Windswept

Chapter 10

Not Deserving

Belle had not realized when she had admitted to meeting the Dark One, that it would gain her so much attention. She wasn't comfortable sharing the complete story – how the man had kissed her and urged her to come with him. The Dark One had certainly become the cause célèbre in her social group.

Belle heard rumor after rumor about the man. The general belief was that he was responsible for the proliferation of Fairy Dust, but otherwise, for someone who was supposed to be a vicious pirate, he was not particularly destructive – well, at least not until recently. For most of his nefarious career, he would take merchandise and the rumors were that the merchandise would show up among the most impoverished members of society, but he did not kill people or destroy the airships. He might damage them so that pursuit was not possible, but he allowed the ships and crew to survive to fly another day. But now, he was taking down ships and, this was most distressing, there had even been several deaths attributed to his actions.

He was becoming increasingly bold, increasingly daring, increasingly dangerous even threatening the Emperor's flagship. Several other imperial ships were targeted and despite their heavy armory, they were taken down – one by a daring night attack.

There was now increasing muttering among the aristocracy that it was as if this Dark One had inside information as to what ship carried what and which ship was going where and when. But no one could prove anything.

"I'm hearing more and more about this Dark One," she informed her husband.

He had shown up after being gone for more than two weeks. He sat at the head of the dining room table with Belle at his right hand. "The filthy, thieving pirate?" he asked blandly looking up from his meal.

"Exactly. It's not just the drug trade, although I think that is his most serious infraction. He is becoming more audacious and attacking more and more ships."

"What are you hearing?" he'd asked her neutrally, sipping some wine.

"That he's become more desperate and is destroying ships, perhaps even killing some crew, or, at least, is responsible for their deaths when the ships fall."

"That is . . . disturbing . . . and a change from how he'd been operating before." Her husband agreed with her.

"Gwen has shared that her husband has some pivotal role in this whole Special Task Force."

"Does he now?" Stiltskin said softly.

"He's piloting the Excaliber which is charged with taking down the Dark Wind. Gwen's not sure exactly what Arthur's doing; however, I think that is because she is more interested in keeping her own affairs clandestine."

"So . . . she has strayed?" He took another sip of the wine.

"If she hasn't, it's merely a matter of time," Belle told him. "I'm not sure, but I think it may be someone in Arthur's own inner circle. Someone he trusts."

"Yes, that is the way of these things." Her husband smiled at her. "You're doing very well," he praised her. Then he looked at her. "Something is troubling you?"

Belle dropped her eyes. "Forgive me, but everywhere I turn, well, there are still all these rumors that . . . you . . . you are . . . that you have criminal dealings."

He sat back in his chair and looked at her for a long moment before replying. "That may have been true . . . once upon a time," he admitted. "But not now."

"Of course not," she accepted his denial quickly.

"I have many enemies," he began. "I likely will always have many enemies. They will say anything to undermine my power, your faith in me - that I'm a criminal, that I prefer the company of boys, that I'm a cardplaying fop who'd rather drink wine than hunt and engage in swordplay."

"But you do nothing to counter that impression, that image of yourself," she protested.

"Why should I?" he asked her. "The image I have, well, it helps me in business. Other men do not see me as a threat. And, Lady Wife, being a cripple, I assure you, I do not want to incur the wrath of other men. I'm not able to engage with them on a level playing field. Better I leave it to the courts of law than the fields of valor."

A sudden thought struck her. "You are concerned that some of your enemies may strike at me to get at you."

"Precisely. Which is why I take pains not to appear to be interested in you, although, and you know this well, I'm most interested in you. I would not forgive myself if something happened to you."

Belle nodded. She had begun to make some gains in understanding her husband's far-flung economic empire. She had discovered that he had many ships in the air, many on the water and quite a few landlines where supplies and merchandise made their way across parishes. She had learned that he dealt with the aristocracy but also many common tradespeople. His range of interests was staggering, from medications to animal and plant fibers to machinery to . . . well, it was likely that he had a hand in virtually every type of business in which money changed hands across the entire empire. The amount of money, the number of deals, that went through his fingers was breath-taking.

Early Morning

Belle was eating with Tiana, the lovely cook, the next morning, learning about her background. She'd lost her mother as a young child and Belle immediately bonded with her over this. Tiana had then lost her father when she was thirteen and had had to fend for herself. She'd been able to find work in a fine restaurant, starting in the bakery where, eventually, she'd risen from floor sweeper to pastry chef, perfecting her beignets. When the restaurant had closed, Tiana had not been able to find another position and had ended up on the street, destitute and desperate.

Tiana had encountered Master Stiltskin when she was desperate and begging for food. He'd given her half of his sandwich and she had critiqued it – a man in his position should be able to find better food. She had told him that the bread was too dry and lacked salt, the ham was too salty, and the greens were not fresh. He had given her some money and suggested she buy the ingredients to make a better sandwich – no doubt, he expected her to run off with the cash and he'd never see her again. But, she had returned and commandeered the little kitchen he had in the back of his shop. She was able to prepare a fine simple supper and he'd hired her to work in his kitchen.

"I would probably be working at Gothel's Brothel . . . or dead . . . if I hadn't met your husband. I know he has this fearsome reputation, but he's been good to me."

On an impulse, Belle asked, "Do you know how my husband and Jefferson met?"

Tiana blushed. "Well, just what I've heard - that Master Jefferson was a brilliant professor at the university and was famous for his ideas, especially some of his inventions." She sighed, "Apparently, there was a terrible accident with one of his inventions . . . well, it exploded and killed his wife."

Belle was horrified. "Oh no. How awful."

"Yes, just terrible. No one blamed Master Jefferson . . . except he did. He just . . . deteriorated, and started using Dust and . . . just went mad." She hesitated. "He had lost custody of his little daughter when Master Stiltskin hunted him down and got him clean with the promise that Jefferson would work for him. Your husband helped him get his daughter back and he's taken care of her, buys her everything she needs, has her attending the finest school. Jefferson credits your husband with saving both himself and his daughter."

"I had no idea about any of this," Belle admitted.

"He thinks very highly of your husband," Tiana shared. "I suspect you know, Jefferson's been courting me some and . . . well, he's very charming and very convincing, but," she shook her head. "He's also impetuous and unpredictable and . . . well, I just don't know."

"I know my husband has great faith in him and, for me, well, he's always been someone I could count on," Belle told her.

She might have said more but there was a pounding on the front door.

Lumiere opened it and Belle could hear a woman ranting.

"I'll see if she's in," he said in his most authoritative voice.

He shut the door and leisurely walked down to the little drawing-room where Belle was sharing breakfast with Tiana.

"Madame," he began, speaking slowly. "So sorry to interrupt your breakfast," he sighed. "But there is someone who wants to see you. Are you in for Cora Mills?" he asked.

"Of course. Please, Tiana, excuse me," Belle pushed back from the table. Tiana hopped up and said she was finished anyway and stepped back to the kitchen. Lumiere returned to the door, opened it and then escorted Cora to the drawing room.

"What the hell happened to this room?" Cora demanded. "It's all pale and milk toast."

"Good morning, Cora," she greeted her guest. "I've been doing a little re-decorating. Putting my own stamp on the place, you understand." Belle guided her guest to the little velvet sofa. "Would you like some tea?"

"No. You know why I'm here," Cora began.

Belle shook her head.

"Regina. My daughter. She ran away. I've had the police out looking. I've hired private detectives. They haven't been able to find her."

"I'm so sorry. Perhaps something stronger than tea?"

"Rumple used to keep some fine whiskey. I'll have a glass of that," Cora told her, and Belle rose to prepare the drink. "I think you know where she is."

"Me?" Belle handed her the whiskey.

"I have every reason to believe she ran off with your stable boy."

Belle sat down. "Daniel had given me his resignation some time ago – hoping to seek his fortune elsewhere. It was a loss, but young men . . . they welcome change. You think Regina went off with him?"

"Are you a dolt? That's what I said."

"Now, why would she do that?' Belle asked.

"He seduced her and kidnapped her."

Belle presented her shocked face. "Really? You think so?" She shook her head again. "I confess, I didn't really know her, but she seemed like such a smart girl. I can't imagine she would just throw everything over for a passing fancy. If she left with him . . . I'd have to think that perhaps she was . . ." Belle looked Cora in the eye, "running away from something."

Cora flinched. "Well . . . uh . . . there had been some discussion of . . . uh . . . consideration of marriage to Lord Midas."

"Midas! Isn't he old enough to be Regina's grandfather? Surely that wasn't a serious discussion?" Belle took a sip of her tea.

"He's an excellent catch. Regina's not old enough to understand these kinds of decisions and the benefits that marriage to an older man can bring."

Belle shrugged. "Well, what can I say? I'm married to an older man, but it was fully my choice. Perhaps . . . do you think . . . it might be that . . . Regina didn't feel that she had any choice in the matter? That you were forcing her into a marriage she didn't want?"

Cora blanched. "I don't think so."

"Hummmm," Belle replied. She stood. "If I hear from Daniel . . . he may be in communication with his uncle who now tends the stables, I'll make inquiries, of course. But . . . if Regina did run away with Daniel . . . I can't imagine that Midas would ever consider her for a bride."

"You were involved. I just know it," Cora spit out. "You encouraged her to leave with that Daniel."

"I'm sure you'd prefer to believe that it was someone else's, anyone else's, fault and responsibility that drove your daughter away. I believe we're done here."

"We're not done."

"But we are. If I hear anything about your daughter, I will certainly pass it on to you." Belle paused, "Of course, what does that say about your relationship with your daughter? Should a neighbor she's met a few times have a closer relationship with her than you, her own mother?" Belle rang for Lumiere who promptly appeared. "Princess Cora is ready to go," she told him.

"But of course," Lumiere stepped aside from the door. Cora downed the whiskey and, as much as she could, she gathered her dignity to huff out.

Visitation

It was the following Monday and Belle was at her usual visitation – the home of Lady Mary Margaret.

Forgotten was the topic of the Dark One - the topic of conversation for the day was far more important. It concerned young Gwen Kingsword. She had been unusually excited and distracted during the past week. She looked better than she had in many weeks. Belle was curious as to what had impacted the young woman's mood.

"Oh, I think it's likely she's consummated her affair," whispered the pretty, but not so bright, Lady Shoecastle.

"What?" several women around the little tea table asked.

"Oh yes," Lady Ashley continued. "My husband, you know he's a lieutenant in the Imperial Guard, told me that his captain, Lord Longlance, is head over heels and was willing to even jeopardize his position for Gwen's favors. Poor Arthur, he's completely unaware. Of course," she pouted, "this has meant that my Thomas is having to pick up on Longlance's absences and he's gone so much more, just when I'm really wanting him around the house." Ashley placed her hand on her bulging stomach.

"Oh, you poor dear," several of the women offered comfort.

"Thomas isn't happy about this, you know. He's working the hours of a captain but only getting paid as a lieutenant. He'd look around for another position except he keeps hoping that something will open up."

As Belle was leaving, Mary Margaret spoke confidentially to her. "The Shoecastle family is on the verge of bankruptcy. They have had to let go almost all of their household staff," she whispered. "They are positively desperate for money."

"I'm so sorry to hear that," Belle whispered back.

"Oh, don't be. The Shoecastles have been sell-outs for the longest time. Whoever was willing to pay them the most money, but recently they bankrolled a couple of sinking ships and now they haven't any capital to get back on top," Mary Margaret explained.

Belle had found her husband already at home when she returned late that afternoon from her visitation. She had greeted him with a shy kiss on his cheek. He didn't immediately release her but took it upon himself to kiss her brushing her mouth and whispering into her ear, "Your bedroom – your bed – tonight."

Soon enough, Belle was braiding her hair when she shared what she had learned that afternoon with her husband. He was sitting up in her bed, patiently waiting and watching his wife as she completed her nighttime routine. He'd had been listening intently.

"And Lady Ashley is pregnant?" he wanted confirmation.

"She keeps complaining that her clothes are too tight and she is exhausted – so, yes, even though there hasn't been an official announcement, we all think she's pregnant."

"And Thomas is dissatisfied with his position and looking for something that offers a more lucrative future," he said to himself.

"So, Mary Margaret told me." Belle looked up at her husband who seemed lost in thought. "You know," she said to him. "It occurs to me that you are awfully interested in my little bits and pieces of gossip."

"I am, my dear. I have learned more about the affairs of my neighbors, my friends, and even my enemies since I have a wife circulating in society. I had no idea how valuable you would prove. If I had known, I would have proposed when you were fifteen."

"Fifteen!" Belle gasped. "That's just barely legal, even out in the hinterlands. And we would have refused you that year. We'd had a good harvest," Belle told him. "You have some dark plans, don't you?"

"I do, my dear, although perhaps not so dark." He looked at her sitting in her silken chemise, her blue eyes luminous in the candlelight of the room. "But I'm not sure how much I will be able to accomplish."

"This isn't just to gain a title, is it?" she asked him.

He hesitated, "No, it isn't. A title is a secondary concern."

"Then what?" she asked. "Is it . . . the power? . . . the money?"

He smiled at her. "I want . . . opportunity – not just for myself but for everyone. I want positions and advancements to be based on merit not on some accident of birth. If I have power, the right kind of power, I can make some headway here." He put his long fingers together, tenting them as he considered his response. "There are a number of men in my way at the moment, men who do not have the best interests of the Empire in their hearts."

Belle sat up and looked back at her husband. "So, big social changes? This sounds like a dangerous game."

"If you're worried about yourself, I've already made careful arrangements so that should anything happen to me, you could return to your father's home. You, your father, your people, would all be provided for."

"I'm more worried about what could happen to you," she told him, alarm showing in her eyes. She had walked over to the bed and slipped in beside him.

"Really?" he seemed genuinely surprised. "I did not realize that there were actual feelings between us, Madame, other than a certain carnal attraction."

She swallowed, "I have . . . I have come to enjoy your company. You are wonderful to converse with. I've learned so much about . . . oh, so many things."

His eyes flicked down her form. "So, your time with me has not been all about duty?" he asked quietly.,

She felt herself growing hot. "I . . . I have enjoyed the pleasures of the marriage bed. You must know that." She had dropped her eyes and wasn't prepared when she felt his hand on her chin, lifting her face to his.

"I do, and I trust you know I have enjoyed those pleasures, too."

Belle could see that his eyes had darkened, and she shivered as he dropped his hand to her arm. He pulled her to him and gently kissed her.

Belle gave herself up to his kisses, his touches, knowing he would be able to entice her body toward the peaks of pleasure, intense, soul-searing pleasure. He had pushed her back onto the bed and pulled her hands away from her body so that she could not hold on to him. He'd directed her to wrap her legs around his hips. All the while, he would kiss her and tell her how perfect she was, how very desirable, hard driving into her, taking, then giving them both sweet, spiraling satisfaction.

He'd pulled her own response from her twice before allowing himself loose himself within her. He nearly collapsed onto to her, barely holding himself up.

"I don't want to crush you," he gasped out. He'd released her hands and she had now wrapped her arms around him.

"Don't leave me," she begged him. "I feel safe with you."

He dropped his head to her shoulder. "I don't deserve you," he muttered. He kissed her and rolled off, taking her with him, so that now she was lying on her side.

"I truly don't deserve you. You are so generous in so many ways." He touched her face. "I feel . . . I feel safe with you," he confessed.

She knew he was telling her that he trusted her not to betray him like so many other women had, like so many other women betrayed their husbands.

He spoke quietly. "I wish . . . I wish I could share with you - so many dark secrets, so many things." He looked as sad as she had ever seen anyone. "You don't deserve me. You should be with someone who is like yourself, able to stand in the full light of the sun."

"I'm satisfied with you," she hushed him.

He closed his eyes. He started to speak but stopped, instead simply kissing her gently on the lips.

This time her husband had been gone for nearly a week. Along with the daily missives to Jefferson that dealt with business, Stiltskin was now including personal notes to her.

She learned quickly to take these notes to the bedroom for reading – they were not safe for her to read in any company as they would leave her blushing or even squirming. He would regale his wife with his thoughts and dreams about her body, what he had remembered from their last encounter and what he was thinking of doing to her when next they were together – where he would touch her, where he would kiss her, where he would . . . Belle had to fold the note and take a deep breath before continuing it.

He had begun to teach her, eager learner that she was, things that she could do for him, to him. He had, at times, had her on her back, on his back, on their sides, even kneeling on the bed. He'd joined her in the bathing chamber and they'd had to mop up the floors afterward. She'd learned that his eyes would soften before he would initiate an encounter. She'd learned that he was always surprised when she would suggest a liaison; the man always seemed surprised to find that she desired him. She'd had an early realization that giving him attention would give her power over him, over this very powerful, self-contained man. He would often beg her to continue, letting her know that she was doing well, very well.

She liked that. She found she especially enjoyed sitting astride him, controlling the pacing, taking her own pleasure from him. She felt like she was riding a tiger . . . or a dragon. She could feel his powerful muscles underneath her and again sensed that she was in a position of some control – she could guide her own movements, fast and hard or slow and leisurely. He would groan, close his eyes, and beg her to continue. There was some satisfaction in having this enigmatic man at her mercy. Once when she had teased him beyond his control, he had sworn at her and suddenly had sat up and rolled her over so that he could finish, driving into her, her body exploding from the intensity of the coupling.

He would tell her in his notes how much he enjoyed her trembling and responsiveness, how he particularly relished the feeling of her tight walls milking his seed.

She was happy in her marriage, she realized, despite her nagging doubts. Her husband was a complex man. He could be difficult, even distant and was often outright foppish in his appearance and actions. She frequently heard how vicious he was in his business practices, that he was merciless and demanding of those who made deals with him. But she had not seen this side of him and had begun to wonder if these comments came from those who had made ill-considered arrangements and now regretted being called to task.

An Afternoon Affair

It was mid-afternoon and her husband had joined her, no doubt neglecting his business, taking her dancing at a small affair hosted by Lord and Lady Shoecastle. Things seemed to be looking up for the heretofore nearly destitute couple. Ashley was now clearly showing her pregnancy and seemed quite happy.

Belle had glanced around the estate. It was a bit shabby as if the couple had shut off rooms that weren't absolutely necessary for everyday living and had let certain aspects of grounds-keeping go. There were some servants that had evidently been hired for the evening, but the food was excellent, the decorations tasteful and the orchestra wonderful.

"Things may be looking up for the Shoecastles," Mary Margaret had told Belle. They had been dancing with their spouses but now, as usual, both men had disappeared.

"Yes, I had the same thought," Belle replied.

"I heard that her husband got some kind of windfall," Mary Margaret whispered. "And with the fallout from the whole Kingsword-Longlance fiasco, well, Thomas may very well be in line for a rapid promotion."

Things had exploded between Arthur Kingsword and his friend Longlance once Gwen's affair had become public knowledge. Gwen had moved back with her own family, Longlance had left the country and Arthur had resigned his commission and retired to his country estate. The Lieutenant Shoecastle had been left in charge of the Guard unit and it was generally assumed that he would soon be promoted to the Captaincy.

"All the way from lieutenant to the High Captaincy, I've heard," shared Belle. "Most fortuitous for the Shoecastles."

"And unexpected," agreed Mary Margaret who paused and then added, "Well, perhaps not so unexpected."

"Why not?" Belle was puzzled.

"Well, Arthur was a staunch supporter of Archduke Killian, friends from their school days, you know. Nothing was done without Arthur clearing it with Killian and, of course, whatever Killian wanted done . . . or left alone for that matter, well, he could depend on Arthur to see it through." Mary Margaret took a deep breath. "With Arthur out of the way, Shoecastle will be ripe for the picking – and the highest bidder." She smiled at Belle. "Your husband couldn't have come out better with this changing of the guard if he had planned it and pushed it along."

NEXT: Rumple makes a startling admission.

Belle makes a shattering discovery.