Beauty's Beast(24)

With an exasperated sigh, he pushed away from the table. “Be ready in an hour,” he said gruffly.





They rode in silence for a time. Erik studied her, noting her stiff posture, her iron grip on the reins.

“Relax your hold,” he said quietly. “The mare has a soft mouth.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Her mouth is tender, sensitive to the pull of the bit. You needn’t hold the reins so tightly. Nor sit so stiffly. Let yourself move with the mare.”

Kristine tried to do as he said. It was hard at first. She wasn’t at ease on the horse and it was hard to relax. But, gradually, she did as he said. Erik told her how to hold the reins, how to guide the mare not only with the reins, but with the pressure of her knees, how to bring the mare to a smooth stop. It amazed her that two strips of thin leather could control so large an animal, but Misty responded instantly.

As Kristine grew more at ease, she found that riding was quite pleasant. The countryside was beautiful, the rocking motion of the mare was restful.

Erik drew his horse to a halt near a narrow stream shaded by silver birches. He dismounted in a fluid motion, then turned and helped her from the saddle.

Kristine stared at his hands at her waist as he set her on the ground. His gloved left hand felt different from his right, though she couldn’t quite explain why.

Abruptly, he drew his hands away and took a step backward. “I thought you might like to rest awhile.”

“Yes, I would, thank you.” She sat down on the grass, spreading her skirts around her.

Trevayne felt a sudden tightness in his throat as he looked at her. She wore a forest green riding habit that emphasized her sweet womanly curves and made her eyes glow like emeralds. A wide-brimmed hat with a matching green feather shaded her face and helped hide her shorn locks. She looked beautiful, he mused, beautiful and desirable. If he were a normal man, he would take her in his arms. He would kiss her and caress her, perhaps make love to her there, on the grass, with none but the sun to know.

But he was not a normal man, and she would turn away from him in horror, repulsed by his face and body, by the thought of giving herself to a monster.

“My lord?”

The sound of her voice brought him back to the present. “What is it?”

“Is something wrong?”

Wrong? He almost laughed out loud. She had no idea just how wrong things were. The good Lord willing, she would never know.

Kristine stared up at him, at his eyes, which looked dark and haunted behind the mask. “Why will you not confide in me?”

His eyes narrowed. “Confide in you? About what, pray tell?”

“Why you feel the need to wear a mask.” As soon as she spoke the words, she remembered her promise not to mention it again, but she forged on. “Why that witch woman called you a demon and urged me to leave with her before it was too late.”

He stared at her, his hands clenched at his sides, his breathing suddenly harsh and uneven.

“What did she mean about every tear and every drop of blood her daughter shed?”

He opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. For a moment, Kristine thought he might strike her; then he turned away, his shoulders shaking.

Kristine stared at him in amazement. Was he crying?

Rising, she went to stand behind him. “Erik? Erik, I’m sorry.”

“Go back to the house.”

She had ruined it, she thought, ruined what could have been the nicest day they had spent together since their marriage. She was about to turn away when she heard a muffled sob. He was crying, and it was all her fault.

Without stopping to consider the consequences, she put her arms around him, her front pressed to his back, and hugged him. “My lord? Erik? I’m truly sorry. Please forgive me.”

He stiffened in her embrace, his body as rigid as stone, and then, as if a dam had broken inside him, he began to cry, deep gulping sobs that shook his frame from head to foot. His tears dripped onto her hands.

“It will be all right.” She murmured the words as she stroked his back. Shudders wracked his body. “Erik, please don’t cry.” Guilt rose within her. What had she said to cause him such pain?

Not knowing what else to do, she continued to speak to him in low, soothing tones, one arm wrapped loosely around his waist, the other stroking his back . . . his back. . .. She ran her hand over him, her fingertips detecting a difference between one side and the other. She lifted her hand a little and massaged his shoulders. Was his left shoulder larger than the right?

Her curiosity rising, she ran her hands up and down his arms. His left arm felt different beneath the fine cloth of his coat, larger.

She was pondering what it could mean when he suddenly whirled around to face her. He wasn’t crying now. Anger blazed in his dark eyes as he captured both her hands in his right one.