Loving an Ugly Beast (4 page)

Wow
. There was handsome, but this man was beyond beautiful. That smile alone would have women fainting in his wake. “Certainly. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Marie was already pouring his drink when Nissa made it back to the bar. Her neck tingled, and Nissa turned to see the stranger’s eyes fixed on her. This was turning out to be a very unusual encounter.

Tara’s shaking her arms brought Nissa’s attention back to the gaggle of women. “You have to ask him about his history. Where he comes from, what he does—”

“Is he married?” piped up a small redhead in the back, and all the women grunted in agreement with that question.

“You do know I’m only the waitress, right? Ask him yourself later.”

Tara took the pint from Marie and handed it to Nissa. “Find out what you can.”

“I better see some money from this,” Nissa muttered, returning to the table.

The smile was still on the man’s face, but softer. It was a smile you gave when you were truly glad someone was with you. He motioned to the seat across from him after she set the drink down. “Would you care to sit with me? You don’t look busy.”

This was taking on shades of the surreal. The only remarkable trait about Nissa was how unremarkable she was. Perhaps it was harsh, but experience had taught her over and over that beautiful people did not like to associate with not-beautiful people, at least without a reason. And she and this man were on opposite sides of that divide.

But even as cynical thoughts twisted through her mind, a small voice rose, a voice that had been weak and out of use for such a long time, but was steadily growing stronger and louder because of her love for Benton. A voice she once relied on to guide her. A voice that believed in the better nature of people.

This voice told her to quit being harsh. Quit judging. Sit with a lonely man, and if in the end this was a game, so what? It would only reflect poorly on him.

Nissa still wasn’t comfortable with that voice, but she sat across from him anyway. “I’m Nissa.”

“Byron,” he returned, his eyes crinkling slightly with the widening of his smile. “Thank you for staying. I haven’t had anyone to converse with during my travels. It’s nice to have company.”

That seemed reasonable enough. It didn’t explain the staring, but one step at a time. “Where are you traveling to?”

“Here. I’m staying here, in this town.” As he spoke, his gaze never left her. Nissa could hear the little feminine noises from the group of women – over-loud laughs and sounds of items dropping, a situation any gentleman would help the lady out by retrieving said items. But Byron’s full attention stayed with her.

“Oh? And what do you do?” After all, if she was going to be grilled the moment he left the tavern, she might as well learn a few things so Tara and the other women would leave her alone sooner.

“I’m an artist. I travel and paint. I’ve heard a lot about this town these last few months, so I let the wind carry me here.”

“How long will you stay?”

His lips lost the hint of smile and his eyes returned to their earlier intensity. “I’m here until my wish comes true.”

Chapter Four

He was Byron now.

Benton no longer existed, hadn’t for two weeks now. Sara had made that very clear as he’d stared down at his new face in the calm surface of the lake. Benton was gone forever, and to mention him in any way to anyone would be the end of the spell.

Getting used to this new life was a challenge. He had known intellectually that he would be treated differently, but the visceral reactions to this face, this body, were beyond his imaginings. People sought him out, deferred to his opinions, and yet, there was always a sense that they were waiting for him to err in some way.

As he walked down the street, a sigh to his left startled him, an unpleasant sensation that was yet another change, as it never occurred during his life as Benton. First as a soldier and then as a hunter of all types of animals, two-legged or four, he had learned the lesson hard and learned fast – awareness or death.

But Benton’s skillset didn’t transfer to Byron, and the ability to be surprised again was the least of those changes. He was clumsy with no awareness and no strength. This body was soft and small and spoiled, without a single scar to mar the smooth skin he now possessed.

He turned to see Tara staring at him, her shoulders thrown back in such a way that her breasts were thrust out and about as bared as they could be without her being arrested for public indecency.

“What a coincidence! Byron, how good to see you.”

After a week of seeing her every day in various settings, “coincidence” was a word that no longer applied to any of their interactions. But while Byron didn’t have Benton’s quick reflexes, he had a silver tongue and a way of saying just the right platitude, no matter the situation. He brought Tara’s hand to his mouth and said, “I am truly blessed that providence continues to set us in each other’s path.”

A pretty blush spread over her cheeks and down to the tops of her breasts, but her eyes were clear and cunning. Maybe this was one of her skills, this ability to present a false front with so many genuine touches. “Perhaps you have settled in enough that we could dine together tonight?” she asked, and if he wasn’t mistaken, her breasts had finally broke free and the edge of nipple now showed over the bodice of her gown.

“I–”

“Tara,” called a male voice.

Tara hunched her shoulders and her gown was suddenly a great deal more modest. Councilor Adam Hale strode across the street, a smile on his face but his eyes hard and beady as they fixed on Byron. With as much forwardness as polite society allowed, Hale placed his body between Byron and Tara and positioned himself in such a way that Tara was forced to step closer to Hale.

Hale reached out to shake Byron’s hand. “Byron, you look well. How is your visit going?”

Benton would have towered over Hale until he near pissed himself and grabbed the first excuse to run away. But Byron was not as tall as this less-than-impressive male, and endured as Hale crushed his hand in a clammy grip. “Your village agrees with me, Councilor. You and the other board members are to be commended for your excellent leadership.”

“Your praise is overgenerous. How is your art coming? Have you decided how long you will stay?”

Along with the charm and looks came a heretofore unknown talent for sketching. Sara must have chosen that purposefully, because every woman asked him if he could draw and each of them went dreamy-eyed at the confirmation. “My little sketches are not worth talking about. As for length of stay, that is still undecided.” After Nissa agreed to marry him, he’d let her decide if she wanted to stay in the village or move away.

Nissa. That was another surprise. He assumed she would fall instantly in love with him now that he looked like this. Instead, she’d been polite and friendly, but there was a wall she had put up between the two of them that he wasn’t sure how to break through. She would leave him as soon as was acceptable and never made excuses to linger at his side like the other women did.

The clock struck the hour, a reminder of where he’d been heading when Tara caught him. “If you’ll excuse me, Councilor Hale, Tara, I need to do some sketching while the light is still good.” With a tip of his hat, he retreated and headed towards the path that would eventually lead him to his – Benton’s – cabin.

When he reached his destination his breathing was heavy and his chest ached with exertion, both unknown occurrences before the transformation.

He wouldn’t think of it. He could look in the mirror and not see a monster. He could walk down the street without frightening people. He could give Nissa a good life with a husband she would be proud to be seen with, a life where they could live in town with people and not be relegated to the edges of it. The burn in his chest was a small price to pay.

“What are you doing here?”

The third surprise of the day, but this one was welcome. Nissa was underneath her tree. She had been reading but was now rose to meet him.

“I’m sorry to disturb you. I heard the lake was beautiful and it was suggested I might enjoy sketching it.” It was a good enough story and would allay any concern of him following her. He doubted she would worry overmuch about this new man finding Benton’s cabin. As far as she knew, Benton had no valuable belongings. Benton’s home was sturdy and warm with few personal belongings – most of which she had gotten for the home – but nothing of monetary value.

He never told her about the numerous hiding places around the cabin and woods where he stashed money, jewelry, and other valuable items, the amount of which probably made him the wealthiest man in the country, let alone the village. Benton had no real use for money, but he had skills that were in demand by wealthy people, and he wanted Nissa to have everything in this life she desired.

Nissa looked at the lake, toward the little expanse of rocks. That was where she would often sit when Benton was out swimming and she talked to him from the shore. “It is beautiful here. I’ve always loved it.”

She turned back to look at him, her eyes clear and guileless, a look not often possessed by women when they saw him these days. He loved Nissa, loved everything about her, from her voice that would occasionally go squeaky to her pointed features to the generous padding on her body. While he loved everything, he was aware that nothing about her was classically beautiful – save one feature. Nissa had the most stunning eyes to ever exist on a human being. They were the color of pure, bright amethyst, surrounded by thick black lashes and set under delicately arched brows. Most people never noticed them because they didn’t bother to look at her long enough, but the few who did always spoke about her eyes in wonderment.

When one of those eyebrows arched at him, chagrin hit hard. He’d been staring like a lovestruck fool. Not quite the suave image he was trying to show her. He cleared his throat. “I’m surprised more people aren’t here to enjoy it.”

“People don’t tend to come here often. The man who owns that cabin has made it clear he doesn’t like visitors, and people around here respect him enough to accede to his wishes.” Her voice trailed off at the end, and she once again looked away from him. She was thinking of Benton, but about what?

“Then why are you here?” He kept his voice gentle in the hopes she would share her thoughts on Benton.

“I’m allowed to be here. He’s my friend.”

“Boyfriend?”

Her head whipped around, the “No!” tripping from her tongue before her head stopped moving. She cleared her throat and took a deep breath, affecting the same authoritative look she often had around her pupils. “Benton is a good friend of mine. He’s away at the moment.”

“Doing what?” He wasn’t quite sure why he was pushing this. He was here as Byron, trying to win her as Byron. What good would knowing her feelings for Benton do now?

Even if she confessed to loving Benton, he wouldn’t want to go back to his old self, not until he was sure she would never love Byron. Byron was the best chance of them having a perfect life.

Benton had too many enemies and too much history. Benton had scars and injuries that would hobble him and bend him sooner than pure aging. Being Benton’s woman meant she would be pitied rather than envied.

No, he was going to remain Byron and give her the fairy tale.

So why torture himself with hearing how she felt over Benton?

“I don’t know. Benton is private. He doesn’t always tell me his every move. But he’s often hired as a hunter or a tracker, both of animals and criminals. His skills are such that he’s in demand even by those outside the village.”

“Is he why you don’t spend time with me?”

Her mouth parted in shock at his words and her hands clutched her book closer to her chest. “Excuse me?”

He took a small step toward her, entering the edges of her personal space. “You don’t tend to stay when I’m around. You leave as soon as good manners allow it.”

The tree was at her back and stopped what otherwise would have been her escape. “I don’t do that.”

“Yes, you do, and please don’t lie to me.” Another small step forward. As Benton he towered over her, but Byron was only an inch taller than she was. They were eye-to-eye, gazes locked, hers nervous but tinged with something he couldn’t quite place, perhaps a growing awareness that she was with a man who had an interest in her beyond the first level of courtesy.

“Really, that’s not the case—”

“Good to hear. Then would you like to spend time with me? Get to know me? Without your friends or enemies hanging onto our every word.”

She shook her head, but the movement conveyed confusion and not negativity. “I’m not sure what you’re asking. You can’t be asking… me and you?”

“Why not me and you?” He was as close to her as he dared, inches away where only a slight tilt and a small lean would have his lips meeting hers. “You’re the only one who runs away from me. Any other woman would want to be where you are now. Why are you fighting me the way you have been these last weeks?”

A heartbeat, two, and a shadow chased across her eyes, leaving in its wake storm clouds and icy frost. She squared her shoulders, her chin angling up. “Does every woman have to fall at your feet before you’ll be happy? Isn’t Tara and her band of groupies enough? What is so broken in you that you have to make a fool of me to be satisfied?”

This was a tone he had never heard before. A sharpness and the caustic edge, but also a hint of jealousy – faint, hardly overwhelming, but there – and even more of a shock, a thread of loneliness he could discern only because it was her, only because he knew every nuance of tone she had ever uttered.

He never wanted to hear this pain from her again. He would dig deep and unearth the cause, uproot it from her spirit. “What’s hurt you so badly that you would say such a thing?”

Her body caved in on itself for a moment, dragged inward by the weight of whatever she carried before her strong spirit reasserted itself. “Excuse me?”

“I asked what’s hurting you. I don’t like seeing it.”