CHAPTER 29

CLAIRE was hardly aware that her legs were no longer taking directions from her own mind as she did not hesitate to stalk her way through the Wolves' Woods after Gaston Dupont and the other cloaked figure who'd gone ahead. If she squinted, she could faintly see the illustrious structure of the Prince's castle in the distance, the towering parapets, and buttresses that stretched to the heavens, each one in a competition which could reach it first.

She could not shake the feeling that it was Monsieur D'Arque and vowed at nothing to stop the military captain from this ridiculous plan that was sure to ruin Belle's life.

Something of Gaston Dupont was continuing to pull her in his general direction in a way she could not, for the life of her, explain.

"Sir!" she called out, having to raise her voice to ensure she was heard over the howling of the wind that had started to pick up. "Don't do this!" Claire begged. "There—there has to be another way, sir! Stop! Let's—let's talk about this! Your options! There's still plenty of time to turn around, Gaston!" she cried. Her words, at least, made the man freeze in his tracks.

Slowly, as though he could not quite believe his eyes, Gaston turned to look at the baker's daughter, chewing on the wall of his mouth and inwardly cringing at the look of despair on Claire Renaud's face.

"Don't you dare look at me like that, woman," he growled through clenched teeth. "Not because of me. You should go back to the village. Be with your family. I don't want you here to see this, once Adam finds out I've come back, it's sure to get…ugly, milady, it might even end with my own head on a spike," he spat with contempt as a flicker of anger darted through the man's eyes.

Claire blinked, utterly taken aback by the soldier's cold dismissal, though she let herself relax as she allowed Gaston to come towards her, a scowl forming between his brows as the man realized she had no intention of going back.

There was almost a strange look of tenderness appearing in his dark eyes as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, studying her with an intense look Claire did not know what to make of, what it meant, and was tempted to ask him why he was staring at her like that, but her courage failed her. The look he gave Claire had her swallowing.

It took him a moment to find his voice again.

"Will a pretty girl give a disgraced soldier a toast to his death?" Gaston growled in a bitter, cold-sounding voice as his frown deepened as he stalked towards the baker's daughter, moving to close off the gap of space that existed.

Claire's green eyes widened, growing glassy and frightened as she shook her head, trying to send his words away.

"Don't say things like that!" Claire demanded.

She almost sounded angry with Gaston as she, in her silent fury, reached up with a shaking hand and swiped a lock of her dark hair that had tumbled in front of her face and shielded whatever expression she currently wore from the soldier's line of sight.

"Why not?" Gaston shrugged his shoulders and narrowed his dark eyes at Belle's likeness, staring at Claire Renaud with a look of incredulity and disbelief that had not been there a moment ago. "There is a part of me, not a day goes by, that wishes I would have had the good fortune to die on the battlefield alongside my brother. The entire country of France would be happier for it, I'm sure," he hissed through his teeth as he sharply turned his head away.

"It's the truth, mademoiselle, so don't think of protesting," he retorted, seeing Claire open her mouth to protest as she continued to vehemently shake her head no.

The words were coming from the soldier's mouth in a torrent, spilling from his lips before Gaston could stop it.

"Have it now and hear it from me, Renaud, since this is the only time I will say this. I'm not strong. I never was, I don't think that I ever will be. Emotionally, at least. I'm always terrified, and always will be, I suspect. And I've hated myself for it far more than someone normal like you could ever comprehend. But during every single fight I fought, every battle, I gambled everything I had to assuage my fears, and in the end, I still lose. And what do I have now? A long walk to my death, as Adam is sure to hang me for this treason plotted against him, and a young woman that I think I care for who will never care for me in return, who would turn against me before I can atone for my mistake."

He was not exactly shouting at the young woman, but his shoulders were heaving as his lungs gaped for air. It hurt to breathe. It hurt him to speak to her.

It hurt him just to be standing here, alive but wishing that he had died an honorable death in battle, crumbling before the young woman's haunted green eyes.

His eyes briefly widened as he realized what was beginning to happen.

That which he had been furiously trying to deny, up until this exact moment.

At some point, he had become attracted to the young woman, a woman who was not Belle. But even Claire deserved someone stronger, someone, able to provide.

He did not believe himself to be worth any more of any woman's affections, and he cursed himself for his vanity and arrogance, at bringing D'Arque into Belle's life when the man was sure only to make things worse for her and his old friend.

Gaston had been too stupid to believe anything else.

Between heavy, pained breaths as he turned away from her, he spat out in a poisonous voice, "You are better off, milady, having never known me, to never to try to get to know me, and I think that I would prefer it if I were dead than to live like this, to see all my mistakes and past transgressions are thrown back into my face now." His words trailed off into a half-choked growl that he swallowed down, ugly and harsh in his ears.

Gaston squeezed his fists tightly and lashed out at the closest thing he could find, which in this case happened to be the trunk of a gnarled old and dying tree.

Splinters of wood shattered as his fist hit the trunk and almost made a dent. His knuckles shredded and bled as the splinters pierced his skin, but the man felt no pain.

He was shaking, trembling from head to toe like the plains of grass in the countryside of France on a breezy day. He wanted to suffer at this point, to die.

Perhaps it would be better that way if he were to leave. Every sense of coherent thought was fleeing the military captain's mind, slinking away, and drowning Gaston in his despair.

And then, he swore he felt Claire's hands on his shoulders and even his own sorrow drowned at her featherlight touch. The poor man was near hysterics at this point and almost choked on his own tongue as he reached for her, pulling her closer so she was splayed against him.

Strange. Gaston knew he usually had no interest in such affectionate and intimate gestures like this one right now. His dark eyes widened in awe, and he immediately stepped back.

Claire swore she heard Gaston sniffle.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking in grief.

When he, at last, managed to get his breathing regulated back to something that resembled normal, he pulled back a little and blurted out with no tact.

"I know that a snake-like me does not deserve such a lovely beauty as you as my…as a potential…suitor." Gaston swallowed down hard, it felt strange to hear himself confess it, much less to a woman that was not Belle. "Were that I did, I would be a lucky man indeed. I know that. I've known it a while. But to survive like this…I cannot fathom it. I cannot ask you to stay with me, you deserve better. You will leave me here at once, and head back to the village and go with LeFou, despite his mistake, he's a good enough lad, Claire, and be happy, and that's good, for you. I—I want you to be happy, Claire—"

Gaston cut himself off as he realized that Claire was trembling now, hard, and biting down on her lip and suddenly seemed embarrassed to meet his icy gaze.

"What?" he asked her, frowning. "What is it?"

Claire looked down, for once not squirming to get free of him, tugging at her hair again as a nervous habit.

"Ah…LeFou was never actually mine no matter how much I…I wished for it, tried to fool myself into thinking I was what he wanted," she confessed in a pained whisper, very softly, the expression of despair too much for him to handle. "He looks at me half the time in the village and doesn't recognize me. In—in that way. He…doesn't know, but…all he wants is someone else, a someone that's not me," she whispered. "I—I thought maybe, he'd care for me, b-but he's…" her voice trailed off just then.

She swallowed and scrunched her nose in disgust as she thought of the way the other man had emerged from behind the bush and what they were doing away from prying eyes.

Such a union was not right in the eyes of the villagers, she knew, but she could not help it.

LeFou had never failed to make her laugh, he was good at it. His betrayal of her trust had wounded Claire, more deeply than she cared to admit. Gaston wasn't certain whether to feel elated at her news or saddened on the baker's daughter's behalf, now that she knew the truth.

She blushed, her cheeks flushing high with color.

"I—I know that it's not fair. I just…" Her voice trailed up as she craned her neck up to look at the soldier.

"Claire, how do you feel about me? Honestly?"

Once again, whenever he was around the presence of this delectable creature who looked so much like his Belle, he seemed to lose all sense of self.

The words slipped out before he could stop himself.

Claire pondered over Gaston's question, feeling uneasy. She turned her head away from him as she thought about how best to phrase her answer and looked out over his shoulder, towards the Prince's castle, to think.

Why he wanted to know her answer, she did not know. But it spoke to his newfound character, that he was trying to turn over a new leaf of sorts, by asking her for the honest truth.

Maybe it was because of this that Claire decided to reply as honestly as possible.

"You've saved Belle's life by bringing her to me for treatment when she needed it the most, and you helped me find my baby brother when I thought him to be missing," Claire said quietly in a softer, more subdued tone as she continued

"You have a lack of understanding of the world around you, but you seem to care for me substantially. Otherwise, you wouldn't be volunteering to go against D'Arque in order to ensure Belle is safe. You'd not be standing here talking to me, trying to stop me from coming with you. You seem to be cold and distant, but you have …mood swings. When we first met, you cared nothing for me. It was as if you cared for no one but yourself. There was nothing there within you. But…the night that you helped me to find my brother, I started to see you in a different light."

The soldier's dark eyes focused on Claire's glistening forest green eyes as he studied her face. He searched across her face as he'd done to her a couple of times now that used to make her feel uneasy, but now, she didn't mind it so much.

She understood what it was he was doing now.

He was trying to find the fear in her eyes, but she would make sure that Gaston came away disappointed. But before she could speak, he spoke.

"Why you? Why were you the one to see through me? Somehow, you have. I—I don't know how you did it, but I suppose I ought to be thanking you for your ability. Well, I see the monster that I am now, Renaud, and I thank you for that. You may rest easy on that regard."

Claire knew she could not avoid looking at Gaston forever.

Self-consciously, she raised her hand and swiped a loose strand of her dark hair from behind her ear before looking up at him, with hope in her irises.

"You're not a monster, Gaston," Claire said softly, her voice strangely steady and steely compared to Gaston's voice, which sounded strangely different, muffled.

"No?" He replied quizzically, a mixture of sarcasm, annoyance, and sadness plastering its way across his face as he smiled at her, though given the weighted gravity of what Gaston was about to do, to sacrifice for her, it felt and looked more like a pained grimace. "Then tell me, little dove, what you think that I am?"

Claire thought for a moment. "Just…a man. But one who has been burying your pain within the cruelty and your arrogance. You've been blind," she replied as her thoughts began to move erratically.

"What in God's name ever gave you the expression that I was in pain?" spoke Gaston again, and this time, Gaston did not sound amused.

Claire stared defiantly back at the military captain and offered a sad smile that to Gaston spoke volumes. She said everything without saying a single word.

That his sadness was in his eyes. That he had sad eyes for a killer. He stiffened and repressed a hiss as he closed his eyes as if he couldn't bear to look at her.

His hands, however, remained firmly wound around the young woman's waist and his hands at her sides, and Claire could feel how surprisingly gentle he was holding her, like as though he feared she might break.

Claire frowned as she registered the hurt she felt inside at the sacrifice he was more than willing to make but couldn't understand why she felt so hurt.

"Why are you doing this? For what reasons?" she blurted out, asking perhaps the one question she wanted the answer to the most.

She stiffened as Gaston opened his eyes, and his dark eyes drifted across her face. He froze. She did feel that unimaginable thing that was churning inside him over the last few days in the girl's company.

Maybe she wasn't aware of what it was, but Gaston knew Claire would not leave him be.

"Don't you know, Claire?" he asked, lowering his voice so that only Claire could possibly hear his words. "Do I really need to say it?"

Lifting his hand in a painstakingly slow movement, Gaston cupped the woman's face and as he did so, he stiffened as he felt Claire tense slightly at the unexpected gesture before leaning against his chest, the uncomfortable.

He wished there was a way to tell her the truth and still have her.

God, but she was so pretty. Gaston had always known, of course, from the moment he'd laid eyes upon her back at Mary and Aiken's home, with her striking likeness to Belle.

But now, it was as if she was the most beautiful thing his wretched sight would ever bear witness to, more beautiful than any living creature or any flower.

Somehow, Gaston knew, right now, at this moment, with that look of nervousness, fear, and wonder displayed all across her face, that he would never again see anything as beautiful as Claire. Considering he was more or less walking to his certain death at either the hands of D'Arque or Adam, once his monarch found out he was back, it would have to do now.

"Come back with me," Claire whispered in a faint voice that was so quiet, even Gaston, with his excellent hearing, almost missed it. "Back to the village. Stay with my family. You don't have to stay alone in your home if you don't want to. We have plenty of room. You're not the only one who's lonely," she said, downcasting her gaze and suddenly turning shy.

He almost laughed, a bitter disgusted laugh with himself as her words broke Gaston out of his reverie.

"I don't think your parents would want me there. I'm sorry to say that I think this is the only way," Gaston growled lowly. "Will you instead give me a toast to my death?" he said, saying it with such ease it made Claire shiver.

"Don't say that," she begged, eliciting a dark morose chuckle from Gaston as he regarded Claire seriously.

"Belle and Adam at this point could only wish for it," he remarked hostility. "At least it would be said that the last surviving member of the Dupont House died a hero…and wouldn't that be poetic?" he remarked sarcastically.

Claire hinted the sharpness in his voice which she'd grown accustomed to hearing from him by now, the same wounded son constantly seeking his dad's favor.

She lowered her lashes and her blood rushed as her hand made its way to his even without her ordering it. His fingers were ice-cold, shaking, and hesitant.

"Leave right now if you want to start over, and don't bother to look back, and don't think of Belle, Gaston, just don't," she repeated, a note of finality in the young woman's tone that almost made Gaston want to argue instead of agreeing, but he sensed it was futile. "You've helped me. That's more than enough. I—I don't know what happened between you and Belle and the Prince, but in my mind, this makes up for it," she said. "Belle is sure to see this as a selfless sacrifice if you…if you do this, and her opinion of you would change, monsieur. Of that I am certain." She drew in a breath to gather air and continued. "Could we at least pretend…" Claire craned her neck up to look at Gaston to see his eyes were already fixated on hers. "That I could see you again on the morrow, monsieur?" she asked, chewing hard on her lip.

Gaston chewed on the wall of his mouth; his lips pursed into a straight line. Claire could not explain it, but she felt electrified by the soldier's dark, glistening brown eyes.

Claire bravely stared at him, almost melted by the want to take the man to her chest and heal him. Before she knew it, her face was but an inch from his and she mustered the courage to close her eyes.

The unusual pairing, the disgraced military captain and the lonely baker's daughter, lingered in the warmth—their foreheads almost leaning against one another, their lips in a near-lock, and their fingertips touching softly.

Gaston was the first to shatter the silence, begrudgingly, as his tail flicked wildly in his agitation.

"You would…want me, Claire?" He sounded in disbelief, and he looked it too as he studied her face. "You hate me," Gaston retorted, sounding confused.

"As you hate me, Dupont At least for now, but I think we can work on that, in time." Claire was half-smiling at the incredulous look that he was giving her. "And tonight, I pretend like I get to see you in half an hour, like we like each other, maybe even care for each other. I want you to…to stay with me. If—if you want," she stammered, suddenly shy.

Gaston's eyes widened at her words as he felt something within himself shift and give way, almost as though he were allowing himself to surrender to the feelings that, up until this second in the heat of the moment, he was letting himself feel it.

He could only hope he'd not waited too long.

Pulling her hair away from her face, Gaston leaned down and captured Claire's mouth without warning, giving her no time to think, much less react. The two of them fit so perfectly, and her heat was almost searing him, uncomfortable, but desirous, too.

Gaston had never felt something so sensual quite like this, and it was as though everything had become heightened, like the two were transported somewhere else, away from the rest of the world, just the two of them. She felt so much. Everything was burning and very real.

The tiny moan he heard her let out was real, her hot breath against his was real, and when he felt the tip of her tongue touch him as he deepened their kiss and gently forced Claire to open her mouth, that he'd never felt anything as intense as this and never would again.

If he thought he'd know what desire felt like before, then he must have been dreaming, he thought. Gaston broke the kiss first, leaving Claire panting and gasping where she stood.

Subconsciously, Claire reached out for Gaston at once, her hand flying forward and winding around his bicep. He came closer, obediently, but did not kiss her again, though his lips were but centimeters from hers, his nose brushing hers, but he refused to close the gap, and neither did Claire, both just regarding the other, unable to melt the shock of what happened.

"Claire…" he breathed. "You…you mean your words?" he asked, his shoulders almost heaving.

Claire nodded, knowing he would come with if he could—that he would take a hundred more kisses if she would let him.

And she could not say at that moment that had passed between him that she did not want him to. Every inch of her was on fire, a strange hunger that was woken from within her that she never even realized she'd possessed. Her parents, particularly her mother, had ever really talked with her about this strange sensation that was welling inside her chest.

It took every last inch of her willpower not to close off the distance once again as Claire gingerly pushed Gaston back, still gasping for breath to return to her.

"Could that perhaps be…the incentive you need?" she asked, her eyes twinkling and her smile soft and fragile and just even a teeny bit hopeful, he saw.

She thought she saw Gaston smirk as he waved her off.

"Unless you mean to kiss me farewell, Claire, then you may as well stay right there," he murmured, his face flushed a dark shade of crimson, still looking like he couldn't quite believe what had happened.

He turned on his heels and made to head down the woodland walkway to catch up to D'Arque, hoping it was not yet too late to stop this foolishness and insanity, but he barely made it two feet in front before, irritated, Claire yanked on his arm and stopped him.

She darted forward before Gaston could open his mouth to protest, yanking his head somewhat forcefully down to hers, planting a firm if a not unromantic kiss on his lips.

Gaston made a noise that was a part growl, part moan, and started to grab for her again, but before his arms could wind around her waist and keep her hostage here of their own accord, she pushed against his chest and shoved him forward.

"Thirty minutes to get over yourself, and Belle, monsieur," she said, with a hint of steel in her voice that warned the soldier not to contest her words. "And then I come after you. Please be careful, Gaston, and don't do anything stupid like play the part of the dashing hero. I don't think I need to tell you that a man like D'Arque is dangerous," she whispered, downcasting her gaze and biting on her lips, suddenly too shy to meet the soldier's gaze.

Gaston almost laughed and lifted his hands to her warm, flushed cheeks, eyeing the strange coloring of Claire's cheeks with interest.

Her heart warmed as he smiled at her, looking over his shoulder.

"I'll be back, Claire. You have my word." And then he began to quit the forest without another word.

Claire curled her fists into sides, not wanting to let him leave, and called out to him one more time. "Did you mean that?" she said, suddenly sounding suspicious as her eyes narrowed. "You promise to return, Gaston?" she asked.

Damn. Now he had made her angry.

He seemed to be remarkably good at doing it, a fact Gaston came to instantly regret. He did not bother to stifle the groan of frustration as he stalked forward and almost possessively pressed his lips to hers and kissed the girl until she was panting against his mouth.

"Yes," he growled, just a twinge of annoyance in his voice when he finally broke apart. "Soon," he promised, noticing how Claire clenched her jaw in disbelief but nodded reluctantly.

She still did not quite seem to believe Gaston, but she was willing to put her faith in the man for now, however fragile that faith might be.

"Then go if you must," she sighed, defeated, the words practically ripped from her mouth as she turned away, jerking with her thumb over her shoulder towards the Prince's castle.

She swallowed down hard past the lump in her throat and did not look away as Gaston began to walk in the other direction. Claire fought against the feeling welling within her, trying to ignore the swooping sensation in the pit of her churning stomach that as Gaston Dupont walked further and further away from her, she'd never see him again.