Beast and Beatrice

Chapter twenty-eight - Gilbert

"I win again." Felicia crowed triumphant.

Teddy groaned in mock agony even as he moved to clear the sticks and stones from their makeshift gameboard for a rematch.

From his seat leaning against the gravestone, Gilbert's lips twitched into a smile. He couldn't help admiring the resilience of those two. Even after the upheaval of recent events, they could find time and enthusiasm for a simple game of noughts and crosses.

If only he could be so flexible, simply set aside his worries and enjoy the pleasure of watching his little family in the early morning sunlight. If he hadn't failed to protect them, they probably wouldn't have suffered. That was probably why Beatrice was trying her best to ignore his very presence. Not that he could blame her.

He turned his head to watch her, seated on the blanket beside him, little Martine in her lap. The child was playing with her doll while her aunt finger-combed the tats out of her copper curls. It was such a tranquil, domestic scene. He could almost pretend last night had never happened.

Then he caught a glimpse of the white bandages around his wife's wrists and forearms and felt his heart stutter in remembered fear. He had come so close to losing her. If not for being awoken by Martine's nightmare and the consequent search for her missing doll, he might have blissfully slept the night away, never realizing the danger Beatrice was in. Guilt wormed through his chest. Again, he failed to protect his loved ones. Beatrice most of all. No wonder she was giving him the cold shoulder.

She had been forced to rescued herself. He still had trouble digesting that. Not that he didn't consider her capable. He never doubted that she was clever and resourceful enough to engineer her own escape. He had always admired her bravery. But she should never have been put into that situation in the first place. She had needed him and he hadn't been there for her. Narwhal had snatched her away, from right under his very nose. He had been completely oblivious to the danger she faced, kidnapped and held at the mercy of a madman. He felt sick at heart to think of her in that position. It was his responsibility to protect his wife and family, and he had failed. Again.

Gilbert scowled down at his scarred fingers, thinking if he had that rotund merchant here right now, he'd eagerly wrap them around the ruddy bastard's throat and strangle him. How dare the man terrorize a sweet young woman like Beatrice.

"Lourson."

Gilbert glanced up to see Sumter step between the gravestones and into their little area. His friend was carrying a small, wooden chest which he deposited onto the grass at his feet with a sigh. It looked heavy and for a moment distracted Gilbert from the gloomy course of his thoughts.

"Mr. Sumter?" Beatrice whispered anxiously.

Hearing the tremor of fear in her voice, Gilbert wanted to reach out and gently brush his hand over her shoulder intending to offer comfort. But he feared her reaction. She would flinch and instantly freeze in terror. She was afraid of him again and he couldn't blame her. He had failed to protect her and now she abhorred his touch. True, she had slumped into his arms earlier, when they had discovered her in the roadway. But ever since she had settled here in the midst of her family, she had studiously avoided even glancing his way. She spoke very little and never directly to him. Only the children seemed able to garner her attention. Gilbert's shoulders slumped in dejection as he slowly withdrew his hand. Sympathy warmed his friend's gaze as their eyes met over her head and Gilbert shied away from the other man's pity. He didn't deserve it.

"No need to worry, My Lady." Sumter assured her. "Narwhal won't be bothering anyone anymore."

"What happened?" She asked quietly.