The Beast

by Alianne Donnelly

  Jacques chuckles on his way out. As he opens the door, Marguerite straightens guiltily. I can tell from the blush staining her cheeks that she was eavesdropping. Jacques prudently says nothing; pretends he does not see her.

  “Come in, please.”

  Marguerite drags her feet into the parlor, looking around. “So this is where you were. And to think Father was so terribly worried about his little girl Lyssette.”

  There is bitterness in her voice. It should have been Marguerite, not me. That was the agreement struck between my father and the Beast. A single rose cut from his gardens, my father’s life and freedom, in exchange for his eldest daughter. Marguerite would be living here now, had I not run away to take her place instead.

  “Looks can be deceiving. Perhaps Father was right to worry.”

  Marguerite picks up a candlestick. It is made of solid gold. “I am sure,” she says.

  Perhaps before emerging onto the beautifully tended grounds, Marguerite worried also. Perhaps she even felt a little gratitude to me, for having spared her the horrid fate of being a Beast’s prisoner. What must she think of me now? And of our father! Does she think him deluded? Senile in his old age, to have said he saw a great and terrible beast within this castle?

  I try not to think too much about that. “Tell me of home. Has Monsieur Lafarge offered his patronage?”

  “Oh, of course he has. He comes by every week to see if we’ve everything we need. And he never forgets to ask about you. And how is Lyssette? When is she expected back? He expects you to marry him, you know.”

  Surprise makes me startle. Marry him?

  “He’s made no secret of it. The entire village is talking about it. The great wedding of Monsieur Lafarge and the pauper Lyssette. The children are all dutifully on the lookout for Cinderlyssette’s lost glass slipper.”

  My heart races and my cheeks flush. I feel overheated. Somehow I make it to the plush seat by the window and lower myself into it. Monsieur Lafarge is three times my age, if not more. He is also the richest man in our village, though compared to the master of this castle, he himself might be called a pauper.

  When I asked him to look after my family, I never intended for his help to be in coin. And I certainly never imagined this was how he would want that debt repaid. My God, what have I gotten myself into now? What would Monsieur Lafarge do if I refused him? He could ruin us.

  Marguerite smiles acidly. “Did you really think you’d find your happy ending by running away from the life you were meant for?”

  Chapter Eight

  “You’re not marrying him.”

  I’ve no idea when or how the Beast appeared in the parlor, but he is here now, glaring at the door Marguerite just closed behind her. “Finally, you decide to come out of hiding.”

  His mouth pulls away from his big, sharp teeth. “There are… people in my home,” he says. “I don’t like it. And you’re not marrying him.”

  I never intended to, but I do not feel merciful enough to tell him that now. “I might not have a choice. You heard my sister, Monsieur Lafarge has gone to great lengths to take care of my family in my absence and—”

  “Lafarge is a bilious, tight fisted wretch. He was a bastard fifty years ago, and he is still a bastard now. You are not marrying him.”

  How does he know that? My heart squeezes at the reminder of his curse. Now I have a sense of how long it must have lasted. He must have known the man in his youth. The Lafarge family has always been rich. Ever since they laid claim to the largest fields. They now own the majority of farmland and employ the villagers to do the work, selling them back the fruits of the land. Because most of the food come from his farms, Monsieur Jean Lafarge, as the last surviving heir now holds the village in the palm of his hand.

  “Whom should I marry instead?” I ask softly.

  His feral gaze turns on me, blue eyes blazing with jealous fury. But he does not offer an alternative. He takes a deep breath and exhales it on a growl of annoyance. “Why did you not tell me your family needed help?”

  “And what would you have done, if I had?” The Beast was – and still is – a solitary creature. He tolerates the servants, because they are just as bound by the curse as he. And he tolerates my presence because… because I am the only hope he has left. But he cannot risk allowing others into his demesne. Even the presence of my family could be dangerous. Should they decide to run screaming back to the village, the Beast would have an army of scared, angry villagers at his door, carrying pitch forks and torches.

  No, he and I both know that he would not have done anything. Because he cannot expose himself.

  “I would have found a way,” he says.

  That is more than I expected. But too late, nonetheless. “Thank you.”

  He lowers his great frame to the floor, sits at my feet and lays his great head in my lap. “I missed you,” he says.

  “You did not have to.”

  “Lyssette, are you happy here with me?”

  “Now that my father and sisters are here, I am. I pretend that this is all there is, and that we can all stay here forever, and everything will turn out well.”

  He raises his head to look at me. “Why pretend?”

  “Because I am coming to realize that I am not here to save you. All I can do is help you save yourself.”

  “Even if that were true, it doesn’t make me need you any less.”

  There is that desperate look in his eyes again, like a lost child looking for his mother. Without him telling me, I know he fears I will leave. I want to reassure him, but the truth is I do not know what will happen. When the curse is broken, and all the world is his to explore again, he won’t need me anymore. Will he even notice if I leave then? Will he miss me, even a little?

  My heart says yes. But my head doubts. I have seen the Beast at his absolute worst now. I’ve felt like I was fighting a lost battle. He is holding back from me; even after all these months he still does not trust me completely.

  “I am not going anywhere,” I say. And for now, at least, it is the truth.

  Chapter Nine

  Tonight is the first night of the full moon. The Beast and I both dread it. Though I have not told him, my father senses the danger. He does not worry only for me. As my sisters get used to their new surroundings they grow bolder each day.

  Marguerite already took to ordering the servants around. She works her lady’s maid like a slave and I pity the poor girl for having been dealt that cruel hand. I know Jacqueline will never tell me, but I suspect Marguerite has struck her a time or two.

  Amalia is the curious one. She already found one of the ruined portraits of the Beast and ran screaming from the castle. She was not frightened, merely starved for attention. I worry that she will wander where she ought not. The Beast will not take kindly to such a trespass.

  And tonight, of all nights, Marguerite requested a family feast. Naturally she expects our host to join us. I was never so ashamed of my own sister as I was yesterday, when in a lofty tone she told Jacques that his master’s presence was welcome at his own dinner table, where his own food would be served.

  Now I look at my own reflection, and a lovely woman draped in a beautiful gown looks back at me worriedly wringing her hands. I know this night will end in some sort of disaster. Marguerite is not kind to those who spurn her.

  Jacques enters after a polite knock. “My lady, your family awaits you in the grand dining room.”

  “Tell me truthfully, Jacques, do you regret letting them in the front door?”

  “My lady, I am merely grateful that I let you in,” he says with a perfect bow.

  Despite my worry, I smile. “Thank you, Jacques. For every kindness you have shown me and my family.”

  A few moments more of fussing and I am ready as I shall ever be to face Marguerite’s wrath. The sun has gone down. At this very moment, the man she is so eager to meet is chained to the floor of his empty chamber. He will know of our presence and I’ve no doubt he will be maddened.
And tomorrow night I shall have to go face him.

  I take a bracing breath and step out of the safety of my room into the hallway.

  No!

  The shock of what I see stops me in my tracks.

  He’s here!

  Not chained in his chamber. Certainly not raging impotently at another intrusion into his home. The monster of a man the gentle Beast turns into is coming down the hallway, dressed for a party and adjusting his cravat!

  I feel my heart racing in my throat and cannot take a breath. My face feels cold, leeched of all blood at the sight of him. How can this be? How could he have possibly broken free?

  He sees me and a malicious grin spreads across his handsome, cold face. I back away as he advances, but not fast enough. He reaches me before I can escape and catches my arm in a painful grip. “Hello, little bird,” he says at my ear.

  “W-what are you doing here?” Despite my best efforts, my voice quivers. I cannot be strong when fear courses through me like Death’s whisper.

  “Isn’t it obvious? I have been invited to dinner, and that is precisely where I intend to be tonight.” He tugs on my arm to make me turn. It hurts enough that I am forced to obey. “Come, let me look at what I must wear on my arm.”

  I hold still while his gaze moves over me in a disgusting appraisal.

  “I suppose you’ll have to do,” he says. Judgment passed. “Now come, we don’t want to keep our guests waiting, do we?”

  I gasp. “No!” He is already pulling me toward the staircase. I dig in my heels to slow him down. “Don’t, please! Stop!”

  “You will address me as ‘My lord.’ I suppose you’ll have to use my name if we’re to pretend we know each other.” His tone implies a very intimate sort of knowledge. I have no time to be offended. “Call me ‘My Lord Bastien,’ then.”

  “Please—”

  He stops and whirls about so quickly I slam into him. His chest is hard and unyielding as rock and I know the heart that beats within is cold as ice when he looks into my wide eyes and says, “Please, what?”

  I know he is not asking what I want from him. I swallow my pride for the sake of my family and answer, “Please, my Lord Bastien.”

  “Mmm, I like the sound of that.”

  “What,” I say before I can stop myself, “the sound of your own name?”

  “The sound of you begging.”

  “You cannot go down there.” No matter what my condition, if he enters the same room as my father and sisters, there will be a fight. I cannot allow that.

  He laughs at me. “And what’s to stop me? You?” The laughter dies away. “You…” With another appraising look he releases my arm and circles me. “You wish me to abstain from the company of your dear father and delightful sisters?”

  “Yes,” I say, enduring his perusal.

  “And what would you give me in return?”

  “What do you want?”

  “Ah-ah.”

  My hands curl into fists at my sides. “What do you want, my Lord Bastien?”

  “Better.” He stops behind me and there is silence. If it were not for his breath on my shoulder, I would think he left. “You will come to my chambers tomorrow night.”

  “Why?”

  “Do you wish your family to dine in peace tonight?”

  “Yes,” I hiss.

  “Then you’ll do as I say. Your brooding monster of a hero cannot save you this time, little bird. I am free and he’ll not restrain me again. I am your master now, and you will do what I say when I say. Is that clear?”

  I hesitate just long enough.

  “Or perhaps we should join the others. It’s quite unseemly to be so dreadfully late to diner.”

  Helpless tears fill my eyes. “I will do as you say… my Lord Bastien.”

  “Now there’s a good pet. Run along now, your guests are waiting.”

  “What will you do?”

  He does not answer. When I turn around, he is gone.

  Chapter Ten

  There are no guards in front of the door. But the hallway is, for the first time, lit with a dozen wall sconces. It is bright enough to be day, though it is close to midnight. I lick my lips nervously. Just as on that night months ago, I feel like a sacrifice willingly walking to her demise. My palms are moist and my limbs tremble. I know there will be no chains to hold him back tonight. A spurned master, he will want to take his revenge.

  He warned me this day would come. But I’ve grown so complacent, so trusting that my Beast would never harm me that I chose not to believe him. More fool I.

  I raise my hand to knock but the door opens before I can rap even once. “You kept me waiting,” he drawls as his gaze sweeps over me in a thorough perusal.

  “I—”

  “I don’t care.” He grasps my wrist and pulls me inside, closing the door behind me. But he remains in place, trapping me between him and the portal at my back. I shrink back from the terrible light in his eyes. He is not wearing the Beast’s tattered remains of clothing, nor is he clad in a crisp suit like last night. Tonight he is shirtless, and infinitely more intimidating because of it. He has no shame; his intent is to humiliate me.

  “What do you want from me?”

  He sneers. “What do you think I want?”

  I lick my dry lips. His gaze snares on them. “I’m sure I have no idea.”

  He shoves away and turns his back on me. The candlelight makes his muscles stand out even more. Such strength and power. So much energy and life. So much rage and cruelty imprisoned in that body. “You will stay the whole night,” he says.

  “But—”

  “Too late to turn back now, my pretty. You and I have a deal.”

  “And how can I be sure you will honor your part of it?”

  He looks back at me, his blue eyes mocking. “I suppose you will have to take it on faith. And what have I told you about using my name?”

  “I’ll make a bargain with you.”

  In the blink of an eye he is upon me. His hands dig into my arms as he hauls me deeper into his lair and shoves me against the wall. “You are in no position to bargain,” he snarls.

  “I disagree,” I say. I cannot tell where the courage to do so comes from but the words do not stop until I have said my peace. “You need me. I have something you want. I am the only one who can set you free.”

  He bares his teeth, livid and quivering. His fingers dig in more and I stifle a wince.

  “So you and I will bargain. Or I walk out of here forever and leave you to enjoy the rest of eternity. Three nights at a time.”

  “I will skin you alive, you little bitch.”

  “What you will do is release me. Now.”

  To my utter shock, he does. With a final shove that bruises my back, he lets go of me and steps back, glaring as though he would like nothing better than to follow through on his threat. And I realize that I am not completely powerless in this exchange. I’ve allowed my fear to rule me, blind me to everything I should have been paying attention to.

  This man before me is a clever, calculating monster. But he is also crazed by his confinement and so desperate to escape it any way he can that, like me, he is blinded to what is right in front of him.

  I draw a cautious breath and square my shoulders. I am finished with him tonight. I turn toward the door.

  “Not so fast,” he says. Then he is at my back, leaning in to me. He does not touch me, but his mouth is right at my ear when he speaks again, and his hot breath tickles. “You might be a necessary bane… but your family is not.” He moves to speak in my other ear. “So our bargain still holds, mistress. You will do as I say tonight. Everything I say. Or I pay them a long overdue visit.”

  My heart sinks. The proud set of my shoulders slumps a little and my head bows in defeat. “What do you intend for me to do… my Lord Bastien?”

  His arm comes around me and there is a book in his hand. “I intend for you to read,” he says mockingly.

  I take the book from him and he retreats.
The light is not bright enough in here. I will have to enter his bed chamber to see well enough to read. When I face it, he is already lounging insolently on the grand bed someone has brought in. He reminds me of a spoiled sheikh in a long ago story. One so sure of himself and his claim to rule that he does not care for anything or anyone.

  He watches me come into the room, a satisfied gleam in his eyes. “Over there,” he says, indicating a chaise near the brightest light. It is the same one I used a month ago to read to him, when he would hear none of it. Now he demands the written words. And the chaise is not as I remember it. It is draped with silks and there are pillows placed on it.

  I sit. The title of the book is not familiar to me. I open it to the first page and begin reading. “Chapter One. The first woman I have ever lain with had…”

  “Go on,” he says and I can hear the laughter in his voice. I dare not look up. My eyes skim ahead on the page and my cheeks flush. “She had… what?”

  I squeeze my eyes shut. My hands tremble holding the book.

  “Read,” he orders.

  “The first woman I have ever lain with,” I start again, drawing breath for strength to continue, “had t-tits that could smother a man. They overflowed my hands when I held them and sucked until she screamed like a stuck pig. Her name was Annabel, the best whore money could buy…”

  I read the words and do not allow myself to think of them. The book is crudely written and difficult to decipher. But what it describes is far, far worse. Lewd descriptions of one man’s love affairs, every detail penned in heavy hand. Down to the color of a woman’s nipples and how she felt around his member.

  And all the while I read Bastien watches me in silence. He never stirs, never speaks, merely observes my humiliation; revels in it. Every so often my concentration breaks and I comprehend what it is I am reading. I stutter and choke on the words, pausing for long moments in hopes that he will take pity on me and allow me to stop.