Warning: There is smut in this chapter, so if you want to skip that part …
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Belle took a deep calming breath and hugged her arms about her torso as she castigated herself for her foolishness. She'd lulled herself into thinking nothing was stronger than her own magic. She snorted, watching the shimmering doorway her husband had disappeared behind, her dagger safely in his hands. She understood why he'd thought he had to teach her a lesson and considering the darkness he'd lived with for centuries, it could have been so much worse. He could easily have let it take hold of him, let the power of controlling her go directly to his head … but he hadn't.
There were untold horrors he could have forced her to commit against her will … yet, he hadn't. She shuddered at the thought of someone like Gaston, or Lord Byron or even her father having that much power at their fingertips, and it made her appreciate Rumpelstiltskin all the more. He'd shown her what could very easily happen without abusing the power and without causing her harm. The most she'd suffered was a bit of embarrassment in front of their close friends and the terror she'd suffered when the dagger's thrall had gripped her in those final moments and she'd thought she would have to kill her dearest friend.
The thought of having to harm her friend had been the worst and if she hadn't been so stubborn, he never would have pushed her that far. How had he known it would take such a drastic step to make her see he was right, that she'd rushed into a deal she didn't understand? Since she had come into her magic, nothing had been beyond her power … aside from potion making, she amended. Her skills were still abysmal in that area, and since she'd given the magicks free rein, she'd been even more powerful. How could she really believe a dagger could control her so completely?
Rumpelstiltskin sealed the door behind him, leaving nothing but a bare wall behind and looked at his wife sitting still as a statue on the dining table, twirling the length of golden chain about her fingers as she stared into the fire crackling in the hearth, seemingly lost to her thoughts. Oh Gods, I've broken her! He took a hesitant step towards her, an undignified whimper escaping his parted lips.
"Belle?" he called to her, his voice barely more than a whisper, his hands fidgeting nervously at his sides before he balled them into tight fists.
She turned her luminous cerulean eyes up to meet his gaze and her heart broke, seeing she wasn't the only one to have suffered from her lesson. He truly had regained his humanity over the last year and a half and was no longer completely swathed in darkness. She could see the fear and trepidation … the remorse written so clearly on his weathered features and her heart ached for him. She held her arms out to him and faster than she could follow him with her eyes, he had her enveloped in his embrace. He stepped between her parted knees and wrapped his arms tightly around her, his brow pressed against her shoulder.
"I'm so sorry, dear one, so sorry," he breathed against the shell of her ear.
She carded her fingers through his soft curls and dropped a soft kiss to his cheek. "No, you're not."
"Belle, no —"
"It was necessary, my Rumpel. I should have come to you with what I found in the journal. I should have trusted you. You have been the Dark One for centuries, and I should have known you would know what was best regarding your curse and our binding," she said, her voice gentle as she smoothed her fingers over the tense muscles at his nape. "I'm sorry I didn't trust you."
He withdrew only far enough to meet her gaze with a searching one of his own. "There were other choices open to us had I known. We could have foregone either of the last two steps. It was already too late for our hearts, we had no choice as deeply as we love one another. But …"
Belle worried her lower lip between her pearly teeth and arched a brow. "Really, Rum? Could you really have lived with me, shared my bed and begun a family with me if you weren't first bound to me in matrimony?" She shook her head. "You're too noble. And had you married me, there is very little chance you would have been able to abstain."
He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "I … I would have let you go," he admitted bitterly, grinding his teeth together against the pain those hateful words caused him. He knew he never would have survived had he been forced to make that decision. Knowing her love, he didn't want to think what he would have become had he been forced to send her away. "To save you, my Belle, I would have let you go."
Belle stared at him in horror, her lower lip trembling and her eyes burning with unshed tears. "No," she stated adamantly. "You might have been able to let me go, but I'm afraid I wouldn't have been able to do the same. You're mine … forever, Rumpelstiltskin. What's done is done and there is no changing it." He went to step away from her, but she took the chain still attached to the collar around her neck and looped it around his own, reeling him back into her.
"Belle," he murmured, his face twisted with all the self-loathing he was feeling. She ignored it and hooked her heels around the backs of his leather-clad thighs, refusing to let him escape. He cradled her face in his hands and gently pressed his lips to hers. "I will always protect you, my Belle, always."
"I know," she whispered against his mouth, nipping lightly at his lower lip, her hands tightening on the chain she had about his neck. His hands drifted along her jaw, coming to settle against the cool metal against her throat, sliding along the gold to unclasp it at her nape. "Leave it," she breathed, losing herself to the heat of his touch, the fire he'd stoked within her earlier roaring to life once again.
He gaped at her, his brows drawn together in a puzzled frown. "Belle, I wouldn't have dared put this on you in the first place had you not suggested it."
Belle's eyes darkened with desire as she looked up into the startled face of her beloved. "Tell me something, my husband," she purred. "How did it make you feel when I called you … master?"
The Dark One howled lasciviously and the Spinner gasped in delight as a violent shudder of lust rocked through him, his cock hardening painfully at her whispered words. All coherent thought fled his mind as she used her heels to draw him tightly against her, his arousal pressing between her thighs. Did she really expect him to answer her? How was he supposed to respond to such a wicked question … from his sweet little innocent bride?
He shook his head to clear it. "This," he fairly squeaked, his fingertips caressing the collar as he swallowed, his mouth dry as a desert. "This arouses you, sweetling?"
She nodded slowly, a spark of mischief amidst the desire in her eyes. Releasing her hold on the chain, she trailed a finger from the center of his chest to the waistband of his pants, her magic opening his brocade vest and silk shirt in one fell swoop. She pushed them both over his shoulders to land in a heap at his feet and pressed a kiss to his chest over his heart before she hazarded a glance up to take in his reaction. "Yes. Does that make me wanton?"
His eyes were blown wide with lust as he gripped the chain in his hand, wrapping it slowly around his hand as he pulled her toward him and crashed his mouth down on hers, kissing, nipping … devouring. When he deemed it necessary to let her breathe, he trailed his lips along her jaw and then down the smooth ivory column of her throat, his tongue slipping between the collar and her alabaster skin. He was inflamed, every nerve ending in his oversensitive body screaming to claim her. His tongue followed the path of the chain which now lay against her as it dangled between them, abandoning it to kiss the tops of her breasts exposed by the low bodice of her gown.
He thought for a moment he should magic them up to their bedroom, that he shouldn't simply debauch his wife on the dining hall table, but her nails scraping against the sensitive flesh of his stomach and her fingers deftly pulling at the ties of his breeches chased any noble thoughts he might have had clear from his mind. His teeth pulled at the laces on the front of her gown and he let out a frustrated groan when they refused to give. He laid her back gently against the smooth wood of the table, his hands pushing her skirts further up about her waist, praising his decision earlier to deprive her of her underpinnings. He ground his hips to hers, reveling in the sweet moans of pleasure issuing from her throat as her heels found the small of his back.
Her heavy-lidded eyes never left him as his blackened nails trailed over her slender thighs, his grin wicked as he moved closer to where she wanted him to be. "R-Rum, please," she pleaded, her breath coming in soft pants as she watched him, waiting, unable to move against him any longer as his hands held her in place to keep her from getting the friction she so desperately needed.
But he had no intention of denying her as he lowered his head, placing a soft kiss to the top of her right thigh as he caressed the left with his hand. He sucked her flesh into his mouth, the heat of his lips branding her, marking her as his before running the flat of his tongue over her dripping folds, her flavor bursting like ambrosia over his palette. He moaned as his wife let out a long loud keening sound as his tongue circled her clit, her hands digging painfully into his scalp as she writhed fretfully beneath him.
"Rumpelstiltskin!" she cried, her voice hoarse and raspy.
He smiled against her and doubled his efforts, bringing his fingers into play, determined to bring her over the edge and shatter against his tongue. She deserved it. Their first day of marriage had gotten off to a rocky start … understatement of the century … and he would endeavor to make every day afterwards filled with nothing but joy for his beloved.
*.*.*
Sarah's mouth dropped open and she lifted her hand to cover it as she edged closer to the double doors leading into the Great Hall. Judging from the sounds within, she was only able to come to two conclusions … one, he was thoroughly taking advantage of the power he held over her, or two, they'd resolved their differences and were finally commencing with their honeymoon. She seriously hoped it was the latter.
"What are you doing?"
Sarah startled violently, a flush spreading up her neck to stain her cheeks at being caught eavesdropping. She rounded on the voice and narrowed her eyes on the amused smirk adorning the hatter's mouth. "Nothing which concerns you, Jefferson. I thought you'd left," she huffed, arching a querulous brow in his direction.
He flashed her his sinfully seductive trademark smile and sidled closer to her. "Oh, just had to pop back upstairs to get my hat, my sweet Sarah."
Sarah rolled her eyes and breathed out an irritated sigh. "Well, now you've got it, so you'd best be on your way. I'm sure Marcus is waiting for you at the gate to let you out."
"That still doesn't explain what you're doing with your ear pressed to the door," he drawled, his voice a soft caress as he reached out to twirl one of her ebony curls about his finger.
She smacked his hand away and opened her mouth to upbraid him for his boldness when another long keening wail echoed through the hall and slipped beneath the door. Sarah blushed scarlet and lowered her eyes to the floor as Jefferson's head slowly turned towards the door, his mouth falling open before forming a perfectly round 'o' of astonishment.
He clasped his hands before him and pressed his lips together to form a thin line. "Well, she's rather vocal in her enjoyment, isn't she?"
Sarah rubbed her hand over the heat curling around the back of her neck and contemplated banging her head against the door as the imp howled his own pleasure. She grabbed Jefferson's arm and ushered him to the entry doors, reaching to grasp the door handle. "Lovely to see you, thanks for coming to the wedding and all that, hatter," she said hurriedly.
However, before she could curl her hand around the handle, both she and Jefferson were shunted backwards as the door imploded forward. He helped her regain her balance with a hand to her elbow as he glared at the men standing on the threshold, two of them holding a battered Marcus between them. The color drained from her face as she rushed forward to see to her husband, her hazel eyes flashing hotly.
The king of Avonlea stood there, his ruddy face flushed with anger as his icy eyes speared Sarah with his gaze. "Where is she?!" he bellowed, seemingly unworried about his safety in the Dark Castle as he was flanked by half a dozen of his best knights with their weapons drawn.
"How dare you come here after what you've done!?" Sarah fumed, patting Marcus rather sharply on the cheek. She needed him alert and she it was imperative she warn Belle and Rumpelstiltskin of their unwanted guests.
Gaston nocked an arrow into the longbow he held and pointed it in her direction. "You are nothing but a traitor to your kingdom. It would be best if you held your tongue."
Sarah flipped him a rude gesture, her other hand surreptitiously moving to retrieve the dagger she knew Marcus kept hidden in his boot. When the king drew Gaston's attention, she palmed it, waiting for any opportunity to use it. Jefferson crossed his arms over his chest and glared haughtily at the king, moving to stand before the double doors leading into the Great Hall.
"Rumpelstiltskin is out. I'm sure you wouldn't mind returning another day when he's in residence," Jefferson felt compelled to say, praying these fools wouldn't interrupt the Dark One in the midst of his fun. Then again, he thought, it would be mighty entertaining to behold his wrath against the nobles.
"I don't care about him. I've come for my daughter. Now, where is she?" Maurice blustered, striding forward and standing toe to toe with the hatter.
Jefferson grinned, chuckling softly. "Well, I would suppose she's with him." He leaned forward conspiratorially and lowered his voice as if to share a great secret. "It's not often you see one without the other. Thick as thieves, they are."
The king's lips drew back over his teeth in a sneer as his face mottled even more in his rage. "I'm not leaving here without her," he vowed.
Jefferson clapped his hands together gleefully and tittered a rather mad giggle before all semblance of humor vanished from his handsome face. "Care to wager on that, majesty? I assure you, odds are not in your favor. I —"
A string of low keening moans filtered into the foyer from the hall, cutting of Jefferson's speech. The color drained from the king's face, his eyes widening. He gestured his knights forward, the two who had been holding Marcus, grabbing Jefferson's arms and moving him out of the way as two more threw their hulking weight against the doors.
*.*.*
"Oh, Rum, so close … so close … don't stop," Belle pleaded, her hands full of her husband's hair as she writhed beneath him, her breath coming in quick sharp pants. "Yes!"
Her climax was cut short as the locked doors of the Great Hall imploded inward and Rumpelstiltskin removed his mouth from her heated flesh, dragging his forearm over his glistening mouth. Belle gaped at the intruders, her eyes blowing wide with shock to see her father and his knights standing there staring back at her with equal measures of shock and … disgust. Her gaze swung to her husband to see how he would retaliate, but before he could raise his hand to curse them all, Gaston fired the arrow from his bow, the projectile embedding itself deep within Rumpelstiltskin's right hip.
Maurice gasped. "Oh, GODS! We're too late!"
Marcus had come to and engaged a tall fair-haired knight in combat, Jefferson taking a sword from the wall and jumping into the fray with a dark-haired knight a good head taller and stronger than himself. But Jefferson had an ease of movement the bulkier knight did not and was able to match him blow for blow, his lithe body almost elegant in his movements. Sarah had jumped on Gaston's back and was bludgeoning him with the hilt of her dagger. He'd dropped his bow in an effort to free his hands up in order to pry her from his back, but he'd already dropped to his knees from the pain smarting through his skull. The other two knights flanked the king in a protective stance should the Dark One's servants decide to come after him next.
Belle ignored them all, jumping down from the table, her distress written clearly on her face as chaos reigned in her hall. "Rumpel!" she cried, rushing to him and kneeling over his prone form, afraid to touch him, wary of the blue sheen of magic which cloaked his body.
"Belle, don't touch me!" he warned through clenched teeth, enraged her father had pulled such a dirty trick. "I don't want it transferred to you somehow."
"What is it?" she asked, kneeling beside his head in a defensive stance, her fingertips crackling with magic.
"The only thing which can possibly immobilize my magic … squid ink. The arrow was tipped with it. Fucking fairies no doubt!" he growled.
Belle's eyes glowed gold as her father reached for her, trying to pull her away from Rumpelstiltskin. A jolt of pure magic shot into his hand, shocking it into numbness as he touched her, and he jerked back, his eyes wide and fearful as she glared at him. The clang and clamor of swords, the grunts and groans and shouts of the combatants finally destroyed the firm band of control she had over her magic and she snapped, raising her hands and bringing an end to it all. She raised her arms, pure golden light erupting from her palms and enveloping the battling knights, lifting them a good six foot into the air, their weapons falling uselessly from their hands, their eyes wide and panicked.
She turned on her father and a chair skittered across the floor to hit him behind his knees. He collapsed in a heap against the padded seat, his surprise so great, he was left at a loss for what to say. "Enough of this!" she hissed. She turned to the others in the room asking, "Are you all okay?"
Sarah looked up at Gaston and prodded him in the ass with her dagger, grinning with wicked satisfaction when he yowled in pain, the seat of his pants pierced by the sharp blade. "I am now." She rushed to see to her husband, who was favoring his ribs on his right side, fussing over him. Jefferson limped over to the table and tossed his sword on the tabletop before dropping into a chair, a long slash in his leather breeches on his left leg.
He laid his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes wearily, sighing now that it was over. "Just peachy, princess."
"Belle …" Maurice began hesitantly.
She lifted her hand, her index finger raised in warning. "Not a word, father. Not one bloody word from you," she warned as she knelt at her husband's side on the Aubusson carpet. "Sarah, can you fetch me one of the empty potion vials from the back of the cabinet there, please?"
"What are you doing, dearest?" Rumpelstiltskin asked, his eyes following her every movement.
"I need to see if might be able to remove it, love. If it can bind your magic by simply touching your skin, I can well imagine the effects will last even longer if it enters your bloodstream," she fretted, taking the vial from Sarah and setting it on the floor beside her.
"Don't let it touch you," he warned, closing his eyes and trusting her to help him.
Her hands glowed with a brilliant golden light as she focused. She sent tendrils of her magic into him, numbing the area around the arrow shaft protruding from his hip, wanting to spare him the pain of removing it. When the arrow had been removed, the projectile harmlessly hovering next to them, Sarah rushed forward with a cloth and wrapped it carefully before carrying it to the hearth and tossing them both into the flames. Belle sent her magic into the wound, her eyes closed as she concentrated her focus on her task. Golden tendrils of magic spread throughout his veins, seeking out every trace of the vile ink coursing through him and pulling it back towards the open wound.
Her imp moaned, and her eyes flew to his face, a small smile curving her lips as his eyes glowed warmly as they met hers. She knew that look all too well by now. "Feel good, darling?" she asked, her voice a silken caress on his battered senses.
Rumpelstiltskin's tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, wishing more than anything that he could touch her in that moment while her magic was flooding his veins with pure pleasure. "Yes," he croaked out, biting his lip to stifle another moan.
"Almost done, darling. Another moment and I'll have it all," she assured him, her eyes moving to the blob of ink forming into a viscous ball to hover near her elbow. When she felt the last of the ink leave his body, she swished her hand and transferred it into the vial, corking it. "Sarah, please bring that to the library and put it on Rumpel's worktable. I'm certain he'll be able to find a use for it later." She didn't want it within her father's treacherous reach. The faint blue glow remained, and she frowned. "It may take a bit before you're restored."
"I'll be fine, dearest," he said weakly, offering her reassurances.
"Does it hurt? I could try to heal you," she offered.
"Wait until the effects wear off and I can do it myself. You've expended quite enough magic and I don't want you to tire yourself."
She nodded, acquiescing to his wishes and turned to Jefferson. "What about you, Jefferson? Would you like me to heal you?"
"Nah. Just a scratch. I'll be fine."
Maurice rose shakily to his feet and glared down at his daughter, his voice quivering with rage. "How the hell could you let that thing touch you!? I come in here and he has you spread out on the table like a bloody feast for his perversions and —"
"You will NOT call my husband a THING!" she hissed through clenched teeth, more than weary of her father's disparaging remarks.
"NO! No, Belle, please tell me you didn't marry him!" he bellowed, his face draining of color. "How could you? You're wearing a bloody slave collar. If you were truly his wife, he wouldn't treat you in such a demeaning manner. Then again, he is the Dark One. What can one expect from that demon?"
Belle banished the collar from her neck with a snap of her fingers and raised a brow at her father, her face lined with irritation. "What goes on between my husband and myself is our business, Father," she sneered coldly.
"Come with me, my girl. We'll have this farce of a marriage annulled and no one need be the wiser. We'll find you a kind and decent man to wed, one who can overlook the fact that you have magic —"
Rumpelstiltskin struggled to sit up as the last of the ink's effects wore off and released him. "You will not take her!" he snarled. "She's mine! My wife! Bound to me by magic and man and you will never take her from me." He rose to his feet, pulling Belle up with him and pushing her behind him.
Belle bent and retrieved his shirt from the floor and held it out for him to slip his arms in the sleeves, scoffing at her father. "I'm not going anywhere with him, Rumpel." she vowed boldly, stepping into the circle of his arms. She glared at her father. "I tried to make you understand. I tried to make you see I was very much in love with him, but in your stubbornness, you could only see that he was the feared sorcerer of legend. Really, father, knowing me as you do … do you for one moment believe I would give my heart to a monster?"
"He could have bewitched you," Maurice mumbled half-heartedly, seeming to deflate before her eyes as he fought to hold on to his convictions.
Belle sighed and rested her head against her husband's shoulder, closing her eyes and praying for patience. "You cannot bewitch someone to fall in love with you, Papa. It's one of the basic laws of magic. Now I want you to leave my home. You have done nothing but seek to harm us with your machinations, and I don't want you here. If by some miracle you can come to terms with my choice of husband, you may return for a visit in six months' time. If not …" She left it open for his own interpretation, taking comfort in the soft squeeze of her husband's hand at her waist. She glanced up at his face, worrying at her lip. "If that is acceptable to you?"
Rumpelstiltskin glared menacingly at his father-in-law. "If he can behave himself and stop trying to poison me or steal you away. Because I assure you, my Belle, I will not let another threat to us go unpunished."
"Bastard!" Sarah mumbled under her breath, crossing her arms over her bosom and staring daggers at the monarch's back. "Makes me want to take my skillet to his head."
Rumpelstiltskin's trademark giggle trilled through the hall and he winked at the girl.
Maurice glared at her over his shoulder before he held out his hand to his daughter. "I … I will think about it. If it is the only way to avoid losing you, I will give it serious thought."
Belle flashed him a sad smile and took his hand, encouraged for the first time since her relationship with Rumpelstiltskin had begun that her father would begin to change. She was also more than impressed her husband hadn't taken revenge on the king. She'd more than expected Maurice Beaumont to be slithering along on his belly in the rose garden.
The king cleared his throat, a grimace lining his face as he looked over at his knights. "Belle, do you … ah … think you might … um … let them down?"
"I suppose," she sighed wearily. She released them, a satisfied smirk that would do the Dark One proud, gracing her lips. "Goodbye, Papa."
*.*.*
"Well, I can't say that was fun!" Jefferson snorted as he set his tea cup on the table and placed his hat atop his head. The king and his knights had departed without much fuss and Rumpelstiltskin had healed the gash in the hatter's leg and now he was ready to be on his way.
"I'm so tired," Belle said, covering a huge yawn with her hand. She was sitting on her husband's lap on the sofa before the hearth, snuggled into his embrace.
"Well I did promise being married to me would never be boring," he teased, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple.
"That's for damn sure," the hatter said, taking Belle's hand and brushing a quick kiss to her knuckles. "Milady, as always, it was my pleasure to serve you both."
"Thank you, Jefferson," she smiled up into his warm gray eyes.
Rumpelstiltskin nodded to him. "Hatter."
Belle looped her arms about her husband's neck and captured his lips with hers as soon as the doors closed behind their friend. "I want you … to ward the castle … to keep … EVERYONE out … for at least a week," she demanded between kisses. "I am weary of being interrupted."
"Perhaps we can take supper in our bedchamber and then maybe a bath?" he suggested, his lips trailing along her jaw to nip lightly against her ear.
"Best idea I've heard all day," she breathed huskily, losing herself to the pleasure of her husband's talented lips, not even noticing when he used his magic to whisk them away upstairs.