DeButy & the Beast

by Linda Jones

  He opened his mouth to tell her that Anya had already decided not to return to Puerta Sirena, but something stopped him. “I’m doing my best,” he said simply.

  “She can’t go back there,” the old woman said desperately. “All the wasted years! I need her here, Julian. She cannot leave. All my children are gone. First Ellis left me, and then Robert, and now Valerie. I can’t lose Anya again. I would do anything to keep her here.”

  “Anything?” Including having me shanghaied? His heart hitched. “What do you suggest?”

  “She loves you. You can convince her to stay.”

  He considered telling her that he and Anya would not be staying here in this house. Good heavens, suddenly it was all so clear. Elizabeth Sedley had bought him as Anya’s husband knowing he would leave, knowing he and Anya would never suit. The prudish doctor and the love goddess. Who would’ve thought they would fall in love?

  “And once that’s done,” the woman continued, “you’ll have to convince Anya that she can’t travel, not in her delicate condition.”

  “Travel?”

  “She told me that the two of you would… sail around the world, or some such nonsense,” Mrs. Sedley said, her temper short, red spots flaring up on her cheeks.

  So that’s what had triggered the kidnapping. How far would the old woman go? What lengths would she take to keep Anya here? “Perhaps I could kill him,” Julian suggested in a lowered voice.

  “What?” she snapped.

  “Anya’s king. I don’t like him much, and neither do you. Don’t tell me murder never crossed your mind.”

  “Well,” she said, her face turning deep pink. “I might’ve thought of it, but I dismissed the idea of killing as extreme. If you think that’s best, though…”

  She was quite willing to be a party to murder. Elizabeth Sedley truly would do anything to get her way.

  “I’ll think it over,” he said, shaking his head. Sick inside not only that this woman he had once admired had turned out to be so devious, but that he would have to tell Anya. The news would break her heart, and he didn’t want to hurt her again.

  *

  Julian burst into the room without warning, but Anya was ready. Her prim clothes had been discarded, her hair had been loosened and brushed out, and she sat on the side of the bed waiting for her husband to come to her, as he had said he would.

  To think, she had almost left him! The power of her love for him was so strong that it scared her, but she would not turn her back on that love again. She would not pretend that she did not need him.

  He should be as happy as she was, but he did not look at all pleased, as he closed and locked the door behind him.

  Whatever was wrong, she would make it better. She lifted her hand and invited him to her. She smiled, to let him know without words that she loved him.

  “Oh, Anya,” he said as he walked to her. “I did so want everything here to be perfect for you.”

  “Nothing is perfect,” she said as he sat beside her. The bed dipped under his weight and she rolled into him, her body searching out his warmth and support. “But if I have you, everything will be fine. Perfect or not.”

  He lost his hands in her hair, held her body against his as if he searched for the same comfort she did. “I’ve never in all my life wanted to protect anyone or anything the way I want to protect you. I want to keep everything ugly and hurtful away from you. You’ve been hurt enough.”

  “Something is wrong.”

  “Yes.” He nodded slightly. “I’m afraid so.”

  “And you must tell me what it is that bothers you so?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can it wait until after you make love to me?” She raised her head, brushed aside a length of dark hair, and kissed the side of Julian’s neck. He smelled so good, he tasted of love and warmth. Her fingers raked over his beard-roughened cheek.

  “I don’t want to do this, but I really should get it over with,” he muttered.

  She laid on her back and drew him down with her. “No. Things are not always going to be as perfect as we want them to be. When that happens, we should learn to stop time for a while.”

  “Stop time?”

  “Time should stop for love, do you not think?”

  “It’s a nice idea, but…”

  She began to unfasten the buttons of his shirt.

  “Until I came here, I did not even know what love was.”

  “But you were a love goddess,” he said, muttering the words that so obviously hurt him, still.

  “A love goddess who knew nothing of love,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck. “You were a most excellent teacher, marido,” she whispered.

  He smiled when she called him husband. “And you have always been an excellent student, my love.”

  She pressed her body snugly against his, arching her back, winding her legs around his. “We must stop expecting perfection, I suppose. Storms will come, and they might bring pain and confusion and fear, but it should all stop for love. If we can make time stop for love, then nothing can ever tear us apart again.” She reached between their bodies and touched him. “See? You want me. No matter that things are not perfect, no matter that a storm may be coming.”

  “All right,” he said huskily, lowering his head to kiss her neck. “You’ve convinced me. It can wait. Everything can wait.”

  She had forgotten how much she loved this, the feel of the length of his body along hers, the heat and tenderness of his mouth, the urgency that began to grow, so slowly, from the first moment he touched her.

  How could she tell him that none of her teachings on the island had ever prepared her for the perfect melding of sex and love? That with him she experienced something she had never expected, a powerful joining that went beyond the physical. She did not have to tell him, she suspected. He knew.

  She helped him shed his clothes, never hurrying and yet with that underlying urgency coloring each and every movement. Julian was hers. Her husband, her lover, her friend.

  “I was so afraid I would never see you again,” she whispered as he aligned his body to hers.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he said, taking her face in his hands and kissing her deep. “Not ever again. You have to know I would never leave you. Life would be too hard without you. It wouldn’t be life at all.”

  “I love you,” she whispered, and he surged forward to fill her waiting body.

  They came together like lovers who had been apart too long. Fast and furious, they reached for each other. They danced and swayed in their own time, their joining primitive and still delicately lovely. Intense pleasure built to a fever’s pitch and then broke over them at once. Anya cried out, and Julian caught her cry through parted lips. She caught his growl on her tongue, tasted his pleasure and his sharp surrender.

  For a long while his body rested over hers, protective and loving. Anya lay there with her hands threaded through long strands of dark hair. Time truly had stopped. Nothing else mattered but this.

  Finally, he raised up and looked down at her. The unhappy indecision had come back. He brushed the hair away from her face and made a poor attempt at a smile. “I think I know who tried to have me shanghaied.”

  “Who?” she whispered.

  He kissed her forehead, with tenderness and an offering of comfort that only he could give. “Your grandmother,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, Anya. I’m so sorry.”

  “Did she tell you this?”

  “No. But…” He shook his head. “She’s willing to do anything to keep you here. You told her you and I would travel together?”

  “Yes. I would not ask you to give up your dream for me.”

  “You are my dream,” he whispered.

  “Grandmother?” Anya asked, more confused than ever. “She is the one who tried to take you from me?”

  Julian nodded. “I can’t prove it, not yet… but I think she’s the one. As soon as I hear from Jeremiah, I’ll have the proof I need.”

  *

&n
bsp; Sebastian stepped into the silent, empty kitchen. Where was she?

  He had never met a woman like Betsy. Last night, after he had eaten and they had talked for a while, she had finally allowed him to touch her. Gently, quickly, and not at all in the manner he desired. She had refused to take off her clothes. She hadn’t even removed her apron!

  Such prudish behavior should have angered him, it should have sent him running to Maida. But it had not. Instead he had settled down to a night of dreams the like of which he had never known.

  “Betsy,” he whispered, walking toward the back door. He noticed the narrow doorway at the back of the room. It opened onto a slender hallway and more rooms. He had not known a house could be so large! His entire village could likely live here in comfort.

  “Betsy?” he whispered again. From not so far away, he heard a bed squeak. Sebastian stepped gingerly, on bare feet, down the narrow hallway. He peeked through first one doorway and then another. Finally, he peeked into a small room and saw Betsy laying on the bed. She was fully dressed, all the way down to her apron, and she lay on her side with her cheek resting against her hands. Like a child, and then not at all like a child.

  He would let her sleep, he decided. She worked too hard and likely needed her rest. Sebastian leaned against the doorjamb and stared at Betsy. How he would love to take her home with him. She would never again have to cook, unless she wished to do so. She would never again be forced to rise at dawn to prepare breakfast for a house full of people, or to slave over a hot stove all day, until she was so tired she slept… like this.

  She stirred on the bed, opened her eyes, and when she saw him standing there she sat up quickly, bringing her hands to her chest. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to see you,” he said.

  Her eyes were pinned to his bare chest, then they snapped up to his face. “You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered. “I might get fired.”

  He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. Betsy’s face flushed pink, but she didn’t tell him to get out. “No one will dismiss you,” he promised. “I would not allow it.”

  She shook her head. “Well, you won’t be here forever, and once you’re gone Mrs. Sedley will do exactly as she pleases. She always does.”

  “Do you like working here?” he took another step toward the bed.

  “Most of the time,” she said softly.

  “Do you ever wish for… more?”

  “Of course I do,” she snapped.

  “Do you ever wish for a man?”

  “Never,” she said sternly, but again her face flushed pink, and her lower lip trembled.

  “Do you wish to remain a virgin forever?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  Betsy threw her legs over the side of the bed. “I told you last night, I don’t want children. What other reason is there for… you know?” This time she turned a bright red. “Oh, I can’t believe I said that.” She pointed at the door. “Get out.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you shouldn’t be here. It isn’t right and you… you… you disturb me.”

  Sebastian smiled. “What if I could show you a very good reason not to remain a virgin, and yet you would still be a virgin when I was finished with you?”

  “There’s nothing you can say…”

  “You liked it when I touched you last night,” he said, taking another step closer. “When I laid my hands on your breasts, when I kissed your neck. You did like it. Did you not?”

  “A little.”

  Sebastian grinned. She lied so badly! “No one has ever touched you that way before.”

  “No.”

  He sat on the bed beside her. “Let me touch you again. I promise, you will be left with your precious virginity.”

  “Then I suppose it would be all right,” she conceded. “As long as no one knows! Mrs. Sedley would fire me just for having you in my room.”

  “No one will know,” he promised. “Lie down.”

  “But…”

  He laid his finger over her lips to silence her. “Lie down,” he repeated in a lowered voice.

  She did, twisting her body around, falling slowly back until her head hit the pillow. She lay there stiffly, waiting.

  “Close your eyes,” he commanded, and she obeyed. He lay down beside her, stretching the length of his body alongside hers. The bed was too short for him, but he paid that inconvenience no mind. “We are on Puerta Sirena,” he said lowly. “On the beach. There is no one else on the beach but you and me. No one for miles and miles. The sun shines warm on your face, the water laps just a few feet away.”

  Betsy sighed and relaxed. “It sounds so beautiful.”

  “It is.”

  “Are there flowers?” she asked breathlessly.

  “Hundreds. No, thousands,” he whispered, “Flowers in every color you can imagine, and some you cannot. Would you like your bed to be made of the petals of these flowers?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “It is done.” Finally, he reached out and touched her, tracing the lines of her face with his finger, trailing that single finger down to her neck. “When the sun becomes too warm, the shade of a nearby tree travels our way to cool us. Do you feel it?” he asked. “The shadow that covers us?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Do you feel the soft petals beneath your back?”

  “Yes.” The word was so low it was less than a whisper.

  He unfastened the buttons of her bodice and slipped his hand inside the opening in her blouse to touch her sweet, bare skin. Her eyes remained closed. Her breasts rose and fell with each deep breath she took. “The breeze that washes over us smells of the ocean. Can you smell it?”

  “I do,” she said, her voice touched with wonder.

  He caressed her breasts with one hand, while with the other he unfastened every blasted button and tape he found. There were many, on her unnecessary layers of clothing. When her breasts were bared, he leaned over and took one nipple into his mouth, suckling deep, tasting without hesitation. Betsy breathed deep and arched her back, but she did not open her eyes.

  “Oh, my,” she whispered as he moved his mouth to her other breast. Her hands reached out to find and grasp his head. Her fingers threaded through his long hair and she held him tight.

  “Day turns into night,” he whispered when he took his mouth from her and rolled her onto her side to push some of her clothing down and aside. “Do you see the stars? They shine so bright, just for us.”

  “I do,” she said with wonder. “I do see them.”

  “They are beautiful,” he said as he slipped her already unfastened skirt down. “And so are you.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not—”

  “You are,” he interrupted. “By the light of a full moon, you are the most beautiful sight I have ever seen.” One by one, he discarded the unnecessary pieces of clothing she wore. Her skin had never seen the sun, it was pale and soft, silky and inviting. He touched her, always gently, always with a wonder he had never felt before.

  “And while the moon and the stars shine down on us, I make love to you.” He rolled her onto her back again, and his hand raked down her chest to her flat belly, and then lower to cup her where no man had ever touched her before.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “The pleasure is so great we scream at the night.”

  “Yes.”

  He moved to tower above her, parted her thighs with his hands, and then laid his mouth against her, tasting her innocence and her passion. His tongue flickered, his fingers aroused. He toyed with her, bringing her close to completion and then backing away to whisper against her. “The pleasure is so great, it is an ecstasy you cannot live without. A pleasure like no other.”

  She moaned, and he took her hips in his hands and laid his mouth on her again, flicking and fluttering his tongue against her. She shattered, with a moan and an arching of her body. With her hands grasping the sheets and a s
cream caught in her throat, she found fulfillment.

  When Betsy came to her senses she opened her eyes, and found herself not on Puerta Sirena but in her own bed. Sebastian moved so that he again laid beside her, stretched on his side, staring at her with a wide smile on his face.

  “Oh, my,” Betsy said, and then she glanced down and squealed. “I’m naked! How did I get naked?”

  Sebastian gave her his most innocent look, as she tried to cover herself with hands on her breasts and her legs clasped together. “I made you naked,” he said. “It was not necessary, but… preferable.”

  She was different from the women he knew, and he wondered how she would react to what she had just experienced. Would she cry? Be angry? Would she thank him?

  She surprised him. Her hands reached out to touch his face. “More,” she said. “I want more.”

  He smiled, caressed her bare hip, and left the bed. “Not today, querida.”

  “Why not?” she asked, sitting up in her bed. “Don’t you want me?” There was real hurt in her eyes.

  Sebastian turned about and faced her. “All you have to do is look at me to know that I want you.” His loincloth did little to hide his condition. “But when I came to your bed I promised that when I left the room you would still be a virgin. I am a king and a man of my word.”

  “Oh.”

  The disappointment in her voice was almost enough to make him break his promise. “Tonight, if you still want me, come to my room.”

  “I can’t—”

  “If you come to me, you needn’t worry about finding yourself with child,” he said, telling his secret at last. “It appears that I cannot father a child.”

  Another man’s child would be his heir. A woman who loved that man would be his wife. A couple of days ago he had not minded that prospect, but now… it seemed he was being cheated out of something. Something intangible.

  “If you come to me tonight, I will give you more,” he promised. “I will give you everything.”

  Betsy’s answer was a nod.

  Chapter 21

  Dinner had been strained, at best. Queen Carola had been oddly quiet. She normally voiced her opinions on everything, so Julian had to wonder if she was ill. Sebastian had seemed distracted as well. He’d barely eaten two plates full of chicken and potatoes. Seymour had whined loudly because he’d lost a bundle at cards the night before, and his grandmother had finally told him to shut up. Ellis was obviously anxious to return to sea.