Deceit: A Beauty and the Beast Novel (9 page)

“There’s something about it,” I said. “A
savory flavor to the food I gather with my own hands.”

I watched him bite into the bread, and I
considered it our first meal together. After eating, he grew
restless, and I suggested we head back for a game in the library.
He padded beside me, not commenting when I winced after stepping on
something sharp. With sore feet, the climb back over the wall
looked daunting.

“You control the vines, correct?” I said,
staring at the high stone barrier.

“Yes,” he said, watching me.

I turned to him with a mischievous smile.

“Toss me over the wall like you did the first
time we met. Let the vines catch me.”

He shook his head but gripped my waist with
both hands a moment before flinging me up and over the wall. I
laughed the whole way and landed on a loosely woven vine net. He
sailed over the wall in one smooth vault.

“We should make a game of that,” I said,
still laughing as I jumped lightly to the ground and sat to tug on
my boots. “It would be fun in water, too, when it’s warmer. The
splashes I could make.” My mind wandered to the calculations of
angles and heights needed until I caught his stare.

“You are not like other women,” he said
slowly, as if just realizing it.

Shaking my head at him, I stood and dusted
off the seat of my trousers.

“A good thing for you, I am not.”

* * * *

During the next several days, I discovered
something. The beast knew many games of chance, but very few
intellectual ones. We studied a book of games and learned a few
together. We made an odd pair sitting quietly in the library for
hours, he on his haunches on the floor and me perched in a
chair.

His mind was a beautiful thing to behold. He
challenged me in a way that made me smile and laugh. But after
mastering a game, he quickly grew bored with it whether he won or
lost. The games of chance never lost his interest, though.

I studied him as he contemplated the wood
board before us. He seemed relaxed and content, and I wondered if
he knew how many days he’d gone without seeing the enchantress.
Would it be enough?

Loathe to bring it to his attention, I
continued to try to keep him constantly busy. As the days had
stretched, I had watched for signs of growing agitation. As I’d
guessed, boredom was his worst enemy.

Though four days had passed since I’d
returned from my last visit to the Water, the games still served us
well. However, I knew he would not tolerate another day of
them.

“Have you ever wagered on a game?” I asked
softly, not wanting to disturb his concentration.

“Certainly,” he said absently.

“Would you care to wager on the outcome of
this game?”

His gaze rose from the board to study me.
“What kind of wager?”

“The food is delicious, but I think, if I
should win, I want you to prepare my breakfast. By hand.
Yourself.”

“And if I win?”

I quirked a grin.

“Then I will prepare your food for you in the
morning.”

He chuckled and nodded, but I could sense his
disinterest in the bet. I smothered my smile. It wasn’t about
winning or losing, but distracting him for another day.

* * * *

I woke early and loudly.

“I’m so hungry,” I called as I sat up in
bed.

From the adjoining room, I heard a thump and
knew I’d woken him. Light was just starting to filter into my room.
We’d stayed up late to finish the game, which I’d won.

Of one thing I was absolutely certain. The
beast couldn’t cook.

Smiling, I dressed in a plain gown—I’d been
favoring the trousers and shirt since our hike to the river—and
washed my mouth and face before walking out into the empty
hallway.

Following the sounds of clanking and muffled
curses, I found him in the kitchen. The fire roared, warming the
room a bit much, so I opened the door to the outside before moving
out of the way.

From the chair near the table, I watched him
bumble around. He dropped eggs on the floor and seared one side of
the bacon black. He lost a potato in the fire and singed his fur
trying to get it back out.

When he set a plate before me, we both
blinked at the mess that smeared its surface.

“It looks delicious,” I said after a
moment.

“I don’t know how to cook,” he admitted with
a defeated note.

Finally, honesty from him. I grinned.

“Neither do I. Well, maybe a tad more than
you, but not much. I think I saw a book in the chef’s room that
could help us.”

We spent the whole day in the kitchen, making
some wonderful mistakes. He even laughed once when he sampled my
attempt at a pastry. That laugh marked the first time I’d ever seen
him without a hint of his usual anger and frustration. A rush of
pride filled me at my accomplishment. There was something more to
the beast, after all.

As I grew tired and yawned, he determinedly
kept reading and cooking until he caught me with my head on the
table.

“Perhaps, that’s enough for today,” he said,
walking toward me.

I stood with agreement and looked at the
disaster we’d made of the kitchen.

“Do we need to clean this?”

“No.”

Relieved, I kissed him affectionately on the
cheek and turned to leave the kitchen.

He stared after me as I walked away, but he
made no move to follow. The dull greys and purples of dusk painted
the sky. Perhaps he would see the enchantress tonight.

Chapter 5

When I met him in the hallway the next
morning, he wore pants and stood upright. I made no comment, but
greeted him with a smile and my usual question about our plans for
the day. His only remark was that we should eat first.

As he led me to the kitchen, I marveled at
his full height. I’d seen it before but never for so long. He
typically dropped back to all fours after several steps. He
suddenly seemed more man than beast.

He motioned me toward the table where I saw
two plates set. Scrambled eggs and bacon rested on each. A simple
meal...but not. He’d cooked.

The eggs were a little moist, and the
blackened edges of the bacon strips contrasted with the limp
middle. Instead of seeing the improvements still needed, I saw the
progress he’d made.

“This looks marvelous,” I said, and I meant
it.

He held the chair for me as I sat, which
surprised me, and joined me at the table. The chair groaned under
his weight, but it held.

The eggs were cold and a bit on the salty
side, but I ate them all. I couldn’t have done better. Though I
preferred crisp bacon, I managed to eat most of that as well.
Leaning back, I thanked him for the effort.

“I wanted to thank you,” he said. “For your
help. Five days...” He shook his head and sighed. “It didn’t work,”
he admitted.

I reached across the table and touched his
hand.

“I’m so sorry. We’ll keep trying.” I
hesitated a moment, then asked a hard question.

“Can you tell me what went wrong? It would
help to know what we might need to change.”

He laughed self-deprecatingly.

“Your amusements and distractions worked too
well. I went to her door; but when she opened it expectantly, I
could only apologize and bid her good night.”

“Nothing?” I asked, stunned.

“Nothing that could inspire me to cross her
threshold.”

I chewed my lip for a while. How to keep his
arousal without the anger and tension? The question was beyond my
expertise. I needed to talk to the sisters but didn’t think it wise
to leave him dejected again. It took too long to walk there and
back. A ride from Henick would be nice, but I couldn’t count on
that coincidence.

“Do you own a horse?” I asked with idle
hope.

“There is a horse, yes,” he said, obviously
curious why I’d asked.

“I would like to visit the Water before we
try again, but I don’t want to leave you alone so long, and I doubt
I would find a wagon on the road again.”

He scowled at the reminder of Henick and
agreed that a horse would help me journey faster. He left the table
to stalk outside, and I dashed to the servant’s quarters to fetch
my bag. The primrose I’d picked lay pressed between waxed pages of
a small book I’d found. I hadn’t forgotten Bryn’s request and hoped
to stop in Konrall at the candle maker before journeying to the
Water.

Slinging the bag across my body, I stepped
outside. The beast stood before a quivering horse, speaking to it
in a soft growl.

When he saw me, he stepped away and offered
me a hand. We never afforded our own mounts, but I recalled riding
a horse in my youth and peered at this one curiously.

“No reins?” I questioned the beast while
clasping his hand.

“Speak to him, and he will do as you say,”
the beast assured me.

I placed my right foot in the beast’s free
hand and sprung upward, swinging my left leg forward over the
horse’s neck and almost kicking the beast in the head.

“I apologize,” I said quickly to both of
them as I wrapped my fingers around the mane to keep myself
upright.

Beside me, the beast rested a hand on my
leg, his fingers heavy and twitching.

“Where are your underclothes?” he asked in a
nearly unintelligible growl.

“I haven’t the faintest idea. You haven’t
put them back in the wardrobe since I arrived. If you’re willing to
provide them again, I’m eager to wear them. I do feel a bit awkward
without them at times.”

The horse nickered and dipped its head. The
beast reacted immediately, cuffing the creature upside its long
head. It sidestepped from the blow.

“Sir,” I cried. “What are you doing?
Perhaps, I shouldn’t go.”

“I apologize. It would be best if you both
leave for a short while.” The beast spoke with slow effort.

He grabbed the horse’s face in his large paw
and brought its nose to his own.

“Protect her with your life.”

The beast held the horse’s gaze until it
bobbed its head.

“Does he have a name?” I asked cautiously,
still unsure of the beast’s mood.

The beast released the horse and stared at
it for a moment.

“If he does, I long ago forgot it.”

“No matter,” I assured him, patting the
horse’s neck to get its attention. “For this journey, I shall call
you Swiftly. Please take me to the gate, Swiftly.”

The horse pivoted and started down the path.
Turning, I looked back at the beast.

“I will return shortly. If you feel angry,
perhaps you would consider making pastries,” I said with a smile.
We had yet to master those.

The beast nodded and continued to watch us
as I turned forward again. Despite my promise to return shortly, I
wondered if he continued to have concern that I might not return. I
hoped that he had gained a measure of trust in me by now. Still, I
didn’t want to take any longer than necessary.

Swiftly’s current pace, however, would be a
problem. He walked softly and slowly, as if not wanting to jostle
me. An additional brief stop in Konrall wouldn’t be wise if he
couldn’t move faster.

“Am I too heavy?” I asked, unsure if an
enchanted horse could bear as much of a burden as a normal
horse.

Swiftly shook his head.

“Perhaps we could try a trot, then?” I
suggested.

He immediately picked up the pace, and I had
to clench my thighs around him to keep upright. He skittered
nervously at the touch but kept moving.

Once we reached the gate, I asked him to
head south instead of west. He balked a bit but eventually did.

Seeing Konrall again brought forth a tiny
bit of homesickness. The lewd attentions of the baker and the
bullying focus of Tennen and Splane had faded from my mind, and I
recalled the better times when I went to school with Father, and
Bryn and Blye talked to me about boys.

“See the candle maker’s sign?” I asked
softly. One of Swiftly’s ears twitched back, and I knew he heard
me. “That’s where I need to stop. Then we ride to
Water-On-The-Bridge.”

Swiftly stopped before the candle maker’s
home and knelt so I could dismount with ease. And probably so I
wouldn’t expose myself. I patted his neck.

“A true gentleman,” I whispered.

He dipped his head, and I smiled.

“Do you need water?”

He shook his head, so I left him to go
inside.

“Benella! Good to see you. Come in, sit,”
the candle maker said, greeting me as if I were an old friend. He
rocked to a stand, his wispy hair fluttering with his efforts.

“Good morning,” I returned politely. “I’ve
brought you more primrose.” Withdrawing the small book from my bag,
I carefully removed the drying flowers and set them on his
table.

“Perfect,” he breathed, lifting one delicate
flat bloom to his nose. “You’ve preserved their scent.”

He shuffled to his shelves and searched
until he produced a blunt silver and a few copper, which he brought
to me.

“This is all I have for now. The merchant
promised a higher sale for more of them, so I’ll pay you more after
he sells them.”

“It’s not necessary,” I said. If he gave all
his coin to me, how would he live until the merchant returned?

“Nonsense,” he said, taking my hand and
curling my fingers around the coins.

He gave me a narrow stare until I nodded. I
dared not say more.

I thanked him, and we spent a few moments
trading idle pleasantries. He asked after Father and any news from
the Water. Awkwardly, I mentioned a few events I recalled Father
mentioning during my last visit, but I left the details vague and
hoped the candle maker wouldn’t notice.

Though the nearby villages knew of the
estate and avoided it, I wanted no one to know of my stay there.
Too many coveted the riches they imagined the estate held, and
greed motivated the kindest person to acts they might normally not
commit.