Dark Angel (20 page)

“I am
he
,” he whispered in a rush.

I let out a long, slow breath, the tension easing from my shoulders, which I’d unknowingly hunched in anticipation of what he might say. “It is all right, Gerard. Everything will be all right now.” I moved to brush my lips against his, but he jerked away.

He sat back, his expression harsh.

“You think it is that simple? You think you can just kiss me and make it all go away? Don’t you understand what I have said?” He smacked a fist against his chest. “I am that
thing
. An animal, a foul creature without reason or moral judgment. And I don’t know what to do, how to stop it. I’m bloody
helpless
against it.”

“We will figure something out together—”

“Are you so damn clever you can solve a problem I’ve been wrestling with for a hundred years? That the great Catherine can simply wash up on shore and make everything better with a snap of her fingers?” He laughed harshly. “Even you cannot be so deluded.”

I blinked, cringing at his vitriolic tone. He was lashing out because he was confused and afraid, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

“I didn’t say that,” I protested.

“Because I will tell you, what I have done to earn this curse cannot be undone. The price would be too high, and I’m not willing to pay it.”

I took a deep breath to calm myself, and I tried again. “If you would just explain to me how it happened, perhaps we could—”

He was already shaking his head. “That I will not do. Do not ask it of me again.”

I supposed it meant he was only willing to trust me so far. But then, I’d held back important details of my past as well, such as my making off with money obtained by fraudulent means. I could hardly impugn him for doing the same.

“Very well. Tell me something about Beast then.”

He frowned. “Beast?”

In the muted light, I hoped he could not see me flush. “It is my name for him. I was very fond of Dame de Villeneuve’s fairy tale as a child.”

“Ah.
La Belle et la Bête.
Beauty and the Beast. Well, you are certainly a beauty, but this is no fairy tale, and I am no prince,” he said grimly.

“Tell me about him. Why do you fear him so?”

His mouth twisted. “Do you know what it is like to have no control over yourself? To know that no matter what you do, between the rising and setting of the sun, you will have no say over your own body’s actions? It is a waking nightmare, especially for someone like me.” He turned his gaze away, staring out the window at the driving rain. “I never know what I will do. I’m not even certain what I’ve already done.”

“But you suspect something awful has happened, don’t you?”

He turned back to me, his expression haunted. “Catherine, I have killed in that form. And who knows when I might do it again?”

I knew where this was going, but I wanted to hear it from him. “How do you know you have killed?”

He clasped his hands between his knees and stared down at them. “One evening, I awoke to discover myself covered in blood. On my hands, my face, everywhere—and faint impressions—not exactly memories—I can never remember clearly what has happened afterward—but ghosts of feelings one might associate with a dream. Rage, fury, the taste of warm flesh, the thrill of my victims’ fear—and a deep sense of satisfaction.” He glared at me. “I enjoyed it, Catherine. I killed someone, and I liked it. And every time I disappear into that—that
beast
, I fear I will do it again.”

“Who did you kill?”

He gazed at me in astonishment. “Does it matter? These are
my
people. It is my duty to care for them, not hunt them as prey. I’ve tried locking myself away, given instructions that I am not to be let out until after sunset, but somehow when I become the creature, I always find a way out. I don’t know how to stop it, and I’m terrified.”

“There are others who know about this?” I asked, surprised. I did not think that sort of news would settle well with the people of
Ynys Nos
.

“I can trust no one with the entire truth, but Mrs. Jones and Jeffries must suspect by now. I have had to rely on them for help in keeping my secret safe, in maintaining my schedule and providing a buffer between my people and me. They are unquestioningly loyal, but how loyal will they remain if I start killing off the villagers en masse?”

I laid my hand over his. “That is not going to happen, Gerard.”

“You cannot know that.”

“I can, because I know
you
. And this creature, above all else,
is
you. I believe it is motivated by the same feelings you have for those under your protection. It would no more kill indiscriminately than you would.”

He turned his hand up, twining my fingers in his. “How can you be so certain?”

“Because of the men you killed…there were two of them, correct?”

He looked surprised, but he answered. “I did not realize it at first. I lived in an agony of anticipation for hours afterward, wondering what had happened but too afraid to find out. Perhaps the creature had merely gone hunting for game. Perhaps I had taken down a large animal, I reasoned. At the time, none of us thought the people here could be killed. But then I remembered the screams…”

“Screams?”

He closed his eyes. “In my mind. A woman’s screams. And then a man’s. And I knew what I had done.”

“Oh, Gerard. You must have been horrified.” My heart broke for him. As difficult as he could be, he was also a man filled with compassion, a man who would sit at the bedside of a birthing woman and take on her pain. The very idea that he had hurt someone must have nearly driven him insane.

He shuddered and opened his eyes. “I thought I might be summoned to help heal my own victims, to absorb the pain I had caused by tearing at their flesh, so I waited, only to find out I had actually murdered someone—it was a shock beyond any others. I was sick to my stomach for days.
God,
it still makes me ill to think of it.”

I slid from my bench and sat next to him, taking him in my arms. He resisted for a moment, but then lowered his head to my breast like a mighty sail deflating in the wind.

“Shh,” I whispered, though he did not make a sound. His grief was tangible but silent, which made it all the worse. I clasped him to me, providing what comfort I could, while his heat warmed my chilled bones and his sadness called to my heart. “Listen to me. Those men were animals. According to Matthew, when you found them, they were in the act of raping a woman, and she was not the first. The woman’s screams you remember must have been hers. You—that is, the creature—reacted with your instincts to protect her. It gave those men justice in the only way it knew how. And from what I’ve learned, Beast has never hurt anyone like that again.”

He took a slow breath and lifted his head, his eyes glittering. “Then why did I enjoy killing them?” he whispered.

“I feel Beast is an intelligent creature. I believe he had a sense of satisfaction in knowing those men would never harm another woman again. He stopped them and instinctively knew they had gotten what they deserved.”

He stared at me. “I don’t understand how you can have such faith in me. Why do you think the best when the worst is plainly easier to believe?”

“Perhaps,” I told him, giving in to the desire to smooth down the hair at his nape, the strands like rich sable beneath my fingers, “it is because I spent most of the day with the creature, a day in which he, by the way, saved my life.”

“
What?
” he exploded.

The carriage rolled to a stop.

I hastened to distract him from his outburst. “We’ve arrived.” I’d almost said
we’re home
, but my home was a long way from here.

One of the omnipresent footmen hurried out of the front door with a large black umbrella while another lowered the carriage steps.

Gerard took hold of me, his expression implacable. “Explain.
Now
.”

I spared a glance at the footmen. “I do not think this the best time to have this conversation.”

After a moment’s pause, he acknowledged my logic with a tilt of his head. “And yet, we will have it. Inside.”

The door swung open and he stepped out first, then turned to assist me. The footman handed him a greatcoat he’d had slung over his arm. The torrential rain was driving sideways, and a clap of thunder crashed overhead. I jumped. The thunderstorm made me uneasy when I remembered the last time I had been in one, when my ship sank with all hands lost except me. A jagged bolt of lightning tore through the black sky, and I tensed.

Gerard reached a hand into the carriage, drawing my attention back to him. “Come.”

For some reason, the simple command, spoken with such assurance that it would be obeyed, settled my unease, and I placed my hand in his. Once I stepped out, he swept the greatcoat over me. Despite it and the umbrella, I was thoroughly soaked by the time we made it inside the door. Gerard was far worse. He took the greatcoat and tossed it to Jeffries, then shook the water out of his hair.

“Good evening, Master.” Jeffries held the greatcoat gingerly by its sodden edges. “The head groom gave me an urgent message for you. Would you care for me to relay it now?”

Gerard lifted his head. “What is it? Has he learned who tampered with the carriage?”

“Sadly, he has not. However, he has averted another incident. It seems someone replaced your horse’s normal feed with moldy grain. The head groom has been extra vigilant since the last incident, and caught the substitution, but it could have been a disaster.”

Gerard drew a sharp breath, his expression promising retribution of the worst sort should he find the culprit. “I just brought Apollo in. He would have been fed and—the molded grain might have killed him. He would have died in agony.”

“Who would attempt to harm an innocent animal that way?” I exclaimed.

“Someone who understands what he means to me,” he growled. “Jeffries, tell the head groom he did well. Reward him appropriately. And keep me informed.”

“Very good, sir.”

“In the meantime…” Gerard grasped my elbow. “We are going to my rooms. I am not at home to visitors, nor is Mrs. Briton. We are not to be disturbed unless the house is on fire, and then only if it makes it to the second floor. Do I make myself clear?”

Jeffries bowed, his usual bland expression firmly in place.

Throwing a frantic look behind us, I stumbled along beside Gerard as he towed me toward the stairs.

“Heavens, Gerard, what is he going to
think
?” I hissed.

He slid a narrow-eyed look at me. “He will think I am taking you to my rooms.”

I tried to dig in my heels, but his grasp on me was too firm, and we moved inexorably up the staircase. “That
is
my point. There will be talk.”

He rolled his eyes. “No more than before. I hunger for you like a wolf for a lamb chop, and any idiot with eyes in his head can see it. You are the only one who continues to deny the obvious. No one will think we are doing anything we haven’t done before, and I
will
not
be disturbed during the discussion I intend to have with you. A discussion,” he said as the door to his suite opened ahead of us and he marched me right in, “in which you will explain to me what the bloody hell you were doing spending the entire day with a bloodthirsty, beastly,
murderer
.” The door slammed shut behind us, punctuating his furious tirade.

I swung round to face him, incensed. “He is
not
a murderer.”

He opened his mouth, shut it, then took a deep breath and opened it again. “It took the lives of two men. That makes it a murderer.”

“That makes him a
killer
, not a murderer. There is a fine distinction.”

“Not to the men who are dead,” he snapped. He stripped off his coat, which had begun to smell of wet wool, balled it up, and tossed it to the floor. “I cannot believe you are defending the bloody beast, woman.”

I clenched my fists at my side. I was soaked to the skin and angry enough to raise steam. “Don’t you
woman
me.” I ripped my drooping bonnet off my head and flung it aside in disgust, quickly followed by my now-ruined Spencer. “And mind your mouth.”

“
Damn you
, Cat,” he roared. “Answer the question!”

“Do not swear at me and
do not
call me Cat,” I shouted back.

“What were you doing with him?” He said it softly, but the threat in his voice if I disobeyed him was palpable.

I backed up a step. I did not want to know how he might choose to fulfill that threat, so I complied. “He—you came to me in my room this morning. I think—I suspect it was instinct, driven by your emotions from the night before.”

“Did I—did it hurt you?”

Some of my anger left me. “Of course not. You wouldn’t do that in any form.”

“And how do you know that, Catherine?” His hot gaze swept over me. “How do you know I won’t just gobble you up in one big bite right this very moment?”

I recognized his expression and looked down at my dress. The pretty muslin fabric had molded itself to my body as a result of the soaking from the rain. I crossed my arms over my breasts self-consciously and ducked my head. “Do not tease me, Gerard. It isn’t nice.”

“I’m not nice. And who says I am teasing?”

From any other man, it would have been flirtatious banter. From Gerard, it was like a stirring up of hot coals in a roaring fire, leaving me flushed and sweating.

I gazed at him helplessly, acutely aware not only of my damp, clinging dress—under which I wore little more than my thin chemise and light stays—but of the crystalline drops of water sliding through his black hair and down his carved, high cheekbones. Of the wet shirt plastered across the hard width of his frame, revealing the broad expanse of his chest. Of the tight black breeches hugging his thighs, revealing even more.

I was grateful for the cool fabric against my skin. I shivered, whether from the effects of his riveted attention or from the damp, I would not admit.

“You should get out of those wet things,” he said, his voice rough.