CHAPTER SEVEN

"It has come to my attention that you are conspiring to turn my Belle against me," came the high-pitched voice of the Dark One. Sarah spun around, clutching the cast iron frying pan she'd been busy drying to her ample bosom, her hazel eyes widening to the size of wagon wheels. "Who in the name of Hecate are you and what are you doing in my house?" she shrieked, recovering enough to brandish the frying pan before her as if it were a knight's prized broadsword.

He shrugged and took a seat at the roughly hewn kitchen table. "We'll get to that. Isn't it customary to offer tea to a guest?" he hinted with a childish giggle. When she remained frozen near the washtub, he shrugged and snapped his fingers, a delicate china tea service appearing on the table before him. He watched her, amusement dancing in the depths of his warm amber eyes as he set about preparing himself a cup of the brew.

Sarah mentally cursed … every curse word she knew … in three languages. Belle, being her best friend, definitely benefited from her vocabulary. What was she to do with the Dark One in her kitchen? What could he possibly want? "Leave my home," she said with false bravado, her eyes narrowing. "You weren't invited here."

"I'm not a vampire, girl. I don't need an invitation."

She snorted.

He arched a brow and sighed wearily, sipping at his tea before he replied, "I mean you no harm, Sarah. There is no reason to fear me."

"So sayeth the man who turned the butcher into a pig over in Stratham for slicing your bacon too thick … or so I've heard," she said, slamming the pan down on the counter and planting her hands firmly on her hips. "Or were the tales exaggerated?" she asked, daring him to deny it.

Another giggle echoed through the small space. "I was merely having an off day." He poured tea into a second cup and set it on the table, scooting a chair out with the toe of his boot in a silent command for her to sit and join him.

Sarah flopped down in the chair, her stomach churning with dread, but she refused to let him see her anxiety as she stirred a sugar cube and a dollop of cream into her tea. "What, no scones?" she asked saucily.

"You're a brave little wench, aren't you?" he asked, flourishing his hand. A plate of warm blueberry scones appeared on the table between them … a peace offering of sorts. "Go on, dearie, they aren't poisoned," he retorted, giggling again when her hand hesitated as she'd been about to take one from the plate. He took one and bit into it, chewing slowly as she debated whether or not they still might be poisoned, and he was just immune.

Unable to resist the smell of the delectable treat, Sarah took one and took a small bite. She had to choke back the moan of delight which threatened to bubble forth from her lips as the flavor of the warm buttery pastry burst over her palate. When he still hadn't harmed her by the time she finished her third scone, she asked, "Well, are you going to tell me what you want? I hardly think the Dark One would come all the way to Avonlea to have tea with a peasant."

He scowled at her darkly. "I've come to warn you, dear Sarah."

"About what? Belle?" she queried, remembering his earlier statement. "I assure you I haven't been conspiring to turn her against you. She doesn't need any help from me."

He sprang to his feet, his cloak swishing about his legs. "Then I beg your pardon. There must be another Sarah in this quaint little village who tried to convince my darling betrothed to hop ship and try to flee the kingdom," he twittered.

Sarah felt as though a trap had just closed with no escape for her. "She told you that?" she asked lowly, swallowing around the lump of fear which formed in her throat and threatened to choke her.

"Indeed," he hissed, leaning closer, his face inches from hers.

She inhaled sharply through her nose and lurched to her feet, meeting his stare and returning it with one of her own. She'd be damned if she'd let him threaten her in her own home. She didn't care who he was. "You can turn me into a nice squishy bug, you twisted little imp, and I will still try to protect Belle from your evil influence. She deserves better than you after what that old cantankerous jackass has put her through in her short life," she spat angrily, making her feelings for the king quite clear.

Rumpelstiltskin was taken aback at her vehement declaration, torn between the desire to laugh at her courageous display or ask the numerous questions crowding his mind. He resumed his seat and steepled his fingers below his chin, opting for the questions. "Explain."

The breath whooshed out of her in a great sigh of relief that he hadn't taken offense at her diatribe and turned her into something unpleasant. She sat down on the edge of the chair and frowned. "Explain what?"

"What has Maurice done to my girl?" He was supposed to have raised her, nurtured her and cherished the darling girl. If he found out the old king had mistreated her …

"He's kept her a virtual prisoner in her own home. Guards, maids, governesses, tutors, dance instructors! I don't think she's been alone a moment of her entire life … someone is always with her. I have to cause elaborate distractions, so she can slip away for a few moments of solace. She didn't find out until just days ago it was because of you," she fumed, pointing a dainty finger in his direction. "It's all your fault! If his majesty hadn't been terrified you would come to steal her away, Belle might have been able to grow up without feeling so stifled."

"She wrote he had lifted the precautions somewhat. She's … ah … happier now?" he asked, a hopeful tone entering his voice.

"A bit, perhaps," Sarah reluctantly agreed, her shoulders relaxing a bit. Why was he so concerned with Belle's happiness? She was merely another prize to be collected from a lucrative deal, wasn't she?

He rose slowly to his feet, pacing the cramped space of her kitchen, his fingers rubbing restlessly against his thumbs. "Is there anything she desires? Gowns, jewels, chocolates? Anything?" he asked, not having the faintest idea what his lovely girl would dream of having. He couldn't give her what she desired most … for him to meet with her … but he could send a small token of his affection along with the letter.

Sarah snorted. "You really don't know the first thing about her, do you, imp? I thought the king was required to send updates of her life each year. Surely you must have some inkling as to her true nature."

"That fool!" he scoffed. "He would relate what he thought was pertinent information … how much she'd grown, how she was progressing in her lessons, how many languages she was proficient in and her love of learning … never anything personal."

"Why her? Couldn't you have asked for another for your bride? Why did it have to be Belle?" she asked curiously, studying the nervous energy which seemed to surround him as though he were uncomfortable in his own skin. She would have been surprised to learn he wasn't comfortable when he was simply conversing with someone who hadn't called upon him to make a deal.

"Perhaps I'll tell you someday, dearie. Now tell me what gift my Belle would like," he insisted.

Sarah quirked a brow and propped her chin in her hand, her elbow resting on the table. "No."

"What?!"

"No," she repeated more firmly.

"I heard that! Why won't you tell me?" he asked, glaring at her incredulously. He wasn't used to having impertinent little girls telling him no without a hint of fear.

"You didn't answer my question, why should I answer yours, hmm?" she sassed.

"Because, dearie, I have magic and can give you a nice twitchy tail and a lovely wart on the end of your pretty nose if you don't answer my questions," he warned as he glowered down into her bright hazel eyes.

"No, you won't. It would cause Belle distress and we wouldn't want that, now would we?" she asked, unable to hold back her own giggle. He lifted his hand to prove her wrong, magic crackling at the tips of his fingers and her laughter died. "Alright, fine. Belle couldn't care less about material possessions such as gowns and wealth and decadent treats. If you know anything at all about her, you should know she treasures her books above all else."

A smug smile pulled at the corners of the sorcerer's mouth. "Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" He knew of her love for books, but for once he'd wanted to give her something a bit more personal. Sighing, he pulled the letter he'd written from the pocket of his cloak and flourished his hand dramatically, summoning a small tome from his own library for his Belle. "Could I trouble you to deliver these to your mistress?"

"You should deliver them yourself," she said, crossing her arms obstinately over her chest. "If you really want to give her a gift you should go to see her. She's done nothing but speak of you for days."

"She has?" he asked, his lips twitching.

"Belle is intrigued. You're a mystery to her and she's never been happy with an unsolved mystery, Rumpelstiltskin." Sarah cast him a gamine like grin, her pearly teeth gleaming in the glow of the lantern. "There's nothing in the contract saying you can't let her see you, y'know."

"I doubt she'd appreciate seeing me, dearie," he said, his gaze shifting about the room, anywhere he wasn't forced to meet her knowing stare.

"Belle might surprise you."

"Perhaps, but not today." And with that he was gone, the book and his letter left on her table for her to deliver to her mistress the next day.

Her fingers itched to break the seal on that letter to see what he might have written, having gained a new insight into what made the imp tick. Belle would have wanted to pummel her with something hard if she knew what Sarah had in her possession. It was going to be hard enough telling her Belle's betrothed had come to visit her instead of Belle this evening. She sprang to her feet and rushed into the den to grab her cloak, the items the imp had left clasped to her breast. She nearly knocked Marcus over as he stepped through the door.

His strong arms reached out to steady her. "Sarah, love, where are you racing off to at this time of night?"

"I have to see Belle…right now. Out of my way, you big lummox!" she exclaimed, struggling in his embrace. Switching tactics, she raised up on her tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to her husband's lips. She really did love him, but her thoughts were swimming with what she had to do, and she didn't want to take the time to explain. He was dazed and breathless enough to loosen his grip and she slipped out the door and off into the night.

Marcus scratched his head, a puzzled frown marring his brow before he shrugged and headed to the kitchen to see what she'd made for dinner. "Sometimes I wonder why I married her."

*.*.*

Tristan, Marcus's squire, shook his head in resignation as Sarah held her finger to her lips and silently entered Belle's bed chamber. She knew he'd keep her secret and didn't have to worry about him sounding an alarm to have her booted from the castle. She tiptoed past Mrs. Potts' sleeping form on the little cot in an alcove set aside for her use. She had no worry about finding her way to the bed in the dark, knowing Belle's room as well as her own. She pulled the curtain aside on one side of the bed and climbed up on the mattress, shaking her friend to wakefulness with a gentle hand.

"Go way," the princess murmured, her voice muffled by the pillow her face was buried in. "Need sleep."

"Do you think I would be here well past midnight if it weren't important?" Sarah hissed anxiously.

"Sarah," Belle acknowledged with a wide yawn. "S'matter?"

"Wait, let me get a candle," Sarah whispered, moving to slip her legs over the side of the bed. Belle reached out and grabbed her hand to stop her.

"No need," she quietly assured her friend. She raised her hand toward the canopy over her bed and gave a sharp flick of her wrist, five tiny balls of light appearing over them to cast their glow over the occupants of the bed.

"You're scary sometimes. You know that, right?"

Belle snorted. "What are you doing here? You should be at home spending the evening with your husband."

Sarah twirled a long ebony lock of her hair which had escaped her braid around her finger, a sure sign she was hiding something. "Before I tell you, I need you to promise you won't be angry."

"Poseidon's beard! What have you done?" Belle asked, propping herself up on a mound of pillows and regarding her friend warily. She looked far too guilty for it to be something simple.

"I had a visitor."

"You woke me up to tell me you had a visitor?" Belle asked, breathing a sigh of relief. She was ready to throttle the girl for frightening her.

Sarah grimaced, trying to find the words to explain. "It was rather unexpected."

Belle waved a hand in a circular motion as if to tell her to get on with it. "Ok, so you had an unexpected visitor. How is this dire news and why would I be angry about it?"

"Because it should have been you he'd come to visit instead of me," she said, thrusting the items she held into Belle's lap as if they were going to burn a hole through her hands if she held them a moment longer.

Belle gasped as she looked down at the seal with which she'd become so familiar. Fury blazed through her as everything her friend had said fell into place. Sarah reached out and rubbed Belle's hands comfortingly between her own as the letter she held began to smoke. "It would be tragic for you to incinerate that letter before you had a chance to read it. Nice deep breaths, Belle."

Belle forced herself to rein in the magic racing through her blood like a fiery inferno. She knew better than to let her temper get the better of her. That's how accidents happened. But once she let go of the anger, hurt surged up to take its place and she lifted her tear-filled cerulean eyes to her friend. "Why? Why would he come all this way and not come to see me?"

"The contract," they said in unison.

Sarah watched Belle brush her thumb over the seal of the letter, lost in thought and hurting to boot. "Stupid imp."

Belle worried her lower lip thoughtfully before her lips twitched into a faint smile. "At least one good thing came of this."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"You can tell me what he looks like. You were so worried he was a beast. I'm sure if he were, that would've been the first thing to cross your lips when you barged into my room."

Sarah pulled at the ties of her cloak and laid the garment across the foot of the bed. She reclined on the pillows next to Belle and twined her fingers with hers. "He looks like a man, Belle, but … different."

"What do you mean, different?"

She decided to start with the imp's less alarming traits. "Well, he's not really tall. I'd say he's perhaps three or four inches taller than you and slender … wiry even. His clothes were very nice, richly made and well-tailored."

"What color is his hair?" Belle asked, resting her head against Sarah's shoulder.

"Brown … and curly. It's dying to see the bristly side of a hairbrush," she said, smiling when Belle giggled.

"And his eyes? Does he have nice eyes, Sarah?" she asked, her own eyes closing as she tried to form a mental picture of her husband to be.

"Um…"

"What?"

"Well, Belle, they're … ah … amber. Who has amber eyes, I ask you? And his skin has this greenish tint to it, but with these gold flecks beneath the surface. I wonder if he sparkles in the sunlight," she mused distractedly.

"He sounds lovely," Belle whispered, holding the letter to her breast.

"Are you daft?"

"What? He does!" she insisted stubbornly. "My husband will be unlike any other in the realm. It's fascinating! But it doesn't matter what he looks like, Sarah. The important thing is we get on well together."

Sarah pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head, thinking she would never understand some of Belle's wilder oddities. Belle finally turned her attention to the book in her lap, a delighted smile curving her rosebud mouth. The Mysterious Island, the only book in her Verne collection she'd been unable to attain. He'd sent her a book, something useful she would find pleasure in. He'd chosen well, her betrothed. Already her fingers itched to lift the cover and lose herself in the printed words, but first she needed to read something far more precious.

My darling Belle,

Her smile widened at the endearment. Not princess or dearest. No, now he regarded her as his darling. A soft sigh escaped her as she read. Sarah, still lying at her side, groaned.

I am relieved to hear your circumstances have improved. I would hate to have to speak to your father over such a matter. Your safety and well-being are a matter of great concern to me, but it pales in light of your happiness. Are you happy, dearest? Is there anything I might do to make you so?

"Bloody Hera! You're nigh swooning over there!" Sarah shrieked. Belle dropped the letter and shushed her, going so far as to smack her hand tightly over the girl's mouth.

She listened intently as Mrs. Potts grumbled in her sleep and rolled over, the springs of the cot creaking under her ample weight. "Are you mad?!" Belle hissed. "Do NOT wake her up!"

"But Belle —"

"Hush or I'm going to send you home," she threatened. An empty threat, Sarah knew, but a threat nonetheless. Sarah glared at her, but held her tongue and settled back against the pillows once again.

There WILL be a wedding, Belle, and it is my fondest wish you come to me willingly and in good faith. I would like you to be happy with our marriage instead of resigned, my Belle, and I will do all in my power to make it so. I am encouraged greatly that you wish to know me, and I will try to satisfy your curiosity.

As to your questions … yes, I was married once, but she died a long time ago. There will be no need for you to worry about Milah showing up on our doorstep to bedevil you.

Belle's stomach twisted viciously at the thought of Rumpelstiltskin having been married before. She found herself wishing she'd kept that question to herself. What if she was a pale comparison to his previous wife? Had he loved her? Would he constantly be thinking of his Milah when he was with her? She shook herself, willing her fears away. It was too soon to worry about that, she thought.

I do have a son, but that is a conversation for later. He has been lost to me for many years and I find it very painful to speak of it. I promise to tell you the tale, just not at present.

Sarah groaned again, and Belle swatted her. She had that soft, concerned and sympathetic look again and it didn't bode well … not at all.

Must I tell you of my deals? I am not proud of some of the things I've done in the past, my Belle, and I don't want to frighten you with the tales. If you insist, I will tell you after we are wed. It will be a long conversation and better met with speech than in a letter.

She shrugged. She could understand his reticence to reveal his nefarious dealings, but she wasn't about to let it go. It was a conversation for later, but it would happen.

I find it rather amusing you would think I had a harem, dearest. I am not the kind of man who would disrespect my wife by bringing another woman into our home to usurp her place, much less take to my bed. That is reserved for you, my darling. I will be faithful to you and only you.

Heat suffused her face and the breath hitched in her chest. It took every ounce of her resolve not to fan herself with the letter at his heated statement. Sarah rolled her eyes and then flopped over onto her side, giving Belle her back, unable to witness her friend's downfall.

The remainder of your questions are easier to answer. My favorite food? I am quite partial to a rich lamb stew. I have simple tastes as I was just a poor peasant before I took on the curse of the Dark One. I do have a bit of a sweet tooth, however. Do you bake, perchance? If not, and you desire to learn, I would enjoy teaching you, my darling. I only have one hobby which I enjoy and that is spinning. It was my profession long ago and the soothing creak of the wheel and the repetitive motion of the craft bring me peace when I find my thoughts troubled.

"Are you troubled very often, my Rumpel?" she whispered to herself.

I do indeed share your love of books, my Belle. I have a vast library here at the Dark Castle just awaiting your arrival. I began collecting them centuries ago when I decided to further my education. And reading is a good way to stave off loneliness. It is comforting to lose yourself in a tale of adventure or even one of love, wouldn't you say? Do you think after we are wed, some evenings we could sit in the library and read together?

Belle nodded her head vigorously, trying to make his words form a picture in her mind's eye. She could see herself sitting with him on a cozy settee, her hip pressed to his as she settled in the crook of his arm, a book open between them and her head resting on his shoulder. A dreamy smile played on her lips at the image. Could it really be like that between them if she gave him the chance to truly be a husband to her? And when did she find herself wanting that? She'd always dreamed of having someone to love, someone who would love and care for her in return. Why couldn't it be Rumpelstiltskin? Perhaps in time she could have her heart's desire, after all.

I do not have a favorite color, dearest … because I have yet to see the color of your eyes. I hope I have satisfied your curiosity … just a bit? I await your reply, my Belle.

Yours,

Rumpel

Belle reread the letter, his words affecting her just as strongly the second time as they had the first. She folded the parchment carefully and tucked it beneath her pillow for safekeeping, a happy smile on her lips as she snuggled under the coverlet and let Sarah's soft snores lull her to sleep, her dreams filled with her charming imp.

A/n: Thank you to everyone for your support on the reposting of this fic. You have no idea how much it means to me.

I hate to leave lengthy author's notes, so I hope you will forgive me this one time. When I had to re-name this fic, I put the question to my writer's group and let them offer up their suggestions. I liked the way this one rolled off the tongue, to be honest. Credit to Ladybugsmomma. Later, it was brought to my attention it was not the correct word usage. I only speak one language, English. I'm sorry if it offends because it's not perfect, but I cannot – in good conscience – nag the very busy lady who made the cover to correct it. I sincerely hope it doesn't prevent you from enjoying the story.

If this note seems a bit snippy, please forgive me. I'm trying to stop smoking and I'm not very pleasant to be around right now. Love and hugs to you all.