CHAPTER FOUR

Belle swiped at her damp cheeks, determined to keep the evidence of her tears to herself, lest the people of Storybrooke notice and start with their whispers. News of her engagement was on the tip of every wagging tongue in town, so the news of her future father-in-law disgracing her in public would be soon to follow.

She stumbled along the sidewalk, wincing as the heel of her right boot pivoted and was nearly pitched forward onto her knees. Her lower lip quivered again and a fresh batch of tears flooded her eyes. The meal had been going well; and Mr. Gold were getting along and they had several fascinating conversations. He was an intriguing man, very layered, a mystery to be uncovered. Nothing would have pleased her more than to have unearthed his whole story and learnt about him. In an attempted to pay him a complement for raising such a nice young man, she had either said the wrong thing or Mr. Gold had been feigning kindness all along. He confronted her once more, claiming that she didn't love Neal and was playing games.

He's right. Belle saw the park up head and hurried through the arched iron gate entrance, hoping to lose herself in the small maze of flowers and bushes. I don't love Neal. Much as she would try to love him, she could only admit to caring for her fiancé, and that seemed to irritate Mr. Gold all the more. She never would have pegged the Scotsman for a romantic. Mr. Gold was reserved, stiff and rude – the only time she witnessed any passion in him was when he was arguing with her. His cold eyes became fiery and his generally pale complexion heightened to a dusky pigmentation. When he would shake his head, his longish hair would move, and his pixie shaped ears would be in view.

Those were cute…cute enough to nibble on! Belle stopped in the middle of the path and pressed her palm to her chest. Where did that come from? Heat rose to her cheeks and suddenly her skin felt like it was on fire. Such sensations she never had before! Strange thoughts like that had cropped up off on and during their latest argument, how she'd like to silence Mr. Gold by kissing him…just to see how the haughty Scotsman would react. By her measurements, his mouth would fit hers perfectly…She would have to try it on for size to be certain though.

"Belle!"

Belle snapped out of her peculiar trance and felt the blood drain from her face as Neal approached. Egads! I am having wicked thoughts about my fiancé's father! She gulped and knew that she had to be evil to the core. It was wrong to have such sensual thoughts about a man…especially if that man was going to be her father-in-law!

When Neal reached her, she heard him heave a world-weary sigh. "We need to talk."

"We do." Belle agreed, nodding.

Neal led her to a park bench and they sat down.

She studied her fiancé and wondered why she couldn't summon up any feelings of passion or wicked thoughts for him. He was a good man, nice looking, kind, but she didn't view him that way. She couldn't view him that way.

Neal ran his hand through his hair and then rubbed the base of his neck. "I apologize that my father has given you so much trouble. He is generally not like this." He paused and corrected himself. "Well, that's not entirely true, but the worst thing he has ever done in public is told the hosts of a dinner party that they looked like they had put on weight."

Belle swallowed an unladylike chortle. It was no great stretch of the imagination to envision the Scotsman making offensive remarks to people he did not like. Comical as it was, his scathing remarks had left more than a lasting impression on her. Much as she wanted to provide for her parents, she didn't think she could stomach a marriage where she was constantly attacked by her father-in-law. The man would make her life miserable.

"Neal, he really hates me." Belle's voice wobbled when she uttered those words. It shouldn't bother her that Mr. Gold despised her, but it did. She wanted him to like her, to admire her, to respect her. For whatever reason, it went beyond trying to earn his approval. "A marriage is supposed to bring two families together. Not cause dissension. Mr. Gold is right though; we don't love each other."

Had Neal loved her, he would have defended her to his father. He would have silenced Mr. Gold's objections and demanded the respect that was due to a man. But he did none of those things.

And he didn't bother to argue her point.

"That doesn't mean we would have a bad union. It could develop into love." Neal gave a loud gulp and dropped his hands into his lap. "I'm not stupid, Belle. I know you want to provide for your parents and that's why you're marrying me. I understand completely and its okay. I can help. As your husband, I could take care of them."

Belle closed her eyes and pressed her fingertips to one of her temples. Neal had known all along that she didn't love him and was in a sense taking advantage of him. She hadn't realized how transparent she had been. No wonder Mr. Gold hated her so. Her pathetic attempts of flirtations and encouragement now shamed her.

Cracking her eyes open, Belle shook her head. "Why do you want to marry me? You have a vast selection of girls in New York."

New York was chock full of girls. Girls with breeding, money, dowries, connections – all she had was a somewhat pleasant face, a limited education which had been formed by extensive reading, and the occasional witty remark. She could not begin to compete with such ladies. Neal Cassidy had been the one to pursue her. Yes, she had accepted his attentions enthusiastically, but he could have courted any number of the girls in Storybrooke. Yet he chose her and she felt that she deserved to know why.

Neal made no response.

"Neal?" Belle probed once more.

Neal folded his arms across his chest – at least that's how it appeared. But Belle sensed that he was hugging himself. "The girl I do love, Emma Swan, she has been betrothed to a naval captain. Her parents..." He sputtered and shook his head, looking a little shamefaced. "My father and I have sketchy pasts and they couldn't overlook that. We have money and connections, but no breeding."

Belle licked her lips. Of course! That was possibly why Neal and Mr. Gold had two different surnames and why the Scotsman had not raised his son. Neal was illegitimate. In a place as small as Storybrooke, people scorned those who were born out of wedlock. They were bastards – it was as simple as that. But in New York and London and such places, people overlooked such things, especially if there were enough money and connections to help influence them.

"I have to marry someone and I like you." Neal lifted his eyes to hers, looking much younger than his years. He was twenty, but he seemed and behaved far more juvenile. "Please, don't break things off with me."

Belle finally saw Neal Cassidy for what he really was – a broken-hearted young man who was desperate to make a match, either to spite his true love or to make himself feel better. It was silly and foolish and it made no sense whatsoever. She wanted to be angry with him for dragging her into his troubles, for subjecting her to his rude father, for not being completely honest with her.

But she wasn't angry; she could understand and she pitied him. She didn't love him, but she had told Mr. Gold the truth when she said she cared about Neal. Unable to quite explain how she cared about him or why, she could only insist that she did. Depressed as he was, Neal needed someone to protect him.

Their marriage would benefit them both. He would have a wife and he would feel better from being parted from his true love, and she and her parents would be taken care of.

Yes, it can still work out. She decided.

Belle reached over and placed her hand on Neal's, squeezing his fingers. "I gave you my word, Neal." She assured him, hoping to ease his fears. "We will see this through."

Neal mouthed an inaudible "thank you" and slumped against the back of the bench.

#

Gold loitered outside the French's house a good ten minutes before screwing up the courage to climb the steps and knock. He was holding his breath the whole time, terrified that he would come face to face with Belle again. An apology was due her, but he didn't know if he could face her so soon after their argument yesterday. Not to mention the risqué thoughts he had entertained about her. He had hoped that a good night's sleep would put an end to that.

The night was filled with feverish dreams of her arguing with him, shouting, throwing her hands in the air. In the middle of the argument, he flung himself at her, kissing her passionately. He expected her to slap him for taking liberties; instead she threw her arms around his neck, hopped up, and then wrapped her legs around his waist. He carried her off to a nearby bed – which should have been a clear indication that it was a dream because it appeared out of nowhere – and then they spent hours making love.

He awoke as flustered as when he retired.

Gold was startled and jumped back when the door opened.

Mrs. French stood before him, her delicate brow creased. "Mr. Gold, come in." The friendliness that she had shown him the other day was gone, informing him that she was well aware of the debacle at Mrs. Potts' Tea Shop and was not happy about it. "To what do we owe the pleasure...again?" She asked, ushering him into the house.

"I wanted to speak with you." Gold shuffled forward, feeling as though the world had been lifted from his shoulders. A quick glimpse around the room, he deduced that Belle was not home and thought it was for the best. This would give him the opportunity to have a talk with her parents and garner their feelings on the engagement. "I have been an incorrigible ass…again."

He stole a glance at Mr. French, who was in his customary chair. The man's large, round face was red enough that he feared the man might have a stroke. The man was bound to that chair, unable to move a muscle without assistance, yet Mr. French had the ability to put the fear of God in him. You made my little girl cry. His look read and at that moment, Gold knew he would never win Mr. French over to his side. In that man's eyes, Belle could do no wrong.

"Why does that not surprise me?" Mr. French narrowed his eyes and his lips curled disdainfully. "I don't care if you're wealthy or not - you do not come into my home and insult my family, apologize, and then turn around an insult my daughter once more. In public, no less." With a flick of the wrist, the man dismissed him, as if he were no better than a servant. "I don't know where you come from, I don't care, but good honest people don't do that. You want our forgiveness, as well as hers, you will have to earn it."

Gold nodded and counted to ten. He felt that Belle was in the wrong, marrying his son for his money. He would never feel otherwise. However, he could respect Mr. French for defending his daughter despite all costs. The man loved his family and wouldn't stand to see anyone hurt them. Were anyone to attack Neal – even if Neal were wrong – Gold knew that he would swoop in to defend his son.

Mrs. French's pretty features twisted into a grimace. She appeared torn between siding with her husband and being polite.

"I will." Gold assured them and inhaling, he made his offer. "I want to pay for the wedding." He heard Mr. French make a displeased grunt and held up a finger. "Please, hear me out."

Mr. French motioned for him to sit on the sofa and Gold took that as a sign that all was not lost. He still had a chance to make his case.

Gold waited until Mrs. French returned with the tea service and had poured him a generous cup before beginning, "I don't know how to be a father or a good man, really. Neal and I were apart for many years and I want to do right by him, but I don't know how. All I have is money as a means to solve problems." Biting the inside of his cheek, he hated feeling so vulnerable before the French's but he thought it necessary for them to understand his way of thinking and behaving. "I still do have reservations about Neal and Belle's union; not because I look down on Belle. I like her; she is a lovely, witty, beautiful woman." He swallowed and wished he had not said that much, especially due to the thoughts he had of Belle. But he had a point to make and he couldn't stop now. "A woman. But my son is a boy. Do you understand my concerns?"

Silence.

Gold took a hearty swig, regretting that he had not brought a flask of something that way he could make it through this conversation. That Mrs. French could brew a strong cup of tea made a difference though. It would sustain him for now.

Mrs. French perched on the arm of her husband's chair. Where she chose to sit, the intimacy of the two, sent a pang through Gold's heart. There was a time in his life that he wanted love like that. Mr. and Mrs. French couldn't have been more opposite. He was large, blunt, and a former laborer of some sort – that Gold knew because the man's hands still bore blisters. Mrs. French was proper, dainty, and pretty. Belle took after her mother for the most part; the only claim she had of her father was his obstinate attitude. It was little wonder that Mr. French doted on his daughter; she reminded him of her mother. A flash of her big blue eyes, any man would crumble.

Lord knows I have lost my head in regards to her. Gold thought.

"You think they are mismatched, Mr. Gold?" Mrs. French surmised and laid her hand on her husband's forearm.

Gold was grateful. There was a small glimmer of hope that Mrs. French might come around to his way of thinking. Perhaps he would have an ally in her. She must have had her own doubts about the engagement, else she wouldn't have looked so concerned.

"I do." He wished he could leave it at that, but that would not have been honorable. He had given his word to Neal to smooth things over and not stir up trouble. "But to show my support and to prove that I don't want to be right, I want to pay for the wedding."

I know I am right. I may not be right about many things in life, but in this, I am. Gold feigned a smile. He would keep his promise to Neal and be supportive, and somehow keep his feelings to himself. With any luck, as the big day drew near, this scheme of Belle's would fall apart and she and Neal would go their separate ways. In the meantime, he would pay for the wedding and play an active part in the preparations, that way he could also keep an eye on the situation. If he made a comment here or made a nudge there, he could hardly be faulted for that. Not when it had everyone's best interest at heart.

Mrs. French gave her husband's arm a subtle squeeze. Mr. French might be a man of strong opinions, but Gold could tell that he was the kind who often bowed to his wife's wisdom.

"Not if you continue to upset my daughter." Mr. French finally replied. "I won't have it."

Gold nodded and decided that he would have to be watchful of what he said. "I will hold my tongue." He promised.

"Very well." Mr. French raised his chin and narrowed his eyes, leveling his gaze at Gold.

Gold frowned, peeved that the man would not give an inch. And then he understood why and wondered how he could have missed it.

Mr. French knows I'm attracted to Belle. He took another gulp of tea.

Through Mr. French's eyes he had to appear the lowest of the low. Here he was, the father of the groom, having lecherous thoughts about his future daughter-in-law. He had never been a saint, but clearly he had looser morals than he had thought.

The engagement couldn't end soon enough. The sooner he and Neal returned to New York and put this whole mess behind them, the better!

#

Belle sensed that there was something off as she mounted the front steps of her house. But she never would have guessed that she would find Mr. Gold visiting with her parents, drinking tea, swapping stories as if they were old friends. Especially after that horrid display at Mrs. Potts Tea Shop.

The man has some nerve. She fumed and gave the door a hard shove closed.

Mr. Gold put his cup down and immediately stood upon her entrance. He looked a little sheepish, which was a welcome change from the hardened expression that he generally wore.

"Mr. Gold, what are you doing here?" Belle asked. Try as she might, she could not keep the bitterness out of her tone.

Mother rose from her place, which had been on the arm of her father's chair. Her mother never sat like that, unless she was comfortable with the company she was keeping. "Darling, hear Mr. Gold out." She went to the door and opened it once more, gesturing them outside. "Why don't you go out onto the porch and talk?"

Mr. Gold nodded for Belle to go first and while she didn't care to hear anything the Scotsman had to say, out of respect to her mother, she would listen. She trudged out onto the porch and sat down on the swing. Her feet dangled, unable to reach to the bottom.

Mr. Gold sat on the far end of the swing, wincing when the wood creaked under his weight. He drummed his fingers on his thigh, cleared his throat, and proceeded, "Miss French, I am so sorry for yesterday. I was in the wrong-"

Belle rolled her eyes. She was in no mood to hear theatrical apologies, especially when he didn't mean them. In all likelihood, Mr. Gold would feign kindness, wait until she had a false sense of security, and attack her again. No, she wanted to get to the root of the problem and face it head on.

"Why do you hate me so?" She demanded, interrupting his little speech.

Mr. Gold looked pained and his eyes became a little shiny. "I don't hate you, Belle. I don't." He rasped and shook his head. "You have no reason to believe me, especially since I have been horrible. I think you are a beautiful, intelligent, and remarkable woman."

Belle sucked in a breath and tears stung her own eyes. Such passionate words from a man who opposed her at every turn. But he seemed earnest and no one – not Neal nor any other boy – had said such complementary things about her. Mr. Gold was not like any boy she had known, obviously because he was in fact a man. And there was something so intriguing about his age and maturity. He wasn't ridiculous and he didn't do stupid things; he had his whole life figured out.

"But I'm a father," Mr. Gold continued, his hand cupped around his knee, "Neal is my only son, and I worry. I will never not worry about him. One day you will understand that when you have children of your own. You'll do anything for them, including make a fool of yourself to protect them."

Belle felt both touched and repulsed at the same time. Touched that a man so irritating could profess such love and devotion to his child…and repulsed because if she were to marry Neal, her children would be his. When she permitted his suit and then accepted his proposal, she had thought that love and attraction would grow between them. But it hadn't, and the more she thought of Neal in that sense, as a husband, the more it unnerved her. The idea of her and Neal together, lying with one another, was unnatural. An abomination somehow.

Her opinion of Mr. Gold, on the other hand, had changed. She had originally not thought of him as husband material, but the more time she spent with him, the better she understood his character. He frustrated her to no end, but he was a man who was wholly devoted to his son; his entire world revolved around Neal. The man was sensual – carnal even - in the way he moved and spoke. Mr. Gold was settled, intelligent, driven, ambitious… he would treat the lady he loved like a queen.

Belle blushed when she realized that she was gaping at her future father-in-law and hoped he did not notice.

"To make amends, I want to pay for the wedding and the honeymoon." Mr. Gold smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "You can have whatever you wish." He insisted.

Belle couldn't believe her ears and thought her imagination had run away with her. "Mr. Gold, the only thing I want from you is your blessing on the marriage." She replied.

"Then you shall have it." The Scotsman's burr had thickened. He then tore his gaze from hers and glanced down.

"Thank you." Belle mumbled.

This was exactly what she had wanted, what she and Neal had been working so hard for. But now that she had it, she felt unsatisfied.

Something was wrong…very wrong.