After that chance meeting, Belle could not stop thinking about Demetrius. In her mind, he was perfect: handsome, rich, charming, and above all, a prince. He consumed her dreams during the night and day alike, every spare moment she had (and even the ones that weren't quite so spare) were spent thinking about him, tracing the lines of his face in her mind, replaying their conversation over and over again, and inventing new words that would hopefully pass between them.
Her infatuation with the prince even eclipsed her joy at her brother's wedding that was drawing ever closer. On the day of the wedding, as Belle watched her mother help Gwendolyn get ready, Belle couldn't help but entertain herself with the dream of one day marrying Demetrius.
This was her fancy all through the wedding. As she walked down the aisle, her arm interlinked with Dorian's boyhood friend, William, her eyes were all aglow with the thoughts floating across her mind. Belle's cheeks were flushed, and she was smiling, lost in her own little world. To anyone else, however, it looked as if she was in an absolute state of bliss for the good fortune of her brother.
This state of bliss was exactly as one young man perceived her to be in, as he watched her walk to the altar. The dress that Belle was wearing looked ravishing on her, and the young man wiped the palms of his hands on his pants to dry them.
The young man's name was Cyrus Garrity, and he had watched Belle for a while now. Cyrus was like most young men in the village, a farm boy, with no real claim to fortune or fame (unless you were to count the infamous apple pilfering of two seasons ago). But he supposed he was a nice enough person, with a strong body and with a face that wasn't ugly by any means.
But, his mind was wandering, and he couldn't very well watch Belle when his mind was wandering. Now Gwendolyn stood beside Belle and the rumble of the pastor's voice filled the little building. Cyrus loved to watch Belle, the fluid, graceful way in which she moved. Her hair was a beautiful strawberry blond, and her eyes were light blue. Belle's figure was slight, and her skin was like the palest milk.
Every day of his life, that being since he was about thirteen or so, Cyrus had prayed and hoped that Belle would say something to him. Alas, all that was really said between the pair were the pleasantries of words exchanged about the weather. It saddened his heart, for Cyrus was sure what he was feeling was love, love of the deepest and most unrequited passion. And now, as his love stood beside the prettiest girl in the village, Cyrus thought that she outshone the bride in every way.
The wedding passed as most weddings did, and the joining of two souls who were very much in love delighted everyone. Dorian and Gwendolyn speedily went off to their new home, and the O'Leary family went back to their old home for a period of quiet contemplation.
The four remaining members of the family went about their leisure time in their own way: Clara O'Leary slowly made the evening meal, Reuben O'Leary fixed small things in the house to keep his hands busy, Miles O'Leary contentedly played with Cassie, and Belle O'Leary, our heroine, patiently darned socks while her mind was far away from her task.
Presently she came out of her daydream and looked about her. The house was sad and lonely even though just one occupant was missing.
"Do you think Dorian's happy with Gwendolyn? I mean…do you think she loves him as much as we do?" Belle asked, lying her sewing in her lap.
Her mother smiled sadly at her, and walked over to her only daughter. Clara held Belle's head to her breast and kissed the top of her head. "Oh, dear, sweet Belle," she whispered, her gray eyes filling with tears, "I'm sure Dorian is fine. No one can ever love you like your own family, but Gwendolyn loves Dorian well enough."
"Oh," Belle said quietly, feeling her mother's tears fall into her hair. She felt a little like crying too, Dorian had always been there for her and now he was gone. Suddenly she was struck with a thought that troubled her greatly. "Mother, Father…what shall you do when Miles and I also move away? Will you be all alone, then?"
Reuben smiled at her and Miles looked up from the stick he had been trying to wrest from Cassie. Cassie whined and dropped the stick, cocking her head to the side.
"I'm sure either you or Miles, or both, will stay here after you marry. If you don't, then we'll just hire on some hands that can help me with the work that I'll be getting to old to do." Reuben assured her.
"What about the sheep?" Belle asked in earnest. "What if I got married and moved far away and couldn't mind the sheep anymore? Cassie can't keep them all by herself, you know." Upon hearing her name, Cassie hopped into her mistress's lap, spilling her neglected project onto the floor.
"Well," her father said, from his seat at the table, "I suppose that occupation will fall to the first little one Dorian and Gwen have, that's all. Why do you ask, Belle?"
Belle suddenly blushed and bent down to pick her sewing up, a disgruntled Cassie jumping down to lie at her feet. Miles scoffed at his sister, saying, "What do you think, Arabella, that some foreigner will come and whisk you away?"
Belle refused to answer her brother's retort, but her mind whispered Demetrius' name in rapture, and in mere seconds she was again lost in thoughts of him.
The next day it seemed that her prayers were answered. Shortly after Belle had finished her mid day meal, Prince Demetrius trotted into the meadow, this time on a horse that was a rich chestnut color and smaller then the one he had ridden before.
Gracefully, Demetrius climbed down from his horse as Belle hastened to curtsey to him. Cassie barked at the prince, but soon lost interest and began chasing a frog. When Belle straightened to look at Demetrius, he was looking at her with his dark eyes and frowning.
"You did it wrong. Set down your stick think and catch your skirt with both hands. No, not like that, your hands shouldn't be so tight. Do it more delicately, and cross your ankles…look down, dip…"
Bewildered, Belle followed his directions. Then Demetrius counted out five full seconds, during which she stayed in position. After that short moment, he bid her to stop and she looked back up at him. He was smirking at her, one hand in a pocket. He was leaning against his horse, the reins caught up in his other hand.
"That was very nice, Belle. My own mother couldn't have done better."
This just made Belle blush, and she sat down on the grass, tucking her legs underneath her and folding her hands demurely in her lap. "You find need to frequent the meadow again, milord?" She couldn't help but ask.
"Yes, it appears that I do. How now, fair maiden?" The prince asked, suddenly amused at the expression of contentment on her face. "Have you counted the hours 'til this meeting?"
Belle smiled sweetly at him, her cheeks quite rosy. "Well, milord, I can't honestly say that I haven't. Have you written to the Lady Caprice's father?"
Demetrius sighed, and his face darkened. "No, not as of yet," he replied shortly.
"I've upset you!" Belle cried. "I didn't mean to, your highness, I really should have know better. After all, you came here to get away from the castle, not to dwell on how things are there…"
Demetrius flipped his hand at her impatiently to shush her. "Don't mind that, maiden. I've convinced them to let me pick the one I'll marry."
Belle's heart leaped into her throat, and a thousand thoughts raced through her mind. She swallowed heavily and said, barely above a whisper, "Who will you marry, milord?"
"I don't know yet," Demetrius said. He ran a hand distractedly through his hair, frowning. "It has to be someone at least as good as Caprice, if not better. However, I'd simply adore making the King angry…" The prince trailed off, looking carefully at Belle. "Are you sure that you don't have any royal blood or such?"
Belle began to shake her head, but then she stopped and stood up excitedly. "I don't know, milord," she said in a rush, her eyes bright and shining with her idea. "But are you suggesting that if I were some sort of noblewoman, you'd marry me?"
Demetrius took a step toward her, his hand alighted on her shoulder. He rubbed his thumb against her collar bone, sending shivers down Belle's spine. She became weak in the knees and it became hard for her to remember how to breathe.
"Yes," Demetrius whispered, his face very close to hers, "I would marry you, Belle, if you were of noble birth. I don't see how you could change your circumstances, however."
"Please, milord," Belle begged, clasping her hands in front of her and looking up at her prince. "Come back here tomorrow? I can't explain it, but please…come back tomorrow?"
A long moment passed, with Demetrius looking deep into the shepherdess's eyes. "So be it," He whispered, and kissed her for the second time. This time, it was lingering. When he bit gently at her lower lip, she parted her lips for him, and for the first time she felt the touch of a man's tongue on her own.