Chapter Six
Rayven stumbled into his chambers
with far less grace than usual, his emotions and hormones whirling in a vortex
of Old Testament proportions. The girl
had kissed him! She'd actually taken
the initiative and shown affection before it had even been asked for! Stunning!
Shocking! Absolutely unheard of!
Absolutely
wonderful… he reminded himself as he sank into his chair in front of the
magically roaring fire. She obviously
wasn't afraid of him by any means, by either his monstrous appearance or his
deep, growling voice. Perhaps this
wouldn't be nearly as impossible as he'd originally thought. Perhaps, with the affection he'd already experienced
at her gentle hands, young Beauty could grow to love him and consent to bear
him a child.
No
guarantees yet, Rayven. There's no promise that she'll lie with you…
or even conceive for that matter… and even if she did conceive, it may not be a
son. Don't get your hopes up just yet. He sternly reminded himself of these facts
over and over, even as a smile spread over his lips in the warmth of both the
fire and of Beauty.
"Milord?" Jacob's voice
called from the doorway, where he hovered dutifully with a book in one hand and
a carafe of brandy in the other.
"Come in, Jacob." Rayven
nodded his faithful butler and best friend in.
"Did supper run late,
milord? If you wish to complain to the
cook, I shall take your message directly, sir." Jacob asked, obviously a
little concerned over the late hour.
"Not at all necessary,
Jacob. In all honesty, supper went
extraordinarily well. Lady Beauty is
quite the woman." Rayven mused out loud.
"Sir?"
"It seems we may have a spark
of hope… she's not the least bit frightened of me. In fact, I think… she seems to fancy me a bit. Or at least she's not running from the
castle screaming in terror." Rayven explained as best he could.
"And how did you find her,
milord?"
"Sweet and charming, with a
sharp edge that I rather like. This
Beauty is no shrinking violet, no simpering peasant girl. She has all the make of a true noblewoman
and all the heart of a warrior." Rayven smiled at the recent memory.
"I meant, do you find her
attractive, milord." Jacob commented dryly. "Is she a girl with whom, you'd… you'd…"
"Marry and mate?" Rayven
finished for him. "Very much the
case, Jacob. She is a stunning beauty,
even if she is young."
"Hardly young, sir… I believe
she's at least eighteen. In our day,
women were married and having children at fourteen and fifteen." Jacob
sniffed airily.
"Ah, but she's not been exposed
to such things as base male instincts, I wager. She's quite the innocent, I can tell. That makes her seem younger.
Besides, her being older than fourteen increases her chances of
surviving a pregnancy… which is one thing we most certainly need, yes?"
Rayven sent Jacob a mildly disdainful look.
"Point taken, milord."
"Good. What have you there for me tonight, old
friend?" Rayven indicated the book Jacob held.
"Shakespeare, sir. Romeo
and Juliet, Macbeth, Hamlet, Julius Ceasar and A Midsummer Night's Dream." Jacob read from the book's
leather cover, the gold leaf of the binding glinting in the firelight.
"I think Romeo and Juliet, Jacob... especially if I'm to remember exactly
how one treats a lady." Rayven nodded thoughtfully.
"With all due respect, sir...
you were born with that knowledge."
@>-------,------'----------------------
Beauty tossed and turned restlessly
in the huge canopy bed, unable to sleep in the least. The room felt too big, indeed the bed itself felt too big. She felt exposed, vulnerable and was
consequentially too keyed-up to sleep.
With an exasperated sigh she swung her feet over the side of the bed and
sat up, contemplating her next move.
She wasn't hungry or thirsty, so she
didn't want to go back to the dining room and look for the kitchen. It was too cold outside to go check on Apple
or walk through the gardens. A good
book was what she needed… that was it.
With that thought in mind she
quietly made her way to the wardrobe, careful not to wake Shannon or Matty, who
were sleeping in the next room. Pulling
a soft robe of mint green out, Beauty gracefully settled the garment over her
shoulders to cover her white sleeping gown and tied it loosely in place. She doubted anyone would be up at this hour
to see her wandering the halls in search of a library or study.
Silent as a mouse, she crept into
the hallway with a single candle to light her way. Apparently, Rayven had a taste for lurking in the darkness, for
not one torch or candle was lit along the corridor. As she roamed aimlessly, she thought about the night's previous
encounter.
He was certainly
nowhere near as bad as she'd imagined.
She'd half-expected to be either thrown into a dank, rat-infested
dungeon or eaten on the spot like a lamb to the slaughter. Unlimited luxury had not been anticipated at
all… nor had the sadness in Rayven's eyes, as though he had the weight of the
world on his shoulders.
No despite the fact that he was a
beast, Beauty felt strangely attracted to him.
Strong didn't even begin to describe that power inherent in his massive
form. His voice was absolutely
captivating, so deep and resonant. Even
his mane and fur were peculiarly comforting to touch. The fur that covered his
face and the backs of his hands was soft and short, but not as thick as she
might have thought. The dark-brown-almost-black mane that framed his leonine
face was soothingly familiar, like a human's hair.
God… those eyes! They were such a gorgeous shade of green and
so filled with hope. But hope for
what? What on earth was she supposed to
do to break the spell? She was already
here of her own free will and had even given him a kiss at dinner… so what else
could it be? She would just have to use
the good old trial-and-error method and keep trying things.
An open door with light pouring out
from within drew her attention away from her inner thoughts and she snuck
closer. A voice gently assaulted her
alert ears long before she reached the doorway.
O, she
doth teach the torches to burn bright!
Her beauty
hangs upon the cheek of night
Like a
rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear;
Beauty too
rich for use, for earth too dear!
So shows a
snowy dove trooping with crows,
As yonder
lady o'er her fellows shows.
The
measure done, I'll watch her place of stand,
And,
touching hers, make blessed my rude hand.
Did my
heart love till now? forswear it, sight!
For I
ne'er saw true beauty till this night.
Beauty stopped abruptly at the first
line, recognizing it instantly. Her
beloved Romeo and Juliet! Not only read in perfect poetic tone, but in
such an impassioned voice! Inside, she
heard Rayven continue to read the argument between Capulet and Tybalt. With a deep breath, she gathered her wits
and quickly went over the lines in her head, prepared for Romeo's next stanza.
If I
profane with my unworthiest hand
This holy
shrine, the gentle fine is this:
My lips,
two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
To smooth
that rough touch with a tender kiss.
At that cue, Beauty entered the
room, relieved that Rayven was alone and facing the fire in a high-backed chair
of deep purple velvet, the leather-bound book open on his lap as he read. In a clear voice, she recited the next piece
from memory, which served her exquisitely.
Good
pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,
Which
mannerly devotion shows in this;
For saints
have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,
And palm
to palm is holy palmers' kiss.
Although he started in surprise at
first, Rayven quickly calmed and actually seemed to smile at her for a moment
before continuing in his deep voice.
Have not
saints lips, and holy palmers too?
Ay,
pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.
O, then,
dear saint, let lips do what hands do;
They pray,
grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.
Saints do
not move, though grant for prayers' sake.
Then move
not, while my prayer's effect I take.
Thus from
my lips, by yours, my sin is purged.
Beauty had steadily approached
Rayven's side, involuntarily yearning to be closer to him, some unseen force
driving her forward until she was standing by the arm of the chair, looking
down on his beastly countenance as though it truly were the young, human face
of Romeo Montague.
Rayven rose to stand in front of
her, the book closed and forgotten on the footstool nearby. With a tentative, almost frightened gesture,
he took her small hands within his giant ones, careful to keep his sharp claws
a safe distance from her flesh.
With no thoughts as to whether this
was right or proper, Rayven leaned down, his intent obvious. Beauty turned her face upwards, fully aware
that not even the most liberal of ladies would allow such an intimate affection
in such a short span of acquaintance.
However, she truly didn't care in the least.
A simple, tender kiss followed,
sweet and pure in its touch. Beast
though he may have been in looks, his lips were soft and human… and very
eager. As inexperienced as she was,
Beauty responded instantly to the pleasant sensation, molding her mouth to his,
unmindful of the sharp teeth that grazed her lips without hurting at all. Unable to put her arms around Rayven's neck
as she would've liked due to the angle, Beauty settled for resting her palms
against his broad chest, delighting in the contrast of soft velvet over solid
muscle. Rayven's hands traveled in a
bare caress down to rest on her hips, sliding back to press against the small
of her back.
They parted slowly, dizzied by the
impulsiveness of the kiss and light-headed from the strong feelings such a
caress invoked. Her breath heavy and
her mind somewhat clouded with emotions she could not understand, it took
Beauty a few seconds longer than necessary to remember her next line and what followed.
Then have
my lips the sin that they have took?
Rayven smiled gently, his eyes
impossibly bright, almost as though filling with unshed tears. With a gentle hand, he grasped her by the
waist and pulled her closer to him, his voice shaking slightly but still
intoxicating in its fire.
Sin from
thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged!
Give me my
sin again.
He bent his head again, this time
brushing his lips over hers lightly before covering her mouth with his. His kiss was more passionate this time, more
demanding… and far more exciting than Beauty had ever thought a kiss could be.
You kiss
by the book.
Madame,
you mother craves a word with you.
Beauty and Rayven sprang apart at
the sound of Jacob's voice in the doorway, turning to look upon the stern
butler with a blush painting Beauty's cheeks a becoming pink.
"Milady… isn't it a shade late
for you to be up? And in your bare feet
as well? You'll catch your death."
Jacob eyed his mistress up and down to make sure that nothing was damaged.
"Indeed." Beauty agreed,
suddenly freezing without Rayven's body so near. Knowing not what possessed
her, she turned to Rayven and offered her hands again, which he took
gingerly. "I'm afraid I don't remember the way back to my
chambers, Rayven. Could you
possibly?"
"I would be honored, milady
Beauty." he answered quickly.
Jacob shook his head as the two
walked slowly down the hallway, arm in arm like a pair of lovers on a midnight
tryst. Ah… to be young again. I can only hope that everything works out
for them… for all our sakes.