I guess it all started when Mother died, having me. Thankfully Father never held it against me, and neither did Danika and Hilary, my older sisters. Still, it was a lonely life for us growing up. Since Father owned a shipping business, he had to work a lot with his ships down at the harbor and my two sisters and I were practically raised by nursemaids. Father never remarried, because, he told us, he was still in love with our mother.

Obviously, I'm the youngest at twenty. My name is Anabelle, a name I hate but that I tolerate because I was named after my maternal grandmother, whom I loved a great deal until her death when I was six. My family calls me Belle for short. This name makes me laugh, because the nickname means "beautiful."

Danika is the middle child. She's twenty-three. She's considered the fiery one by those who know us, and her features pretty much support that. Her hair is a beautiful coppery color, and her teal eyes shoot sparks, figuratively speaking of course, when she's angry. Danika isn't very touchy; that is, she doesn't like touching people a whole lot. She gives hugs to those she loves most, and that's about it. She rarely kissed Father's cheek, something that he luckily doesn't seem to mind. She also has the reputation as the second prettiest.

The prettiest is Hilary, the oldest. She's twenty-five. She's the sweet one, everyone says. Her hair is blond, and her lovely honey-brown eyes smile at everybody whether she's in a good mood or not. Hilary is pretty much Danika's polar opposite; she loves to give hugs and kisses to her friends and family, and she'll even hug an acquaintance that we don't know very well. And she never loses her temper. Never.

I suppose you want to know what I look like, now that my sisters have been described as so lovely. Well, sorry to let you down, but I'm the odd one out. I'm not nearly as pretty as my sisters. That's why my nickname amuses me so. My hair is brown, just plain brown. It does have a bit of wave, which I think is pretty, but it's nothing exceptional. My eyes, while blue, are nowhere near teal. They're more of a boring cerulean color that changes with my mood. I don't mind hugging people, but I wouldn't say I'm as friendly as Hilary. In fact, I would say that I'm not even close to as friendly as Hilary. Which is probably why she's had oodles of boyfriends, and regular friends, and I haven't. Danika hasn't either, but she doesn't seem to mind, never really being all that into guys. She says that she's saving her heart for Mr. Right and that she won't date until she sees him and her heart says it's him.

Anyway, things were going swimmingly until a year ago. Hilary had a promising boyfriend, Danika was enjoying fencing lessons at the nearby college and I was spending every moment at the local library. Then the storm hit. It was a bad storm, and I do mean bad. We had to lock the windows and doors to keep them from blowing open, and I'm pretty sure we lost at least a dozen shingles from the roof. One of the huge cottonwoods in our backyard fell over as well, narrowly missing the house. We thought that that was the extent of the damage, but we were wrong. As it turns out, all four of Father's ships were lost in the storm and with them our only source of income.

Father moved us all out to the country, where the cost of living is cheaper than NYC, where we used to live. I enjoyed it out there, despite the fact that there was no library nearby. We had a nice, albeit little, house to live in, there were plenty of nice young men around for Hilary to attract, and our next door neighbor had a son who knew how to fence. You could often see Danika and him going at it with their blunt-ended rapiers. I took to reading in the garden out back; I'd always liked flowers, roses in particular. We didn't have any roses in our garden, but I felt comfortable among the pansies and hyacinths, curled up on the swing hanging from a large oak tree in the backyard and metaphorically devouring a book on the e-reader I'd bought.

So life went well for the next eight months. Then Father got a letter; one of his ships had returned. Where it was that it was lost for nearly a year and unable to communicate its location is beyond me, but it was back. Overjoyed, Father went back to New York to sell the goods. That had been three days before. He was due to come back earlier that day, and Danika, Hilary and I were beginning to get worried about him. I was sitting in my room in the attic, reading a book on my e-reader, when I finally heard a noise outside.

"Belle," Hilary called up the stairs, "Father's car is coming up the driveway!"

I jumped from my seat and ran for the stairs, thundering down as quickly as I could. I reached the front door just as it opened, revealing Father looking windblown and upset. Our happy mood quickly disappeared as Father sat down, a rose in his hand. "Oh, girls," he said, unable to look at us, "I fear that I've made a terrible mistake."

"Father, what's wrong?" Hilary asked.

Father rubbed his temples with his index fingers. "Do you remember how foggy and cold it was last night?" I did; it had been an unseasonably cold night and a thick blanket of fog had fallen over everything in sight. I remember being worried about him driving. "Well, the fog got so thick that I thought perhaps I'd better pull over. But I didn't want to stop at the side of the road, so I kept going. Then, I saw the driveway off the side of the road. It had to be destiny, I thought, so I turned off onto the driveway and went up toward the house it led to. I had to stop to open a pair of gates, and I should have turned back there. I didn't, though, I kept going. Finally I reached the end of the driveway, and I found the door of the house wide open. I went in, against my better judgment, to see if anyone was home."

"Go on," Danika encouraged him when he stopped his story.

"I found a nice room with a crackling fire, so I sat down in the chair that seemed to be waiting for me and ate the food on the plate left on the table. Then I fell asleep, and when I woke the next morning my first thought was for you girls. I was just leaving when I spotted the rosebush. I know how much you love roses, Belle, so I thought I'd pick one for you. But I'd only just snipped off the flower when a shadow fell over me and I whirled around. A tall man, dressed all in black and wearing a black mask, stood behind me, and when he spoke his voice was like thunder. He asked why I'd taken his rose, after he had shown me such hospitality. I replied that I had a daughter who loved them, and that we didn't have any. He thought for a moment, and then told me that I was free to go, but that I or my daughter had to return in two days' time." He handed me the rose.

"I'll go," I volunteered, cradling the blossom in both hands and studying its intricate purple petals.

Hilary fainted.

Danika caught her neatly. "No, Belle," she said firmly.

Father agreed with Danika. "I'm returning tomorrow morning, Belle. You three will stay here. I've set up enough money in a bank account to take care of you for several months, at least until you can find work."

I nodded, but I wasn't convinced. The next morning, I rose before everybody else. After dressing quietly and putting on my shoes, I snuck down the stairs and grabbed a granola bar and my purse before turning to go out the door. Danika stood in my way, arms folded and legs akimbo.

"You were just going to sneak out, without saying goodbye?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I am the one who got Father into this mess, and I'm going to fix the situation. You need Father more than you need me, anyway. There will be one less mouth to feed with me gone, and I doubt this masked man character will hurt me. Explain why I left, Dani, please?" I put on my puppy dog eyes, knowing that Danika couldn't resist.

She gave a valiant effort, but the puppy dog eyes won out in the end. Danika hugged me. "Be careful, Belle," she said. "And don't let him intimidate you!"

I hugged her back, relishing in her closeness. As I already said, Danika isn't a huggy person. "I will, and I won't," I replied, answering both her commands. Then I left, taking my car from the garage and carefully backing down the driveway and into the road. I knew the way well enough, and I knew exactly what driveway Father was talking about. Turning up the radio in my car, I let the music wash over me and drown out my fears about my future. They even played most of my favorite songs.

After a three hour or so drive, I came up on the driveway and turned off the road. I had to stop in front of the gates, and for a moment I just stared at them. They were a lot larger than I had expected, made of black wrought iron and curled into lots of complicated shapes. I stared up at them for a few minutes, then took a deep breath to calm my nerves, got out of the car, and opened them so I could continue to the house. My hands shook as I got back in my car and drove through the gates. I closed the gates again when I was inside and effectively sealed myself inside the estate. Eventually I reached a garage, where I stopped the car and turned it off, my fingers trembling on the keys. Getting out required the plucking up of some courage, but I finally exited the car, pulling my purse over my shoulder, and turned to hesitantly survey the place.

It was a pretty estate, or it would have been had a dark gloominess not been hanging over it. Lush, green grass grew everywhere, but no flowers were in it. A fountain bubbled just off the main path, but the sound wasn't cheerful. No birds sang, and not even the wind dared to blow. The only flowers in sight were next to the garage, where a large rosebush filled with beautiful purpleish red roses just like the one Father had picked for me bloomed. I took a moment to appreciate them and sniff their heady scent, then walked slowly up the white stone walkway and stepped onto the porch, reaching out to touch the cool marble pillars. The door was open, and I could see inside. The walls inside were marbled as well, covered in pictures of important-looking people, and what looked like a very nice carpet covered the floor.

I already hated it.

Don't get me wrong, it was a lovely place. But the darkness that hung over the entire estate and that covered the house made it seem dangerous, and I had a feeling that I would be staying a long time. Swallowing hard, I politely shed my flip-flops and went into the living room. The plush carpet was soft under my bare feet and molded to the shape of my toes, and I took a few hesitant steps past the door, wondering where I was supposed to go. Without a sound, it closed behind me, making me jump. Immediately the room got darker, and it took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust. When they did, I saw that light was streaming through a stained glass window above the door and leaving patches of color all over the floor. I grinned, easily amused, hopped from the yellow patch where I was standing to a nearby cerulean one that was nearly the same color as my eyes, and then froze as I heard a door slam open. I whirled to see that the double doors across the room had been thrown wide open, and a tall man was walking toward me.

He wore black, just as all stereotypical villains do, and a grotesque black mask covered his face, over which masses of thick black hair fell. He was tall, as I already mentioned, and although he was slim his shoulders were broad and squared. From across the room his eyes looked brown, but as he drew closer I saw that they were actually more of an amber-gold color. Every easy stride he took toward me oozed confidence, and his very presence demanded respect. I swallowed hard again before going straight to the point. "I'm Annabelle. I've come instead of my father. Why did you want me?" I asked, and I'm embarrassed to admit that my voice shook.

The Mask stopped, and his eyes got a hint of amusement in them. "Repayment for the rose your father stole from my gardens," he said, and his voice was distorted, as if he had a voice changer in his mask. He was standing close enough to me that I felt intimidated by his tallness.

I pulled myself together enough to snort. "Come on, roses aren't that expensive and it's fall. They'll all die soon anyway. No, you wanted me for a different reason. Now, please, explain why you've taken me from my family."

The Mask shook his head. "Later, during the meal, everything will be made clear to you. Now my servants will take you to your suite." He looked over my head and nodded to someone behind me. I turned, but couldn't see anyone. Then, something grabbed my arm and began leading me to the stairs. There was no one there that I could see, but I had been raised on faerie tales and so I wasn't overly alarmed. 'Overly alarmed' here meaning that I didn't faint dead away like I probably would have had I not grown up with said stories. It did scare me to be led off by someone who I couldn't see.

I was led up a flight of stairs to a large attic room and left alone, the door closing behind me. I tried the handle, but it wouldn't turn. I was locked in. I had a brief panic attack, but managed to calm myself down fairly quickly. "Okay," I muttered under my breath as I turned to survey my 'suite'. It really wasn't bad, and since I had it to myself I started to feel a lot better.

A full-size four-poster bed sat in the alcove by the window, with one of those cool bed canopies billowing gently in the breeze from the open window. The canopy and the bedspread that just touched the floor on all sides of the bed were both a deep purple that reminded me of the roses outside. The window curtains and the throw rugs on the wooden floor were all pale gray. Across the room, three large bookshelves stood empty and begging to be filled. I smiled briefly at them. There was a large, comfortable-looking armchair by the bookshelves, along with a low table equipped with a lamp for night reading. There was also a vase of dark purple roses on the table, a different shade than the ones outside, pleasantly arranged in a crystal vase and tied in a bouquet with a silver ribbon. I smiled at them.

I crossed the room to another door and opened it to find a bathroom. A beautiful mosaic of dark purpleish red roses made up the floor, and I saw that a dial on the wall heated the tiles for winter time. A double sink was against one wall, gleaming silver faucets gracing the depressions. A large mirror hung on the wall above it, reflecting the bathtub on the other wall. The bathtub was the size of a Jacuzzi, and was filled with steaming hot water scented with a fruity bubble bath that was my favorite. This made me pause. How did he know I liked that particular fragrance? Perhaps he, or his invisible servants, had just made a lucky guess. I was too afraid to consider the alternative.

Taking a quick look around and closing the door, I quickly undressed and sank into the wonderful bubble bath, preparing for a long soak. I smiled and relaxed until a loofah attacked my arm, making me yelp and duck under the water to escape. When I surfaced again, it was waiting nearby, ready to try for a second time to wash my arm. "I can wash myself," I told it indignantly. It settled peacefully on a ledge nearby, and I looked at it strangely. "Thank you," I said, unsure of how to address a loofah. Then I felt silly as I heard the door creak open and then closed. Of course one of the servants had held it. She—it had to be a she, only a complete pervert would send a male servant to help a girl wash—had gotten in without me hearing the door the first time. I leaned my head back against the tub again, closing my eyes in contentment.

Two hours later, after I'd fallen asleep in the water and only woken when my head slipped under, I got out and wrapped myself in a thick and luxurious towel. Then I began looking for my clothes. They were nowhere to be seen. "Where are my clothes?" I asked, panicking. "I need them!" The Mask wasn't telling me that I had to be naked all the time, was he? He hadn't seemed like a pervert, but you never can tell…

The door creaked hesitantly open, as if someone was peeking inside, and then opened fully. Two invisible hands closed on my shoulders and gently turned me to where a new outfit lay draped over a towel rack. I relaxed. "Thank you," I said, "but next time, tell me before you take them, okay?" The invisible hands left my shoulders, and the door opened and closed. Sure that the servant, or maid, was gone, I quickly dropped my towel and pulled the clothes on. They turned out to be a silky, thigh-length dress made up of purple and black color blocks over dark rinse skinny jeans. There were no socks and no shoes, so I didn't bother looking for them. I had to ask the invisible maid for help with the complicated closure on the back of the dress, but overall I liked the look of the outfit. I looked around for a hairbrush, but stopped and closed my eyes as I felt one being gently pulled through my hair.

This is nice, I thought to myself. As long as I'm up here, I can stay as long as I need to.

Sadly, that was not to be, for at six o'clock sharp, the door leading downstairs opened and I was led through it. I'm not quite sure how I got to the dining room, since the invisible servant went too quickly for me to learn the way. "Next time, could you go a bit more slowly?" I requested. The maid didn't reply, begging the question if they—there had to be more than one in a house this size—were even able to speak. She simply opened a door and led me through it.

It was the dining room. A long oak table sat in the middle of the room, and every place was set. The Mask sat at the head, reading a newspaper. I blinked at the sight; somehow, it made him seem more normal. He didn't seem to notice me, so I stood nervously and waited to be addressed. After a few seconds, I cleared my throat. "Am I supposed to stand for the entire meal?" I asked, more hesitantly than I would have liked.

"Yes," he answered without looking up. My mouth fell open, but no sound came out. I tried to think of an answer with no success. The Mask lowered the newspaper after a second, apparently to see how I had reacted to that. "I'm kidding," he said with a laugh. "You may sit anywhere," he added, gesturing to all the empty seats. I chose one about halfway down the table, then folded my hands and watched the Mask for the signal to start eating. He was still watching me. "Eat whenever you wish," he said, disappearing behind his newspaper once again. "I have no appetite."

I stared at him for a second, and then shyly reached for some food. Immediately the servants, obviously eager to please, piled my plate high with roast vegetables, a large steak and a pile of grilled potato slices. "Oh, I could never eat that much," I protested, and the steak was replaced with a smaller one. "Thank you," I told the general area, since I was unsure of exactly where the servants were. They were, after all, invisible and hard to see. Then, after saying a quick prayer, I began eating. It was a little strange to eat by myself at such a large table, with the only sound being the turning of the Mask's newspaper. I was used to Hilary's chatting and Danika's recounts of sparring matches with the neighbor, who I had begun to think she liked.

After dinner, the Mask looked up as I rose to leave. "If you wish, I will explain now," he said. I stopped and turned to face him, waiting expectantly. He rose as well, going over to the window and looking outside at where the full moon just starting to peek over the horizon. "It all started nearly twenty years ago," he said finally.

My eyes widened. He certainly didn't look that old. His hair had no gray streaks in it at all, which means that he must have been very young before whatever had happened to him.

"I was a young man who had just inherited this house from his grandparents. At that time I was cocky and arrogant, and I believed myself better than everyone else. So when a little old woman came by one evening, requesting shelter for the night, I turned her away. She told me she would pay with a single rose if I let her stay, but I refused. She grew angry, throwing off her disguise to reveal a significantly younger enchantress, and cast a spell on me. As long as the rosebush outside flourishes, I live."

He took a deep breath. "My entire household was removed from the ravages of time; we have not aged a single day." That explained the lack of gray in his hair. "Food is unnecessary for us. The servants are cursed to be invisible until that day when the curse is broken, and I am cursed to wear this mask. It can only be removed by true love. For nearly twenty years we have been alone, unable to leave this estate, and for nearly twenty years we have prayed for someone to come."

Did he not know that to turn away little old women looking for shelter was a bad idea? And where had his manners been? "Well, uh, no offense," I said carefully, "but you should have known better."

He looked over his shoulder at me, and his gaze was full of sorrow. I mentally kicked myself for that tactless comment. "I was young and impudent, Anabelle, and I had never had to learn manners."

I bristled at the use of my hated full name. "It's Belle," I replied firmly, but blushed. How had he known what I was thinking?

The Mask finally turned to face me fully. "Belle," he repeated softly. "Belle, will you marry me?"

The question shocked me, and I felt my eyes inadvertently widen with horror. "No!" I said emphatically, then got up and ran from the room as if rabid dogs were on my heels. Somehow I got back to my attic rooms, where I threw myself across the bed and sobbed. He had no right to ask me to marry him after forcing me from my family. Especially since I'd only known him for one day, and he'd only known me the same amount of time. He really had things going against him, anyway. I mean, he was holding me prisoner and keeping me from returning to my family. No matter how nice he might seem, he was still the enemy. His spectacular lack of judgement, evidenced in his story of what had happened to him, suggested that perhaps this would not be a very pleasant stay. And I missed my family with a force that hurt, which was why I was crying.

I cried for a few minutes longer, then turned onto my side and promptly fell asleep. A few hours later, I opened my eyes. It was one or two in the morning, and the first thing to pop into my head was, I have to get out of here. I slipped from the bed as quietly as I could, hoping that the invisible servants weren't in my room to see me.

I held my breath as I tried the door handle, then relaxed as it turned easily. I slipped from the room, closing the door softly behind me, and then snuck down the stairs and into the large room where the front door was. The grandfather clock standing in the corner, which was as tall as I was, said that it was 1:28 in the morning. Holding my breath again, I took a hasty look around. No one was around, that I could see. And as no lights had come on and there were no shouts of anger, I had to assume that the invisible servants were asleep or simply didn't know what I was up to. I put my hand on the doorknob, listening carefully. Nothing stirred, which was a little disconcerting. I had never been in a house as quiet as this one. Opening the door, I stepped outside and closed it quickly behind me. My flip-flops were right where I'd left them, and I put them on. Then I looked at my car, still sitting where I'd parked it. No, that would be too loud. I would have to walk, or risk waking the Mask or his invisible servants.

I turned and walked down the driveway toward the gates, suppressing the urge to run. Running was louder than walking, and I couldn't make any more noise than I absolutely had to. It was slightly chilly now that it was properly dark, and I shivered as I walked. Goosebumps rose on my arms, and I rubbed at them to try to warm them again. I was still wearing the same thing I had worn to dinner, and the dress, while lovely, was not made for walks in the wee hours of the morning. My flip-flops made little crunching noises on the gravel driveway as I made my way carefully down toward the road. Hopefully, someone would be willing to give me a lift home. The loss of my car was regrettable, but I could always save up to get a new one. Or, better yet, return with the police to reclaim it.

I was in the forest surrounding the estate now, and the moonlight was obscured by the branches of trees. The dark made me nervous, and I felt myself becoming on edge as I quickened my pace a little. Had taken this long to get from the gate to the house? I didn't remember it taking more than a minute to drive the distance, and I'd been walking for at least five. Of course, walking was a lot slower than driving, but I couldn't have been driving more than ten miles per hour.

Suddenly, a shadow swept by in the forest. I froze. A low growling came from the woods, and I saw a glowing pair of eyes about fifteen feet from the driveway. What is that thing? I shrieked inside my head, sheer force of will preventing it from escaping my mouth. Another pair of eyes joined the first, and the growling grew louder, as if more voices were adding to the noise. A dark shadow slunk past, low to the ground, and I stared at it in horror. Wolves. Without another thought, I turned and ran.

Tearing through the forest in the dead of night isn't a good idea, in case you were wondering. My hair got pulled by branches, and it's a miracle that I didn't get all scraped up by the twigs brushing past my face. I tripped over a fallen log and fell over, then rolled to my feet and changed direction. One of my flip-flops had fallen off, and I impatiently shed the other so that I could run faster. I heard howling not too far behind me, and changed direction again. This was the wolves' natural habitat; they had a distinct advantage in their 'home court.' I stood no chance. They were growing closer now, and I felt my heart rising to my throat. I should have known trying to escape would be a bad idea.

My bare feet hurt from landing on broken branches and rocks on the ground, and my cheek hurt where a branch had whipped past it. I spotted a low-hanging, thick branch and reached up to try to pull myself up, but my arms were trembling too much. I hastily looked around, looking for a better tree, but there were none. I was forced to take off running again, barely paying attention to where I was going. Whatever had possessed me to leave the house in the middle of the night?

I ran into a hard form, bouncing off and falling to the forest floor. Immediately, a hand grabbed my upper arm and hauled me to my feet. I was surprised at its strength. The Mask looked at me, bending down to glare directly into my eyes. "What did you think you were doing?" he growled, sounding not unlike the wolves that were following me.

I whimpered as a chorus of howls and growls erupted from the surrounding forest, pressing myself against his side. Although I was scared of him, he was currently the lesser of two evils. The Mask pointed his high-powered flashlight into the woods, illuminating eyes and flashing white teeth, and pushed me behind him. I put one hand on his back and peeked over his shoulder. He froze for a brief instant. Then he raised the rifle I hadn't noticed he had and shot one round into the ground about ten feet in front of him. With a multitude of fearful, disappointed whines, the wolves turned and fled back into the forest. The Mask went back to glaring at me. "What were you trying to accomplish by running through the woods in the dead of night?"

"I was trying to go home!" I shot back, angry and tired now that my adrenaline rush had worn off. "I don't want to live here anymore!"

The Mask sighed, and as I watched the anger drained from his body. "I'm afraid you have no choice. The gates closed behind you, sealing you in. You aren't allowed to leave."

I burst into tears again. "Great," I sobbed. "Just wonderful."

I felt the Mask grab my elbow, leading me back to the house in a surprisingly gentle way. "In the future, don't leave the house after it gets dark. The wolves in this area have become much more aggressive over the past decade or so." I merely nodded tiredly, following docilely behind the Mask. He pulled me inside the house and closed the door, locking it behind us. Then he pushed me toward the stairs. "Go back to bed, Belle."

I stubbornly refused. "I don't want to go to sleep, I want to go home!" I said, irrationally.

"Why?" The curiosity in the Mask's voice surprised me into answering.

"I want someone that I can talk to comfortably," I replied. "Like my family; my sisters, or my father."

The Mask shook his head. "I'm sorry, that's not possible." Then his eyes got a contemplative look in them. "Go to bed, Belle. Perhaps tomorrow will be a better day." I merely nodded and took the steps back up to my attic room two at a time, falling across the bed without bothering to undress and falling asleep instantly.

I woke the next morning underneath the covers. The servants must have done it, because I'm nearly positive that I went to sleep on top of them, I thought sleepily, and sat up, rubbing my eyes. Then I screamed; a ball of black fur was curled up against my leg. As the sound left my throat, a jet black head lifted and furry black ears pricked up. The pure black Sheltie puppy jumped up and began licking my chin, and I giggled as I stroked him. This must have been the Mask's solution to my 'I want someone to talk to' statement the night before, although where the puppy had come from I could only guess. The Mask wasn't able to leave the estate, after all. "Hi, buddy," I crooned at the puppy. "What shall I call you?" I thought for a second. "How about Roscoe, does that sound good?" The newly-named puppy barked excitedly, and I grinned. "Roscoe it is, then," I told him. "Come on, bud, let's go get breakfast."

I got out of bed and looked around for today's clothes, finding them draped over the chair next to the bookshelves. Today they were loose destroyed jeans and a soft purple t-shirt. Again there were no shoes or socks, but I didn't mind. I'd always enjoyed going barefoot. My feet hurt too much from the previous night's adventures to wear socks, anyway.

Somehow I found my own way to the dining room, limping on my abused feet, and again every place at the table was set. Again the Mask sat at the head, reading his newspaper. I had to smile at the sight. Taking a seat where I had the night before, I waited to be addressed once more. "You may eat whenever you wish," the Mask said without looking up from his newspaper. I blinked at him, then shrugged and reached for a single chocolate chip pancake and a sausage link. Putting a pile of scrambled eggs on the plate next to mine, as Roscoe had bounded up next to me, I bowed my head and quickly said grace before beginning to eat. The Mask put down his newspaper. "What a little pig you are!" he told me. I looked up and my mouth fell open as I felt my ears beginning to burn. Hurt tears made my throat tighten. I quickly covered my mouth, not wanting to show him my half-chewed food. He laughed again. "Once again, I'm joking, Ms. One-Pancake-On-My-Plate. Is that all you eat?"

I swallowed my bite before answering, to give myself enough time to get over my shock at his playful jibe. "Yes," I said softly. He didn't seem angry about my rejection the night before, or my ill-planned escape attempt, and I relaxed slightly. "I don't eat very much."

His amber-gold eyes crinkled at the edges, so he must have smiled. "I can see that." He disappeared behind his newspaper again.

After a quiet meal, I swallowed hard. "Do you have a library?" I asked politely.

The Mask put down his newspaper, folding it neatly. "Yes," he said. "I will take you to it." He rose, and then looked thoughtful. "I might as well show you around the entire house while I'm at it. It will save time later." I agreed, and followed him as he gave me the Tour de Grande. I was shown the basement recreation room, and the game room, and the TV room, and the pool room, and the sitting room, and the parlor, and the foyer, and outside where there was a pond and a patio. There were four bathrooms, all immaculately clean. Back inside, the Mask paused outside a closed door. "This is my study," he told me seriously. "You may go anywhere in this house besides this room. I must ask that you never enter unless invited to do so."

"All right," I nodded agreeably.

"Good," the Mask said, and he continued his tour, ending at the library. "You may take any books you wish up to your rooms," he told me. "Please, consider this your home for the time being." He disappeared after I nodded, and I turned to survey the library, closing my eyes and inhaling the familiar smell of books: ink, dust, and paper, with a hint of glue. I might not have trusted the Mask, but, I had to admit, anyone with a library like this couldn't be all bad. Wandering the stacks of books, I finally found Ivanhoe and picked it up. I'd always wanted to try the book, and now that I had the time I thought I'd start.

There were plenty of comfy reading chairs, so I chose one at random and curled up on it, letting Roscoe leap up on my lap. That was how the Mask found us, who-knows-how-many-hours later. "Ah, heavy reading for a young woman," he said, and I jumped. Roscoe was asleep on my lap, so I memorized my page number and gently rested Ivanhoe on his back. "I'd wondered where you'd gotten off to," the Mask told me, leaning casually against a nearby bookshelf with his hands in his pockets.

"I've been here since breakfast," I replied. My stomach growled at the mention of food. "What time is it?"

"One o'clock," the Mask said, his eyes crinkling. "Are you hungry?" I nodded as my stomach growled again, and his eyes laughed. "That's too bad." I sent him a suspicious look; was he kidding me again? I had a hard time telling, since I couldn't see his face. I waited for him to continue, wondering why he would possibly want me to come here if he was going to let me starve to death. Sure enough, he ruffled my hair a few seconds later and gave a nod to someone behind me. At once a tray with a sandwich piled high with turkey lunchmeat and without mayonnaise was put in front of me. I stared at it suspiciously. This was the second time he had known that I did or didn't like something, in this case mayonnaise.

"How did you know I don't like mayo?" I asked without thinking. "And in my bathroom, all of the shampoos, conditioners, and body washes are scents that are my favorites. How did you know all this?"

"The curse provides food for you," he explained. "It also provides clothing and toiletries. I have no idea how it works, exactly, but somehow it knows what you want."

The explanation made sense, as well as anything related to curses could make sense in this day and age, so I shrugged and picked up the sandwich. I bit into it with relish, and my stomach finally stopped growling. "Thanks," I said after I was finished chewing. "This is heaven." I finished the sandwich in ten large bites, obviously surprising the Mask, and smiled. "Can I go swimming?"

The Mask nodded. "Of course you may. Please, do not feel like you must ask permission."

I grinned and started to go to my room, then paused. "Is Roscoe allowed in the pool?"

"Who is Roscoe?" I nodded to my dog, and the Mask nodded. "Ah. I would prefer if he stayed out of the pool, but he may enjoy the pond as much as he likes." I started walking again, but paused when the Mask added, "Do you like him? I trust he will do as the companion you requested last night?" He sounded hopeful.

I gathered my puppy into my arms. "I love him," I answered, pressing a kiss onto his soft head. "He's perfect for talking to. Thank you so much! Where did you get him?"

"The curse," he answered simply.

I took that to mean that the curse had provided the puppy, since it couldn't provide my family. He was the next best thing. "Well, he's not my family, but he's a close second."

The Mask merely nodded in reply, and I ran for my room. There, to my surprise, a bathing suit was already laid out for me. I snorted at it. "No bikinis," I said, not bothering to be polite. The skimpy suit was whisked away and replaced with a much more modest tankini. "Thank you," I said gratefully, then went into the bathroom and pulled the suit on. "I'm going swimming," I said when I came back out. "Will you watch Roscoe while I'm gone?" When my puppy was picked up and given a chew toy, I grinned. "Thank you again. I'll be back in an hour or so!"

I found the pool after a few minutes of searching and with a little help from an eager to please invisible servant. After spending half an hour in the hot tub, to avoid stomach cramps by swimming so soon after eating, I swam laps for about twenty minutes and then walked over to the diving boards. I jumped off the low dive a few times and then climbed up the ladder to the high dive. I nearly chickened out halfway up, but forced myself to continue. Standing at the edge of the diving board, I stared down at the water below. It couldn't have been more than a twelve foot drop, but it looked much father up than that. Nearly five minutes passed as I tried to get the courage to jump.

"Oh, come on, Belle," I finally told myself, disgusted by my lack of guts, "you could leave your home, drive three hours to a complete stranger's house and face him without much fear, then attempt an ill-conceived escape in the middle of the night, but you can't jump off a little diving board?" The reprimand worked, and before I could lose my newly gained courage I leaped off the board. I fell for what seemed like hours, but was probably only a few seconds. I screamed "COWABUNGA!" at the top of my lungs, curling into a cannonball, and hit the water with an enormous 'splash', sending a wave of water onto the gently sloping walkway around the pool, where it rolled back in. Looking at the clock, I saw that my self-allowed hour was up and climbed from the water. Only then did I see the stairs leading straight to my room, so I went up them and changed for dinner.

That night, the Mask sat in his customary seat, but I felt comfortable enough to move one seat closer to him. He didn't seem to notice. After another silent dinner, he lowered his newspaper. "Belle," he called, and I steeled myself before turning. "Belle, will you marry me?" he asked. From the way his eyes lowered to the floor and from his tone of voice, even though it was mechanical, I knew that he knew what my answer was going to be.

"No," I replied, this time having expected the question. The idea still sickened me, though, and I ran from the room once again, unable to face him. I stared up at the ceiling that night, wondering why he had to make this life even more difficult by proposing each night.

Five months passed in this way. Every night the Mask would ask me to marry him, and every night I would refuse before running to my room. I didn't love him and didn't think I ever could, and so I had to refuse his proposal. I missed my family with a force that hurt, and at first I resented his keeping me there. Eventually I realized that he was just as trapped as I was, and I found that I didn't have it in me to deny him the companionship he so desperately sought after. At first, we kept our distance from each other. I didn't trust him farther than I could throw him, which was not far at all considering how much smaller I was.

But, slowly, the Mask began to earn my trust. He taught me how to fish, although I found that I was morally opposed to the idea of torturing the little animals like that, and how to throw darts and hit the bull's-eye almost every time. He let me use the TV room as much as I wanted, putting up with chick flick after chick flick, along with some action/adventure movies and the occasional violent one.

He never held the nightly rejection against me, and it became something of an expected ritual between us. He always asked the same way, hopeful but resigned, and I always refused the same way. It was almost like he was bidding me a very strange 'good night', although one typically doesn't respond with 'no' when someone wishes them pleasant dreams. About three months in, I began sitting in the chair to his immediate right at dinner-time. The first time I did this, he looked up in surprise and I smiled at his evident shock. Then his eyes crinkled at me and he went back to his newspaper.

Life with him got easier, a little. I quickly learned how to read his body language to tell if he was serious or not. He gently kidded me a lot for someone under a spell for twenty years, and he didn't strike me as the type to turn away an old lady. He explained after the second month, when I finally gained enough courage to tentatively inquire about this.

"Twenty years is a long time," he answered, looking out the window during breakfast. I still didn't understand why he sat in the dining room each meal if he didn't need food, but I refrained from commenting on this. "I've had time to think things over, and to realize that what I did wrong. I've grown a lot as a person since the beginning of my curse. The first few years I was resentful, blaming everyone but myself for what had happened to me and my household. But eventually I had to face the fact that it was no one's fault but my own."

I nodded slightly. "It isn't," I agreed. Then I put a hand over my mouth. "Oh my gosh, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

The Mask slowly rose from his seat, his amber-gold eyes losing any hint of warmth. "How dare you, you impudent child?!" he spoke in a voice like thunder. I cringed, hiding my face and realizing why my father had been so scared of him. "Now you will face my wrath!" I peeked through my fingers at this last rather melodramatic statement, and I found him looking amused. Well, not looking, since I couldn't see his face, but his gaze was definitely not angry. "I'm kidding," he said with a chuckle. "You're very gullible, Belle." He ruffled my hair as he left the room. I sent an embarrassed glare after him.

Interesting was the day that I found out he could ballroom dance. No one really knew how to ballroom dance where I lived, so this was impressive to me. I'd walked into the large parlor to find the Mask sitting in one of the nicer chairs, his chin on his fist, listening to ballroom music. I watched for a few minutes before turning to leave. "You can stay," he said without looking at me.

I jumped. "How did you-?"

The Mask glanced at me, his gaze amused. "I heard you come in, Belle. I'm not deaf." I blushed, and he sighed. "It was not an insult." He nodded to where the stereo stood on the other side of the room. "Have you ever danced the waltz?"

I shook my head. "No. I don't know anybody who even knows the waltz, let alone who's able to teach it to me. Not even my father dances, not since my mother died."

The Mask rose, pausing the CD of ballroom music. "Well, that'll have to be remedied." I took one look at him and knew that he wasn't joking with me. "Come here," he beckoned me over when I didn't move. I hesitantly walked toward him. During my entire nearly five month stay, I had never touched him, or even gone near enough to him to be able to touch him, besides at dinner and for that first night out in the woods.

He gently took my hands in his, making me jump, and positioned me in what must have been the correct way to dance the waltz. My hands trembled where they touched him. Again, I was surprised by the quiet strength in the hand on my waist. "It's very simple," he told me. "Take a step back with your right foot." I did so, and he matched my movement with his left. "Now swing your left foot to the left and transfer your weight," he instructed, again matching my movement. "Now you step forward with your left foot, and swing your right foot out, just like you did with your left." He led me in this, what he called the 'box step,' a few times before he was sure I had it down. Before I knew it, I was box-stepping with the best of them.

"This is easy," I mused.

The Mask's eyes crinkled. "Then let's try it with music." He un-paused the CD, waited a few measures to get the timing down, and then we danced to the music. Okay, we didn't really. I tripped and nearly fell over, and the Mask had to go over the steps again. The next time we tried I let him lead and watched his feet, matching my movements to his. Soon I was waltzing with ease, although I had to watch my feet the entire time. I couldn't say that I enjoyed it a whole lot, since I wasn't big on touching him, but it felt good to be able to say that I knew the waltz.

I stepped away when the song ended. "Thank you," I said, pulling my hands from his.

The Mask nodded, lowering his head slightly before I could catch a glimpse of his eyes. I was pretty sure that meant that he wanted me to leave, so I quickly backed from the room. I avoided the parlor whenever I could after that, afraid that he'd make me learn another dance if I entered.

One bright February morning, I decided to go for a walk outside. I pulled on the down coat I'd been provided with and let myself out of the house, putting my hands in my pockets and admiring the way my breath clouded in the cold air. It was probably around twenty degrees as I walked around, whistling slightly. I saw the rosebush by the garage, still blooming although it was the middle of winter, and had to smile at it. Roscoe, nearly doubled in size, bounded along behind me as I strode into the back yard. Once he fell in a snowdrift, and I had to dig him out. "You silly boy," I said fondly, rumpling his ears and brushing the little pile of snow off his silky head. Turning, I took one step forward and stopped. Something didn't seem right. The ground was too flat under my boots. I took another two hesitant steps and stopped again. Something had cracked under my foot. Moving the snow away with my boot, I froze. I was standing on ice.

Oh, my gosh, I'm over the pond. "Go get help, Roscoe," I breathed, afraid that the slightest movement I made would break the already cracked ice I was standing on. As if he could hear the fear in my voice and understand it, Roscoe bolted for the house. I watched him disappear inside, barely daring to breathe for fear of the thin ice cracking. It might have been well below freezing, but there had been a warm snap the day before and the ice had grown very thin.

Suddenly, I heard a low growling in the forest to the right. Remembering the warning the Mask had given that the wolves in the area were exceptionally aggressive, I took an involuntary step back. With an earsplitting crack, the ice gave and I fell through into the freezing cold water. I screamed as I broke through, and it didn't take long for the cold water to soak through my heavy winter layers and freeze me to the bone. The pond was just deep enough to be about a foot and a half over my head, too high for my fingers to clear the water while my sleeves were so water-logged and heavy. Not that I could stand, anyway. I tried to swim, but was unable to do so while dressed in my heavy winter layers. Soon I was light-headed. I had no strength to try and get to the surface, so I didn't bother. Closing my eyes, I gave up. I wish I could have seen my family one last time before I die. Reaching my hands toward the sky, I resigned myself to my fate.

Then, a hand closed around my wrist and another curled under my arm, pulling me from the water. I was lifted into the air and held against someone whose heart pounded frantically against my temple. Being out of the water meant that the wind could bite into my soaked clothes and make me colder, though, which it did with a vengeance. I began shivering uncontrollably, pressing as close to my savior as I could get in search of warmth and burying my face in their chest as I sobbed with relief. I passed out before we even made it back to the house.

I woke up next to something warm. Opening my eyes, I saw nothing but darkness. I admit I panicked a little, jerking back. Finally, I saw a little white and I realized that I could see just fine. It also made me wonder what, exactly, the black thing was. I struggled to focus on it, barely restraining a giggle when I saw that it was Roscoe. He was snoring slightly, but was nice and warm against me. The Mask sat beside me, pushing me down when I started to sit up. "You're pretty much naked. The servants had to dry your clothes." He handed the now-dry items in question to me. I quickly pulled my clothes on while remaining underneath the covers, letting my glare do the talking. "You had hypothermia," he explained. "I had to do something before your core temperature fell below 95 degrees. Plus, it was the servants that did the undressing. I waited in the next room." His voice held the kind of relief that told me he'd been the one to save me.

"Thanks," I grudgingly said, relaxing a little. "I feel like I got hit by a brick."

"Oxygen deprivation," the Mask replied knowingly. "How do you feel, as a whole?"

I took stock of myself. "Pretty well, considering I could have died," I shrugged. I remembered my wish and took a deep breath. "Is there a way that I can talk to my family?" I asked.

The Mask looked thoughtful. "I have a computer with Internet," he said finally. "You may use that." He picked up a laptop from beside the bed and set it on my lap. I got onto the Internet and signed into the instant-messenger my sisters and I used. I know, instant-messengers are out of fashion. Don't judge. Danika was online, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

Little_Blue_Bookworm: Danika!

study_of_swordplay: Belle! Oh my gosh! I can't believe it's you!

Little_Blue_Bookworm: Yeah…well…what can I say? How is everyone?

study_of_swordplay: Dad's not doing too well.

study_of_swordplay: The doc says he has pneumonia.

I turned to the Mask, who was reading over my shoulder. "My Dad's sick," I said unnecessarily, my eyes filling with tears. "Can't I just go see him?"

I didn't receive the playful reply of "You mean, 'may I go see him'?" that I had expected. The Mask closed his eyes, and I knew that my question had bitten deeply. But he answered, "Yes, of course you may, Belle. Please, just return in a month's time."

My heart filled with joy, and I grinned. "Thank you!" I said, fighting the strange and sudden urge to throw my arms around him. I told Danika that I was coming home and logged off before she could reply. Closing the laptop and handing it back to the Mask, I bit my lip. "I'll be back in a month, I promise!" I said, meaning every word. I ran from the room and grabbed my purse and Roscoe, getting into my car and heading down the long driveway excitedly. The gates allowed me to pass, which didn't surprise me nearly as much as it should have. The drive home passed in a blur, and before I knew it, I was pulling into my driveway.

Danika and Hilary met me at the car before I could even get out, and we shared a three-way hug. Danika picked up Roscoe as we all headed inside, and I knelt beside Father's bed. "Daddy, are you okay?" I asked, using a name that I hadn't called him since sixth grade.

His eyes slowly opened. "Belle," he breathed. "I'm glad you're home safe." He coughed, and I gave him a worried look. "Don't worry, sweetheart, it's just pneumonia. I'll be fine."

He was right; in less than three days, he was right as rain again. In the six months that I'd been gone, I found out, two more of Father's ships had limped into the harbor. I couldn't fathom them being lost for three years, but I was glad that they were all right. Father threw a party to celebrate my return as soon as he was recovered enough, and I'm proud to say that I creamed all his friends at darts. When I'd finished slaughtering them, I went over to play pool with Danika, who was waiting for me. It was kind of our thing. She talked to the neighbor while we played, and she beat me by a lot.

From the way the neighbor was looking at her, it was obvious to me that he liked her. Danika was a bit more difficult to read, but I came to the general conclusion that perhaps she liked him, too. I couldn't be sure, of course, but the possibility was definitely there.

The days passed quickly with my family. Hilary made pancakes every morning for a week, and Father got quiet every time I mentioned the month limit during that time. But, as days and then weeks passed, my mind wandered. I didn't really want to leave my family again, understandably. And so I pushed the Mask from my mind, determined to simply enjoy my family's presence for as long as I could. Father treated us to a weeklong trip to NYC, and I eagerly accepted. I'd missed the local ice-cream joint which served, in my opinion, the best ice-cream I'd ever tasted.

But something was missing. I couldn't figure out what. Things weren't quite right, although Danika and Hilary noticed no difference. Roscoe came with us on our trip, and he charmed people everywhere he went. He wasn't a typical Sheltie; for one, he was much quieter than most Shelties, and he didn't have most of the weird quirks that particular breed is known for. He almost acted more like a Collie. Danika simply loved him to death. If she'd given him any more treats than she did, he would have exploded, I'm sure of it. As it was, even after all her doting attention, he still liked me better, something I was glad of.

Finally, one morning, I flipped my calendar to the next page and flopped back down again in bed, fully intending to go back to sleep. But then my alarm clock rang, and I groaned as I sat up and got out of bed, dressing and pulling on my favorite pair of slippers before going downstairs. Danika was sitting at the dining room table, eating cornflakes and listening to Hilary talk in the kitchen. I sat next to her. "I found this great new skin mask," Hilary was saying. My heart stopped, and my cheerful mood instantly vanished. The Mask. I'd returned home just before the new month, fully intending to go back to the Mask just before that month ended. But it had totally slipped my mind, and now it was the next month. A week had passed since I was due to go back.

"Oh, no," I breathed, horrified, and practically fell out of the chair in my haste to get ready to leave. I hastily pulled on a random pair of boots, which happened to be the ones that the Mask had provided, and ran for the door, grabbing my coat and purse. "Bye, Danika! Bye, Hilary, good bye, Father!" I shouted.

Hilary appeared in the door to the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. "You're leaving?" She asked.

"It's been a month and a week," I said, my voice shaking as I pulled my coat on. "I'm way overdue. I promised I'd go back in a month, and I missed the deadline!"

Danika, who had listened to my account of my stay at the Mask's house and had privately declared my description of his eyes "gorgeous", appeared in the entryway. "Hurry, Belle," she said, handing me my hat and gloves. "And don't worry."

I blew a kiss at Father, who was just coming sleepily from his room, and ran from the house. I got into my car and Roscoe climbed into the passenger seat. Turning it on, I backed from the driveway and sped off down the road, paying no heed to the speed limit whatsoever. I was just fortunate that there were no police cars, or I would have gotten a ticket for sure.

Roscoe put his head by the closed window and barked urgently; he'd picked up on my anxiety and was probably wondering what was wrong. He fell asleep after an hour or so, while I prayed constantly. The Mask seemed mentally stable and not the type to kill himself, but he was under a curse. Plus all the faerie tales I'd ever read said that missing a deadline spelled ill fortune for the cursed person. "Please, let him be all right," I whispered, blinking back tears so that I could see clearly.

I practically spun the car around trying to make the turn onto his driveway without slowing, and when I reached the gates I saw them hanging sideways on their posts. I bit my lip; that was not a good sign. Screeching to a halt in front of the garage, I slammed the car into park and leaped out without taking the keys from the ignition or even turning it off. The rosebush by the garage, flourishing just a short month before, was nearly dead, the flowers almost withered and having lost most of their purple color. The sight made my blood run cold.

The front door was wide open, letting all the winter air in, so after I walked inside I turned and closed it behind me. The important-looking people whose pictures adorned on the walls seemed to stare at me reproachfully. He saved your life, they seemed to say. He saved you and you forgot about him.

"I'm sorry," I whispered to the portraits. "Take me to him!" I requested the invisible servants that I knew were lurking about somewhere nearby. A doorway to my right opened, and I ran through it. All the doors opened before me save one: the door to the Mask's study.

I stood in front of it for a few minutes, trying to decide what to do. He had asked me never to enter unless invited to do so, a request I had honored up until now, but I had the sickening feeling that if I didn't go in, he'd die. I wanted to obey his request, but I also didn't want him to die. Finally, I reached out and put my hand on the doorknob. It was cool under my fingers and against my palm, and I realized that there was practically no heat in the house. Taking a deep breath, I turned the knob.

The door popped open easily, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I'd half expected it to be locked. Pushing the door all the way open, I let my eyes adjust to the darkness inside before looking around. What I saw made me gasp.

The Mask sat in an armchair, his head thrown back. Light shone through a stained glass window, leaving little patches of color all over his body. I had to look twice to make sure he was still breathing before I saw the barest rise-and-fall of his chest. Without a second thought, I ran over and knelt beside the chair. "Mask? Mask, I'm home, I'm here," I said, a sob catching my voice.

His eyes flickered open, struggling to focus on me. "Belle," he breathed weakly. "You're late." This made me sob out loud, and his eyes crinkled slightly as he gently touched my face. "I'm kidding, Belle. You came back." He might have been joking, but what he said was true. I was late.

"Of course I did. I'm sorry I forgot," I answered, tears falling from my eyes. "I'm here to save you."

The Mask's eyes closed again. "Nothing can save me now. I never told you about the twenty year time limit, did I?" he asked softly.

I shook my head, knowing that he could feel it since his hand was still on my face. "No, you didn't," I confirmed. "But it doesn't matter. You are not allowed to die."

He chuckled softly. "Oh, dearest. As if sheer force of will can hold me here now. Why not?"

He was asking why he wasn't allowed to die. I bit my lip, trying to stop the tears cascading down my cheeks and failing miserably. It's funny how you don't realize how much you love someone until they're dying and you're powerless to stop it. What to do? I had to save him, because without him life was pointless. After a few seconds, I felt like slapping my forehead as the answer occurred to me. A kiss. A kiss would save him, I was sure of it. I was reasonably sure of it. No, I'm positive, I told myself firmly. Kisses work wonders on curses, or so I'd read.

Now came the hard part. I was in love with him, yes, but was I his true love? Because that dratted mask he wore could only be removed by true love, and with it on I definitely couldn't kiss him. I moved to sit gingerly on his lap and reached forward with trembling hands to brush the long, dark hair from in front of his mask. His breathing changed while he waited for me to respond, and I assumed that he was unconscious. I had to hurry. My searching fingers found the edge of the mask, but it seemed to be sealed to his skin somehow. I gently ran my fingers around the edges, searching for a way to remove it, and, to my surprise, I felt the skin separating from the mask. It came away easily in my hands, and I breathed a sigh of relief as I threw the thing as far away as I could. I didn't even hear it land. My heart, which had been in my throat, went back to where it belonged. Well, almost.

Tears blurred my eyes again, obscuring my vision, but I didn't bother looking at him anyway. I could see well enough to aim; that was all I cared about at the moment. I leaned in close, resting the palm of my right hand on his chest, and whispered, "You are not allowed to die, because I love you. I love you." He froze. So he was not unconscious, after all. Then I kissed him, right on the mouth. Underneath my palm I felt his heart beating; so much slower than it should have been, and definitely much slower than it had been while he was pulling me from the pond. He'd saved me, and now I was saving him. I'd finally realized what had been missing in my life, what it was that my family hadn't noticed, hadn't been able to notice. It had been him.

Thunder cracked and I felt him jerk slightly, his heart rate skyrocketing to lightning speed. Whether he was reacting to the breaking of the curse or to my kiss I couldn't tell, but at least it was too fast instead of too slow now. He took a deep breath through his nose, sitting bolt upright, and then his hands were on my shoulders and he was kissing me back, and life was the best it had ever been. He pulled away first, and for the first time I saw his incredible smile. "It's all your fault," he whispered, resting his forehead on mine.

I burst into tears for the third time in as many minutes. "I'm sorry; it is all because of me!" I wailed. "If I hadn't forgotten about you then you wouldn't have nearly died and I wouldn't have been so scared and I wouldn't have had to go eighty-nine miles an hour to get here and risk getting a speeding ticket and I wouldn't have had to enter your study without an invitation and…and…" I broke off and buried my face in his chest, crying as everything started to sink in through the massive adrenaline rush that had gotten me this far. The Mask wrapped his arms around my waist and held me close, his now-almost-normal heartbeat comforting against my cheek.

"Shh, it's all right," he crooned as he held me, and I knew then that there was nowhere I'd rather be than in the arms of the man I loved. "I was just joking." How had I known he was going to say that? I soon calmed down and sat up, wiping the tears from my face. The unmasked Mask brushed some hair from in front of my eyes. "I've grown up in the past twenty years, Belle; I knew what was going to happen. I just didn't expect you to come back."

"How could I not?" I curled up against him once more. "I love you, or did you forget?"

I felt him chuckle. "I hadn't forgotten." Then he tipped my face up with one finger under my chin and kissed me, and it was incredible. Nothing like that I'd expected, but that's okay; it was much better.

We broke the kiss when we heard clapping, and I turned to see the now visible servants looking overjoyed and happy. One older woman was even wiping away a tear. I smiled at them. Then I happened to look behind the servants, and I barely contained a gasp of surprise. Danika, Hilary and Father stood in the doorway to the study, looking astonished. Hilary had a sappy "aww, my little sister is all grown up" look on her face, and Danika just grinned at me, holding the mask in her left hand. That was probably why I hadn't heard it hit the ground. "Hi," I whispered, suddenly feeling shy. I turned back to the Mask. "What's your name?" I asked softly. "I spent all those months with you, and you never told me your name. I never even thought to ask for it."

The Mask flashed a smile. "Aidan," he said.

I grinned. "That's a very nice name," I told him. Turning, I beckoned my family into the room. "Father, Hilary, Danika," I said, "This is Aidan. He's the guy I told you so much about." I stood, letting Aidan stand as well.

Father came over and shook his hand. "So this is the man who taught my daughter how to throw darts with the best of them," he mused, dropping my car keys into my hand. "Treat my daughter well, son," he said seriously.

Danika came over to me. "He's gorgeous," she informed me.

I grinned. "I didn't need you to tell me that," I replied. Aidan truly was very good-looking. His black hair was long and fell in his eyes, but it hung in chunks that didn't obscure the brilliant amber-gold color that had captured my heart. His jaw was squared, and when he smiled at me I saw that he had dimples. My heart fluttered as I looked at him.

Hilary put her arm around my shoulders. "Best of luck with your man, Belle," she said with a smile. "He's perfect for you."

With a nod, I smiled at her. "I know he is. Hopefully you two will be as lucky."

"Belle," my father called. I came over to where he was standing with Aidan. Father grinned at me, and then went over to Danika and Hilary.

Aidan took my hands. "You know what I need to ask," he told me softly. I nodded. Slowly, he sank down on one knee, and I bit my lip to keep from grinning in anticipation. "Belle, will you marry me?" His eyes showed how sincerely he meant the question, and my heart didn't even give me a chance to think about it.

"Yes," I answered, grinning, "Yes, I will!" Aidan pulled me against him with a grin that showed how happy he was, and we kissed again.

Since Father and my two sisters approved of him, we set the wedding for seven months later. We planned on living in Aidan's grand house, but I lived with my family until the wedding even though I would rather have stayed with him. Of course I knew that that really wasn't a good decision, but I can't deny it's what I wanted.

We got married in the rose garden that had sprouted when the curse was broken. I wore a silver dress with purple ribbons in my hair and carried a bouquet of purple roses from the rosebush by the garage, with a few white ones mixed in to match my dress. We invited everyone we knew, including our old neighbors and our new ones. After the wedding, we waltzed. No one understood the special significance of the dance, but my father was suitably impressed that I knew how. My suspicions about Danika and the neighbor's son were confirmed when he proposed to her during the reception, and I grinned, lacing my fingers with Aidan's under the table we sat at. I certainly hoped that she would be as happy as I was.

It actually took Hilary longer to find her husband, nearly four years. Danika had a baby and I was expecting when she finally got married. But for her, it was worth the wait. I had never seen her look at another man like she did the one she married, and I knew they were going to be truly happy for the rest of their lives.

Although I'd gotten very good at darts, I'd learned from the master and I was never able to beat Aidan unless he let me, which was rarely. But we played every night nonetheless, and after we were finished with our nightly game we would dance one waltz, then curl up together on the couch and watch a movie. He always let me choose, to make up for slaughtering me at darts, and so we usually watched a movie that he wouldn't have picked. He never seemed to mind.

And so, we had our faerie-tale ending. Now for the words. I know you know them.

And They Lived Happily Ever After