Beast Lord: (Beauty and the Beast) (Tangled Tales Book 3) (8 page)

Chapter 8

Bonnibel woke the next morning feeling a little disappointed that she hadn’t had another dream about her father. Instead, she kept having nightmares of the man in the dark cloak hiding in the tunnels. She wondered who he was, or if he was a she – she really didn’t know. Curiosity made her want to go back and find out, but fear is what made her push a chest in front of the hearth last night, hopefully keeping the attacker from coming into the room to try to kill her.

“My lady, my lady,” came Sibeal’s muffled voice from inside the tunnel. “I can’t get in when the trunk is in the way.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Bonnibel jumped out of bed and ran over and pushed the trunk away and helped Sibeal through the tunnel. “You don’t have food today?” she asked.

“Nay, my lady. Lord Stefan was in the kitchen earlier and ordered all the servants to disappear.”

“He was?” She walked back over to the bed. “What for?”

“I’m not sure, my lady. We left through the great hall and were not in the tunnels to spy through the peepholes.”

Bonnibel went to retrieve her gown off the chair but it wasn’t there. “That’s odd. I can’t find my gown.”

“Is that it?” asked Sibeal pointing to a hook on the wall.

Bonnibel walked over to inspect the garment, knowing right away it wasn’t hers. Her gown had been made of taffeta and was a forest green. This gown was made of silk and shiny brocade. It was gold and silver and the most beautiful gown she’d ever seen in her life.

“That’s gorgeous,” said Sibeal, walking to her side. “Who is it from?”

“I don’t know,” she said in deep thought, trying to remember if the gown had been here when she’d fallen asleep last night. It wasn’t. She was sure of it. Besides, her own clothes were missing and that meant someone had entered her room while she slept. “Someone was here!” Her eyes darted over to the hearth.

“Well, they surely didn’t come in through the tunnels. If so, that trunk would have been pushed out of the way,” Sibeal pointed out.

“Then they had to have come in through the door,” Bonnibel told her. “And the only one who has a key to this chamber is Sir Stefan.”

“Or his squire,” answered Sibeal, inspecting the gown as she helped Bonnibel to don it. “Maybe the squire left it.”

“I’m not sure,” she answered. “But even if it was Trumble who left it, he wouldn’t have done anything unless it was by Sir Stefan’s order.”

“Lord Stefan must fancy you if he sent you this beautiful gown.” Sibeal ran her hands over the silky sleeve and stepped back and admired Bonnibel. “You look like a queen in it.”

“Well, I don’t feel like a queen locked away in my own castle. I feel like nothing more than a prisoner – which is what I am.”

“Why don’t you talk to the Beast Lord and try to get along?” Sibeal picked up a brush, and helped Bonnibel settle in a chair. “Mayhap he isn’t as horrible as he seems.” She ran the brush though Bonnibel’s hair.

“Any man who keeps me prisoner and steals my family’s castle is truly a horrible beast.”

There was a knock on the door and they both looked up, but neither of them moved.

“Who is it?” Bonnibel called out.

“It is Trumble. May I come in?”

“You’d better go,” Bonnibel told Sibeal, but before the girl could hide away in the tunnel, Trumble entered the room with the key in his hand.

“Lord Stefan wants you to join him -” He stopped in midsentence when he saw Sibeal standing there with the brush in her hand. “Who are you?”

“This is my handmaiden,” said Bonnibel, getting up and taking the brush from Sibeal.

“Where did she come from?”

“You may go now, thank you,” Bonnibel dismissed the girl. When Sibeal started for the hearth, Bonnibel cleared her throat and nodded her head toward the door. “Just leave the door open as you leave, as I’ll be right behind you.”

“Oh. Of course, my lady,” said the girl nervously, curtseying and running out the door.

“How did she get in here?” Trumble looked at the key in his hand and then back to the door.

“Through the door of course. How else would she get in?” Bonnibel didn’t think Stefan and Trumble knew about the passageways, as the servants had kept it a secret in case they ever needed to hide from the soldiers again.

“But – I have the key.”

“That’s right. So you must have forgotten to lock it.” She picked up the hem of her skirt and headed toward the door.

“Where are you going?”

“You said Sir Stefan called for me, so what are we waiting for?”

“But you don’t even know why he calls for you.”

“It doesn’t matter. Right now, I would spend the day mucking out the garderobes just to get out of this room.”

* * *

Stefan stood in front of the large looking glass in the east tower chamber, surveying his reflection. He’d had Trumble remove his stitches. While the boy was clumsy and all thumbs, sticking him more than once with the tip of his knife, the sutures Bonnibel had used were dainty and small and his wounds were healing better than he’d hoped.

He’d called for her to apply ointments to his wounds, but really he wanted to test her and see if she acted less repulsed by him now that his stitches had been removed. He ran his hands over his chest, having found a few tunics in the bottom of a trunk pushed away in the corner. He’d donned the larger of the two, and though it was tight, it wasn’t ripped and shredded like his other clothes.

He didn’t like what was happening to him, and if he wanted to beat the witch’s curse, he was going to have to beat her at her own game. Hadn’t she said in order to break the curse, all he needed to do was love a woman and she had to love him in return? He’d never been in love before, but he’d seen most of his brothers fawn over a girl or two in the past, and was sure it wasn’t that hard to woo a lady.

He’d also been reading Bonnibel’s book, The Romance of the Rose. He figured he’d try some poetry on her, or perhaps do something they talked about in the book. Of course, the book wasn’t easy to understand, as it was full of symbolism and more or less open to interpretation. Honestly, he had no idea what the author had been trying to say, and quickly dismissed the idea of quoting anything at all. He felt like the character in the book, trying to get to the rosebud that was locked away behind walls in a secret garden. Bonnibel was his rosebud and he could use advice from the characters in the book named Reason and Fair Welcome right now in order to know what to do.

He gave up trying to decipher the coded messages in the book and figured he’d just make Bonnibel fall in love with him. Simple as that. And when she did, the curse would be lifted, and he wouldn’t be consumed and turn into a beast forever – or die.

The door to the room opened and in walked Bonnibel followed by his squire. She stopped in her tracks when she saw him, and the air deadened between them. He usually hated when Trumble’s mouth ran like a river, but right now he would settle for just a trickle of a creek.

“My lord, here is the girl as you requested,” said Trumble with a slight bow.

“Thank you, Squire. You may leave now.”

“Leave?” he asked. “What for?”

“Yes, what for?” asked the girl, seeming suddenly nervous. “I’d like Trumble to stay.”

“I said leave!” His voice must have come out louder and more forceful than he’d intended, because the girl jumped, and Trumble scooted out the door. Then the sickening silence between them was back and he instantly regretted dismissing his squire.

“Why did you call for me?” she finally asked. “Did you want to perhaps tell me that from now on I’d be locked away in the dungeon instead?”

“Nay,” he said, feeling very tongue-tied. He looked back to his reflection in the standing mirror. “I – I thought – I mean . . . do you see anything different about me?”

She raised her chin in the air, crossed her arms over her chest, and walked a full circle around him as she perused him. He’d never felt like a prized cow being inspected for slaughter until now.

“Aye, I do see something different, and I don’t like it.”

“You don’t?” His hand went to his scar and he glanced back to the looking glass. Mayhap it was a mistake to bring her here.

“You are wearing my father’s tunic,” she stated. “It’ doesn’t even fit you properly and you’re going to rip it like the rest of your clothes.”

“I’m talking about the sutures. They’re gone, or are you blind?”

“Oh.” She walked up to the standing mirror next to him and looked at his reflection rather than directly at his face. “So they are. I see my handiwork held up.”

“It did.” He touched his face gently. “I think the wound is healing nicely, but I need your ministrations. I need you to apply healing creams and ointments and see to my wounds.”

“You need me?” she asked, almost sounding amused. “I figured someone like you wouldn’t need anyone.”

“Just do it,” he spat, feeling his impatience rising by her comebacks, not to mention her attitude.

“I don’t have the proper things needed to do as you ask.”

“I’ve already seen to it that everything you need is right here.” He splayed his hand forward and her eyes followed to the ointments and salves and kitchen bowl full of water as well as a pile of cloths he’d already prepared. Now she knew what he was doing in the kitchen earlier.

“And so you have. All right, sit down and I’ll see to your ministrations, but that is all I’ll see to.”

He sat down at the edge of the bed, but she shook her head and pointed to a stool at the opposite side of the room. “Over there would be better.”

“Fine,” he grumbled and did as she instructed. The feel of her light touch and nimble fingers rubbing circles of creams and ointments on his face felt so caring and gentle that he found himself closing his eyes. With his eyes closed it was easier to pretend he wasn’t cursed and turning into a beast. Without his sight he could pretend he was anyone he wanted to be.

They really had nothing to talk about and it was over way too soon, and he had done nothing at all to try to romance the girl. Soon she’d be walking out the door and his opportunity would be over.

“If that is all, I’ll be going now.”

“Nay!” His eyes sprang open and he bounded off the stool, knocking it over in the process. Startled, she backed away from him, holding her hand protectively to her chest. “Oh, did I scare you?”

“I’ll say.” She turned around and closed up the creams on the top of a small table and then rinsed and wiped off her hands. This was his chance. His one and only chance. He had to move quickly, or it would all be over.

Bonnibel had just wiped the last of the water from her fingers when she felt the beast’s hands on her shoulders. She stopped and stiffened, her heart racing like wild, not sure if he were planning on strangling her next.

“Sit down,” he told her, not giving her an option as he directed her to a chair and pushed her into it. He was a bit forceful, and she fell into the chair with a plop, but what did she expect from a man like him? He wasn’t a normal chivalrous knight, he was nothing but an ogre of a man with a bad temper and no manners in the least.

“I think we got off to a bad start.” His hands were on her shoulders again, and this time, he massaged her muscles gently surprising her that he wasn’t crushing her bones beneath his big hands.

“What did you expect, Sir Knight, when you killed off the soldiers of Breckenridge and stole my father’s castle – a round of applause?”

“Unless you want your neck snapped by accident, I suggest you say nothing that might upset me.”

She had a dozen remarks for that, but his grip became tighter and she had grown fond of her neck, so she stayed quiet. “Why are you doing that?” she asked after several minutes when his touch became gentle again. She was starting to like the feel of his hands on her shoulders, even though she tried to hate it.

“Let’s just say – it’s my way of thanking you for tending to my wounds.”

“You have an odd way of saying thank you.”

“Just relax and enjoy it.”

“I can’t.”

“You can, now try.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Just close your eyes and take a deep breath. Do what I say and I’ll let you roam the castle freely and not lock you in your chamber again.”

“How generous of you,” she said, knowing it didn’t matter since she had a way of escaping anyway. Wanting this to be over, she finally did as instructed. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath and just tried to relax.

“That’s a girl,” he said in a low voice, using his hands and fingers to massage her shoulders, making her body go nearly limp from his touch. She remembered the dream she’d had of him and how handsome he’d looked. She also remembered the way she’d felt so safe and protected in his embrace. Without realizing it, she moaned aloud, and that only seemed to make his fingers turn to magic against her skin. “Just relax,” he whispered, and this time his voice was in her ear. Her muscles turned flaccid under his caress, and with her eyes still closed, her head fell back and she felt as if she’d died and gone to heaven with what he was doing.