Gerard's Beauty (3 page)

“
Merde
!” Gerard snarled when he landed... no dumped was a better word... when he got dumped on hard stone. His body, already bloody and beaten, exploded with sharp stabs of pain on impact.

Stars danced in front of his eyes. Taking two deep breaths between his teeth, he glanced up. Blurred vision made it difficult to figure out where he was.

It took a second for the ringing in his ears to stop, when it finally did, he was slowly able to get to his feet. Grunting heavily with the effort to stay standing, he looked up.

First thing he noticed were the trees. Massive things, tall and towering to the sky, with leaves a dark shade of yellow and red. Second thing he noticed was a thick slab of gray stone leading like a trail to a building. And the third thing he noticed made him growl.

“
Fils de salope
,” he swore and spat by his boot. Damn that meddlesome witch. A library! He’d specifically told Danika he wanted nothing to do with readers, or smart women, stupid and pretty, that’s all he’d wanted. But of course Danika did not listen, she never did.

The muscle in his jaw ticked. He squared his hips, studying the building like he would an enemy. No way in hell he’d go there.
Non
!

She’d not make him. Nostrils flaring, he sat on the edge of the path and stared at a world both similar and yet alien to his own.

A cool breeze stirred branches. Squirrels scampered up long limbed trunks, cheeks bulging with their hidden treasures. Birds flew overhead and every once in a while a car would idle slowly by.

He only knew what the metallic contraptions were because while he’d never been to Earth before, he’d seen pictures of this place. A long time ago, in a pub-- Skull and Crossbones, or maybe the Silver Dagger (who cared)-- point was, a man had walked in with a large box full of things he’d called pictures.

The man had claimed a fairy had dumped him on Earth. Of course they’d all laughed at his wild claim. Fairies wouldn’t do that, especially not godmothers, t’was truly a heinous thought to imagine one of them dumping a charge within Earth’s mad realm.

But the man had insisted, pulling out his box and pointing to it as proof. Gerard had dug through the box, intrigued despite himself at the frozen moment in time encapsulated within the glossy paper. He’d still not fully believed, but he’d grown a fondness for the paper, for the strangeness of the place called Earth. He’d tossed the pictures of kids and men aside, but had swiped one or two-- okay, ten-- of the one’s with women on it. He’d studied the entire contents of the box, almost to the point of obsession, entranced by the foreign beauty of the Earthly realm. In no way did that mean he’d ever wanted to see it for himself.   

He sighed. None would believe this.

Gerard rubbed his temples, brows drawn at the pain throbbing behind his skull and ribcage. “Bloody, damn
fee
.” He groaned. What hadn’t she told him? That more than anything else worried him and gnawed at his gut.

And why was she so insistent he find this Betty Hart? Didn’t she see he would never mate, could never be happy with one woman? Who could? Once the beauty faded what more was there?

He’d tried once, tried to open himself to the possibility of a life with just one woman. Belle. The name alone made him want to spit. Legend made her out to be a virtuous woman, in love with a beast whose heart beat golden. He snorted. More like in love with the endless supply of coin to be had in the shaggy dog’s pocket.

Though none ever believed the tale, why... because that damn book! Nothing but lies. Lies told by one very conniving godmother. The very godmother heading the tribunal for his trial. He swallowed hard. Gods his only hope was Danika’s ability to convince a crowd full of angry citizens he was harmless.

He rubbed his temple. Damn, damn, damn, that orange headed tramp might cost him dearly.

Gerard glowered as the chatter of people interrupted his thoughts. A women scowled when she spotted him, a pair of brats exited the car. She hugged them to her, her frown deepened.

Gerard shuddered. He hated kids. Squawking screaming things. Too needy by half. Then a terrifying thought struck. What did Betty look like? Good gods he hoped this was not her. His pulse hammered wildly.

The woman wore bright blue glasses. What in the devil possessed her to wear that hideous color when she also sported a frizzy mane of red hair boggled his mind. But that was not the worst of it, her shirt was stained and she wore trews one size too large. A more hideous creature he’d never seen.

Her eyes widened, studying him with the wariness of prey spotting a predator. The strange creature grabbed her brats and bustled them into the library.

He rolled his eyes. Gerard would stay out here all damn day, the night even, Danika could not make him go to her. And if that’d been her, forget it. Surely the jury would return verdict soon, they’d been quickish last time. Pay some coin, apologize profusely... blah, blah, blah, and he’d been freed. This time should be no different, he’d done nothing wrong. But dread curled like a big greasy ball in the pit of his stomach. Would Galeta believe the lying tramp had tried to seduce him, would the King?

Gerard shook his head, ignoring the sick feeling. Danika would prove it and he’d be fine.

He breathed, ignored the burning pain in his shoulder and waited. Danika might even now be coming for him.

Any time now.

Chapter 3

“I hate men, a curse on all of them!” Betty growled, slamming some trashy romance into its spot on the shelf and rolled her cart to the next stop.

Trisha lifted a shapely brow. “Careful. Don’t take it out on Nora.” She petted the spine of the book with a small pout. “Besides, I told you James was no good. After hmm...” she tapped her chin, “oh, I don’t know, the second date. Loser.” Her upper lip pulled back with disgust.

“Pig,” Betty joined in, “he’s a...a...” Her face scrunched up when a customer glanced up with a sharp frown.

Trisha rubbed her arm and stuck her tongue out at the man. He huffed, and waddled off to a different section of the library. “That’s right, sweetling. Total jerk off. But let’s not scare the people with our tirade’s. K?”

Betty clenched her jaw, blinking back the hot pulsing anger flowing through her gut whenever she thought about James. Even now, ten months later, she couldn’t believe what an idiot she’d been. Her friends, family, they’d all told her he was scum. Always hitting on this and that person, probably even sleeping with a few-- she thought of her cousin Linda in particular, and sighed-- though none would ever admit to it.

If it was just a matter of getting over him, she wasn’t sure it would be so hard. But his new girlfriend was making Betty’s life a living hell. Somehow the queen B was convinced she was trying to worm her way back into James’ life and was now harassing her any chance she got.

“That woman is driving me nuts, Trisha. Three freaking messages she left me. All detailing in graphic description what they do in bed and how I never did for him what she can and ugh...” Her nails dug into the palms of her hands. Not like they’d just broken up, which made the phone calls all the weirder. 

“Ssh.” Trisha pushed the cart away and took Pride and Prejudice out of her hands, then pulled her in for a tight hug. “That woman is an idiot and in desperate need of therapy. You ask me, I bet James is up to his old tricks and inciting her jealousy because he hasn’t tossed pictures of you away or something equally idiotic. That man always did want what he couldn’t have.”

Betty’s lips twitched and she shook her head. “Well he’s not getting me back. I can’t stand him. I hate him. I hate her.” She trembled. “I can barely sleep, some nights I got calls back to back. And when I tell the cops all they say is she’s not a danger to me and there’s not a darn thing they can do about it. Men suck.”

Trisha’s green eyes were soft. “Oh, honey, he’s so not worth it and I wish you wouldn’t judge every man based off one bad seed.” She gave Betty’s upper arm a gentle squeeze. “But the cops are right. Gretchen’s not a killer, just jealous. She knows she can’t hold a candle to you and it’s burning her up inside.”

Betty chuckled. “You’re right. I’m not fearing for my life or anything, it’s just... I want to move on.”

“There you go,” Trisha’s voice brightened. “Who knows, maybe Mr. Right is just around the corner. True love, le sigh.” Trisha clapped her hands together dramatically.

“Oh yeah, true love my butt.” Betty rolled her eyes. “Says the girl who can’t hold down a relationship for longer than the next release of the newest Coach purse.”

“Hey, do not mock the Coach.” Trisha wagged a finger. “Those bags are to die for. Besides,” she shrugged, “it’s not like I don’t want a permanent man, but I’m picky. Until I find him, I’m very happy to flirt.” She winked. “Makes life worth living.”

Betty grabbed another book and took a deep breath. “Yeah well, I’m so over guys.”

Trisha’s green eyes sparkled as she grabbed a book from the cart. “Mmm. You’ll change your mind.”

“I doubt it.” Betty’s lips thinned. Men were dogs. She’d seen enough in her twenty six years to know it was total fact. They had sex on the brain and little else.

“Excuse me,” a woman’s voice interrupted her thoughts. Betty turned to see a redhead standing with two boys pressed to her legs.

“Yes?” Betty asked.

“I just thought I should tell you, there’s some guy sitting outside. He looks like he’s gotten into a fight and he totally gives me the willies. You should probably call the cops or something.”

Betty glanced at Trisha, heart sinking as their eyes met. It wasn’t often they got complaints like this, but she never liked dealing with them.

“Trisha, can you?”

Trisha sighed. “Fine, I’ll deal with the perv. Finish racking and stacking.” She glanced at her watch. “Wanna get out of here by five. Got places to be.”

Betty snorted. “You mean losers to see.”

“Hey,” Trisha tapped her chest, her red nails standing out bold against the crisp white of her top, “you know how it goes, one woman’s trash...”

“Yeah, whatever.” Betty turned around and got back to work.

Betty was halfway done when Trisha finally returned, but she was acting weird, glancing over her shoulder every five seconds with a big, goofy grin on her face. Trisha’s low pitch giggle was so unlike her that Betty’s brows dipped. “What in the world is wrong with you?”

Trisha fanned her flushed face as she pointed to the library sitting area. “Him. That. Boy is he a tall glass of water. And his voice,” she sighed, “made me have a mini-orgasm.”

“Ewww, Trish.” Betty slapped her arm, but couldn’t resist taking a peek. Trisha rarely lost her composure over a man that way.

And though she was hating men at the moment, that didn’t mean Betty was blind. Hot was hot and she liked to look. She was surprised when all she saw was a man, scowling face all covered in scratches, staring at the kids bookshelf in front of him with the look of a man intending to do it bodily harm.

“Him?” She pointed.

Trisha licked her lips and nodded. “The voice, Betty.” She grabbed her arms and shook. “He
iz
, how do you say,” Trisha said in her best Lauren Bacall growl, “
zee
French.”  She smirked and Betty was pretty sure her friend had lost it. She’d finally cracked under the strain of late returns and the stress of cataloguing.

Betty looked back at him. Sure he was big. He shifted, his thick muscular thighs obvious behind the thin scrap of brown fabric. What in the world was he wearing anyway?

The cream shirt with the laces in front and black Santa Claus looking boots, jeez, he looked like some stupid pirate right off the pages of a Halloween Emporium magazine.

Looking beyond the stupid clothes, and the multitude of scratches and bloody lip, he was kind of okay looking.

Square jawed with a light dusting of hair. Her pulse thumped. She always did have a thing for the five o’clock shadow.

“Look at his hair,” Trisha sighed.

Sighed?

Really?

Wow, Trisha had it bad.

Betty’s gaze went back to him, Trisha was right though, his hair was… for lack of a better word, beautiful. All thick and wavy and brown, like a dark roasted chestnut and her fingers twitched.

As if sensing her stare he looked up.

His eyes narrowed and she stopped moving, stopped breathing. From her vantage point his eyes looked deep black. But instead of them being lifeless and flat like a shark’s, they gleamed like oil in moonlight.

Her heart beat hard and her mouth went dry. Then he lifted a brow and reclined, reminding her of a loping panther the way his massive body relaxed on the chair. One large leg sprawled out, skin peeking out from behind his ripped shirt. The words power and grace popped into her head. His lips curved into a slow liquid grin and it was like getting smacked in the face.

She bristled. James had done the same thing. Thinking he was God’s gift to all womankind. The bastard. She rolled her eyes and purposefully turned her back on him.