Beloved Beast

Chapter Eight

Elle hurried to her chambers, her fingers tingling from having etched upon her brain a depiction of one broad, muscled chest. Once within her room, she flattened her back against the door and inhaled deeply to steady her thrashing heartbeat.

She had dared to touch the Rossetti Beast. Never had she been bold enough to touch a man, much less one as menacing as him. Though she hadn't the slightest inclination as to how a man's body should be, let alone feel, she suspected that the men from her village paled in likeness to the male splendor that was Don Rossetti.

One touch and it had stoked a fire of intrigue in her, eclipsing her inherent fear of the man. Rossetti presented many dangers to her. His air of quiet rage alone should have staved off her mounting curiosity, and although he did frighten her, the untried feelings he roused within her were just as unfamiliar and alarming as the man that inspired them.

Some of the villagers would claim he was bereft of heart, but she could attest to its solid beat that drummed a lively rhythm beneath her fingers.

An enigma with all of his fortified walls of ice and resistance, she found herself wanting to chip away at those barricades.

Frowning, Elle pushed away from the door and navigated towards the window, seeking the filtering warmth of the sun. A soft knock, announcing Lucy's return, brought her up short and she turned away from the aperture to the sound of hinges giving way.

"I have brought you some tea, miss," Lucy called as the door widened with her entry. "Did you have a nice turn of the keep?"

Elle offered a genial smile, grateful for the maid's company. "Aye, Lucy, thank you."

The sound of delicate ceramic clattered atop a tray as the maid shuffled across the room to deposit her articles upon a smooth surface.

"Can I ask you something, Lucy?"

"Of course, Miss Duncan."

Clearing her throat, "I thought perhaps I would encounter other servants upon my walk... but there are hardly any. Why?"

There was more clattering, and she suspected Lucy had poured a cup of the hot brew as its comforting aroma wafted to her nose. "There are but a small handful of us employed here; me, Givens, Edmund, and the cook, the latter of whom you've not yet met. Lord Rossetti is a very private man that requires fairly little. We do what is instructed of us and make every effort to stay out of his way."

"Is he unkind to you and the others?"

"We mustn't speak of these things, miss." Lucy admonished, her voice betraying an inkling of unease. "'Tis ill-advised to speak as one thinks fit."

"Forgive me, if I'm being insensitive. I'm merely trying to understand him. Surely you of all people could attest to his character. Is he as cruel as the villagers say?"

Lucy fell quiet, and in that moment, Elle longed for her sight. What emotion passed over her expression? Was it fear? Was she wringing her hands in accordance to the discomfort that threaded her voice? Was Lord Rossetti truly such a horrifying man that he could reduce the maid to an unnerving silence?

"There is much darkness within these walls, so much so that it permits Lord Rossetti to walk freely without disguise." Lucy divulged in such a low tone that Elle strained to catch her muffled words. "I have never seen his face, only a mere glimpse of harsh lines and I dare not look closer, it would be unwise to gaze plainly upon him."