Beast Lord: (Beauty and the Beast) (Tangled Tales Book 3) (12 page)

“Remember you by? You sound as if I’m leaving. Are you sending me away from the castle?”

“I never said you were the one leaving.”

“Are you planning to give up Breckenridge then?”

“Not as long as I live. Now go, and take the flower with you. If you never see me again after this day, you’ll know if I live or die by looking at the flower.”

“What do you mean? I don’t understand.”

“If the petals all drop off the rose . . . then you will know that I am gone forever.”

It broke Stefan’s heart to have to send Bonnibel away, especially when they were just starting to get along. He craved the feeling of her soft skin against his palm. The scent of wildflowers from her body about drove him mad. In his beast form he was like an animal and all his senses were more acute. His lust for her had grown as well, and he wanted nothing more than to taste her sweet lips one more time before he left this world forever, but he couldn’t.

Last time was a fluke when he’d started changing back into his manly form. If it didn’t happen again and his lust for her grew out of control, he wasn’t sure he would be able to stop himself from throwing her down on the ground and rutting with her like an animal in heat. He could hurt her – and that was something he never wanted to do to someone as precious and as beautiful as her. He might have weakened and kissed her like he knew she wanted, but his keen senses picked up the sound and scent of someone else in the room. Or outside the room.

He was sure someone was waiting and watching, and he couldn’t be sure that Hecuba herself wasn’t disguised as something in the room. He’d even had the horrid thought that perhaps for fun, the old hag had shifted into the form of Bonnibel and it wasn’t his angel in his arms after all, but the old hag. If the witch tricked him like she had his father and he coupled with her in the form of what he thought was Bonnibel, he would kill himself rather than to live with the idea of what he did. So he’d stopped. And when he stopped, he’d also stopped the reversal of his spell. He’d sent away the woman he cared for, and he couldn’t blame her if she never returned again.

He walked over to the far wall, listening, waiting, and sniffing the air. The scent was heavy in this area just behind the cupboard. He could tell it was askew. With one powerful action, he shoved the cupboard away from the wall and yanked at some sort of knob that he hadn’t known was there. Sure enough, a secret door in the wall opened. He reached in one arm and wrapped his hand around the first thing he touched. He yanked at it. Out of a small, hidden room, fell a person in a black, hooded robe. The man looked up to him, and when he did, he saw his hair in a tonsure and a large ornate cross on a chain around his neck.

“You! Who are you?” he spat. “And why were you spying on me?”

“Forgive me, Lord Stefan, I didn’t mean to pry.”

“Why are you up here in my tower chamber?”

“I am here because it is the only home I’ve known for nearly the last two decades.”

“What is your name?”

“I am Brother Andrew. I was at one time Lord Breckenridge’s scribe.”

“What’s in that room?” he asked, bending over and peering sideways into the secret room.

“It is Lord Breckenridge’s personal collection of works. Books, that is. I have scribed most of them for him, and those that I have not, I am holding for safe keeping for kings, priests, and even wizards.”

“I don’t believe you. I can have you drawn and quartered for trying to steal from me. Not to mention spying on me with the lady.”

“The reason Lady Bonnibel was here is because I sent a letter to her saying you requested her presence. I also scribed a letter and sent it to the kitchen, pretending it came from her and that she requested food for you to dine together.”

“I don’t believe you. Why would you do such a thing?”

“Because I have watched over Bonnibel since she was a child, just like she was my own daughter. I was a very close friend to both Lord Breckenridge and his wife.”

“Were you the one to give her that gown?”

“I was. I gave it to her mother years ago, but she never had the chance to wear it.”

“Why would you give a gown to another man’s wife?”

“Because,” he said, then looked to the ground and shook his head. “I just did.”

“You were in love with Bonnibel’s mother, weren’t you?”

“What do I know of love, my lord? I am naught but a simple monk who has taken vows of poverty and chastity, and worships only my God, and pays fealty to Lord Breckenridge.”

Stefan lit a candle and held it up to see into the little room. It was filled with books – something that was only owned by the wealthy. “I don’t see poverty here, and if you were giving gowns to pretty women, I doubt that you’re chaste either. For all I know, you’re not even a monk at all.”

“I am a monk as well as chaste, I assure you. But the occupants of the castle never knew I was here. They think I’m naught but a ghost.”

“Who are you hiding from and why are you afraid?”

“It is a long story, Lord Stefan, and one that I’m not proud to tell.”

“I see.” Stefan gripped the man by the front of his cloak and pulled him up and plopped him down on the chair. “I’m not going anywhere, so I suggest you start talking, because I’m not sure how much time I have left.”

“Please, don’t hurt Bonnibel, my lord, no matter what you do to me. She deserves a wonderful, strong knight to protect her – like you.”

“What are you talking about?” Stefan paced the room as he spoke.

“What I mean to say is I believe anyone can fall in love, even if the likelihood of two people being together doesn’t seem feasible.”

“Spit it out!” shouted Stefan, not wanting to hear any more of the man’s rambling.

“I was Lord Breckenridge’s scribe. He was good to me, and gave me anything I wanted in return for books that I scribed for him, or should I say . . . attained for him.”

“You couldn’t have scribed all those books, not even in two decades. You stole some of them, didn’t you?”

“I told you – I was holding them for other nobles. I just . . . never gave them back. Forgive me, my Lord, for my sins.” The monk blessed himself.

“I forgive you.”

“My
other
Lord,” the man explained, looking up to the ceiling. “You see, I had all good intentions, but Lord Breckenridge was obsessed with money and power. He kept me up in this tower locked away from everyone, because he didn’t want anyone to know about the books – the ones that weren’t really his. I travelled through the tunnels at night and got food and wine from the kitchen after the servants had gone to sleep. I was spotted several times through the years, but was thought to be naught but a ghost.”

“Go on.”

“Well, you see, Lord Breckenridge was often gone in battle, and one day his wife discovered me here in the tower. We became good friends and she confided in me that her husband had stopped talking or even coupling with her and only cared about land, wealth, and riches. Lady Grace – Bonnibel’s mother missed Naal – her husband. I tried to comfort her and we became close.”

“I’m guessing by the sound of it, you were more than friends.”

“The devil entered me and tempted me more than once, but nay, I never touched the woman.”

“Why are you telling me all this? Why do you think I even care?”

“Because it’s important you know that not every man is what he seems. You need to know this if you’re going to save Bonnibel from marrying a horrible man.”

“Go on,” said Stefan, curious to know more, and determined to keep Bonnibel safe.

“I believe the attackers, and the man who took Lord Breckenridge, could have been Lord Wickhambreaux – the man Bonnibel’s father betrothed her to.”

“What?” Stefan’s eyes snapped up and he felt anxiety course through him. His hand went to his face to feel the scars made by this man. “I’ll kill him!”

“I am not certain, my lord, but it is my suspicion. I have also been hiding and watching and know about the curse Hecuba bestowed upon you. I want to see your curse broken because you seem to be a good man and Bonnibel likes you.”

“See doesn’t like me. She sees me as a beast!”

“I don’t believe so. I think she sees you for the man you were.”

“No,” said Stefan. “Not for the man I was – but for the man I want to be.”

“You’ll let me help you then?”

“What do you want in return?”

“I want you to not only marry Bonnibel, but go after her father who I think is in grave danger.”

“I don’t know him, nor do I want him to return and try to reclaim his castle.”

“If you help Bonnibel find and bring back her father, I think she will fall in love with you. Then your curse can be broken.”

Stefan paced the room, not knowing what to think. The man had a point, but Stefan wasn’t sure saving Bonnibel’s father would make her love him. Nor was he sure he wanted her to love him for that reason only. Nor did he want the man to return and try to take back his castle from him.

“Why would a man who was betrothed to Bonnibel attack the castle to begin with? He was entering into an alliance. None of this makes any sense.”

The monk looked to the ground when he spoke, not able to meet Stefan’s eyes. “I . . . I suppose you have a point, my lord. Mayhap I’m just mistaken.”

Stefan had the feeling the monk was not telling him everything. If not, than Stefan would have to find out just what the monk was hiding.

Chapter 13

The next morning Bonnibel hurriedly dressed and headed down to the kitchen before anyone had the chance to knock at her door. She had no idea why Stefan had sent her away, but was very insulted that he didn’t seem to want her. She wore a riding gown today and had her hair pulled up under a coif. She also wore a long cloak and short boots on her feet.

She entered the kitchen, thankful to find Flora and Sibeal preparing food.

“Lady Bonnibel, are you going somewhere?” asked Sibeal, and her mother looked up as well.

“You’d better not be going anywhere without an escort,” Flora scolded. “It’s not safe, my lady.”

“Flora, I need you to pack me some food, and put it in a travel bag,” said Bonnibel. “Sibeal, I’d like you to run to the stables and have the stableboy saddle me a horse right away.”

“With a lady’s saddle?” asked Sibeal.

“Nay. I’ll use a man’s saddle today. I know how to ride and need to get far from here before Sir Stefan decides to call for me again.”

“I’m guessing your meal with him yesterday didn’t go as well as you’d hoped?” asked Flora, doing as instructed.

“Nay. It was horrible. And he ended up sending me away.”

“He sent you away?” asked Sibeal. “Whatever for?”

“How should I know?” she spat, readjusting her coif, pushing a few stray strands of hair back into place. “Nor do I care. I’m going out to search for my father since no one else here seems to care what happened to him. I had a dream days ago, and he was in trouble. Now, all I need is to find someone along the way who has seen where he went. Are you sure you don’t know where the attackers took him, Flora?”

“Nay, my lady, and if I did I would not tell you. It is dangerous and you need an army of men to bring back your father.”

“That is the chance I’ll have to take.”

“Why don’t you ask Lord Stefan to help you?” asked Sibeal.

“I don’t think so,” she said, not thinking he’d be in a hurry to bring back her father and lose the castle in the process.

“Please, I beg you not to go, my lady,” said Flora.

“I’ll be fine,” she assured them. “Now go, Sibeal and tell the stableboy I’ll be right there and need the fastest horse we have.”

* * *

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” asked Stefan, stepping out into the courtyard in broad daylight while the servants bustled around doing their chores. Mercenaries lined the walkways of the battlements, and he saw MacKay talking to Kin by the drawbridge. He was surprised Kin and his men were still here after his little confrontation with his brother. He thought for sure they would have left by now.

“Of course it’s a wonderful idea,” said the monk, hidden under a cloak with his head and face hidden as well. He followed Stefan over the cobblestones with his hands inside the front folds of his black robe. “I heard Bonnibel saying she was going to look for her father by herself. You can’t let her do that. This is the perfect opportunity for you to go with her. Besides, if you’re worried about the servants seeing your face, don’t be. They’ll keep their eyes lowered to the ground, as is proper.”

“You’d better be damned sure she’s not going to turn me down,” growled Stefan. “If she turns me down in front of the men, I’ll string you up myself.”

“Now why would she turn down a man like you with such a lovely disposition?”

Stefan noticed the servants watching him and wished he had worn his cloak so he could cover his face. The blood pounded in his ears and his sharp hearing picked up his brothers talking about him even though they were out of earshot.

“I can’t believe Stefan actually came out here after hiding away for the last week,” said MacKay.

“He’s got that snarl on his face again, and I don’t want to get anywhere near him,” said Kin.

“Who is that with him?” Stefan saw MacKay stretching his neck. “I can’t see the man’s face.”

“It’s probably Stefan’s live catch for the day and he’s going to eat him for dinner,” remarked Kin. They both laughed and Stefan stopped in his tracks and turned around and looked over at his brothers. He licked his lips and forced a sarcastic smile and they both turned away quickly.

“Do you think he heard us?” whispered MacKay.

“I don’t see how. But he looks hungry enough to eat a horse,” Kin commented.

“And he is headed toward the stables!”

“Where’s my squire?” asked Kin, looking around frantically. “I need to tell him to get my horse out of there before Stefan eats it.”

Stefan looked in their direction and purposely growled loudly. All of a sudden everyone from the servants to his own brothers scattered and gave him more room than he needed.

He walked into the stable to find Trumble on his knees in the straw along with the stableboy and two of the new mercenaries Stefan had hired. They were playing dice. In the center of the pile of coins and being offered up as a bet, was none other than Stefan’s favorite black tunic with gold trim.

“Trumble! What are you doing?” he asked in a loud voice.

The men all jumped to their feet, dropping the dice in the process.

“Lord de Bar, we didn’t expect you out here,” said one of the guards.

“Of course you didn’t. And neither did my squire.” Stefan reached down and picked up the tunic in two fingers that was sitting atop a pile of coins. He lifted it into the air to find a pair of his leather riding boots underneath. “My boots too, Trumble? Really?”

“I figured you wouldn’t need them anymore since you won’t fit in them – I mean with your – your condition and all.” Trumble forced an apologetic smile.

“Get back to your posts,” he ordered the mercenaries. “And don’t ever let me catch you doing this again, or I’ll have all your heads.” He felt his blood boiling again, and he noticed the way his voice changed to a gravelly sound.

“We’re sorry, my lord,” said the guards, reaching down for their coins. Stefan stepped forward, putting his foot down on one of the man’s hands. “Ow!” the man cried out.

“Leave the coins there. Now go!”

The men did as told, and the stableboy sneaked off into the shadows to avoid being reprimanded as well.

“Lord Stefan, remember your purpose for being here,” whispered the monk. “One wrong move and the beast might scare her away again.”

“Who are you?” asked Trumble, picking up the coins and putting them into a pouch.

“This is my – advisor . . . Sir Andrew,” said Stefan, keeping the man’s true identity a secret.

“Advisor? For what?” The squire stood up with the strings of the pouch dangling from his fingers. Stefan snatched the bag away from him and fastened it to his belt.

“He’s here to advise me how to get my squire to do a lick of work,” he grumbled. “Now I’ll keep these coins while you put my clothes back in my room.”

“Aye, my lord,” said the squire. Then under his breath Stefan heard him mumble. “No use doing it when they won’t fit you anyway.”

“Give me the tunic,” he said, holding out his hand.

“My lord?” questioned the squire.

“I’ll show you that I can still fit in my clothes no matter what you think.” He removed the tunic he was wearing and struggled to get into his favorite tunic. It was tight, and barely fit over his head but he was determined to prove to the boy that he was still the same man he used to be. “There,” he said, barely able to breathe. “That should teach you to keep your mouth shut. Now go.”

“Did you want the boots too, my lord?” Trumble held them out to him. Stefan knew he would never be able to bend over to don them without ripping his tunic to shreds. So instead he just shook his head. “Nay. I like the ones I’m wearing.”

Trumble looked down to Stefan’s feet and cocked his head.

“Those shoes don’t look sturdy enough to use for riding, let alone walking. Here, put on your boots, it’ll be a better choice.”

“The better choice would be for you to leave before I lose my temper. Now I said, go!”

“Aye, my lord.” Trumble turned and walked toward the door of the stable.

“And if you gamble with my clothes again, I’ll be finding myself a new squire.”

“Yes, my lord.”

As soon as Trumble left the stable Stefan changed back into his other tunic so he could breathe. Then to his surprise, Bonnibel entered. She was talking to a servant that he guessed to be the cook, and when she saw him she stopped in her tracks and her eyes opened wide.

“Sir Stefan? What are you doing out here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he answered.

“I’m going out to look for my father,” she told him.

“Nay. You’re not going anywhere without an escort.”

“You just don’t want my father returning, because you know if he does you’ll lose the castle you’ve stolen. Stableboy, is my horse saddled?” she asked.

“Aye, my lady,” said the boy.

“Bring it to me, please.” She donned a pair of gloves as she spoke.

The girl was right. He didn’t want her father returning. He liked having a castle, even if it was old and crumbling. He wasn’t going to give it back. “Then I’m going with you,” said Stefan, barely able to get the words out since his tunic was so tight. He figured he’d keep the girl from really finding her father, because if she did, he would have to fight him.

“Nay. I’d rather go alone.” She took the horse from the stableboy and started to mount it.

“I thought you said she wouldn’t turn me down,” he mumbled to the monk who was standing in the shadows behind him.

“You need to be charming, and pleasant,” the monk whispered back.

“Hard to do that when my tunic is keeping me from breathing.”

“That was a mistake. You should have given it to the boy.”

“Brother Andrew, please be quiet.”

“Brother Andrew did you say?” The cook cocked her head, trying to see the monk’s face. “Do I perhaps know you from somewhere?”

“Nay,” Stefan answered for him since he knew the monk felt uncomfortable.

“By your leave, my lord, I’ll be getting back to the castle now,” said the monk hiding his face under the hood of the cloak.

“Aye,” answered Stefan. “Go.”

“Don’t forget the travel bag with your food, my lady,” the cook reminded Bonnibel. After Bonnibel mounted the horse, the cook held it up for her to take.

“I’ll take that.” Stefan stepped forward and grabbed the bag from her. “Stableboy, my horse.”

“I have a bridle on it, but it’s not saddled yet, my lord,” the boy explained, opening a door to one of the stalls. Bonnibel started to ride out of the stable and he didn’t want her going without him.

“It’s fine.” He grabbed the horse’s reins and mounted the horse bareback. He probably wouldn’t fit in the saddle anyway. Then, throwing the travel bag over his shoulder, he caught up to Bonnibel as she headed over the drawbridge and out the castle gate.

“Wait up,” he growled, but she just kept riding. He kicked his heels into the sides of his horse and when he got next to her, she didn’t look happy. “I said, stop.”

“I’ll not stop until I find my father.”

“You don’t even know where he is, do you?”

“I know he’s been taken by someone he knows. So all I need to do is find someone on the road who’s seen them pass and I’ll find him.”

“And then what?” he asked. “Do you plan on walking in the front gate all by yourself and asking for your father to be turned over to you?”

“Well, no. I suppose not.”

“Then what were you planning on doing once you got there?”

“I haven’t decided yet, but I will find a way to rescue him, I assure you.”

“You are being reckless and foolish,” he told her, feeling more like his normal cautious self. “Let’s stop in the glen down by the creek, and we can discuss this further.”

She hesitated for a second and he thought she was going to say no, but then she finally nodded. “All right. I guess. We’ll stop up ahead.”

Once they dismounted and watered their horses in the creek, Stefan tied the reins to a nearby tree. Then he took the travel bag of food and sat on the ground and opened it up.

“You didn’t sound surprised when I mentioned that the gossip is my father has been captured by someone he knows,” said Bonnibel.

“I’m not.”

“Then you already knew. Who told you?”

“I’m hungry. I’ll tell you after we eat.”

“Nay. I want to know now. Because if you know something and didn’t tell me -”

“Sit!” he said, and she saw that look – the look of the beast shadowing his face. She sat quickly, trying not to anger him since she didn’t want to be alone with a beast with no one to help her. She already regretted not bringing along a guard for protection.

Stefan unpacked the bag and Bonnibel laid her cloak on the ground to use it as a table. Together they shared food and wine. It was a warm, sunny day, and birds chirped in the air. The sound of the trickling brook in the background relaxed her, and after some small talk, she was starting to feel at ease with Stefan.

“Bonnie, you are a beautiful girl and I’d hate to ever see anything happen to you.”