Beloved Beast

Chapter Thirteen

With the boisterous men behind them, nothing could be heard but the sound of Rossetti's boots shuffling across the stone floor; each stride determined in length as he hurried down the corridor.

He moved with the fluid grace of a man accustomed to treading shadows, and Elle felt this as he ascended the stairs, the change in his step advising her of his surefooted direction as he climbed the stairway with a congenital ease despite her sodden weight.

A terrible draft met them with every twist and turn of the keep, until at last they reached the confines of her chambers.

A few more steps and he placed her on the bed. His arms fell away and with that came every discomfort to mind.

Elle shivered in her damp cloak, longing to discard it, along with her wet garments. She tugged at the lapels as another draft assailed her, its icy intrusion making her muscles ache and her bones rattle.

She listened as Rossetti shuffled about the room, his fleeting movements stirring spouts of dust that had her crinkling her nose, surprised to find so much of it lining the air.

He made quick work of a fire and as it began to crackle and spit warmth, her senses unfolded in awareness to the room.

The air felt colder and moved more freely as if the room was far more capacious than what her chambers had to offer. It felt gloomier, impersonal, as though not lived in but - abided, and aside from the occasional mustiness, it smelled strongly of leather.

A nervous breath left her as her hands flexed over the silken coverlet. The bedstead felt massive as she ran her fingers over its frame; one suited specifically for a ... man.

A soft tremulous breath escaped her. "These are not my chambers."

"Nay," he drawled in that thick baritone, "They are mine."

His boots scraped across the floor as he drew closer and her heart-rate rocketed, feeling his intense regard as he came to stand over her. "Had I returned you to your chambers," Rossetti said, "they would have considered you ... at their disposal."

Elle swallowed, feeling a sudden knot lodged there, "Their disposal?" As if she was a thing to be used and discarded. The thought snatched horridly at her heart.

He was silent a moment and when his reply finally came it had a razor-like edge, "Their beds."

She stiffened, her stomach churning at the specter of those men touching her. Disposing of her, "How very thoughtful of you, my lord," she replied with an ambivalent breath, "And yet here I sit, in your bed."

It should have alarmed her that he had brought her to his chambers, and though she felt a fraction of fear, there was also a feeling of nervousness and excitement that she could not explain.

He moved with a predatory stillness that no longer disrupted the dust, when earlier his movements had been almost frantic. Had he been concerned for her well-being?

"Remove your cloak." He demanded in an unflinching tone.

Her eyes widened as she let out a gasp, "I beg your pardon?"

"You will catch ill if you do not disrobe."

Elle angled her chin, hoping to appear defiant despite the anxious feeling in her breast. "Lucy will be along shortly. I will wait for her."

Rossetti stepped closer and her throat constricted with his advancement, "I do not issue an order twice, little one."

When she showed no signs of complying, his warning came on a growl, "Then you leave me no choice."