Young, innocent Kristine had only been defending her honor but now finds herself in prison for killing a man. Having accepted her fate the beauty finds it is not in the hands of the hangman but in those of the infamous Lord of Hawksbridge Castle, Erik Trevayne. Some say he is the Devil himself but to Kristine he will become BEAUTY'S BEAST.
Erik Trevayne is called the Demon Lord but few know that it was a witch's curse that he lives under that has made him a recluse. The terrible change that gnaws at his body, tearing away what is left of his humanity, is the only reason he has chosen Kristine to be his wife. He promised his father he would produce an heir. That is all he wants from the young, innocent beauty. Little does he know that despite the beast inside him, he would soon crave his beauty's touch ... and her love.
BEAUTY'S BEAST is not your children's fairy tale. Author Amanda Ashley blends gothic and paranormal seamlessly giving us this fascinating offering. BEAUTY'S BEAST is filled with the magic of love as this couple fights an evil woman's curse, but until that love is acknowledged we are offered a peek into the struggle that Erik is going through as he fights from giving in and letting the old witch win. Kristine's bravery is without question as she struggles to understand her new fate and fights for what she wants and along the way opens up the world for the reclusive, cursed husband.
I found this couple's plight very touching as Erik isn't a cruel man who is being cursed because of a life of debauchery. He just had the misfortune of having his first wife die of childbirth and then being cursed by his mother- in-law, who just happened to be an evil witch. There are a number of twists and turns along the way and the reader will find themselves holding on for this intriguing ride.
I hope Ms. Ashley finds a way to bring us another of these adult fairy tales. I enjoyed this remake of one of my favorite children's stories. BEAUTY'S BEAST is going on my TRA [To Read Again] shelf and I can't wait for the next offering from this amazing writer.
Kristine woke with a start to find Erik standing beside her
bed. He had been so angry earlier, she hadnβt expected him
to come to her that night. Recalling the rage that had
burned in his dark eyes when he found her in his room still
had the power to make her tremble.
He had extinguished the light she kept on the table at her
bedside. In the darkness, he loomed over her like the
shadow of certain death.
After unfastening his breeches, he threw the covers aside,
flung her gown up over her hips. Unreasoning panic rose up
inside her as his body covered hers. She didnβt want him to
take her like this, as if she were no more than a receptacle
for his lust, some tawdry harlot whose favor he had
purchased for the night. She knew he didnβt care for her,
but she was his wife. Surely she deserved some small
measure of respect.
She felt his hand on her breast, and suddenly, in the
darkness, it was Lord Valentine lying atop her, his hot
sweaty hands groping her. She closed her eyes, and
Valentineβs image rose up before her, his thick lips pulled
back, his pale blue eyes filled with lust as they raked her
body.
βNo,β she whimpered softly. βLeave me alone, please just
leave me alone!β
Trevayne froze as she began to thrash beneath him.
βMy Lord Valentine,β she sobbed, her eyes tightly shut.
βDonβt! Oh, please, please, let me go!β
βKristine.β
Lost in the nightmare of the past, she writhed beneath him,
tears coursing down her pale cheeks.
βKristine, itβs me, Erik,β he said, and then wondered why
that knowledge should soothe her. He had given her no
reason to trust him.
βNo, donβt...donβt...β She sobbed the words.
Swearing softly, he sat up and drew her into his arms.
βKristine, you are safe here. Listen to me! I will not
hurt you. No one will ever hurt you again, I swear it.β
Opening her eyes, she stared at him blankly a moment. βMy
lord?β
βYouβre safe now, Kristine,β he murmured. βIβll not bother
you again.β
Carefully, he lowered her back onto the mattress, drew her
gown down over her hips, and pulled the covers up to her
chin.
Turning away from the bed, he fastened his breeches, then
walked toward the door. He was reaching for the latch when
she called his name.
βErik?β
βWhat?β
βWill you not stay with me?β
He went still, hardly daring to breathe. βWhy?β
βI donβt want to be alone. I...I donβt want you to be
alone.β
βWe canβt always have what we want.β
βPlease, my lord, wonβt you stay with me until I fall
asleep?β
Every instinct he possessed urged him to leave the room.
Instead, he retraced his steps to the side of the bed and
sat down on the edge of the mattress. βGo to sleep,
Kristine.β
He could not see her face in the darkness, but he heard her
soft sigh as she snuggled under the covers.
βThank you, my lord.β
He made a soft, wordless sound deep in his throat. He
wondered how long she had spent in prison, if that was the
reason she feared the darkness, the reason she kept a lamp
burning at her bedside throughout the night.
He took a deep breath, his nostrils filling with the warm
sweet scent of her - the soap she had bathed with, the
peppermint she used to sweeten her breath, the scent of
lilacs that clung to her skin. It was part of the curse,
his heightened sense of smell, of taste. His hearing was
more acute. He could hear each soft breath she took.
He clenched his left hand, shoved his right hand into his
pocket to keep from touching the curve of her cheek, the
short silky cap of her hair.
Desire rose within him, a desire to bury himself within her.
He yearned to shed his clothes and his accursed mask and
enfold her in his arms, feel the heat of her skin against
his ...
His body hardened painfully. Why was he sitting here,
torturing himself with her nearness? He was not her
nursemaid, nor her governess. If she was afraid of the
dark, she had a lamp at her bedside.
But he didnβt leave the room, only continued to sit there,
his hands tightly clenched, until the soft, steady sound of
her breathing told him she was asleep.
Hating her, hating himself, he lit the lamp at her bedside
and then left the room, left the house.
Outside, he removed his mask, ripped off his glove and his
shirt, and then he began to run. He threw back his head,
and the deep-throated sound of his despair pierced the
darkness in a long mournful howl.
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