PETALS AND THORNS (2 page)

He didn't drag her along, but neither did the Beast release her hand. The grand house blurred around her as she frantically tried to think of a way out.

6

“I'm dizzy.”

“Excellent,” he purred.

“Truly, Husband.” Amarantha stopped, placed a trembling finger to her temple, and stared steadfastly at the black cloaked chest before her. “I have a pain in my head and—”

“Amarantha.”

His tone slammed through her. All stern disapproval and warning.

“Yes?” She barely got the word out.

“You may address me as „my lord' or „Sir Beast.' If you call me „Husband' again, I will assume you are ready for me to assume my full husbandly rights.

Understood?”

“Yes. My lord.”

“Then let us proceed.”

She once again struggled to keep pace with his long strides, until the dark hallway opened into the most glorious atrium.

Woes temporarily forgotten, Amarantha gazed in wonder at the glass walls and ceiling sparkling in the midday light. Sunshine flooded the room from three sides and roses, bloodred roses, filled every corner. Here and there, graceful sculptures peeked between the blooms.

Velvet crimson spills, mounds and waterfalls, the roses tumbled out of urns and thrust up from beds built into the floor. The roses Father had brought surely came from these.

Amarantha realized she stood alone in the middle of the floor. The Beast had settled into a wooden chair, massive as a throne, studded with iron rings in various places. It was perfectly situated so that he might survey the room.

And everything in it.

“I enjoy beauty, as I mentioned.” The Beast leaned his cloaked head against one fist. “I am ready to savor yours.”

7

She could run, perhaps. Bolt back down the hallway. Then what?

“Amarantha, I want you to take down your hair, remove all of your clothing, and set it on the floor. When you are done, you will place it all—the clothing, your hairpins, whatever jewelry you might be wearing—on that press over there.” He waved a languid hand at the far end of the room, where a wooden stand stood among more roses. “You will find a pair of shoes over there. Put them on and return to me.”

She froze. Surely this couldn't be happening.

“My bride,” the Beast said with utmost gentleness, “every moment you hesitate earns you punishment.”

“You promised not to injure me,” she stammered.

“And indeed I will not. Punishment does not mean injury. In fact”—he leaned forward in the chair—“I shall let you in on a secret. I not only excel at punishing a beautiful woman without injuring her, but I love every moment of it.”

Amarantha shuddered.

“Were I you”—he settled back in the chair—“I wouldn't give away opportunities for punishment. But that's entirely your choice. You've earned one punishment for your hesitation. Proceed with my instructions.”

With trembling fingers, Amarantha reached up to pull the pins from her hair.

Drawing out the process, she set them one by one on the floor. The Beast, however, did not seem inclined to urge her to move more quickly. His head once again propped on his fist, he watched her from the shadows of his hood.

Amarantha ran out of pins. She ran her fingers through her hair, shaking out the formal coils her sisters had twisted in.

“Continue.”

His rasp spurred her. Though it wasn't easy on her feet, Amarantha worked loose the buttons of her little boots, kicking them to the side. She reached under her skirt to undo the garters.

8

“The dress first.”

So that she would be only in her stockings and corset?

“Are you hesitating, Amarantha?

She quickly reached up to the back of her neck, undoing the tiny buttons. This wasn't easy. She couldn't reach them all. Her fingertips slid off the cool pearl surfaces. What would the punishment consist of? Amarantha caught her breath in a sob.

“Wait. I am not an unreasonable beast.” She could hear the humor threading his voice. “I forgot how proper ladies need assistance with their dress. Hold still.”

He heaved himself out of the throne and moved toward her. Amarantha closed her eyes, unable to bear it.

“I shall not touch you. Still yourself.” She felt him move behind her. A soft curse and a curious
plopping
sound. Amarantha cracked open her eyes to see the leather gloves lying beside her little boots and the pile of hairpins. The Beast's fingers brushed her skin through the parted folds of her dress as he unfastened the remaining buttons. His breath flowed hot against her bare shoulders. The dress sagged away, and she clutched it to her, feeling desperate to keep it over her. Maybe at least until he moved farther away.

“No,” he said, “let it fall.” And she obeyed.

“Step out of your dress and turn around so that I may see you.”

She did, stepping forward for a bit of distance, then turned.

“Petticoats.”

She slid them down and stepped out of those too.

“And bloomers.”

Amarantha had comforted herself that he wouldn't be so close for this moment, but she didn't dare hesitate. She slid down the bloomers and stood naked but for her stockings, garters, corset, and the bit of chemise beneath.

9

She heard the Beast sigh out a breath. Behind his looming black figure, the roses rioted in uncaring glee. Her head swam with the scent of them.

“Turn around again and hold still so I won't cut you. Put your hands behind your neck and hold your hair out of the way.”

Amarantha felt the cool glide against her back—
was that a claw
?—sliding between her chemise and her skin, slicing the corset laces and the chemise so that both fell away from her in a tumble.

“Stay as you are, Amarantha. Eyes forward.”

She heard the slight grunt as he bent to pick up his gloves. He moved into her field of vision and then back to the throne. Amarantha stood there in the folds of her clothing, arms behind her neck, naked and on display. Her breath shuddered through her, her heart pounding hot blood into her cheeks.

She stood there forever, it seemed, impossibly frozen while he gazed at her.

When he spoke, she thought she might shatter.

“You may keep the stockings and garters for now. Proceed with your instructions.”

For a wild moment, she couldn't remember what they were. Then, in a relieved rush, she gathered everything up and headed for the press at the far end of the room.

“Slowly.”

She slowed, acutely aware of his eyes on her naked bottom. The tips of her hair brushed it as she walked. She felt exposed and vulnerable. And, in excruciating detail, she experienced every small sensation. The sun-warmed marble felt smooth under her stocking feet. Blood pulsed through her, pounding in her breasts and pouring down through her groin.

This must be what terror feels like, she thought.

Amarantha placed her pile of clothes on the press and set her little boots next to the shoes that were waiting for her. They were red, with high, curving arches and 10

pointed heels. It would be as if she was walking on her tiptoes. She held on to the press and turned so her bottom was away from the Beast, whose hot gaze had never wavered from her. She didn't want him seeing between her legs as she bent over.

She slipped the shoes onto her feet.

Now for the walk back.

She teetered a bit on the heels. The way they made her arch her back and thrust out her bottom and breasts seemed obscene. The skin of her naked breasts tingled as her arms brushed against them.

“Slowly. Place one foot in front of the other. Allow your hips to move with each step. Hands by your sides. Eyes on me.” The Beast gave the instructions with patience. And great interest. He continued to coach her as she approached and then stopped before him.

“Shoulders back. Your breasts are gorgeous, Amarantha—so full and round.

Thrust them forward. Place your hands behind your neck again, under your hair. I love your nipples. Red like my roses. I'm impatient to try some tricks to make them an even deeper red. By the time I'm done, you'll be able to do nothing but think of how your nipples feel.”

Amarantha trembled violently, hot tears suddenly spilling down her cheeks.

“Why do you weep? Turn in a slow circle.”

She complied but didn't answer the question.

“Amarantha, I asked you a question. I expect an answer.”

“You're so cruel,” she cried, “treating me like this.”

“All beasts are cruel. It is my nature. And for now I merely admire. Wouldn't any bridegroom expect to see you so?”

“I don't…I don't think so.”

“I do.”

She had no answer, and he lapsed into quiet contemplation. The sun slanted more, falling on her skin and warming it.

11

“There is the matter of your punishment,” he finally said. “Would you prefer it now or after our evening meal?”

“I thought…I thought you said you wouldn't trouble me further tonight.”

“We will sup together every night. Surely that is no trouble to you. It seems any bride would expect that as her part of the deal she'd made.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“As for your punishment, I hadn't anticipated that you would need correction so soon. But I think it's best for you to learn quickly, don't you?” His gloved finger tapped thoughtfully against where his temple must be. “There are merits to both.

Punishment immediately after your transgression. Or after we dine, which will give us both time to think about what it might be. Which do you think would teach you most effectively?”

He might have asked her if she preferred beast or fowl for her meal.

Amarantha's thoughts whirled like frightened birds.

“I don't wish to be punished at all.”

“Ah, but I wish it. And I think you'll find it's good for you. You've been petted and spoiled. While I intend to pet you, my sweet, you'll find that I'm most interested in your character. You don't wish to deny me my few pleasures?”

“No, my lord.”

“I shall decide for you, then. It shall be tonight. You may lower your hands and find your chambers. Return down the hallway and follow the light that guides you.”

Amarantha gratefully lowered her arms, the blood rushing back into her hands. She turned toward the press to retrieve her clothes, then thought better of it.

“May I dress?”

“Very good, my bride.” The Beast's voice was warm with pleasure. “You learn quickly. No, you may leave your clothes there. I think you will find that you will need little from your previous life. We dine at nine o'clock. You will find a gown in your chambers so you may dress for dinner.”

12

She must walk through this huge house like this?

“Would you prefer your punishment now, then?”

She nearly ran for the door, as much as the wicked heels would allow, the Beast's amused chuckles chasing after her.

* * *

Amarantha had found the rooms by following a light, indeed. A little will-o'-the-wisp had popped out of the woodwork in the hallway. She followed its pink bobbing path, soothing herself by pulling her hair over her breasts to shield them and holding her hands over the place between her legs. She didn't dare remove the shoes, however, until she reached her room.

There was no promised gown.

Instead Amarantha found a short, silk robe lying across the foot of the immense four-poster bed. The fine white silk was so translucent that it hid nothing.

After putting it on anyway, since it was meagerly better than being completely nude, she glimpsed herself in the full-length mirror. Her black hair tumbled in coils.

Her eyes looked huge in her face, the dark centers edging out the violet-blue.

Amarantha could see her nipples pressing taut against the silk and the deep V at the juncture of her thighs. This is what the Beast had seen.

The innocent girl who'd dressed for her wedding that morning had disappeared. This girl looked ravished already. In a way, she supposed she had been.

And this was just the beginning.

To soothe herself, Amarantha wandered through her extensive chambers. The four-poster, draped with lace curtains gathered to the posts with wide satin ribbons,

13

dominated the bedchamber. A marble dressing room with a great tub followed a sitting room with more windows, a writing desk, shelves of music, and a variety of musical instruments.

Everything she could wish for lay before her.

She fiddled with the things but couldn't settle. She curled into the leather armchair by the cheerful fire with a book she'd longed to read but couldn't focus on the story. The relentless slanting of the light toward evening distracted her. A curious restlessness ran through her blood. Amarantha kept remembering the feel of the Beast's gaze upon her naked body. She dreaded what would come tonight and yet couldn't help feeling a strange sense of anticipation.

Finally she decided upon a bath. Wondering how to summon the invisible servants to fill it, she explored the dressing room for a pull. Finding nothing, she turned to examine the tub and found it already full of hot water. A glass of wine stood on a little table next it.

Amarantha retrieved her novel, hung the robe on a hook, and slid into the water. The light had become a bit dim, but the sconces and candles surrounding the tub suddenly sprang to life. Feeling snugly alone, she finally relaxed and fell into the story.

As the little jeweled clock ticked its way past half eight, the candles began winking out. First one, then the next. Clearly the invisible ones knew of her dinner date. No delaying, then, unless she wanted to sit in the dark. And Amarantha felt sure she didn't want the Beast to come looking for her.

A warm towel awaited her on a rack, along with fresh stockings and a pair of ribbon garters. Not the ones she'd worn this morning—these were sheer red and softer than rain. The crimson ribbons matched the boned scarlet satin corset.