6

A Spinner's Solution

Rumple seated himself in the settle, propping his staff within easy reach, and crossed one booted foot over the other. Regina sat on the hearth rug, her legs crossed Indian style, and Bae took the other end of the settle and stretched his legs out towards the fire. "Papa," he asked, since his stomach was rumbling, "What about supper?"

"If you're hungry, son, go and fix yourself a plate and come eat in here," Rumple instructed.

Bae rose and walked into the kitchen to get some shepherd's pie and biscuits along with cider. Regina joined him, her mouth also watering, and then when both had returned and started eating, the spinner looked at his benefactor and said, "Belle, dearie, I believe there's a few things you've been avoiding telling me. I know you hardly know me, but I want you to know that whatever happened in the past—I will not judge you for it. But in order to help you, I must know the full story behind those men and their animosity towards you."

He looked at her earnestly, for he would not hurt her for the world, and he hoped she could open up enough to trust him even a little.

Belle looked at him, and thought she had never known a kinder and hardworking soul than this one, this stranger who she believed had been sent by the Almighty for her to help in his hour of need . . .and perhaps to help her as well. Still hoping he would not turn out to be like many of the men in Storybrooke once he discovered the truth, she said quietly, "When I told you I was a widow, Rum, I wasn't lying. That was true, but the part I didn't tell you was that my husband was not a white man. He was Regina's father—a Mesquakie war chief called Winter Storm. Adam was his English name, taken because he wished to show the white man that he respected them and because they couldn't pronounce his real one."

"Not couldn't, Mama, wouldn't," Regina corrected stiffly. "They thought we were barbarians and spoke a barbaric language, so they refused to learn Algonquin."

"Regina, hush!" Belle reprimanded. Then she twisted her hands around her apron and waited for Rumple to condemn her.

But he simply looked at her and said, "Was that your dark secret, dearie? That your husband was an Indian?"

"Yes! I was a war chief's bride . . .and I married him willingly and loved him," she declared, half-defiantly. "But we were only married two hours before he died," she said sadly. "He was killed while trying to stand up to some soldiers who were sent by the government to "rescue" any captives and those with white blood and return them to "where they belonged" . . . which was white society. I . . .I didn't even have a wedding night. Though none of these fine citizens of Storybrooke will believe that when they found out I married Storm willingly. Even my last name—Winters—I took to honor my late husband." She arched an eyebrow proudly.

"I see. And why not?" Rumple said. "Was he good to you, Belle?"

"Yes. He was my master at first . . .I was his captive . . .and tended his wigwam and helped Regina and when it was discovered I had an aptitude for memorization and herbs, he sent me to Willow Heart, the wise woman, to learn the healing arts, along with his daughter. Storm never—he never hurt me. He didn't beat me or . . .or dishonor me," she said honestly. "He wasn't like what Spencer and Tolle assumed, he wasn't a savage. The Mesquakie respect their women, Rum, they trace their lineage through their mothers, and women are the ones who own the property in the tribe, and help make the laws. Unlike in white society, the women have an equal voice in the tribe, and any woman can speak with or offer her opinion. They're not considered weak or—or fragile or brainless. And they don't need a man to do their thinking for them!"

His mouth twitched at her vehemence. "Rest assured, madam, I have never thought that."

"You are different than most men," Belle acknowledged. "You don't seem to . . .mind what I was. Most of the men in Storybrooke . . . call me a redskin whore . . .they think Storm and all his braves had me, when nothing could be further from the truth. The Mesquakie frown on adultery . . .and a woman can divorce a man if she cheats on him. Or vice versa."

Regina nodded in agreement. "My father had many women elders on his council, and he was never disappointed that I was born a girl instead of a son. But as a war chief's daughter I was expected to have certain duties and responsibilities and . . ." here she hesitated and looked questioningly at her mother. "Should I tell him, Mama?"

"Go on then, Regina. It's right that he knows the truth," Belle urged.

Regina took a deep breath. "I know that you white people don't believe in magic . . .or believe that all magic is evil but . . .I swear to you that my magic is not of that sort. I was born a chieftain's daughter—and a shaman." She cupped her hand and a small flame danced upon her palm. "I can summon fire, and speak in the tongue of birds and animals, and make protective amulets and call wind, rain, and thunder and make crops grow . . . if they are planted in the right season. I also know herbs and tinctures, Willow Heart, our tribal shaman and wise woman, was teaching me magic before she passed to the next world. But she died before my training could be completed and now . . ." her eyes fell to her hands clasped in her lap. " . . . I am but half a shaman and the townsfolk of Storybrooke label me a witch and drove me from there." Her dark eyes, filled with pain, jerked up to meet Mr. Gold's. "Willow Heart always said the Creator of All gives no one gifts he or she cannot use and we must strive to understand why we are given them and how best to use them for the good of all. My magic is a gift, and I'll not give it up, not even to become like a white woman!"

Rumple met her eyes with his own and in them flared a sudden kindred understanding.

"Do you believe me? Or would you like to leave the witch woman's house now?" Regina challenged.

"I believe you," Rumple asserted. "But—all magic comes with a price, dearie, is that not so?"

Regina shook her head yes. "Always. My teacher told me that for all actions there is a price, and sometimes the price could be more than you're willing to pay, so always make certain what you do with the magic."

Belle was shocked at his easy acceptance of his daughter. "You're not frightened or . . . or alarmed at what Regina has told you?" she queried. "Either of you?"

"Regina told me a day or so ago," Bae admitted.

"In our old land . . .across the sea," Rumple improvised, knowing he could never tell them the truth, for it would never be believed, not here where people believed this world was the only world. " . . .we accepted those who practiced magic . . .as long as it was used for good purposes. We had many wise women and seers and such. So magic is not strange to me or to Bae. We would certainly never presume to judge you for it." He assured her.

Regina looked relieved, and so did Belle. "Then you, Mr. Gold, are far wiser than any man of Storybrooke," the girl said happily. "They cast me out for a witch and a half-blood and called my mama a redskin's whore because she wouldn't say she hated my papa and considered her marriage to him valid and herself an honorable widow. And she refused to let them hurt me, and went with me into exile . . .only the mayor realized too late they needed her so he let us come into town on calls to doctor people."

Belle was frowning. "At first I hoped to gain people's trust when I ministered to them and everything, and some people I do call friends, but many of them see me as . . . nothing more than a loose woman and I assure you that is not true. But because of the unrelenting prejudice against the Indians and any who associate with them, my daughter and I are outcasts. Barely tolerated. Until now."

Regina's fists clenched. "When they wanna steal our land! And I want to know why? When Lumiere gave us this cabin and land, that fat banker and Mayor Spencer didn't give a hoot. But why the interest all of a sudden?"

"Maybe they need money? Spencer is running for re-election this year," mused the herbalist.

"No, Mama. He was adamant about getting us off this land." Regina was suspicious. "What's here that someone like that viper would want?"

Belle spread her hands. "Well, this spot overlooks the valley . . .there's good soil here and a nice tract of woods . .."

Rumple was thinking hard. "Is there something else here, dearie? Something like . . . a mine with precious gems . . .gold . . .?"

"Not that I've ever known. Lumiere lived here for years and trapped beaver and other animals for their pelts in the stream yonder and fished also. He never mentioned anything like that."

"But what if he never knew, Mama?" Regina questioned. "Rum's right. What if there is something like here?"

"Or they think there is," Bae remarked.

Rumple nodded. "As long as they think that, true or not, you're in danger of being evicted from here, Belle. Would you mind if I saw the deed you have to the cabin?"

Belle went and removed a small key from a secret compartment in her jewelry box, which she had tortoiseshell combs made for her by Storm as a wedding present and also a lovely turquoise and opal bracelet and a totem necklace with an owl on it—which was what Willow had said her spirit guide was. She also had a pair of matching earrings.

Then she went and unlocked her strong box where she kept all of her important papers, like the deed to the cabin.

She removed the deed from the box and shut it, bringing it back to Gold examine it.

He took it and began to read, noting that it specifically stated that the house was willed to one Mrs. Belle Winters in perpetuity to her and any heirs of her body and if she should find herself in a married state this would also include the land which would belong to her husband and in the event of his death go to her as her widow's portion along with the house.

"Do you have copies of this?" he asked shrewdly. His time as the Dark One had taught him the value of making triplicates of any legal binding document, with or without magic.

"One," Belle asserted.

"We need to draw up another one . . .and have it notorized," Rumple instructed. "And that one should be in your bank vault or with a lawyer of your choosing. Just in case."

"You're right. That's smart thinking, Mr. Gold."

"Rum," he corrected softly. Then he looked at her keenly. "Belle . . .you and I both know that Spencer and Tolle hold all the cards here. Or so they think. They think they have the winning hand. But what if we call their bluff?"

"How? They will stop at nothing to cast me out."

"If they can find legal grounds to do so," Rumple agreed. "But they made a big mistake. They left you one loophole. They left you free to marry." He swallowed hard. "I . . .meant what I said before, Belle. I would like to marry you . . .and not only to help you keep your land. But because I . . .think we would suit each other well." He blushed. "You're a beautiful woman, dearie, and I . . .I don't care that you were once a war chief's bride. What does that matter now? You're an educated woman, compassionate and kind, which was more than I could say for my former wife. I like how you're not afraid to speak your mind and you stand by your convictions, even when they might spell trouble for you. You saved my life that Christmas Eve night, dearie. I owe you for it and for Bae too. Now, I think it's time I returned the favor and saved yours."

Belle was momentarily speechless. "Rum . . .you . . .don't have to . . ." she finally found her voice.

"But I do. Regina is right, I think there must be a reason why those two underhanded men want you off this land . . .and why should you give them the satisfaction of throwing you off and getting whatever it is they want? After how they treated you, they deserve nothing so much as a good kick in the pants and to be sent crying all the way to the bank. Since I came here, I've been studying on the law in these parts . . .and I realized that while they have the law on their side at the moment, we can also use the law to help us . . .if you consent to marry me. I promise to never harm you in any way . . .I will always treat you with respect and kindness, and not subject you to . . .anything you don't wish to be subjected to," he coughed delicately, not wanting to say what he meant aloud and risk embarrassing her in front of the children. "I'm . . . a difficult man to love, so I won't expect that from you either. This can be a mutually beneficial arrangement, Belle. For me as well as you, since as your husband Bae and I can continue living here without fear of censor or harming your reputation. I have no problem with adopting Regina as my own either, half-blood or not. We'll be a family together . . .and save your land from those greedy vultures."

Make a deal with her, Rumple, it's what you're good at, his inner voice mocked him. A fair trade for services rendered . . .for it can be nothing else between you. The one deal you made for love, with Milah, turned sour as soon as the ink was dry on your wedding contract, only you were too blind to see it. Milah had thought being married to him, a poor village spinner, would be an adventure the likes of which she'd never be permitted to have as a staid merchant or miller's wife, which had been the suitors her father had picked for her. So she had eloped with him, not telling him until after their vows that she had wed without letting her father know—and as a result of her defiance he'd withheld her dowry, and she'd started her "adventure" as penniless as any beggar . . .and soon had resented him for the dreary life she led as his wife . . .and then he'd become a coward and she couldn't abide it or him.

And he, poor fool, had thought she loved him . . .for he had loved her, with the first blush of puppy love.

But now he knew better. He had learned the hard way. Love was not for him . . .not then and not now.

Yet when he looked at Belle, he could not keep his foolish wayward heart still as it leaped about in his chest.

Belle was shocked a little at Rumple's proposal, and for a moment did not know how to respond. A business arrangement, was that all she was to him? Then she blushed and wondered that she even dared to think she could be more than that to a man she hardly knew . . .a man who was willing to give to her his name in order to protect her from the buzzards who circled overhead. "I . . .I need to think about this," she murmured, even as her heart screamed that no thinking should be necessary.

Tolle and Spencer wanted this land and they would stop at nothing to get it if they could. On her own, she was unable to stop them. They would eventually raise the rent too high for her to afford and then she and Regina would be tossed off of it, to live or die in the wilderness or cast themselves upon the so-called mercy of the citizens of Storybrooke.

She rose and went into the kitchen to get a cup of tea and some shepherd's pie. Her hands trembled so much she nearly dropped her cup and chipped it. Her choice should be a simple one . . .and yet she was balking.

She bit her lip as she stirred in some sugar, looking up when Regina came into the kitchen and whispered, "Mama, you have to say yes! It's the answer to our prayers. You know that, don't you?" The girl looked at her mother expectantly.

"Well . . .I . . .don't know . . ."

Regina cocked her head. "Is it because you don't love him, Mama?"

Belle swallowed. Love? She barely knew the man . . .even if the way he looked sometimes made her hands clammy and her heart race. "Regina, I know marriages aren't often made for love . . .it was quite common in Boston to arrange a marriage, had I stayed in Boston my papa most likely would have done so . . ."

"But you loved my father, didn't you?"

"Yes . . .even if it didn't start out that way," she admitted. For she had been terrified of her savage captor in the beginning, and certain she would be scalped and hung on a pole if she displeased him. She hadn't known then of the honorable and gentle heart that beat within the fierce war chief's breast, and that the man known as Winter Storm only stormed in defense of his people, of which she had been one, as well as the love he had been searching for since Cora had died of a sudden fever when Regina was a little girl of seven. "I grew to love your father very much, Regina. You know that, I've said so often . . .and it was why I refused all the suitors in Storybrooke when we moved there in the beginning, because none of them felt right." Because having known love once, how could I then accept second best?

Yet here she was, considering a proposal of marriage to save herself and her child, save the land their house was built on . . .and all she needed to do was say "I do."

"But Mama, you're not afraid of Mr. Gold, are you?" her daughter persisted.

Belle shook her head. Afraid of the mild-mannered tailor and spinner? The very thought was ludicrous! Yet she had seen for herself he wasn't always so mild—not when he had come to her rescue and beaten up that scalawag Jones. Still, any animal, even the most gentle could be pushed beyond endurance and lash out, but he had been defending her . . .and had seemed almost as surprised as she had been when he had felled the cretin with his stick. Even more when she had called him a hero. As if that were the first time anyone had ever praised him like that. Perhaps it had.

"No, of course not. Mr. Gold is a gentleman," she reassured her daughter. "I'm not afraid of him . . .just hoping for something more . . .I swore if I married again it would be a man of my choosing . . .for love like your papa. And now . . ."

"Mama, maybe you'll grow to love Mr. Gold," Regina urged. "Remember how you told me that was what happened with Father? That love came softly, and crept up like cat's feet on you, and only when you stopped looking with your eyes and started looking with your heart that you saw something there that wasn't there before."

Belle smiled. That was true. Once she had let go of her fear that Storm was a Mesquakie and would harm her, did she see the man behind the savage façade, and having seen the man she couldn't help but fall in love with him. Her thoughts turned then to Mr. Gold, the mysterious stranger who had ended up on her doorstep—had God brought him to her, knowing she would need him? She recalled Willow Heart telling her once that the Creator saw all and sometimes arranged things according to His own design.

She thought of the wisdom of her own people's teachings—the Lord works in mysterious ways.

She sipped her tea thinking about the tailor with his lean muscled frame, and even though he walked with a limp, he could make wonderful things with his clever hands, like her scarf, and his slender fingers were deft and skilled. She thought of how his hair sometimes fell charmingly into his eyes, and he'd peer at her from beneath it like a mischievous imp. He was not conventionally handsome, anymore than Storm had been, but his slender features made her heart thunder in her chest and his slow smile was like the sun coming out after a storm, and it warmed her all the way down to her toes.

She felt an unfamiliar heat rise as she thought of where that smile might lead her . . .and she had never desired a man since holding Storm's lifeless body in her arms. Until now . . .when the unassuming spinner made her feel a desire she had never known, and caused her to long for things she never had in years.

A man's hands to hold her close . . .her heart to beat in time with his . . .to feel his fingers through her hair . . .his lips on hers . . .

But then her ardor died when she thought about doing such things with a man who did not love her . . .and she thought rebelliously—am I always to marry for convenience and never ever to know true love?

Regina hovered, looking at her curiously. "What will you tell Mr. Gold?"

"That . . .I need a little time," she responded.

When Belle left the main room and entered the kitchen, Rumple looked uncomfortably at his hands, those slender hands that Milah had called useless for doing anything that mattered when he had returned home after being dismissed from the army and losing forever his chance to prove himself something more than his father. He wondered if Belle would even consider his proposal . . .and steeled himself for her rejection.

Bae whispered, "Papa, you asked her to marry you! Do you think she'll accept?"

"I don't know," he mumbled, his face heating. "Would that bother you if she did?" he queried, realizing his sudden decision had been made before he had spoken with his son.

"No. She's a sight better than the tramp you married the first time," his son replied bitterly.

"Bae!" Rumple rebuked softly.

"What? That's how I've thought of her since you admitted what she did a year ago," Bae said coldly. "She left us because she wanted a life of adventure and to get with some hot piece of ass . . .and she never looked back. So why shouldn't I call her what she is?"

Rumple sighed. "It's only fair . . .and it doesn't matter now, does it? We're well away from her." He glanced at the kitchen. "Belle is a decent woman . . . and I wish that more people could see that . . .and that I could offer her something more than my name . . ." But you're too much of a coward to risk your heart again.

Bae nodded recognizing that his papa was uneasy and afraid of rejection. He cursed his mother roundly in his head while waiting to see what Belle would say. Surely she could see that this was the only solution to her problem? And to his papa's dilemma of moving into Storybrooke, since he wouldn't be able to remain forever in the house of a single woman much longer? Bae realized that he hoped Belle would say yes. Freed of his curse, his papa was a good man, and Bae liked living here and didn't want to move into town. He enjoyed being with Regina and tramping about in the woods, learning from the quick witted girl about nature and showing her he wasn't all thumbs when it came to shooting a bow or tracking a rabbit.

Then too, Regina, like Morraine back in his old land, liked his papa and didn't sneer at him for being a coward or a crippled country spinner. Then again, she didn't know about it, but Bae suspected even if she had known, she wouldn't have scorned him.

When Belle returned, Rumple made himself look up from his contemplation, his heart stampeding in his chest like a stag running through the forest ahead of the hounds. He waited uneasily for her to speak.

Belle moistened her lips before replying, "Rum . . .I appreciate your kind offer . . .but I need a little time to . . ." she began kindly.

"Of course," he said woodenly, wondering how he had ever thought she would accept him-crippled spinner with no real money—even if it was to save her farm. You should have died so I wouldn't be shackled to the town coward! Milah's voice taunted. He had thought by coming here to this new world he could make a fresh start, without his reputations as either the coward or the evil beastly sorcerer. He had been wrong. Apparently Belle saw something repulsive in him.

Rejection burning a hole in his heart, he turned away, his shoulders hunched slightly as if bracing for a blow, his hair sliding forward to cover his eyes.

Belle saw him turn pale, like a man who had taken a mortal blow. It was then she recalled the way her words must seem—ungrateful, cold, and unkind. She had caught a glimpse of his eyes before he had turned away—filled with pain and resignation. As if he had expected nothing less. She recalled then that his wife had left him . . .and suspected that had made him feel unworthy. Which she had just reinforced.

Suddenly another of Willow Heart's sayings popped into her head. When your heart stops being afraid, you shall know love's promise, and like the owl in the night, your heart shall spread its wings and fly. But first you must open yourself up . . .and allow your heart to see the truth. Then and only then will you love truly.

She was letting her fear get in the way again . . .letting it dictate her actions . . . and hurting both of them in the process. She had known long ago that love was layered, and it didn't come in a blinding flash for her like some others. It came cautiously, like a shy wild thing, and only when she felt safe did it eat from her hand.

So she didn't love Mr. Gold now. Love was a mystery to be uncovered, and like the pages of an unknown story, must be read to be enjoyed.

She would have liked time to get to know him better, time for him to court her properly, but time was not her friend. She only had to the end of the week before Spencer brought his power to bear upon her and claimed this land as his. Seven days . . .and this was the only way she could thwart him.

Do the brave thing and bravery will follow, she repeated the saying that had kept her enduring the harsh march to Storm's camp as his captive and the not so welcoming manner of some of his people in his village.

She had endured captivity and deprivation and hardship.

Surely she could endure marriage to Mr. Gold? A man who vowed to treat her with respect . . .the way Storm would have had he lived.

And with this marriage she would gain at last the very thing that had eluded her the day she had been dragged away from the Mesquakie. She would become again an honorable member of society—the tailor's wife. At the same time she would also spit in the eye of that doublecrossing snake Spencer and his lackey Tolle.

She put a hand upon Rumple's sleeve, her touch like the fluttering of a butterfly's wing. "Mr. Gold—Rum . . ."

"Yes, dearie?" he queried, his tone slightly short.

"I will do it. I will marry you."

"Are you certain? It's forever, dearie. I'm not the divorcing kind."

She nodded firmly. "Nor am I. Mesquakie only allow divorce for three reasons—if a husband abuses his wife, or a wife her husband, or they are unfaithful to each other and dishonor their vows. My faith—I am Catholic—also forbids it. The union of a man and a woman is sacred and holy, and what God had joined together, no man may sunder." She recited the teachings of her childhood and was comforted by them. "Till death do is part."

She clasped his hand in his, and felt a sudden shock run through her—as if she had touched lightning. It was followed by a wave of warmth, as if she stood in the middle of a midsummer bonfire.

She quivered slightly, thinking if this were passion, than she hoped it meant she would be content in this marriage. She felt her heart take flight then, upon a snowy owl's invisible wings. Follow your heart. It always knows.

Rumple felt it too, and wondered if this were an omen. He looked deeply into her azure eyes, like pieces of the sky set in her heart-shaped face, and thought he saw desire in their depths. He nearly snorted in disbelief at his own whimsy. As if she could desire him—crippled ugly old man that he was. He was lucky she had accepted his proposal and he had no right to expect anything more. It was a marriage of convenience, and love never entered into it.

Then he smiled tentatively at his betrothed and said, "I have get started on making you and Regina dresses and myself and Bae a suit of clothes also."

"Oh, Rum! Surely that would take too long," Belle protested.

"Not at all, dearie. Not with Jeff's sewing machine and spinning jenny," Rumple informed her.

He shook her hand. "The deal is struck."

"And nobody breaks deals with you, Papa!" Bae laughed, then he went to hug his new mother.

Page~*~*~*~*~Break

Rumple was as good as his word, making two dresses when he had time at the shop after he had finished the day's commissions, which luckily were not heavy that week, and Jack generously let him use a bolt of rum pink taffeta and lighter champagne pink silk that had arrived damaged by water when the paddle boat the goods had been on sprung a leak in the hold. Jack said he'd have to sell the bolt at a discount and was relieved when Rumple said he could make use of it and make a dress for his benefactor from it.

Rumple didn't want word getting out about the marriage, because he feared Spencer would try and stop it. Belle had contacted Father Tuck, a traveling priest, to marry them at the week's end. She busied herself trading a few more of her remedies to buy special white flour, cinnamon, eggs, and precious brown sugar, nutmeg, and raisins. She would make a special carrot cake with cream cheese frosting—it was the cake she had always wanted to have at her wedding because that was what her parents had had.

Regina had said she would cook a special feast—in the Mesquakie style, and busied herself thawing out a shoulder of venison and gathering dried cranberries, wild onions, truffles, and chestnuts along with cornmeal from the root cellar and making wedding stuffing. She also caught wild trout and made sure they were filleted and ready for her to fry with special spices and more wild onions and carrots.

She would also make succotash, a uniquely Indian dish of corn and pole beans seasoned with salt, pepper, wild garlic, and butter.

For a sweet she would make maple candy, and they would drink some hard cider to celebrate the meal.

Rumple finished Belle's rum pink gown and Regina's deeper bronze with the water champagne silk overlay as well as his and Bae's own new set of clothes in good charcoal gray broadcloth, patterning them after suits he found in fashion books from Scotland and England. He used some more of the rum pink to fashion a waistcoat for himself with mother-of-pearl buttons, and a fine lawn shirt of cream also.

On Friday, the day before the event, he visited Marco's barbershop and got Bae's hair trimmed and his own also, along with a shave.

"Spiffing up for a fine lady, eh, Mr. Gold?" teased the barber genially.

Rumple winked. "You never know, dearie. In my trade, you don't go about looking like a mucky Monday wash, aye?"

He found that his country accent mimicked that of those people who hailed from Scotland across the sea, and thought it best if people assumed he originally hailed from there, even going so far as to study maps and pick a place of origin in the wild Highlands called Glen Morach beside Loch Shiel. There were many new immigrants to the United States and more it seemed poured into New York, Boston, and Philadelphia every week.

"No, not if you want to get custom as a tailor," chuckled Marco, patting Gold's chin with a warmed towel. "There! Now you look bellissimo, signore! And sure to catch the eye of any single lady!"

Rumple blushed. There was only one single lady's eye he hoped to catch, and he just chuckled lightly at the Italian barber and former woodworker before paying him.

The day of the wedding dawned clear and sunny. Belle nearly wept for sheer joy at the gorgeous rum pink gown that was presented to her in a box along with matching shoes. It fit perfectly and she spun around and cried to her daughter, "Oh! Regina! I feel like a princess in a fairy tale!"

"So do I!" her daughter cried and spun about, grabbing Belle's hands and giggling. "Mr. Gold's like a fairy godfather!"

Belle laughed. "He's more than that, little raven. He's my husband!"

And for the first time she didn't think of her marriage as an obligation or a duty, but something she looked forward to.

Rumple paced nervously in the great room waiting for Belle and Regina to emerge from the bedroom. He and Bae were dressed in their suits and awaiting the priest as well as the bride and her witness. Rumple kept running his hand through his hair agitatedly until Bae hissed, "Papa, relax! You're getting married, not going to the gallows!"

"You hush your mouth, Baelfire!" Rumple shot back. "Last time I did this was over fifteen years ago and I wasn't an old cripple with a hellish past to live down."

"Papa, let the past remain in the past. Remember you always tell me, done is done, now move on and try and do better? Follow your own advice."

Rumple glared at him. "Don't get sassy with me, boy. You're not too old to get your backside tanned."

"You're gonna beat me for telling the truth?"

"No, for being a pain in the ass know-it-all imp!"

"You shouldn't be nervous. It's not like Belle's like Mama and gonna leave you at the altar," Bae soothed, knowing full well Rumple would never do what he'd threatened. Not today anyway.

"She could change her mind. Women do," he muttered, wiping his palms on a handkerchief. "The fire's too high, it's stifling in here."

"No, it's nice. Freezing outside," Bae disagreed.

Rumple ground his back teeth together and wondered what in blazes was taking the priest so long and why was Belle taking even longer. "Dearie, does the dress not fit?" he called worriedly.

Maybe he'd gotten the measurements wrong?

But the door to the bedroom opened and a vision in rum pink paraded towards him.

Rumple forgot he was capable of speech and just gazed.

Bae's mouth dropped open as he saw how the color of the gown made the roses come up in Belle's cheeks and caused her lovely hair to glow like burnished dark mahogany. The gown swept almost to the floor, but was shortened just enough so you could admire her tiny feet in their matching slippers. The gown had a neat ruched bodice, an overskirt of the same water silk as her daughter's, and a shawl to cover her shoulders, as the sleeves were worn off the shoulder.

Belle looked like a rose in bloom.

The only jewelry she had on was her mother's rose locket.

When she saw her groom she thought her heart was going to spring right out of her chest. The cut of the suit emphasized his trim waist and backside, and fit him to a T. The streaks of gray in his hair made him look distinguished. And laugh lines crinkled the corners of his eyes and mouth when he stared at her.

Bae whistled at Regina, who grinned and said, "Your papa made us into the belles of the ball, Bae. Like Cinderella."

Bae offered her his arm and she took it. "You look like a lord's daughter."

Regina laughed. "Well, I am a chieftain's daughter. And you look like a rich Boston Brahmin."

Bae blushed. "Thanks."

There was a knock at the door and he opened it to admit Father Tuck.

The priest was cold and accepted a cup of tea laced with whiskey before performing the simple ceremony, marrying the two without further ado.

" . . .what God has joined, let no man tear asunder," Tuck finished. "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride, Mr. Gold!"

Rumple took his bride in his arms and kissed her.

It was supposed to be a simple kiss, but the moment his lips touched hers, he found the latent fire she engendered within him suddenly ignited and surged through him. He kissed her as if she were the last woman on earth, the other half of his heart, and the last secret he would ever need to know.

Belle was nearly swept away by the passion that kiss made her feel, it was like drinking straight brandy or Madiera wine, heady, potent, and altogether unforgettable. And even as she felt the breath desert her body for a second she was thinking—who knew that shy quiet unassuming Mr. Gold could kiss a girl's socks off?

After that, she couldn't think, only feel—and what she felt was something wonderful, something she had dreamed about since she was a child—having a man kiss her till her toes curled, hold her and never let go, and take her to a place only they belonged.

It was pure magic, and neither of them would ever be the same.