Beloved Beast

Chapter Six

Rossetti Keep had always been, since Lucy could recall as a little girl, hauntingly eerie. Its ghostly halls were fraught with shifting shadows that crept beneath traces of flickering candlelight. She half expected some unworldly wraith to materialize from the veil of darkness. And in spite of having resided at Rossetti Keep her entire twenty summers, the ghastly feeling caused by the grim stone and its equally formidable master never wavered.

    The chambermaid shuddered as she padded hastily through the corridor; her heart accelerating against her chest for fear that the shadows would take shape and form, producing a fleeting phantom.

    Feeling somewhat uneasy with the turn of her thoughts, she focused on a more intriguing notion to alleviate the frantic patter of her heart.

    Lord Rossetti's captive.

   At first glance, one would not expect the girl to be without her sight, aside from the unusual wooden staff, she kept readily at hand, but 'twas apparent in the manner she carried herself.

    It hadn't escaped Lucy's attention the way her lordship had regarded the girl. She didn't need to see his face to know that he had gazed at her from beneath his hooded-brim. She sensed his fascination for the dark-haired miss and wondered curiously at his thoughts. Did he find her captivating?

    Lord Rossetti was perceived as cold and unforgiving. There were many, including herself, that believed him incapable of warmth and compassion and that his chest was hollow and empty of heart, but what if beneath that implacable resolve was a man – and not a vile beast?

    Like her mother before her who had briefly served Lord Rossetti, Lucy had never seen his face, but Lord Rossetti was indeed a sinister figure donned entirely in black, and his face was never without disguise of hood or shadow. He was not completely cruel, but he was not particularly kind. He had an unmistakable air of contempt and bitterness and on occasion, Lucy had witnessed the capacity of his temper. She was keen to notice that wherever he stalked, darkness followed closely at his heels as if there was no escaping it, as if somehow it was tethered to his soul.

     There was no other man in more need of salvation than her lordship.

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Sleep eluded him, but then again, sleep was never easily feasible. Instead, Don favored a lead cup of ale as he stared absently at the blue flames gathered low within the grate, immersed in thoughts of one dark-eyed maiden.

    The keep had fallen into its peculiar pattern of unnatural stillness: naught askew in the norm of Rossetti Keep, all but – her.

    He should not have brought her here. But it was done. And her presence was having a profound impact on him. It had been so long since he'd felt anything aside from a whirlwind of misery. One look at her and she was tormenting his every waking thought. How could that be, after so long of nothing? It was hell – apart from the one he was presently living.

    Resist her.

    It wasn't too late. He could send her back and seize the old man. Or he could simply banish them from his lands. And he would never have to set eyes on her again. But would it be so easy to rid her from his thoughts?

    The villagers' accosting stares branded him a beast, and if not for her lack of sight would Elle look upon him with mirrored revulsion and fear? What would she think or do if she knew the horror that disfigured his face and the darkness that consumed his soul?