DeButy & the Beast

by Linda Jones

  Anya sighed in disgust. “Go to bed,” she commanded.

  “But, my queen,” Angelo began.

  “I am not queen yet,” Anya snapped. “But I soon will be. And I order you to get some sleep!”

  They obediently left to do as she commanded. Thank goodness! She did not want them underfoot all day long.

  And she had other, more important problems, she noted as she walked down the stairs, her eyes on the man at the foot of the stairway.

  This was Julian as she had never seen him. The beast she had always known lurked within him had been released. His hooded eyes were dark and dangerous, his long, wild hair fell about tensely squared shoulders. He had not shaved this morning, and a coarse beard darkened the lower half of his face. His hands balled into fists as he pinned his eyes on her.

  “Good morning,” he growled.

  “Good morning,” she said, her own voice sweet and tame.

  “I had begun to think you would sleep the day away.” He smiled at her, a joyless grin that made her heart lurch.

  “I have been very tired lately.”

  As she reached the bottom of the stairs, the harsh iciness of his face thawed, a little. His eyes went dreamy, for a moment. “It’s the baby,” he said softly. “You need lots of rest when you’re carrying a child.”

  “I know,” she whispered.

  “Come,” he said, reaching out and taking the hand she had not offered. “Sit in the south parlor and I’ll bring your breakfast in on a tray. Everyone else has already eaten.”

  “I will eat in the kitchen,” Anya protested.

  Julian’s grip on her hand was firm. Warm. Unyielding. “Betsy has started preparing lunch,” he explained. “You’d just be underfoot.”

  “I… do not want to be underfoot,” she agreed softly.

  Julian, his hand gripping hers, led her into the south parlor. He guided her to the couch, stood before her as she dutifully sat. Then, instead of releasing her hand, he remained before her, legs spread wide so she had no hope of escape.

  He lifted her hand to his mouth. “You look beautiful today,” he said, laying his lips on her knuckles, the back of her hand, and then twisting it to kiss her wrist. His tongue flickered there, and Anya’s heart almost came through her chest. “Of course, you have always been beautiful to me.” He reached out and touched a freckle on her nose, trailing that finger down over her lips and her chin to rake across her neck. His progress was stopped only by the high neckline of her blouse. Thank goodness she had not worn those scarves today! If he touched her more intimately than he already had, she would capitulate without so much as a word of dissent!

  “We made love here, once,” he reminded her.

  “I know, but we were married then,” she said primly. Her voice was calm, but her body responded to Julian’s words, as he no doubt knew it would. Her temperature rose, her heart pounded hard. And deep inside she quivered as she remembered that night when they had come together, here where she sat.

  “We are married now,” Julian said huskily. “We will always be married.” He knelt before her, forcing her legs apart so he could fit between her knees. A shiver worked through her body, she throbbed. His hands settled over her outer thighs, but went no further. “We will always be married,” he repeated in a soft voice. “Anya DeButy. Anya the Beauty.” He smiled crookedly. “A few months ago I was so certain I could sail away from you without a second thought. How stupid I was.”

  Anya shook her head.

  “You’re my wife, and you carry my child. You can’t run away from that, no matter how much you want to.”

  Right now she did not want to run. She wanted to reach out and pull Julian to her. She wanted to hang on to him and laugh and cry. Most of all she wanted to love him, one more time. She could not.

  Just as she was about to leap from the couch and push Julian away, he stood and stepped back. “Let me see about that breakfast.”

  *

  Since Betsy was busy in the kitchen preparing lunch, Peter knew he wouldn’t be likely to find any rest in the pantry. So he made his way to the Captain’s Walk and sat there, looking toward the sea and thinking about sneaking a quick nap. He hadn’t gotten three hours of sleep last night, thanks to that… that… that magnificent woman.

  He hadn’t thought he could want a woman that intensely, not ever again. He hadn’t been a celibate since his wife died, but there hadn’t been any real passion in his life, either. Only necessary physical release, and even then, he always walked away disappointed. It had been, what, more than two years since he’d had a woman?

  Last night had definitely made up for his recent lack of female companionship.

  He started to stand when the door to the Captain’s Walk opened, but when he saw it was Carola who joined him he settled back down and smiled, patting the weathered floorboards beside him. She sat, without saying a word.

  “I followed you,” she said softly.

  “I’ve been here for a few minutes.”

  She stared at him with fascinating deep green eyes. “I waited on the stairs a moment, uncertain if I should join you.”

  There was a look of indecision on her beautiful face. If she regretted what had happened the night before, he didn’t want to know it. Not now, not ever. “I’m glad you did.”

  She turned her face from him and gazed out as he had, toward the sea. “I joined Sebastian on his journey to reclaim Anya in order to keep him from doing anything foolish. If I had not come, I would not have met you.”

  “That would be a shame,” he said sincerely.

  “Yes.” She looked at him, brave and yet more vulnerable than he had ever seen her. “Last night we made a child. I know it. I felt it, when you first shuddered inside me and gave me your seed.”

  His heart lurched. “How can you be sure… so soon?”

  “I knew,” she whispered. “The first time we came together, we made a daughter.”

  A daughter. For a moment he could not breathe. He’d buried one daughter. To go through that again…

  “You are not pleased,” Carola whispered.

  “It’s not that,” he said. “This has happened so fast.” No time to think, no time to worry… “The first time.” He frowned. “You came to me hoping for a child. If you knew you’d conceived the first time we…” No matter how he tried, he could not say the words. “Then why was there a second time? And a third? And a fourth?”

  “Those times were for us,” she said softly. She reached out and touched his face, placing a soft hand on each cheek. “Just for us.”

  “It was very nice.” The words were inadequate, he knew. But what do you say to a woman who changes your life in a single night? “I’m glad we had that time, just for us.”

  “It was very nice,” she whispered. “But it was not enough. Come home with me, Peter. Be my king. Make more babies.” She brought her mouth toward his. “Love me.”

  The night before she had loved him four times, their bodies had joined and found pleasure in ways he had never imagined. But Carola had never kissed his mouth. He hungered for that lush mouth on his as much, more, than he hungered to feel her body around his again.

  She kissed him, long and slow. Carola made love without restraint, without boundaries. But she kissed like a woman who had never kissed before. Her lips trembled. The hands on his face shivered.

  “Why?” he asked as he took his mouth from hers. “Why me? You barely know me.”

  “I have been watching you since the night we arrived. At first you fascinated me, and I did not understand why. I still do not understand why, but… the fascination has only grown.” She sighed. “I have dreamed about you. I have awakened in the morning wanting only to see your face.”

  He kissed her again, taking the initiative this time, parting her lips with his tongue. “I’ve dreamed about you, too,” he confessed. “Good Lord, Carola, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

  She smiled. “Truly?”

  “Without doubt. And
I…” How far did he care to go? How much could he say? For all he knew this was a game to the queen, a game she played everywhere she went. He had not taken a chance in so long. Did he dare take a chance now?

  “I love you,” he whispered against her mouth. “Will you marry me?”

  She smiled and threw her arms around his neck. “Yes!”

  He held her close. Tight. He would never let her go. “And Carola, my dear,” he added as he clasped her against him. “Our daughter, queen or not, will wear clothes.”

  “Yes, querido,” she whispered. “Whatever you say.”

  She settled nicely in his arms. “We should not tell anyone, not right away. I need to tell Sebastian before we share the news with everyone else.”

  “Will he be disappointed? Upset?”

  Carola considered the question. “I do not think so, but he did love his father very much. I am not sure how he will respond to his mother taking another husband.”

  Some things were the same world round, he imagined.

  “Tonight,” she promised. “I will tell him tonight.” She lifted her face and smiled. “And then I will come to you.”

  *

  Anya still loved him, he now had no doubt. So why was she so anxious to run?

  She was running. He’d always thought her so strong, but she had a bit of a coward in her. She did not want to face him. She did not want to be alone with him, not even for a few minutes.

  For the third time on this trying day, Julian cornered Anya. This time she was in the garden. Her guards had awakened and watched her, from a distance, but he didn’t care. He would fight them for this time with Anya, if he had to.

  She sat at the small wrought-iron table she and Valerie had shared, on occasion, her arms folded on the top, her eyes pinned on something in the garden. A flower. A bird. Whatever it was, it held her full attention. She didn’t know he was coming until he sat beside her. She actually jumped, as if he’d startled her.

  “You again!” she said, pinning her sea-green eyes on his face.

  “If you don’t want me to sit with you, I’m sure all you have to do is raise your hand and snap your fingers, and your bodyguards will arrive to carry me away.”

  Anya glanced over her shoulder, and her guards stepped forward. She shooed them away, and they moved back, almost to the house. Ah, they were a little bit afraid of her. What had she thrown at them lately?

  Beneath the table, he laid his hand on her knee. She jumped, but did not push his hand off her leg or jump up to run away. He took that as a good sign, and moved his hand higher on her leg. Her face flushed pink, she trembled deep. “I missed you,” he whispered. “Didn’t you miss me at all?”

  “Yes,” she confessed without looking at him.

  “Are you still determined to leave here with that pea-brained king?”

  She hesitated, but finally breathed, “Yes.”

  A flash of anger flared within him, but he pushed it deep. Rage wouldn’t win Anya; it wouldn’t make her change her mind. “Ah,” he said, “you have a spot of something on your cheek.” He reached out and brushed his fingers over the nonexistent smudge. That done, he trailed his hand down to her chin and then to her neck. This time, he didn’t stop at the flimsy barrier her blouse afforded. His hand continued, moving lower to cup one breast, teasing the nipple that hardened at his touch.

  Her back was to the guards, who stood a good distance away. Unless she moved or protested, they would never know how he touched her. He brushed his fingers over one nipple and then another, and Anya didn’t move. She didn’t protest.

  “You said that on your island a man and woman could—what did you call it? Make love without love. Lie together for pleasure.”

  “Fardini,” she whispered.

  “Fardini, “he repeated, just as softly. “You want me, I want you. So why can’t we…”

  “I am to be queen,” she said. “It is not as if I am not promised. I am not free.”

  “No,” Julian said sharply. “You are not free. You’re mine.”

  “No more.”

  “Always.”

  His hand left her breasts and trailed down to her stomach. “If marriage had not made you mine, if love had not made you mine… even if none of that bound us together, this child makes you mine.”

  She turned her head and laid her eyes on him. Strong, fiery, pained eyes. She wanted him. Dammit, she still loved him. Why did she deny him so staunchly? The answer hit him with a force that had the power to knock him to his knees.

  “Has he touched you?” he whispered.

  Anya remained silent.

  “Since coming here,” Julian asked, his voice rising slightly, “has that damned king touched you?”

  Anya shook her head quickly. “No. You taught me too well, Julian. I do not think I would care to ever again lie with a man without love. And I do not love Sebastian,” she added softly. “I will never love Sebastian.”

  “Then why are you leaving? Do you want to be queen so badly?”

  She shook her head.

  “Then why?”

  She laid her hand over his, and together they cradled the child they’d made. “You have always been jealous of Sebastian,” she whispered. “You never said so, but I knew. I saw it in your eyes when you asked about my life on the island. You should not have been jealous, because Sebastian never touched me here.” She took his hand and carried it to her heart, where she pressed it firmly. “And because he never touched me here, he cannot hurt me here.”

  “Are you afraid I’m going to hurt you?”

  “You did hurt me. I know you did not mean to, but… the hurt is there all the same. How can I live that way? How could I survive if you left me again?”

  Julian raised his free hand to her cheek. “I’m not leaving you, and you’re not leaving me. Not like this.”

  Anya reached out and raked her fingers through his hair. “I am afraid, and I do not like to be afraid. It hurts, and… it is like when the storms come, and inside I… I…” She jumped out of her chair but did not release his hand. She ran toward the house, grasping his hand tightly, pushing past the scantily clad guards who tried to protest.

  Julian followed, his hand in hers and his eyes on the back of her head. She ran into the foyer and stopped before the portrait of her father.

  “I remember,” she said, grasping his hand tightly. “He left me floating on the sea, and he promised he would return. He promised!” Her eyes filled with tears. “But he lied, and it still hurts.”

  “Oh, honey,” Julian said, slipping his arm around her waist and holding on tight. “You know he would have come back to you if he could’ve.”

  “He left me to save my mother, and they both died.” She sniffled, and big tears ran down her face. “How could I forget?”

  “You were a child, Anya. It’s only natural that you would forget a traumatic experience like the shipwreck and the death of your parents.”

  She turned her head and looked up at him. “It would be easier not to love at all. If you do not love, you cannot be hurt.”

  “Perhaps,” he said, reaching out to wipe away the tears on her cheeks. “But think of everything you’d miss. Think of everything we’ll miss if you run away from our love because you’re afraid of being hurt.”

  She swayed into him and laid her head on his shoulder. “I do love you,” she whispered. “I do not want to leave. I do not want to be queen.”

  “Good. What would you think about moving to a little town called Miller’s Crossroads?”

  She lifted her head and smiled wanly. “It is a nice little town?”

  “No,” he said honestly. “It is a horrid, dirty little town. But it has potential,” he said optimistically. “And they need me. They need a doctor.”

  “A doctor with patients?”

  “A doctor with infinite patience.”

  She rested her body against his, soft and yielding. The island guards who had followed them inside took a threatening step forward.

 
; “Back off,” Julian ordered brusquely. Amazingly, they did. “My wife doesn’t need any bodyguard but me.”

  The two men looked at each other and said nothing.

  “Go now,” Anya commanded with a haughty wave of her hand. The guards obeyed, though they seemed reluctant.

  “It is true,” Anya said when her bodyguards were gone. “I will not be queen. I am staying here with my husband. No, we are not staying here, we are going to a horrid little town. Together.” She looked up at him and smiled. “I do love you, marido. I never stopped.”

  “Then kiss me, Anya.”

  She came up on her toes and kissed him, long and deep.

  Julian lifted her off her feet. Relief washed through him, relief and the need to lie Anya down in the bed upstairs and make love to her all afternoon. And all night. And all day tomorrow. So much for his earlier fears of excess.

  Footsteps headed their way, and Anya kissed him quickly and stepped back to straighten her hair.

  “What are you doing?” He didn’t want to hide the fact that they were back together from anyone. In fact, he wanted to stand at the top of the stairs and shout the news for everyone to hear.

  “We cannot let everyone know that I am going to stay, not until I have a chance to tell Sebastian. I owe him that much.”

  “You owe him nothing,” Julian seethed.

  “I will tell him tonight,” she whispered as she walked by. “I am going upstairs to take a nap, cher,” she added. “Perhaps you would care to join me?” With that she walked on, exiting the foyer just before Seymour stepped into view.

  Chapter 20

  He had planned to give Anya a five-minute head-start, no more, before joining her, but after she ran up the stairs and Seymour left by way of the front door, there was another interruption. Mrs. Sedley appeared almost on Seymour’s heels.

  “Julian,” she said, her voice too lively. “Just the man I wanted to see.”

  “What can I do for you, Mrs. Sedley?” he asked. And make it snappy.

  Her smile faded. “There’s no one else I can turn to,” she said in a lowered voice, taking Julian’s arm and leading him into the south parlor. “What are we going to do?” she whispered. “How are we going to keep Anya here where she belongs?”