Free Beauty's Beast by Amanda Ashley Page A

dining room.
    She questioned Nan and Yvette, but both claimed they knew nothing.
    Later that afternoon, she went out to the stable and questioned Mrs. Grainger’s two sons, but Brandt and Gilbert only looked at her and shook their heads.
    Defeated, she went back into the house. Erik had loved her so gently last night. Never had she imagined she would hunger for the touch of a man’s hand, yearn to be held and kissed and caressed. There was tenderness in him, a need for love that he refused to acknowledge. But she had seen it in his eyes, felt it in his eager hands. Intuition told her that he would never let himself love her, that she would never be able to tear down the walls he kept between them, until she knew what he was hiding behind the mask.
    Later that night, sitting at her desk, she took pen in hand and opened her journal.
    It has been weeks since last I wrote. I have asked questions, I have wandered through the house, but I can find no answers to the riddle that is my husband. I believe the household staff knows something, but I do not believe they know what Erik is hiding beneath that mask. He is a strange man, silent and aloof, yet ever so gentle when he comes to me in the night. I think I could care for him if he would let me. I feel that he is as lonely as I, that he needs me, yet he will not let me close to him, nor trust me with whatever it is he is hiding.
    I am so lonely. . . . I pray that my womb may soon shelter a child. At least then I will have someone to love, someone to love me.

Chapter Seven
    He stalked the night, as much a part of the darkness as the light of the moon and the glittering stars. The ground was damp beneath his feet as he tracked her across the moor. His nostrils flared, filling with the scent of her warm flesh. The smell of her fear trailed behind her, arousing his ever-growing lust for blood. He could hear the rapid beating of her heart as she realized she was being followed and began to run.
    But she couldn’t outrun him, could never outrun the beast. He threw back his head and howled, the long, ululating cry filled with the certainty of victory.
    Dropping to all fours, he loped after her. Saliva dripped from his jaws. And then he saw her, just ahead. Excitement flowed through him. The thrill of the hunt, the anticipation of the kill, made the blood roar in his ears.
    She glanced over her shoulder, her face ghostly white in the moonlight, her eyes wide with fright. She tripped over a vine, a shrill scream of terror rising in her throat as she tumbled to the ground. And then he was on her, his teeth ripping through the thick velvet cloak, sinking into the soft skin beneath. The air filled with the sharp sting of her fear even as his mouth filled with the warm coppery taste of her blood. . ..
    â€œNo!” He howled the word, screamed it over and over again. Howled it in anguished denial as his razor-sharp teeth tore into her soft tender flesh. . ..
    â€œErik! My lord, wake up! Erik!”
    Trevayne came awake with a start. Drenched in icy sweat, his heart pounding frantically, he glanced around the room. Had it only been a dream, then? But it had seemed so real.
    â€œErik!” He heard her fists pounding on the door, demanding entrance to his room. “Erik, let me in!”
    He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, then plucked the mask from the table beside his bed and slipped it over his head.
    â€œErik?”
    â€œI’m coming.” He took a deep, calming breath before he unlocked the door.
    â€œAre you all right?” She lifted the lamp higher, her gaze sweeping over him.
    â€œI’m fine,” he said, his voice rough.
    â€œAre you?”
    â€œMerely a nightmare.” He tried to smile and failed. “You’ve had them yourself.”
    â€œYes. Well, then . . .” Her eyelids fluttered down, but not before he saw the sting of his rejection reflected in her eyes.
    â€œI’m sorry, Kristine, I didn’t mean to