Deceit: A Beauty and the Beast Novel

by MJ Haag

“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 re
minder 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.

  Saying a hasty farewell and promising to return should I find more primroses, I escaped his innocent questioning.

  Outside, Swiftly nickered when he saw me and knelt again to let me mount. Amused, I carefully swung my leg over his back and held on to his mane as he stood again.

  “Benella,” a familiar voice called from nearby.

  I tensed on Swiftly, and the horse’s left ear pivoted back in my direction as he swung his head toward the speaker. His flank quivered under me, and I ran a hand on his neck to soothe him as I watched the baker step off his porch to approach us. Despite the baker’s extra girth, he carried himself with strength and speed.

  “Good morning,” I said with forced politeness.

  “It’s so good to see you, Benella,” he said reaching out to pat my leg.

  Swiftly sidestepped me out of reach and snorted at the baker. The baker dropped his hand, but not his eyes, which swept over me.

  “You look well. You’ve gained some needed weight.” He smiled slyly as his gaze lingered on my breasts. Swiftly’s haunches quivered in earnest, and he backed up a step. The baker returned his gaze to mine and some of his humor faded.

  “It’s good to know you’re being cared for,” he said. His tone indicated otherwise, and I remained silent.

  “I hope to visit the Water in two days and wanted to discuss some business with your father. Can you tell him to expect me for dinner?”

  My stomach turned at the thought of what they might discuss. Thankfully, I wouldn’t be there.

  “Of course. Good day.”

  Swiftly took the cue and turned away from the baker.

  “I will see you soon,” the baker called in farewell.

  “Not likely,” I said as Swiftly picked up the pace, trotting north.

  When we passed the smith’s, Tennen stepped from the shadow of his father’s forge with a rock in his hand.

  “Run, Swiftly,” I whispered urgently, leaning over the creature’s back.

  He didn’t hesitate, but jumped into a full gallop. Clinging to his mane, I twisted to see Tennen pull back his arm. However, the sudden thunder of Swiftly’s hooves had brought the but
cher to his door; and he yelled for Tennen to stop. Caught, Tennen dropped the rock with a scowl.

  Swiftly raced north and only slowed when we again neared the estate. I patted his neck and thanked him for his effort and protection. He bobbed his head in response, and we walked the rest of the way to the Water. Having a horse cut the travel time in half.

  Worried that Swiftly would tell the beast of my activities, I brought him to the livery and gave a boy a copper to watch him for the short time I planned to stay. Swiftly nickered at me as if calling me back, but he remained with the boy, and I walked to the Whispering Sisters unobserved.

  Ila met me at the door as usual.

  “Benella, you look well.”

  “As do you,” I said, accepting her hug while trying not to act self-conscious about where I placed my hands on her bare back.

  “You have purpose in your eyes,” she said when she pulled away. “What brings you here?”

  “I seek advice,” I said. “The kind only you and Aryana are likely to give.”

  She nodded sagely and led me to the bathing chambers. Aryana stood when I entered, but I waved her back to the water.

  “Please sit. I would enjoy a bath,” I said, thinking of the baker’s stare and the ride to get there, “but I promised my employer my jaunt would be brief.”

  Aryana eased back into the water while Ila and I relaxed on a cushion. My skirts seemed so out of place, but they didn’t appear to mind.

  “What do you need of us?” Aryana asked.

  “I need to know how to attract and hold a man’s attention in a way to inspire arousal without the tension or aggression.”

  Aryana studied me quietly, her mouth turned down ever so slightly.

  “Are you sure?” she whispered with concern.

  “I’m sure of nothing,” I replied with a slight smile. “But I’d like your advice regardless.”

  She considered me for another moment before speaking.

  “Arousal is easy. A bit of flirting and an accidental glimpse of your breast or elsewhere would achieve that state. To prolong that state without tension is a bit difficult. You need to find a way to keep it light. Entertaining. A game, in which you both willingly play.”

  A game. He did well with games. Perhaps something with betting. I chewed my lip as I thought about the options. The biggest concern was keeping his arousal in check so the enchantress was the target and not myself. The image of the wood nymph rose to mind. This new game would be dangerous.