Excerpt from The Beast of Blackbirch Manor

Cursed by a witch as a boy, Tadeusz suffers the torment of being a 'beast' man. Unless he finds a woman who will love him, he will become a wolf on his thirty-third birthday. When he meets the woman he has married by proxy, he knows he is doomed. Victoria is beautiful--and horrified to discover she has married a monster. 

THE BEAST OF BLACKBIRCH MANOR is one of my most popular books. There are two covers for the book. The one above is the original cover, which you can still see at Barnes & Noble. It is apparently the more popular cover, judging from the sales of the book. However, the title is catchy, too. Apparently, there are those who like hairy men--or perhaps stories about hairy men.  I got the idea for the book when I read an article on a disease that causes some people to become abnormally hairy. You can read about it at http://www.livescience.com/14430-werewolf-disorder-gene-discovered-excess-hair.html But...this is a romance. It's my own version of Beauty and the Beast, which is also a popular plot. Enjoy the excerpt below!
Then she heard it again. A wolf? But there were no wolves here anymore. Perhaps a wild dog? Perhaps a pack of wild dogs. She reached for the whip as her heart raced. Is this how Paul had died? Attacked and ripped to pieces?

In a panic and with her pulse racing, she tried to get the mare to move, but the stubborn animal stood as still as if it was made of bronze--except for the flick of its ears this way and that. Muscles tensed, ready to bolt if danger threatened, it continued to eye that luscious grass in the ditch. A howl echoed along the hills and Victoria’s blood turned cold. She froze and stopped struggling with the horse. She held her breath and listened. Even the birds had stopped twittering. Then she saw it. A lone wolf moving stealthily down the hillside to her right.

Gulping back her panic, she flicked the whip on the mare’s flank. The mare shied to the left, but did not step ahead. The wolf stopped moving, he crouched, ready to lunge from above.

“You stupid horse!” Victoria yelled. She could feel the icy sweat on her brow. She hit the horse with the whip as hard as she could. Once. Twice. She stood up and hit the horse a third time so violently the horse screamed, reared up and then took off as if the very devil was after her--which was what Victoria had hoped for, but she was unprepared for the jolt as the buggy lurched forward.

The force knocked her backward and onto the floor of the buggy. The reins slipped from her fingers. She had to use all her strength to hang on as the crazed mare galloped down the sloping hill. The reins trailed along on the ground. She could never grab them. She prayed that the horse would not crash the buggy into the trees, or into another vehicle--or worst of all, go over the side of the hill.

The scenery flew by as the mare raced along and Victoria’s head spun. Jostled violently on the hard wooden floor, she gritted her teeth as the vehicle bounced into every rut in the road, she considered jumping out, but the possibility that she would break a bone--or a few of them--kept her where she was. Also, the fact that there was a wolf out there.

How fast could a wolf run? Was he right behind the buggy?

She heard a shout. And another. She struggled to see who was calling out, but with the wild rocking of the buggy, she could barely focus.

The buggy slowed--and then stopped. Weak and dizzy, Victoria clutched at the whip in her hand. Would she be able to scare the wolf away with it if he came at her?

She crawled from beneath the seat. Her stomach heaved and she clamped her hand over her mouth. She would not be sick.

She narrowed her eyes to focus them and saw the Beast sitting astride his great black horse. He held the reins to the buggy in his gloved hands.

“You dropped these?” His contemptuous tone did not surprise her though the rather sulfuric shade of yellow tingeing his aura did. She suspected by the set of his square jaw that a prudent move would be to duck for cover. After all, she had disobeyed his edict--and her little excursion could have ended very badly. Still, she was truly glad to see him. She glanced around, but did not see the wolf.

Despite the throbbing of her bruises, she pulled herself up onto the seat, straightened out her dress, and dusted herself off. “A wolf appeared on the hillside and the mare bolted in fright.” Actually, the dim-witted mare probably would have been the wolf’s dinner. Victoria gulped. And she would have been the wolf’s dessert. However, she decided not to discuss that.

The Beast’s expression clouded over and a savage glint came into his eyes. Her heart began to race. “There are no wolves here.”

“I saw it.” She glared back at him. “And I heard it, too.”

“I told you not to leave the estate.”

She met his fierce look without flinching and lied. “I needed some new ribbons.”

He swore.  At least, she thought he did--she could not tell because the words were in his own harsh language.

A tremor went through her even though she fought to squelch it. Yes, it had been a very close call. Nevertheless, she had her pride. “I am not hurt, and neither is your mare.”

He dismounted and tied the reins of his horse to a sturdy bush. Without any more discussion, he examined the mare and then unhitched her from the buggy. He walked over to the side of the buggy and frowned. Victoria leaned over the side of the buggy and swallowed hard when she saw what had happened to the back wheel. If she had gone on much further, the wheel would undoubtedly have come off.

She felt the blood drain from her face as the Beast lifted his gaze to hers. The sulfuric color of his aura had shifted to a shade of orange. What did the fiery color indicate?

“You will ride on Smialek with me. The mare will follow.” It was an order.

He reached up to take her from the buggy. She winced as his hand pressed against her bruised skin.

“You are hurt!”

“No. It is nothing. Only a bruise.”

His lips pressed into a grim line. He swept her into his arms and carried her to his great black horse. With her heart thundering in her chest, she could not control the trembling of her body. But when the Beast mounted the horse and she leaned back against him a sense of calm came over her. She closed her eyes. She was safe. For now. ∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞ Publisher's Link: http://www.newconceptspublishing.com/products/beast-of-blackbirch-manor-the
Amazon:  http://amzn.com/B006G3NC1Y
Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/beast-of-blackbirch-manor-the-penelope-marzec/1117736935?ean=2940000120675

Sunday Scenes: THE BEAST OF BLACKBIRCH MANOR

The Beast of Blackbirch Manor has two covers, the one on the left is the original version designed for the digital edition and is still in use at Barnes & Noble's online site. The cover on the right is the one you will see at Amazon for both the print and digital editions. 

The story is my take on a classic Gothic as well as a retelling of Beauty and the Beast. The heroine, Victoria, was married by proxy to a cursed man, covered in fur and destined to become a wolf.  

The scene below is a dream sequence in which Victoria relives a horrifying moment in her life...

She heard the wail. It sounded more like the cry of a beast than a human. Searching though the long corridor in the basement beneath the manor, she shivered with only her thin nightgown to protect her from the chill. She loathed the basement where the dampness set mold to growing on the walls no matter how often the servants scrubbed it away and she feared the creatures that inhabited the darker corners. But she could not think about that now. Her bare feet made no sound as she hurried softly along the passage.

She cursed Paul’s stubbornness for refusing to have her mother put away. If he would only listen to reason! She wanted to be free--like other young women her age. She was seventeen! She wanted to go to parties and dances. She wanted to fall in love. But there could be no peace in Blackbirch Manor due to her mother. It was as if the old house had become a prison for them all.

Another animalistic howl sent ice tingling along her spine. An echo bounced off the solid stone walls. Stopping for a moment, she listened intently but heard nothing save the creaks and groans of the massive timbers as they bore up under the weight of the old dwelling. Her hands shook as she felt her way along the walls. She paused at the door to each storage room and barely breathed, waiting to hear the rasp of her mother’s labored gasps for air.

The darkness was complete. She could see nothing, but when she heard the singular creak of the heavy door that led from the basement to the kitchen stairs, she scrambled in that direction. The sound of her mother’s laugh, a wild cackle that seemed almost demonic, froze her heart. The hinge of the door that led outside squealed and she felt the draught of the wind rushing into the basement. Her heart quailed, for there could be no telling in which direction her mother would go once she escaped. If she ran all the way down the hill into Taylor’s Grove, everyone would learn the truth. That must not happen--no matter how much she resented caring for her mother. She did not want anyone to know of her mother’s madness.

Stumbling up the steps and out into the chilly night, she saw she had only a pale sliver of moon to guide her. She ran into the kitchen garden, but her mother was not there. From the corner of her eye, she caught a movement at the corner of the house. Taking a deep breath, she sprang in that direction for all she was worth.

More hysterical laughter echoed in the icy air as she rounded the corner in chase. An ache in her side slowed her, but she did not stop. Her mother must be headed for the gate! In despair, she wondered why no one else had come to help her. She tried to call for Paul and Ipsy and William--anyone--but though she formed the words with her lips, no sound came out.

Off to her right, she heard the crush of leaves in the underbrush and the snap of branches in the woods. Someone--or something--was nearby. Fearfully, she looked this way and that, but all she saw were the swinging their branches of the black birches in the nighttime breeze--shadowing the pallid moon to leave her in darkness so deep that the gloom became as dense as a thick velvet curtain. 
Again, she heard the sound and the smell of terror filled her nostrils.

Without any other warning, she was grabbed from behind. And then she heard the scream, the hideous screams that echoed on and on.

She woke and realized that the screams had come from her own lips. Her heart thundered as she stared up into the face of the Beast. He loomed over her, his powerful hands pressed against her shoulders, pinning her upon the mattress.