Beauty and the Beast: Timeless Fairy Tales Book 1 by Shea K. M

Author:Shea, K. M.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

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“A stable?” Elle batted Emele away as the lady’s maid tried to adjust the scarf hanging from Elle’s neck.

“Yes.” Severin fiddled with a cuff of his waistcoat. “Oliver and the grooms are not ornamental staff members,” he said dryly.

She eagerly drew her hood. “How many horses?”

“A dozen: my riding horse, several carriage horses, and the work horses.” He watched Emele help Elle struggle into her suede mittens.

“Are there any dogs? Besides Jock I mean.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“There used to be a kennel, but the dogs snarled whenever they scented me, and the kennel master could not control them as aptly as he used to without a voice,” Severin said. “Stay behind me.”

“What’s wrong—” Elle’s breath was knocked from her lungs when Severin opened the doors. The wind howled and blew, stinging her bare skin with frigid temperatures.

Severin stepped out of the chateau and turned around to pull Elle after him. He shut the door as Elle tried to hold her wildly blowing cloak against her.

“Hold on.” He picked her up and perched her on his back, the same way he’d carried her when fleeing Bernadine.

“Emele would kill you if she knew this is how I’m getting to the stables,” Elle shouted above the howling wind.

Severin didn’t reply—even when Elle pressed her face against the warm fur leaking out of the back collar of his waistcoat. He picked up her crutches and hustled across the courtyard, entering the stable with a bang.

She slipped from his back and leaned against a stall while he wrestled the door shut. The stable was solid and warm. It smelled like hay and wood shavings, and several horses hung their heads over the stall doors, blinking at Elle with bright eyes.

“They are beautiful animals.” Elle drew closer to the nearest horse. It was a coal-black Percheron, a draft horse used for farm work.

The horse sniffed Elle’s gloved hand, hoping for treats. He blew on her, puffing warm, sweet-smelling air.

Elle smiled until the horse drew back, pinning its ears against its head. It retreated to the back of its stall and placed its hindquarters in her direction. She frowned and glanced up at Severin, who had joined her at the stall door.

“Animals do not much care for me in this figure,” he said.

“Which one is yours?” Elle asked.

“The only one that does not shy away.” Severin led the way down the aisle.

Wherever Severin passed, horses shied or snarled, striking their stall doors with hooves and flattening their ears. The more docile-tempered work horses retreated to the back of their stalls, but a team of matched carriage horses all lunged against their doors.

At the far end of the stable, a tall horse hung his head over a stall door and nickered. He had mouse-colored fur and a dark mane and tail. His muzzle was sooty black—as if he had rubbed his face in fireplace ashes, and when Severin opened the stall door, Elle could see the same sooty black color crawled up his legs.

“He’s very fine looking,” she said.

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