”

“You need have no fear. Erik’s … malady will not affect your child, Kristine. Have no fear of that, but your life might be in danger.”

“My life? Why?”

Lady Trevayne took a deep breath. “My son was married before.”

“Yes, I know.”

Lady Trevayne nodded. “His wife, Dominique, died in childbirth. Dominique’s mother is a powerful sorceress.”

“A witch!” Kristine exclaimed.

“Yes. She blamed Erik for her daughter’s death. It was she who put the curse on my son.”

Kristine shivered. “What kind of curse?”

“She accused him of behaving like a rutting beast and declared that a beast was what he would become.”

“A beast” Kristine sat down heavily. She wanted to say it wasn’t true, couldn’t be true, but it explained so many things.

“You should leave Hawksbridge Castle immediately,” Erik’s mother said quietly. “Go anywhere you wish. I will see to it that you and your child want for nothing.”

“Leave?”

“You can return, in time, and claim your child’s birthright.” Lady Trevayne paused a moment. “Should your babe be a boy, he will be the eighth lord of Hawksbridge Castle.”

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