Beast Lord: (Beauty and the Beast) (Tangled Tales Book 3) (7 page)

“I met MacKay on the road,” said Kin. “I am traveling with only a dozen of my warriors, but I hear you are in need of some soldiers at this . . . castle.” He looked around at the dark, foreboding, crumbling castle and a lopsided grin spread across his face. “I must say, I wondered why you wanted MacKay to find mercenaries to fight for you, but I can see the answer as plain as those wounds on your face now. Real soldiers would be too good for a place like this.”

“Kin, you either hold your tongue, or I’ll cut it out.”

“Now, that doesn’t sound like our conscientious brother at all, does it, MacKay?” Kin dismounted and so did MacKay. They handed the reins of their horses to Trumble who took the animals to the stable.

“He – hasn’t been himself lately,” MacKay explained.

“I must say – I never thought a de Bar would lower himself enough to be caught dead in a place like this.”

That was all Stefan could take. His fist shot out and hit his golden brother in the jaw, knocking Kin backwards. Kin drew his sword and so did Stefan. The mercenaries as well as Kin’s soldiers gathered around, urging them to fight.

“I’ll not have you saying things like that in front of my men,” growled Stefan, reaching out with his sword, being stopped as Kin’s sword met his blade in the air.

“If your idea of loyal soldiers are cutthroat mercenaries who will kill for money, then what does it matter what I say?”

“Brothers, stop it,” said MacKay, stepping in to reason with them and almost getting hit by the blades in the process.

“I don’t like anyone calling me ugly,” snarled Stefan.

“Well, you are, so there shouldn’t be a debate.” Kin wouldn’t stop with the comments.

Stefan felt the blood boiling in his veins and would have fought with more vigor if a feminine voice from behind him hadn’t made him still his actions.

“Gentlemen, I welcome you to Breckenridge Castle.”

“Who is this?” asked Kin, dropping the tip of his sword, his eyes lighting up when he saw the beauty of Bonnibel.

“She’s my prisoner,” he grunted. “How did you get out of your chamber?”

She ignored him altogether and held her hand out to Kin.

“I am Lady Bonnibel.”

“And I am Lord Kin de Bar, at your service.” He gallantly bowed and placed a kiss atop her hand. “But tell me, why are you prisoner here?”

“I’m not!” She shot a sideways scowl to Stefan. “This is not his castle, it is my father’s castle.”

“And where is your father? I’d like to meet him,” said Kin.

“I am afraid he’s been captured and taken prisoner by attackers.”

“Well, let’s find out more and my men and I will be happy to help you find him. Shall we retire to the great hall and discuss this over a dram of ale?” He started to walk away, putting Bonnibel’s hand on his arm, but Stefan put an end to that.

“Nay! She is my prisoner here and this is my castle. She’ll go back to her chamber anon.”

“Stefan, that is rather harsh, don’t you think?” asked MacKay, siding with his brother.

“Show the lady some respect,” added Kin.

Stefan looked at the beautiful woman hanging on his lucky brother’s arm, and knew Kin would have her under his spell before long, just like he did with most women he met. She was an angel, a fae, with golden locks spun of silk trailing down past her shoulders. Her skin was smooth and fair, and her eyes the color of the sea on a summer’s day. And her lips – those lush lips like ripe berries – were full and plump and begging to be kissed – by a man like his brother, not by an ugly beast like himself.

“Trumble,” he called out, and his squire ran up from the stables, stopping in a puff of dust as he slid up to him.

“Aye, my lord. What can I do for you?”

“Take the girl back to her chamber and make sure this time she stays inside, even if you have to barricade the door.”

“You’re sending her back to her chamber, my lord? Why?”

“Just do it! I don’t need a brash wench telling me what is or isn’t mine.” He grabbed for the key at his waist belt, and when he removed it, the strength of his hand had bent it in half.

“My lord! Did you really just bend that iron key?”

“Aye, how did you do that?” asked MacKay.

“It doesn’t matter. Now do as I say.” He pushed the key into Trumble’s hand.

“But my lord, this key won’t work in the lock if it’s bent.” Trumble turned it over and over in his palm, fascinated by what just happened. Stefan was rather fascinated too.

“Then fix it!” he snapped.

“I’ll take it to the blacksmith’s shop and see what I can do, but I’m not skilled in pounding out iron.”

“Give it to me,” he growled, ripping the key from his squire’s hand. Placing his fingers on both sides, he bent it back into shape as if he were bending a blade of grass.

The men mumbled amongst themselves, and Trumble’s mouth fell open.

“Did you just . . . ”

“Squire, if you don’t stop asking questions, I’ll lock you in your chamber next. Now take the girl and go.”

“Aye, my lord.”

“I’ll not go with him!” Bonnibel struggled against Trumble’s hold. “This is my father’s castle and you can’t tell me what to do.”

“You are my prisoner, and you’ll hold your tongue,” he spat.

“I’ll do no such thing. Kin, protect me from this beast!”

That’s all Stefan needed to hear before his restraint gave way. A beautiful girl – a girl who had sewed up his wounds and showed him a little kindness was now referring to him as a beast and he didn’t like it.

His hands balled into fists and every muscle in his body shook. Then he opened his mouth and let out a loud roar that sent the soldiers scattering through the courtyard. Stray animals ran for cover. His voice rattled the stones, and several of them fell from the castle wall and hit the ground with a clinking sound.

The girl glared at him and her eyes narrowed. Then she picked up her skirts and ran back to the castle with Trumble on her heels.

“You never did have a way with women,” said Kin, looking at him as if he’d gone mad.

“And you never did know when to shut your mouth . . . Rumpelstiltskin,” he said loud enough for all the men to hear.

“Shhhh, what are you doing?” asked Kin in disgust. “My men only know me as Kin.”

“And now they’ll know that I’m not the only beast in the courtyard,” said Stefan, turning on his heel and heading for the keep. “You, my brother, will not always be the golden child. Mark my words, your day of reckoning will come as well.”

Chapter 7

As soon as Trumble locked Bonnibel back in her chamber, she was at the hearth, sneaking back into the secret tunnel. She paused for a minute, remembering the scary creature inside the walls, then turned around and made her way back into the chamber. She wanted to leave here more than anything, but the monster in the passageway scared her more than Sir Stefan did.

She went back to the bed and laid down, longing to see her father and wondering if he was all right. After the dream she had, she sincerely doubted that this was true. She figured if she slept again, maybe she could have a vision of her father and know where to find him. She laid down and closed her eyes, and willed herself to drift off to sleep.

* * *

When Stefan and his brothers walked into the great hall with their entourage of soldiers behind them, they were delighted to see the trestle tables already filled with food and drinks.

“What’s this?” asked Kin in surprise. “Did you know we were coming and prepare a feast?”

“My servants are efficient,” said Stefan, settling into the main dais chair with the cushion that was meant for the lord of the castle. “Men, have your fill of food and drink,” he called out to the others. “And those of you who are mercenaries will meet with my brother, MacKay, after the meal to get your orders.”

“Me?” asked MacKay. “I’m not going to serve as your steward like you do for Wolf.”

“I don’t have to do that anymore,” he told him, pouring some ale from a pitcher into a wooden mug. “I am lord of Breckenridge and will never serve as my brother’s steward again.”

“Where are all the servants?” asked Kin, taking a seat at the dais next to Stefan.

“They do their work without being seen.”

“But who will serve us?” asked MacKay, sitting at Stefan’s other side.

“My squire will serve us the meal, as my orders were for the servants to stay out of sight.”

“I will?” came Trumble’s voice from behind him.

“Aye, you will.” Stefan gave a nod of his head. “Fill my brothers’ cups with ale, Squire.”

Trumble grumbled but did as ordered.

“So where are all the servants hiding?” asked Kin, holding his cup out for the squire to fill.

“I don’t know and I don’t care.” Stefan gently touched the stitches on his face. They were itching and he knew that meant they were healing. He also knew that meant the girl would have to remove them soon. It was something he wasn’t looking forward to after she’d called him a beast.

“Do you have the means of paying all these mercenaries?” asked Kin taking a swig of ale.

“I have a little money, and I’ll come up with more in time,” said Stefan. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I could lend you some money until you get on your feet again.”

“I’m fine.” Stefan stabbed at a turkey drumstick with his eating knife and dropped the whole thing onto his trencher. “I don’t need money from you.”

“Then what about gold?” asked Kin. “I have gold as well.”

“I’ll take some gold,” said MacKay, also stabbing at a piece of meat on the platter with his knife.

“I don’t care about money,” Stefan told them.

“You might care once the mercenaries find out you can’t pay them and slit your throat as you sleep.” Kin nodded and MacKay nodded as well.

“That won’t happen.”

“You think you can fend off paid killers?” asked Kin.

“What I meant was – I won’t be around to see it.”

“Are you planning on going somewhere, my lord?” asked Trumble, walking up to the dais with a platter loaded down with roasted rabbit and white bread. He carefully laid it out in front of Stefan. The soldiers started banging their cups against the table and shouting for Trumble to bring them more food as well.

Trumble turned and faced them and put his hands on his hips. “I’m only one man,” he shouted, but the soldiers were making such a ruckus that they didn’t even hear him.

“I think what he means is, he’s going to go back to Babeny,” said MacKay.

“No, that’s not what I mean.” Just talking about this was starting to make Stefan feel sick. “I mean, the witch cursed me and I don’t think I’ll be as lucky as Wolf or Arnon to break her spell.”

“Wolf is still cursed, or do I need to remind you?” asked MacKay.

“But he’s not going to be consumed by his curse and . . . and die,” Stefan told him.

“What?” Kin looked up in question. “Are you saying Hecuba has cursed you now as well?”

“She has,” he admitted, pushing his trencher away, no longer feeling hungry. “She said if I don’t learn to love and get a woman to love me in return – then I will be consumed by the beast within me . . . forever.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re going to die,” said Trumble, trying to make him feel better.

“Hey, Wench, bring that platter of food over here,” shouted out a mercenary. “Or do we have to bed you to get it?” All the soldiers started laughing and banging their cups against the wooden trestle table again, waiting for Trumble to serve them.

“Wench? No one calls me a wench!” Trumble threw the platter of food down on the dais table and pulled his sword from his side, ready to fight the mercenaries. Stefan reached over the table and grabbed him by the arm to stop him.

“Use you head, you fool. Unless you want to wind up dead along with me.”

“They’re getting restless,” said MacKay, and the noise in the great hall grew louder as the men stood up and started to shout. Then several of them started to fling things through the air, and Stefan could hold back no longer.

He angrily pushed the trenchers and cups from the dais table and they clanked against the stone floor. A loud “Arrrrrrrrgh,” sprang from his lips and he felt the blood pushing at the veins in his temples as he drew his sword and held it up in the air.

“One more person dare raises his voice and his head will be lying next to his feet. Do you understand me?”

“Aye, my lord.”

“Of course, we understand,” said some of the men. When Stefan looked over to his brothers they were staring at him with open mouths. Trumble was staring at him too.

“What the hell is everyone looking at?”

“You – that didn’t sound like you,” said MacKay.

“And it doesn’t – look like you either,” added Kin.

“What do you mean?”

“If I may, my lord?” Trumble held his finger in the air, then leaned over the trestle table and motioned for Stefan to come closer.

“What do you want, Squire?”

“My lord,” said Trumble in a whisper. “I think your – beasty self is showing.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Stefan’s eyes followed Trumble’s down to his chest, and he saw what the squire meant. His tunic was ripped wide open, and there was more hair on his chest than he remembered. And his chest looked to be much larger in size. He ran a hand over his chin in thought and that is when he felt that the short hair of his beard was no longer that short. It had grown longer. And his voice sounded deeper than ever.

“MacKay, take care of assigning the mercenaries to their duties. Trumble, get the servants to serve the rest of the meal.”

“But I thought you didn’t want them to see your face,” said Trumble.

“That’s why we have no servants?” asked Kin in surprise. “Because you’re too concerned they might not think you’re handsome?”

“They can serve now, because I’m leaving.” Stefan left the great hall and headed back to his solar, just waiting to die.