Beast and Beatrice

Chapter twenty-six - Gilbert

  Gilbert opened his eyes to full-on darkness. There was no moon. The only visible light was the sparkling stars overhead. Quite the contrast to yesterday when a raging inferno lit the night. The air was noticeably cooler now, too, everything quiet and still. Gilbert smacked his dry lips and wished for a drink to soothe the soreness of his throat. He was also aware of a dull pounding in his skull. Not as bad as it had been earlier, when Beatrice had lured him to share in her shady spot, but persistent and annoying.

  He savored the memory of laying his aching head in her soft lap, her hands playing lovingly in his hair, the caress of her fingers on his scalp soothing away his pain. She must have realized how his head ached and sought, in her own sweet, selfless way, to ease some of his discomfort. He had closed his eyes in bliss and must have drifted off to sleep. At first, it had been a peaceful slumber. But then it had changed.

  Vaguely familiar, nightmarish images had crept in and preyed upon his mind. It was the same nightmare he'd been having ever since he lost Rose and little Ruth. The same blazing inferno, the hellish heat, unending anguish, and once more, he failed to save them. And yet it was different, too. It must have been the fever that contributed to his old nightmare. That and the fresh images of fighting last night's blaze.  New fears sprinkled among the old, arisen from his subconscious to torment him.

  And yet they were different somehow. He had the oddest notion that Beatrice had been a part of his fever dreams this time. The nightmares were still as frightening, still as decimating, but different. Something was nagging away just at the edge of his awareness, but he could not grasp it. He tried to bring the images into focus to study them in more detail, but the more he concentrated, the fainter the images became. Annoyed, he reached up to swipe a hand over his forehead but paused when he noticed the touch of cool air on his bare arm. Then he touched a hand to his hairy chest and realized his shirt was gone.

  He slid his fingers down to discover his only covering was the silky blue cloak. The material lay across his chest and covered him from his armpits down to his bare toes.  He shifted his hips and frowned, shivering at the flow of cold air that found its way underneath the cover to brush over his naked skin. Beneath the makeshift blanket, he wore only his smalls. Where were his clothes?

  Someone must have stripped him while he was unconscious. He didn't have to think very hard to imagine who was responsible for that. His smile widened into a grin at the thought of his innocent bride stripping his unconscious self. That can't have been easy for her, considering his bulk and her petite frame. Not to mention her bashfulness. No doubt she was unable or unwilling to remove the last barrier between them. He only wished he had been awake to see her blushing as she struggled with her own squeamish modesty.

  Absently, he ran his fingers over the silky material as he contemplated that pleasant image.  It wasn't until that moment he recalled the last time he'd seen this same blue cloak. Wrapped around the waist of his pretty young bride. But, if it was now serving as his blanket, what was she now wearing as a skirt?

  His grin turned wolfish as his mind conjured up a lurid image of Beatrice in all her naked glory, and another part of his anatomy leaped to attention. He reminded himself that they were now husband and wife, and he had yet to introduce his pretty young bride to the joys of the marriage bed. Eager to perform his husbandly duties, he slid a hand across and patted the area beside him in search of his new bride. But his grin soon faded into a frown when he failed to find her. There was no trace. Not even any residual warmth to prove that she had once been here. Where could she be?
He lifted his head to look around but found that he was alone in their little corner of the graveyard.

  He lay in the shadow of the largest of the gravestones, exactly as he had before. Beyond the stones, he noticed a small fire crackled in front of the bell tower. A few dark figures were seated around it. Men with pipes in their mouths or mugs in their hands. He guessed them to be keeping a guard over the area while the rest of the villagers slept.