Beastly Desires

Chapter Nine

Colette applied the final touch of paint onto the linen canvas. A beautiful, shallow spring of water glistened under a bright, pale blue sky. Clusters of peonies and daises littered the grass around it and lily pads floated on its still surface. A small field mice was tucked behind a thatch of grass near the waters edge. It grasped a small berry in its tiny paws. There was a clever shimmer of light in its deep brown eyes. A noble Lord, west of their town had it commissioned for his young daughter, who loved playing in the ponds in their gardens. Colette knew in her heart that the little girl would treasure the painting all her life. She signed her insignia and set down the paint brush.

Her father should have reached Beaumont by now. It was strange not hearing him at work at their table early in the morning. Colette had become so use to the tapping and fiddling of his tinkering it became a constant song in the background of her life. Now she heard nothing but the shifting of dirt and pebbles beneath her slippers.

She hadn't thought much of what was exchanged between her and Gregorie the day before. His honesty jarred her. He had been pining after her since she was fitted for her first stay. His hair had been shorter then, barely brushing across his shoulders and she remembered vividly how wild and untamed it looked. Like he wore a crown of fire around his head. He was abnormally tall for his age and a little on the gaunt side.

Colette's father visited their estate often, working on odd jobs. Colette had traveled with him, usually finding herself in the company of Gregorie and his numerous siblings. The Dubois came from a long line of nobility which precariously extended so far when it came to illegitimate claims about his father. Their family owned a large portion of land and a decent sized estate that bordered their small town. Gregorie didn't seem interested in titles though and worked as a charpentier. He was never in fine clothes and normally opted for a pair of breeches and a simple wool vest.

The first time he had proposed to her was a little over two years ago. The week her mother had passed. She had been six and tens years old and he was nine and ten years old.

They walked side by side in the garden of Gregories family estate. It was a large garden with tall manicured hedges surrounding it. Rectangular stone garden beds encased the outer ring and small square ones in the inner ring. At the center of the garden was a fountain and on either side of it a set of matching benches. Between the benches were small stone columns with the Dubois insignia carved into their flat tops.

"I'm sorry about your mother."

Gregorie gently bumped Colette's shoulder with his arm.

Colette hardly noticed the gesture as she stared ahead, deep in thought. Her mother passing was the hardest thing she had ever endured. She kept picturing her kneeling beside her sick mother in bed, grasping her cold, thin fingers in her own, silently sobbing.

She offered him a faint smile. She had come here without her father for the first time. Home felt like a deep hole without her mother there. She didn't want to be alone in that tiny cottage while her father was called away for a job that afternoon. She hadn't really any friends or companions to turn to so she found herself walking the long trek to the Dubois estate.

She didn't consider Gregorie a friend, not even an acquaintance. He was just one of the Dubouis sons who seemed to follow her around every time she visited with her father. They would exchange small talk but most of the time she busied herself with the little ones, playing hide and seek with Edwin and Rose, Gregories younger brother and sister. They were three and five years, but she didn't mind the age gap. Perhaps that was why she found herself fleeing from Gregories presence. There ages were close enough that adult conversations where impossible to avoid and Colette yearned never to grow up. Now though... with her mother gone and her father struggling physically and emotionally, it was probably time to do just that. Grow up. Take on responsibilities. Help her father with his work, maybe even pursue her own growing interest in painting.

Lost in thought, Colette was startled when Gregorie suddenly twirled in front of her, hopping onto one foot, he held the other up in front of him, balancing on one leg with his arms stretched wide. He grinned at her with mischievousness.

"W-what are you doing?" Colette asked, eyeing him warily.

"Try and knock me down. I bet you you can't." He held his chin up, stabilizing himself.

Colette raised her eyebrow, a quizzical look on her face.

"All it would take would be one push and you would easily loose your balance. What kind of challenge is that?" She retorted.

Gregorie reassessed his challenge before defeatedly dropping his knee. He bit his bottom lip while his eyes roamed around their surroundings. "Ah- ha!" With one fluid movement, Gregorie jumped onto the bench beside the fountain. He staggered for a second before regaining his composure.

"What are you doing now, Gregorie?" Colette found herself pulling away from the thought of her dying mother to watching Gregorie Dubouis do... whatever peculiar thing he was up to.

"I bet I could run- no hop, errr... both around the fountain along the benches and columns without failing." He nodded, a sure look on his face.

Colette shook her head in disbelief. "Why would you do that?"

"Because you most certainly can't." He challenged, gleaming with male pride.

Colette wasn't sure what prompted her to take the outstretched hand in front of her and climb onto the bench to stand in front of Gregorie.

He smiled with devilish delight. "Your not going to make it very far in those skirts."

Colette gathered up her skirts and tied them off in a loose knot right above her knees. Gregories mouth dropped slightly, his eyes steeling a look at her exposed legs.

"If I win, what do I get?" Colette smirked. If he wanted to play games then she would play them well.

Gregorie fingered his chin, considering. "Misty. I know you favor her. Always holding her."

Colette did love the hen they had. They had dozens of hens but Misty was the most beautiful. A true French hen with her shiny white neck and brownish- black feathers that seemed to have been layered across her body with no true intentions. She was also the nicest and most docile among the hens. Winning her was all the motivation she needed to play along with Gregorie and his obscure challenge.

"Sounds like a fine prize. And what about you, Gregorie. What do you want?"

He spoke without hesitation. "You."

Colette blinked.

"If I win, marry me." Gregorie held her gaze with deep sincerity. Any mischievousness that was there disappeared.

Colette nodded quietly before taking off in the opposite direction. She leaped across the bench before hopping into the column beside it. She twirled around smiling triumphantly.

Gregorie grinned with boyish delight. "Oh you sneaky hen. I'll catch you."

Colette started towards the bench on the other side of the column, gracefully landing on it before scurrying to the end and turning around to wait for Gregorie.

He leaped straight over the column onto Colette's bench, his long legs gliding across the air in one long arch. His left foot made contact with the stone surface and before he could bring his other foot forward Colette reached for his chest, pushing him off the bench and into the fountain.

Gregorie barked a curse before tumbling into the shallow water. He made a big splash and water sloshed over the edge of the fountain, some spraying at Colette who clutched at her stomach, laughing hysterically.

She jumped down from the bench and came to stand by the fountains edge. She watched Gregorie pull himself to his knees. His hair was sopping wet and the bright orange strands were plastered across his forehead like damp straw.

"I will never marry you, Gregorie. Not today. Not ever."

Colette knew marriage was not an option right now. Her father needed her at home. She needed her father more than anything. Any happiness she may have let herself dream about some nights were just that. Dreams. And if she were to marry years from now it certainly wouldn't be to Gregorie.

He only smiled, his face flush with color. "Beautiful Colette, oh beautiful Colette. I will have you as my wife someday."

Colette turned on her heels, a devious grin on her face.

Gregorie called after her. "From this day forward I will not stop until your mine. Never!" He shouted.

Colette's smile dampened into a straight line. She worried that he'd meant it.

...

A soft rapping at the cottage door stirred Colette from her memories. She whipped her head towards the sound. The merchant wouldn't get here until tomorrow. Perhaps it was a neighbor. Though most of the towns people knew her father way away. They hardly ever came by just for her.

"A moment," she piped.

She quickly wiped her paint stained hands before removing the apron around her.

"Yes?" She spoke, opening the door.

A messenger boy waited on the otherside. His face was flushed like he had been running and he held a rolled parchment with gold ribbon tied around it in his quivering hand.

"M'lady. An urgent letter for you and your household."

He held the parchment out to her and Colette took it from him, unsure of what the letter could possibly be about.

"Thank you. Fetch yourself some water from the well there before you faint."

The boy nodded before bowing his head in leaving.

Colette sank into the edge of the bed, her fingers slowly unraveled the gold ribbon, careful not to damage the beautiful piece of silk.

She unrolled the parchment and read:

I have your relative, Alexandre Moreau. He is overcome with fever and has been wounded in an animal attack. He shall remain in my care until he is received. I insist that you receive him immediately. It is not safe for him to be here. Head west along the edge of the forest. My castle lies within the recess of the forest. You will know you are close when the snow begins to fall.

SA

The parchment fell from Colette's trembling fingers and landed at her feet. Her father. Wounded. And with fever. How? When? The scarier thoughts began to creep into her mind but she had to shove them away as she stood to grab her cloak and satchel. She shoved the fallen letter into the cloth bag along with some basic items for the journey ahead. She did not want to linger on wether her father was safe or not at this castle. The writer deemed the lesser. Dreading the worse would not make the journey any less unbearable. They did not have another donkey let alone a cart to ride in. She would need to borrow a mare and the only person she knew who would lend her one was the last person she wanted to see right now.