Read Online Beauty in the Beast by Christine Danse - Free Book Online Page A

at the far corner of the table, and three others leaning against the wall. They were portraits, and each depicted the same three faces. One woman and two little girls.
    The first painting was done in black and white. The only spots of color were the girls’ red bows and a red rose that the woman held. All three stared somberly from the canvas.
    The second was done in brightly colored broad strokes that reminded me of the raindrop painting above the fireplace. All three smiled in this portrait, eyes crinkling, and I could almost hear the girls’ giggles.
    The third was unfinished, little more than a drawing on canvas. The little girls’ faces were eerily blank and featureless. Only the woman was complete, each lock of hair carefully penciled. Her eyes were closed as if in sleep.
    On the corner of the table, I spied a small rectangle—a daguerreotype of the same woman and girls. The woman had a pale, delicate beauty, hair falling softly around her face and her expression serene. Both girls smiled shyly.
    There was a fourth person in the daguerreotype, though, one who was not in any of the paintings. A man. At first, I did not recognize the neatly combed hair and trimmed beard, but the jaw and brow were familiar.
    Rolph.
    A warm, electric force closed around my back, and the hairs on my arms and the rear of my neck stood up in a wave. An arm reached over my shoulder to pull the door firmly shut.
    “This one is off-limits,” growled Rolph in my ear. The warmth of his body burned hotter than a fire at my back.
    A shock ran from my toes to my scalp, and when he stepped away, the displacement of energy sucked my breath from me. I turned in time to catch a glimpse of his face, eyes black shadows in the sudden absence of light.
    He gestured toward the cozy smells and sounds of food and company. “Before the meat thaws and bleeds on my floor, please.”
    I scurried ahead like a pup with its tail between its legs, while heat spread to the tips of my ears and down my neck. Also to my thighs, though that was a different heat altogether.
    At the fireplace, I dropped the meat into the pot so hastily that I splashed scalding broth on my hand. I put my hand in my mouth and glanced back. Rolph, placing a crate on the table, looked up at my whimper of pain. “You hurt yourself.”
    Beth looked up. “Tara?”
    “I’m all right.” I shook my hand. “Just a bit of stew hit my hand.”
    Within three strides, Rolph was standing before me. “Show me your hand.”
    I did. He took it in his and turned it over, the rough pads of his fingers rasping over my skin. Suddenly, I forgot the pain.
    I pointed. “There.”
    He scowled at the tiny splotch of red. Looking up, he reached his arm over my shoulder, and my heart jumped as I thought he would hug me. Instead, he took something from the mantel. A jar.
    He unscrewed the top to reveal an olive-green salve. He scooped a fingerful and spread it on my skin. It was cool like peppermint but smelled like green woody spice. He massaged it over the scald mark with his thumbs.
    “Be more careful,” he said, wiping his hands with the hem of his shirt.
    I nodded mutely, hand still tingling where he’d kneaded it. What other parts of my body might I burn if you would touch them?
    When he wasn’t looking, Beth raised her eyebrows at me. He likes you , she mouthed. I shook my head, but my heart raced.
    From the crate he’d placed on the table, Rolph pulled several bottles.
    “I was saving these. This seems like enough of an occasion.” He tilted a bottle. “To a calm morning, and to your continued safe travels.”
    Fred raised an empty hand. “Hear, hear!”
    Beth’s face lit up—she adored a glass of good wine—but suspicion quickly chased the excitement from her eyes. Miles heartily accepted a cup from Rolph and smiled at his wife around its rim as he took a sip. She watched with rounded eyes, and when he let out a satisfied sigh, she pouted at him.
    Miles nodded to Rolph.