Beauty of the Beast (Fairy Tale Retellings Book 1) by Rachel L. Demeter

Author:Rachel L. Demeter [Demeter, Rachel L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-03-14T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

The damnable brougham hadn’t budged a bit. Sébastien’s eyes fixed on its ice-locked wheels and emblazoned letters, then darted back to his own modest phaeton. Adjusting his satchel, he pounded on the castle’s monstrous wooden door and waited.

And waited.

No answer.

That brougham had occupied his mind ever since his last visit—nagging at his thoughts with an unsettling intensity. The brougham, Adam’s beautiful lady guest (or perhaps hostage), and that gentleman’s top hat. They had become somewhat of an obsession, and in their wake, a hostility toward Adam took flight.

That damnable brougham and top hat had sent him racing across the country. Indeed, he’d fled his comfortable apartment, which lay far enough from Ruillé not to bear its stain, yet close enough not to suffer the ghastly cost of the nearby provinces. Even the Dumonts lived quite near to him in Laché, Demrov—less than a brisk carriage ride away.

He’d known Adam since he was a green lad—but did he truly know the man he’d become? After all, a person could only endure so much for so long...

Another knock; more silence.

Living in such a filthy, drafty castle in complete solitude for so many years... it could drive even the sanest man to desperation. It was a true wonder Adam hadn’t snapped before now, especially with that scalding temper of his. But then again, he’d never encountered anything quite like that beauty...

Sébastien found it quite unbelievable she’d ever stay of her own volition. She’d have to be mad. Or threatened. Something had to be keeping her here. There was no other explanation. And Sébastien had a feeling that something was Adam.

Shoving away the torrential thoughts, he smoothed down his coat and slammed his fist against the door again. The banging echoed inside the castle like a beast’s deep bellow. He adjusted the overstuffed satchel and cursed Adam for making him wait so damn long.

Minutes later, the door wrenched open, and Sébastien found himself staring into Adam’s naked face. It was a darkly tragic sight, to be sure, and some of Sébastien’s hostility evaporated. Twenty-five years did little to soften the uneven ridges of his skin. He donned no hood, no cloak. The sight only nursed the uneasy feeling in his gut. Adam almost always wore that hideous cloak—oftentimes even in his wretched solitude.

What, in God’s teeth, has lured him out from his rock?

Adam turned away, clearly bothered by Sébastien’s long perusal.

“You don’t have to scowl at me,” he said as he pushed past Adam’s towering form. “You’re already unsightly enough without twisting your face like that.”

“Let’s make our meeting quick this time, shall we?” His face contorted even more, and Sébastien couldn’t help but turn away.

“Ah, you wound me, mon ami.” Adam tried to hide his grin but failed miserably. It was a welcomed sight, and Sébastien felt his mood brighten.

Stranger greeted him with a low, friendly bark. He ran his palm over the dog’s bristly coat and gently patted his bad leg, then followed him and his master inside the castle.

Even the atmosphere felt somehow different, less oppressive.

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