Author's Note: Well, here it is! I had a three day weekend and I typed it all weekend. This is not another authors note nope! It's chapter three!

I'm sorry to everyone that has been reading this story and has been only reading author's notes but, hopefully a 5,000 word chapter will make up for it?

Again, I was serious about the last authors note so please go back and read it!

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Bella woke up with a start and didn't remember, for a moment, what had happened last night. She lay looking at the ceiling with a blank expression, noticing the play of icy light across it, hearing the wind outside howling across the moor and wondering why she felt so tired and flat, almost depressed. Her head ached and she didn't want to get up. Was she getting a cold? Or was it the arrival of the snow that had upset her?

Then she heard a faint sound in the cottage and it all came back to her in a blinding flash. She sat up with a gasp, staring at her bedroom door.

He was here. In the cottage, on the other side of that door, moving about, whistling softly. Edward. Her pale lips framed the name silently. Edward. Her husband.

She had pushed the memory of her brief marriage to the back of her mind; so many years ago that she found the fact of it incredible now, just as she had found it the day she'd stood beside him in the Register Office, going through the civil ceremony which made them 'man and wife', looking sideways at him through her lashes in dazed disbelief. She might have tried consciously to suppress those memories, but she found that she had forgotten nothing. Everything about that day must have been burnt into her unconscious mind; she could summon up even the tiniest detail now.

She had been wearing her best dress, but it had hardly been suitable, a simple blue dress meant for a schoolgirl to wear at weekends, nothing special or very pretty. Her father didn't believe in spending good money on anything he felt was unnecessary and pretty clothes for his only daughter came into the category of 'unnecessary'.

He had been there, to make certain it really happened; a grim, hostile presence in his only suit, a heavy country tweed he had had for years and wore at all formal occasions, even funerals… although for those he added a black armband around one sleeve of his jacket. She had almost expected him to have his shotgun over his arm, but Charlie Swan was too conventional for that. He had left it at home, although the threat of it smoldered in his sullen eyes every time he looked at her and Edward.

He had found them together, after the harvest festival dance, lying in each other's arms, in the sweet-smelling, long grass under the heavy-laden apple trees in the orchard behind Chantries and he had had his gun then. He had leveled it at Edward, murder in his eyes and Bella had screamed, believing he meant to shoot.

"No, Father!"

He had looked at her, giving a disgusted look over her, silently commenting on her unbuttoned blouse, the glimpse that gave of her tiny, pale breasts, the way her skirt had ridden up her long bare legs. His face contemptuous, he had spat out an insult, called her something vile that made her flinch, turning a shamed scarlet; and that had brought Edward to his feet, his face dark with rage.

"Don't use language like that with her!"

"What else is she then?" Charlie Swan, had said, his mouth distasteful.

"Nothing happened, man!" Edward had angrily protested and her father had given a sneering laugh.

"Don't bother lying to me. I know what I saw before you heard me coming."

Edward's flush had deepened, "Look, Charlie…" he had begun and the older man had snapped at him.

"Mr. Swan to you after tonight!" then reproach had shown in his eyes, "I never thought you'd do this to me, Mr. Edward. Not your father's son. As for her, well, I can't say I'm surprised. She's her mother's daughter, after all. I knew it would come out in her sooner or later, but I'd hoped to get her married off first. I won't be shamed in front of the whole country again, Mr. Edward. I had enough of scandal and gossip when my wife ran off with her fancy baseball player… I won't be made a laughing stock a second time."

He had still had the gun pointed at Edward and his finger had been on the trigger, crooked as if to squeeze. Bella had been so terrified that she had begun to scream again and that had brought old Carlisle Cullen from the house, hurrying down the rough grass of the orchard path, he was breathing noisily.

"What in heaven's name is all this noise? What's going on?" he had asked, staring in stunned surprise at the tableau he found under the trees; the heavy-set gamekeeper, the trembling, sobbing girl and finally his own son.

Edward and Charlie Swan had begun to talk at once and Carlisle Cullen had broken in on them. Impatiently, "I can't listen to all of you're saying, Charlie, you tell me… and for God's sake lower that gun! Is it loaded?" he had read the answer in the other man's grim face and gone on gruffly, "What's the matter with you? You know better than to point a loaded gun at someone."

The two older men had known each other all their lives. Her father had worked on the Chantries estate since leaving school; he was an excellent gamekeeper. He knew every aspect of his work and he was temperamentally suited to it. He was up before dawn and out in the woods and fields each day. And then after a few hours sleep at night, he was always out again, on alert for poachers after pheasants or partridge or even rabbits. The energetic lifestyle had seemed to suit him; he was a tough and physically witty and even though he was fifty, he could walk miles without tiring.

Even the necessary solitude in the woods had seemed to suit him, because he was quite happy alone; indeed was usually silent when he was in company, with one exception… Carlisle Cullen. The two men had seen each other most days and Charlie Swan was usually quite relaxed and easy with his employer, but not that night.

"I just caught them at it," he had muttered, without lowering his gun, "Did you know what was going on? I've had my suspicious lately; you must have had yours. Why didn't you tell him to leave her along?"

"What are you talking about?" Carlisle had asked incredulously and Bella had closed her eyes, tears rolling down her face.

Her father had bitterly given him side glance and Carlisle Cullen had turned on his own son with angry questioning. Edward had shouted back at him; then the three men had all snarled and shouted at each other across and around her, while she'd just stood there, shaking and terrified.

She had never heard her father speak like that to Carlisle. Her father had always respected his employer. She would have said Carlisle was close to being his friend as anyone in the world.

This was why he had been content to allow Bella to spend so much time up at Chantries. Especially after her mother had gone.

Bella had been eleven years old when her mother had run off with Phil, after the vacation she had taken with her aunt. It had only been for a week, the first real vacation Renee had taken since her marriage. Charlie Swan didn't believe in vacations and he hadn't wanted his wife to go, but for once she had had the courage to insist on her own way and that vacation had torn their lives apart.

Her mother had met Phil and fallen madly in love; and hadn't come back. At the time, Bella had felt betrayed and abandoned. But now with adult hindsight, she could understand why her mother had chosen the man she loved rather than her child. When they talked about it, later, her mother had said frankly, "After twelve cold, empty years buried in that place with your father, being with Phil was like coming alive again. I was so happy, darling. I couldn't bear to go back to Charlie. I agonized over leaving you and I know it must have hurt you, but I badly wanted you to be with us and I kept hoping I would get you back once the divorce went through. I didn't believe he would be allowed to keep you. After all, he was never home and he had never shown interest in you. My lawyer was so confident that I would get custody over you. We didn't reckon on Mrs. Cullen would take you over altogether."

"I think dad kept me simply to spite you." Bella had wryly said.

"I have no doubt about it! He was such a hard man!"

The court had decided to leave Bella where she was, granting custody to Charlie Swan, but her mother had had the right to see her at least once a week, if she chose. Her father had never suppressed any letters and cards, or held back the gifts her mother had sent her. It was true, too, that he had rarely said a word against her mother, but then he had never mentioned her at all, if he could help it.

It was as if he had expunged his ex-wife from his memory, beginning with the day he had everything she'd left behind her cleared out of the cottage and burnt on a huge bonfire in the garden.

Bella had watched from her bedroom window, pale and frightened by the destructing. She could still remember the smoke curling up, the grey sky through bare branches, the smell of autumn leaves and her father's grim face as he'd moved around the bonfire. Even at that age, Bella had felt the obstinate, unyielding nature behind his actions and had been disturbed by it.

That night he had found her in Edward's arms he had looked just like that, a cold, grim man who never forgot, or forgave; and all their denials and attempts to explain had made no impact on him.

Carlisle had been almost as angry, in a very different way; he had put an arm around Bella, muttering roughly, "That's enough, Charlie. Can't you see you're terrifying the child? Take her home now. We'll talk about this in the morning, when we've slept on it."

"I'm not having her in my house again," Charlie had grated, "I'm finished with her."

Bella had given a small, shuddering cry and Carlisle had tightened his hold on her, putting his chin down against her tumbled hair.

"Charlie, for heaven's sake!" he had protested, but her father had already turned to walk away, as if having saying his final word.

Then Edward had suddenly said, "I'm going to marry her!" and both older men had stared at him in waiting silence.

Edward had stared back at them, his face pale and grimly set, "But she has to be married from her own home, not from ours, there would be gossip and that's what you want to avoid, isn't it?"

Her father had considered him for a long moment and then had given Carlisle a questioning look. As pale as his son was, Carlisle had stared at the clear, autumn nigh sky, his brows furrowed together as he thought it over, then he had looked back at Charlie and gave him a sharp nod.

And so it was settled. Bella had gone home that night with her father, in unforgiving silence, to wait for her wedding day, after which she was to move into Chantries. Edward and his own father had decided that a honeymoon was essential, to give a more normal appearance to that hurried wedding, so the bride and groom had driven straight from the register office to a hotel to spend a few days but the very next morning Bella had got up early, without waking Edward and left the hotel and his life, leaving a brief note.

It was all a mistake, I couldn't bear to go through last night ever again and I don't want to be married. Please divorce me, or have the marriage annulled or whatever you like, but don't come after me because I couldn't bear to see you again, not ever. I'll be OK, I'm going to my mother's.

And she never saw him again till he showed up barging into her mother's house and scaring her half to death eight years later.

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A sharp rap on the bedroom door made her jump her nerves shredded.

"Time to get up, Bella. The coffee's made and I'm going to cook some breakfast." His deep voice said and she managed a husky reply.

"I need five minutes."

He laughed shortly, "I'll believe that when I see you."

Challenged, she raced through her washing and dressing and made it downstairs in about seven minutes just in time to see Edward put a dish of grilled bacon and mushrooms on the table.

He sat down then, raising a brow at her, "Amazing! You made it!"

She ignored that, accepting that cup of black coffee he had poured her, "Where did you get the bacon and mushrooms?"

"I stocked up at a grocery store last night on my way here last night, in case you didn't have much fresh food," he said offering her the dish of food.

"Thank you, they smell delicious," she said, feeling very hungry.

They ate in silence for several minutes, then, as they both took toast and spread it with butter, Edward said, "The snow is knee-deep this morning. Did you notice?"

She hadn't and threw a startled glance at the window. All she could see of the garden was a white desert, crisp and undisturbed except for a few tiny bird footprints scattered here and there. The snow was banked up to the top of the garden wall. That meant the roads must be blocked.

Nervously lowering her lashes, she watched Edward. He was no longer looking quite as sinister as he had last night in his black leather jacket and black boots. He had clearly shaved and showered; his bronze hair was still as crazy as she had remembered it. He was wearing jeans with a white sweater over a thin, powder-blue cotton shirt. He looked relaxed and casual, but Bella didn't trust him anymore than she would trust a basking shark. He looked across the table at her with an expression in his green eyes that made her tense.

"We won't be able to leave, so we have plenty of time," he said and she unguardedly repeated the last word, her face bewildered.

"Time?"

"Time to… talk," he murmured, lazily assessing her from head to toe in a deliberately tormenting way, "And other things."

Her blush came again. The talking wasn't that alarming; it was the 'other things' that bothered her, but she didn't say so. She was going to have to watch what she said to him; he was in a mischievous and dangerous mood. He might be smiling and relaxed on the surface, but she knew that underneath that sunny façade, the same anger and hostility simmered and at any moment he might unleash them.

"Some more coffee?" he offered.

She absently took some, murmuring a stiff, "Thank you". She couldn't stay here with him; but how was she to get away?

"How is your mother?" he asked politely.

"Very well," she told him, staring at the window with dismay. A flurry of snowflakes was whirling past. Edward caught her look of consternation and followed her gaze. He smiled.

"Oh, dear, snowing again. We may be stranded here for days."

"The snow ploughs will come out to clear the roads soon," she thought aloud.

"The main roads," he corrected, "They won't clear this road yet. I'd imagine very few people use it in the winter."

She gave him a sharp look, frowning, "How did you know about this place, anyway? How did you find it?"

He shrugged, "I made a lot of phone calls late yesterday afternoon, after I got to the city to discover that you had left work and that you weren't at your flat. I called your mother; no reply there, either. I called all your shops and finally got on to someone who said you were here."

A suspicion crossed Bella's mind, "Was that the manager of the 5th avenue store by any chance?" He nodded and she thought aloud, "Wait till I talk to Alice again! She knows that it's a company rule never to give out any personal details about a member of staff to a stranger!"

His eyes glinted with amusement, "Maybe she forgot."

Bella viewed him without any answering spark of humor, "You didn't tell her… anything… did you?"

"That you were married, for instance?" he mocked, watching the color rise in her face.

The very idea of Alice knowing her long-buried secret made her want to scream and he knew it. He held her in suspense a moment longer; grinning in a way that made her want to hit him, then shook his head.

"No, I didn't need to. I just said I urgently needed to talk to you about a death in the family and for some reason she seemed to think I was in Florida, so she told me you were in this area. She muttered something about your mother, so I wasn't sure if you were there with her… and she didn't know the address or the phone number, but getting both didn't take me long."

"I bet!" she said bitterly and he looked even more amused, as if she had flattered him, which certainly had not been her intention.

"Well, Swan is hardly a common name in the area. I just looked in a local phone book and called this number to check you were actually here. You answered, so I got in my car and set off. I stopped at the grocery store for food and they told me how to find the cottage. Of course, they thought I was crazy, driving in such terrible weather."

"You were!" she retorted and he eyed her quizzically.

"What about you? Why on Earth are you here, at this time of year?"

She explained about the building work that had been done and why her mother had wanted to know the cottage had been left in good condition and he gave her a cynical look.

"So while she's on vacation in sunny Florida you had to drive all the way here, in a blizzard?"

"She isn't on vacation!"

"Why is she in Florida then?"

She hesitated, "Business." She wasn't going to tell him about Phil's injury; he would only say he got what was coming to him.

His brows flickered upwards in wry comment, "It's quite incredible to think of her turning into a successful business woman. I remember her as a quiet little woman always in the background. It amazed me when she ran off with the baseball player. My father always thought she would come back, as this would be a middle-aged fling."

Bella's eyes flickered with anger, "Phil was the best thing that ever happened to my mother and I don't blame her for grabbing him after years of 'living in the background' as you put it. Why do you think she was so quiet? Living with my father was slowly killing her. She always says it was like living on a deserted island alone with someone who didn't seem to notice that she was there. Her natural personality was bubbly and lively; but my father was so withdrawn that he managed to smother her."

He leaned back in his chair, a hand roughly thrust through his hair, grimacing, "Your father's a hard man to live with, I can believe that." He stared challengingly over the table, "Don't you want to hear how he is?"

She met his green eyes, her chin up, "Did he send me a message?"

He shook his head, still watching her.

There was bleakness in her face. "Well I don't want to hear about him, either. The day I left Chantries I made up my mind to forget he ever existed."

Edward's sharp eyes probed her features like a lancet, looking for some weak point and then he shrugged. "He's pretty fit, actually. The life he leads, I suppose. He hates my guts, of course and doesn't bother to hide it. Oh he takes any order I give him, without a word and if we pass each other he gives me a nod, but somehow he makes it clear that he blames me for everything."

"That makes two of us then." She muttered looking down.

"What?!"

His voice made her jump, but she stubbornly repeated what she had said, in a louder voice.

"You blame me?" he snarled and then laughed in a harsh, uncaused way, "How like a woman. It couldn't be your fault, could it? You didn't throw yourself at me, day after day? You didn't make it very plain what you wanted…"

"I didn't know what I was doing! I was too young!" she defended. She had been crazy about him, the wild, uncontrollable infatuation of first love, her mind and heart possessed by a desire she had never felt before and hadn't known how to handle. If he had repulsed her, she would never have let it show so openly, though. She had been much too shy and unsure of herself. He could have discouraged her, gently. But he hadn't. On the contrary, he had let her believe that he felt the same intense attraction.

"That night," she accused, "you could have sent me away, but you didn't. You should have never kissed me that night."

"I kissed you?" he repeated fiercely and her face became redder.

"Well maybe I started to kiss you first, but you didn't have to kiss me back. You weren't a teenager; you were an adult man."

"And I was the one who had to pay," he ground out, "They made me marry you, remember? It was a high price to pay for a few kisses."

She laughed bitterly, "Oh, I remember. And to get the 'high price' you had paid back, you made me pay on our wedding night, didn't you?"

Dark color swept up his face, his hands clenched into fists. For a second she tensed, afraid that Edward might lose control. After all, he had lost control on their wedding night.

"I was angrier that I had ever been in my life before," he muttered, his face moody.

"You didn't have to be so brutal!" she accused and his eyes flashed.

"Bella, heaven help me, if you don't stop saying things like that I'll…"

"What? Hit me?" she interrupted and he breathed abruptly, staring at her.

"I've never gone in for hitting a woman, although for you… I might make an exception! If I was less than gentle with you that night, it was because I was furious at being forced into marrying you!"

She bit down on her lip, flinching. He caught that reaction and frowned slightly.

"I'm sorry, Bella. But surely now you can see why I felt that way? You're not a school girl anymore. If your father hadn't made me feel so guilty, practically accusing me of rape, calling you vile names… my God… what else could I do but say 'I'd marry you'? And then I felt I'd been a fool, I felt trapped. I kept trying to think of a way out, but there was none. My father and your father had made up their minds by then-even if I could have convinced my own father that you were still a virgin, that I'd never had you, your father was going to insist on the marriage. Well, that was what I believed and I still think his pride would have made it too hard for him to back down, I had to go through with it."

"Don't talk about it anymore!" she broke out, shivering. Edward was right. She could understand how he had felt, maybe she had even felt the same way? Her father had destroyed something that night. The distaste in his face made her ashamed; her love for Edward had turned sour and shriveled as she faced her father's accusing eyes. She had tried to convince herself that she was happy to be marrying him, but even before he was so cruel to her on their wedding night, she had been dreading the future.

"We have to talk about it sooner or later!" Edward snapped, "What happened that night made my father change his will and it wrecked my life!"

"What do you think it did to mine?" she retorted.

He fell silent, then abruptly got up from the table and began to clear the dishes.

Relieved; she began to help him carry them into the kitchen and stack the dishwasher. When everything was clean, Edward wondered around the sitting room looking at the pictures, his face thoughtful. She watched him uneasily, curled up like a small, nervous cat in a deep armchair, her legs under her, wondering what he was thinking and what on earth to say to get through to him that he had to leave. A glance at the window told her that the snow was still blowing in the wind; she could hear howling around the house. There was no chance of being able to get away for hours yet, but she was nervous of being here alone with him.

"You seem to have a pretty successful life since I last saw you, in fact." He dryly commented at last, throwing himself down on the couch beside her chair and staring at her with his hands linked behind his head, "Running away to join your mother gave you a new start. I should have gone away, too, but I felt I couldn't walk out on my father. I had to stay and face the music. It wasn't easy, believe, me." His mouth twisted, "Especially with your father treating me like a pariah. He was at my father's funeral and he didn't speak to me, even then. He just walked away afterwards."

"I don't know how my mother stood for it for as long as she did," Bella said absently, noticing how the cold sunlight gleamed off his bronze hair. There were one or two silvery hairs among them now, she suddenly saw for the first time. He would be forty in a few years. It seemed incredible.

"She must have loved him once," said Edward.

"Only because he was so unlike anyone she had ever met," Bella said, "She told me once… she married him because he was so hard to fathom, silent and mysterious; a mystery man. She thought she would be the one to get past his wall of silence, that she would understand him… but she didn't. What she didn't realize was that he didn't need her; or need anyone. I wonder what would have happened to her if she hadn't met Phil. He's a nice man, he makes her so happy. She's quite different. You wouldn't know her. She's the complete opposite from when she was with my father."

"I read an article about them once," he surprised her by saying, "He was with his baseball team; they had won a championship or something big like that. She was with him. I recognized her, even though she's changed so much. She looked terrific. I can see what you mean; she looked as if she was happy. I had had no idea how successful he was, until then. You were mentioned… "their daughter, Bella, who works for a company in New York City"… an 'elegant brunette', they had called you." His eyes flickered over her in a gleaming assessment. "Elegant? Hmm…not quite this morning."

Because of the freezing weather, she had put on the warmest clothes she had with her; they had been left behind that autumn, after her last visit, when she had helped to paint the old barn behind the cottage. She hadn't bothered to pack these things up afterwards, just washed them and put them into a drawer, where she had found them that morning, smelling slightly of a lavender-perfume; old, well-washed jeans, a yellow-stripped men's shirt, which she had borrowed from Phil years ago and a comfortably thick sweater. She had had another motive for picking this outfit. These were the least attractive clothes she had with her; she was wearing them as armor against Edward.

"You look down-to-earth, practical and ready to get whatever that comes," he said and she didn't think he was flattering her. Perhaps he had even guessed she had worn these clothes to put him off. He paused, watching her, then asked softly, "Are you?" and she stared, confused.

"Am I what?"

"Ready for whatever that comes," he said and watched with a smile as a flush crept up her face, "You know, I hardly recognize you," he suddenly said, "If I'd walked past you on the street I probably wouldn't have known you."

"You never did…" she said, head lowered, mouth stubborn, "… Anymore than you knew my mother…"

"Well, here we are, quite alone. This time we will get to know each other." He got up and she went into a panic and scrambled up, too, knocking over her chair.

"Don't touch me!" she had been pushing his threat to the back of her mind, trying to convince herself that he hadn't meant what he said, but fear suddenly swamped her mind and she began to tremble violently, "I wouldn't bear it if you touched me," she whispered, staring at him.

"You'll have to bear it," Edward said in a low, harsh voice and his eyes held a disturbing insistence which warned her that he meant precisely what he said.

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Author's note: YAY! Demanding Eddie! I for one would not mind if he was rough with me on our wedding night;)

PLEASE READ:

So, review and please please please check out the last author's note, also I will not be updating this week at all, homecoming is this Saturday and I have a date! And PSATS are also this Saturday so I will have no time. Next week expect a Bittersweet ending to my Bittersweet story. The week after I don't know what I have planned but I no the last weekend of October there will be NO update I will be in Sandusky, Ohio at CEDAR POINT with my friends for the last weekend of HALLOWEEKENDS and their season.

Thanks again

Amanda