Beau and the Beastess Page 2

  As he listened to her fairy tale, Beau felt the stirrings of familiarity, but shook it off and asked, “So, you kidnapped me in hopes that we’d fall in love?”

  Annabelle cleared her throat, and he could tell his question embarrassed her.

  “Yes,” she admitted. “The Driver has been bringing men here that fit your description, since I realized that it was impossible for me to meet men as a normal woman would.”

  “Men that fit my description?” Beau prompted.

  “Yes. Tall, slender of build, but strong, with handsome features and brownish hair.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Because the photograph I saw of my intended showed him to look that way. I know it’s silly, since he and I never had the chance to meet before I was sent away, but I figured if anyone could love me, it would be a man like my betrothed.”

  “But it hasn’t worked?”

  “No,” Annabelle admitted. “So far no one has been able to see beyond The Beast.”

  “So, I was taken because I’m blind?”

  “The Driver is the one who found you. I don’t know why I never thought of it before—it’s brilliant actually. You are the first man who may actually be able to see me for who I am, without my looks distracting you.”

  “But you’re holding me against my will,” Beau argued. “How could you think I’d fall in love with you under these circumstances?”

  Beau knew he’d spoken too bluntly when he felt her anger hit him like a shield.

  “Are you saying you wouldn’t even try to get to know me?” she bit out, her voice trembling with barely controlled rage.

  “I don’t see how I can, not when you’re keeping me a prisoner, and you’ve admitted that you’ve done the same with countless other men. When will you turn thirty-five?”

  “In a month’s time.”

  “A month?” Beau asked, incredulously. “You must be mad.”

  He felt something sail past his face then flinched at the sound of glass breaking against the wall. Beau reached his hand out, hoping to calm Annabelle down.

  When he made contact, the strangest thing happened. Something shot through him like lightening, rocking him back in his seat. He’d barely had a chance to recover when he heard her roar and storm out of the room, but he was too startled to be shaken by her exit. When Beau’s skin had touched Annabelle’s, he’d felt almost a familiarity…a sense of déjà vu.

  Beau turned in his seat, but knew it was too late—she was gone. Furious, and more than likely hurt, by his rejection of not just her hope of love, but of her fairy tale like story.

  Confused by the feelings still shooting through him, Beau sat alone at the dining room table, and wondered what was going on.

  Chapter Five

  Annabelle

  Annabelle walked through her garden. The scent of lilacs and beautiful space reminded her of home and always helped to sooth her.

  Beau was right. Logically, she knew he was…but she refused to believe all hope was lost.

  Yes, she’d gone about things all wrong. Maybe telling him the truth flat out like that wasn’t the best way to go. Of course he’d be skeptical, he had every right to be, if the situation were reversed, she’d be as well. Still, she had to trust that things would work out in the end, because the alternative didn’t bear thinking.

  Annabelle sat amongst the beauty of her garden, listening to the lulling sound of water running over rocks, and allowed the anger to seep out of her.

  She hoped she hadn’t frightened him beyond repair. Frustrated that she’d once again lost her temper, and not knowing quite how to fix things, Annabelle decided to go back inside and try to make amends.

  When she entered the back door, Cook told her that Beau had wandered into the library and had not yet eaten, so she made them each a plate and made her way down the hall.

  He was very handsome, she thought as she peered around the corner to see him sitting in her soft deep sofa reading a book in braille.

  “How’d you find that?” Annabelle asked as she entered the room. Beau didn’t startle and Annabelle figured he’d probably heard her coming as soon as she left the kitchen.

  “Lucky, I guess,” Beau answered, wryly, and Annabelle knew he felt anything but lucky to be in this situation.

  She noticed that his face was already getting scruffy with a five o’clock shadow, and wondered briefly how he shaved himself everyday.

  It looked good on him.

  “I, ah, brought you some dinner,” she said, moving toward him and placing the plate on the table next to the couch. Annabelle took his hand to place in on the plate, so he knew where it was, and was surprised to feel a jolt run through her at his touch.

  She suddenly remembered feeling the same thing earlier, when he’d reached for her at the table, but she’d been too worked up for it to register.

  Annabelle could tell by the look that crossed Beau’s face that he felt it too, but let it go without saying anything when he took some food off of the plate and began to eat.

  “I also owe you an apology,” she admitted as she sat in the chair across from him, wanting to be able to look at him while she ate.

  “Are you going to let me go?” he asked, and she could see him brace, even as she worked to keep her anger at his question in check.

  “No,” Annabelle replied, keeping her tone light. “I’m sorry I can’t do that, not yet.”

  “Why not?” he asked, his plate of food forgotten as he stared at her unseeing. “You can’t force someone to love you.”

  Pain sliced through her, and she took a few calming breaths before she answered.

  “I know I can’t, but it won’t be a possibility at all if you’re not here.”

  Beau sighed and lifted a hand to rub it over his face.

  “Can I ask,” Annabelle began gently, “have you always been blind?”

  Hoping a change of subject would help them move forward and not remain stuck on the harsh realities of his situation.

  “No, at least I don’t think so,” Beau answered after a few moments. “I don’t remember anything before I was sixteen. I remember waking up in my foster home, and I was blind, but don’t remember what happened before that. I was eventually adopted and my parents sent me to therapy in hopes I’d be able to remember something, but it never worked.”

  “But you don’t think you were always blind?”

  “I dream,” Beau answered. “In my dreams I can see things… If I’d always been blind, that wouldn’t be possible, right?”

  “I don’t know…”

  “Well, that’s what my parents and therapist said, and I think they’re correct. I just don’t know how it happened, or where I came from, and I guess after all this time, I never will.”

  “What do you dream of, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  “A place,” Beau replied, reaching for his plate once more. “Mostly a castle, with beautiful lands and lush landscapes. I dream of people who I think are my parents, although not my real life adoptive parents, but a different set of parents. And sometimes I dream of a girl. Young, beautiful and carefree, I see her sitting astride a beautiful white horse, her long brown hair cascading down her back as she laughs at something the stable boy said.”

  Annabelle gasped at his description of the girl.

  “What is it?” Beau asked.

  “That girl, that dream… That’s me,” she said, hope pulsating through her. “The morning of my sixteenth birthday, before the ball, before the curse, I went riding on my horse, Giselle. The stable boy had told me a joke he’d heard the night before, I remember it like it was yesterday.”

  Beau stood up abruptly, and said angrily, “Don’t do that.”

  “Do what?” She asked.

  “Use something I told you, my dreams, against me to try and get what you want.”

  “I’m not,” Annabelle replied, shocked that he’d think that then made a move to go after him when he started to leave.

  “Don’t,” Beau
said, somehow knowing her intent, and Annabelle listened, giving in to his wishes and watching as he felt his way out of the room.

  Chapter Six

  Beau

  Beau wasn’t sure how long he’d been lying on the cot in his unlocked dungeon, he was pretty sure he’d dozed off a couple times, but Annabelle had respected his wishes and left him alone.

  He couldn’t get the vision of that young girl on her horse out of his head, and although he knew she’d stop at nothing to reverse the curse that she believed had been put on her, Beau couldn’t help but wonder if Annabelle was telling the truth.

  Maybe it was wishful thinking on his part, that he’d finally have the answer of where he’d come from and who he’d been before he woke up that day.

  Did he have a family?

  How did he go blind?

  Was the place in his dream a memory and not just a dream?

  Maybe he was as crazy as Annabelle, but she’d raised enough questions to give him a spark of hope.

  The question was, what could they do about it?

  Rising from the cot, Beau moved his neck in circles to work out the kinks then walked gingerly out of the dungeon and back up the stairs.

  The house felt still, as if it were still night and all the servants were asleep. Beau wondered where the liquor was kept in this place…he’d kill for a drink right now. He’d have to ask the next person he came across to give him a tour of the house.

  Being independent was something that had been important to him since he realized he was blind. Knowing where everything was located would normally be his first priority when arriving somewhere new. He didn’t like people waiting on him, rather choosing to get things for himself, but since he’d been brought here, he’d felt like the prisoner that he was. If Annabelle wanted him to see her as anything other than a monster, that would have to change.

  Low strains of music had him turning and heading in a direction of the house that he hadn’t yet explored.

  Chopin Waltz No. 10 in B minor…

  Beau’s mother had enrolled him in dance lessons when he was a younger, thinking it would help him with movement and grace as he got used to being blind, and it had, although he’d never thanked her for it. When you were seventeen and blind, taking dance lessons was the last thing in the world you wanted to do.

  “I’m sorry, did I wake you?” Annabelle asked as he walked over the threshold into what he assumed was the music room she’d spoken of.

  “No, not at all,” Beau replied, redirecting to move toward the sound of her voice.

  When he was close enough to hear her breathing, he stated, “Chopin.”

  “My coming out dance was supposed to be to this…the waltz. I practiced for week, but was sent away before I got to dance it.” He could tell it was a record playing, but the soft bits of static intermingled with the music.

  Annabelle’s voice was wrought with emotion, and without thought, Beau reached for her hand, felt that now familiar shock at their first touch, and led her to what he hoped was the center of the floor.

  No words were needed. Beau lifted their hands, then waited for her to place her other hand on his shoulder, before moving his around her back. He chose to ignore the hump he felt beneath his left hand, and the strange contours of the hand in his right. In his mind, he was holding the girl from his dreams, and his lessons were finally paying off.

  They danced as if they’d trained together, their movements smooth and fluid, and when the song started again from the beginning, they didn’t miss a step. They just kept dancing.

  To the servant skulking by, they looked like what they were, a blind man and a beast. But in their hearts, they were simply a man and a woman fulfilling a moment that had never come to pass.

  When the song ended again, Annabelle stopped and pulled gently away.

  “Thank you,” she said, her voice rough with emotion.

  “You’re welcome,” he replied, and when he turned to leave, she stopped him by saying, “You can have the guest room downstairs, you don’t have to sleep on that cot… I’ll show you the way.”

  “Thank you,” he returned, grateful not to have to go back down into the dungeon. Then he remembered his earlier thought. “But first, if you don’t mind, I’d love a tour of this level, and a drink.”

  “Of course. I’m sorry I didn’t see to that sooner.”

  The music turned off and Annabelle crossed to him, placing his hand on her forearm.

  She showed him were the guest room and bathroom were then walked him back around to the music room, dining room, and kitchen, so he could memorize the layout of the floor.

  Once in the kitchen, Annabelle led him to the refrigerator and pantry, so he could eat whenever he got hungry, then gave him a moment to wander and become acquainted with the rest of the space.

  “Now,” she said, guiding him out of the kitchen, down the hall and to the left, “you’ve been here before, the library…but if you come to the back of the room and unlock this case that is where you’ll find the liquor.”

  Annabelle lifted his hand, a small hum running through his veins at the skin on skin contact, and placed it on a bottle. Beau felt the bottles in the cabinet until he felt the familiar curve of his favorite whiskey and turned to her with a smile.

  “This one.”

  Beau heard her sharp intake of breath and lost his smile.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, um, I’m fine,” she stammered. “Please, have a seat, I’ll pour us each a glass.”

  He was barely seated a couple seconds before the cool glass was in his hand.

  “Thank you,” Beau murmured before taking a sip then leaned back with a sigh as the liquid warmed the back of his throat.

  “You’re welcome,” Annabelle replied as she sat a few feet away. “You’re a beautiful dancer, Beau. I’m impressed.”

  “My mother loves dance. She encouraged me to take lessons.”

  “Are you close with your parents?”

  Beau rested his glass on his thigh and replied, “Yes, very. They’ve always been very protective of me, and never held back an ounce of love. I consider myself very lucky that they found me and wanted to claim me as their own.”

  “You miss them,” Annabelle said. More of a statement than a question.

  Still, he answered, “Yes. They’ll be very worried. Especially my mother.”

  They sat in silence, Beau wondering what his family must be going through with him having disappeared.

  Suddenly, Annabelle stood, causing him to sit up in his seat, startled at the movement.

  “I’m sorry,” she said softly, but before he could comment on the tears in her voice, she was gone.

  Beau stood, taking his glass with him as he left the library for his guest room, exhaustion hitting him all at once. He downed the rest of his whiskey before placing the glass on the nightstand then stripped down to his boxers before falling in to bed.

  He dropped into sleep immediately, and dreamt of a beautiful girl, laughing astride her white horse.

  Chapter Seven

  Annabelle

  Annabelle didn’t get much sleep and awoke conflicted.

  The tenderness she’d seen in Beau the night before, and the way she’d felt in his arms when they danced, told her he was the one.

  The one who could see her for who she was, beneath The Beast.

  The one who could teach her to love, and love her in return.

  The one who could break the curse and send her home.

  But everything was wrong…

  Beau had a life here, a family. He’d miss that, miss them, and be missed in return.

  Plus, he was not here of his own free will, but as a hostage. A victim. And, although she’d always been convinced it was the only way, Annabelle realized now, that love through coercion, was no love at all.

  She couldn’t stay here, not as Annabelle, and she couldn’t ask Beau to leave… So what was the point in pursuing destiny when you knew in your heart, it
was doomed?

  Annabelle had come to the conclusion that if she couldn’t have the fairy tale, she’d rather lose the girl and surrender to The Beast.

  “Driver,” she said into the phone when he picked up. “Please take the man back where you found him.”

  There was a pause before The Driver responded, “Yes, Madame…but, I really thought it would work this time.”

  Annabelle didn’t respond, even though his words made her heart clench painfully in her chest. He knew what to do, they’d been down this road plenty of times before, and except for one time, all the men The Driver had brought to her, had been safely returned home when it had become they’d never break the curse.

  And that one had died purely by accident.

  Needing to leave the house until Beau was gone, lest she succumb to her desire to see him one last time and explain, Annabelle made another call to her stables, asking them to ready her horse.

  One of her only pleasures in this land was the fact that she could still ride. Of course, she’d learned the hard way that her horse needed blinders in order to let her on his back. The first time she’d tried, without a thought to her appearance, the horse had been terrified and her arm had been broken in the poor animal’s rush to get away from her beast.

  As she hurried from her chambers to the first floor and toward the back door, Annabelle past Beau’s room and paused. Walking lightly, she put her hand to the door and leaned her ear against the wood. She could hear him moving about inside, and the desire to open the door and go to him was strong. To say goodbye, give him a hug, maybe touch her lips lightly to his. Instead she closed her eyes and whispered, “Goodbye,” then rushed out of the house and to the stables.