“There’s something I’m dying to know,” she continued, and he noticed she seemed as content to hang onto his hand as he was to hang onto hers. He thumbed her knuckles.
“What?”
“Danika told me about Kingdom.”
He nodded.
“How it’s a realm full of immortals of legend. What we here on Earth call fairy tales.”
Gerard let go of her hand and squirmed, knowing where this line of questioning was headed. “So why have you never heard of me?” He pierced her with his steely eyed gaze. “Is that what you’re wondering?”
Her lips stretched into a crooked smile as she nodded.
He sighed, and placed his elbows on his knees, staring at nothing in particular. Again she touched him, her fingers grazed his jaw and he jerked.
“You don’t have to tell me now,” she said softly, “not if you’re not ready.”
He shook his head. “If I tell you, you’ll not believe. None do.”
“Try me.”
She’d told him that once before, he hadn’t trusted her then. Still wasn’t sure he could now. The soft glow of lamplight washed across the top of her head, highlighting the natural gold in her hair. It made her appear almost angelic. Gerard glanced down at the beige carpet.
“She was the youngest of three. Daughter of a merchant. Stories would have you believe she was all that was kindness and grace. The girl was a demone. Breathtakingly beautiful with her soft brown eyes and chestnut colored hair.” He looked at her. “You look a little like her. Although I think I prefer the black of your hair to hers.”
Betty’s lips twitched.
He sighed. “I was young, and a fool. I fell hard, and did anything she asked of me. Kill the neighbor’s dog for digging up her sister’s garden.” He clenched his fist, staring at his knuckles. “Hit the town drunk for daring to look at her wrong.” Gerard squeezed his eyes shut, the hated memories pressing in on him like a wall closing in.
“Are you talking about Belle, Gerard?” Betty’s soft voice was a gentle caress. “As in Beauty and the Beast?”
He nodded.
“Wow. But, there was never any mention of a Frenchman in the original book, and the one in the movie...” She grimaced, letting her sentence die off.
“Wasn’t me. That,” he pointed to the empty case sitting next to her television, “is the perverted version Galeta pandered about. My name is Gerard. I never tried to kill the Beast, he was an idiot that deserved that cold blooded, money hungry chienne. The Beast detested my love for her, when it came time to pen our story to tale he had coin enough to sway Galeta’s black heart. Wasn’t hard, she hated me enough as it was.” He laughed, a bitter, scornful sound. “I can never escape the witch, no matter how hard I try. Did you know she’s the fairy of the arts as well?”
Betty shook her head.
He snorted. “The bitch has ruined me. I’m forever a joke in Kingdom. Congratulations, Betty Hart, you’re stuck with me.”
“But, I don’t understand--”
“What is there to understand?” he snapped.
“I just want to know you better--”
He stood, uncaring that the blanket dropped, that she got a good eye full, let her. Her eyes widened, and she glanced quickly away. Gerard was tired of talking about it. “Don’t. Where am I to sleep?”
“Gerard, please understand...”
“Non.” He sliced the air with his hand. “If you’d rather, I’ll find accommodations elsewhere.”
Betty’s smile was sad, soft. She pointed down the hall. “Take the guest room. It’s always made up for Briley whenever he wants to have a surprise sleepover.”
The tip of Gerard’s tongue danced in his mouth, words like-- I’m sorry, it’s not you, settled like a heavy weight. Turning on his heels, he strode down the hall, breathing hard from words left unsaid.
Chapter 9
Betty shouldn’t have pushed him. She’d seen his chest heaving, his nostrils flaring... classic flight or fight response to something unpleasant. And why she continued to goad him into telling all was beyond her.
She put the car in park and grabbed the ShopMart bags from off the passenger seat, slamming the car door behind her. The night was still, the maples surrounding her town house towered like hulking shadows. Past two in the morning, she was probably the only idiot still up at this time of night.
Not afraid of the dark, but slightly creeped out by being so alone in the dead of night, she jogged to her door and ran inside. The moment she stepped into her darkened hall her heart rate slowed to normal.
The plastic bags crinkled loudly through the quiet of the night. Her tea cup shaped wall clock tick-tocked. Its metrical rhythm only helped to increase the intensity of her already frazzled nerves.