XV

Catch a Falling … Maid?

Rumpelstiltskin's gaze was unfocused as he stared at the steady motion of the wheel. It wasn't often he could find such a deep state of blessed solitude within his own mind. No memories to dwell upon, no mistakes to drown him in sorrow and regret, no worries of what the future held, and no voices whispering at the back of his mind.

Thump.

He flinched, closing his eyes as the wheel continued to move beneath his hand. He wasn't spinning, simply turning the wheel and letting the motion soothe him.

Scrape.

He wasn't going to look. Whatever his little maid was doing to be making those irritating noises, held no interest for him. Deals, the queen, plotting and scheming … it had been so busy of late, he just wanted one moment where he wasn't forced to think.

Tap. Creak. Tap. Creak.

The mage rolled his eyes skyward and counted to ten, feeling his restful peace shattering.

Tap … Fucking hell! he cursed inwardly, turning to glare at her over his shoulder. He felt a tightness in his chest as he watched her climb up the rickety ladder she'd dragged into the Great Hall which was now propped against the wall next to one of the windows. The ladder looked as if it had seen better days, and he had to wonder where she'd found it. But that was a question better saved for later.

"Belle, dearie … what are you doing?" he drawled, spinning around on his stool and rising to his feet.

Her smile was bright as she looked down at him, that cheeky grin he was coming to associate with mischief. "It's too dark in here," she replied. "Wouldn't you like to look out on the snowy grounds every once in a while? Or let the light brighten the gloom?"

Rumpelstiltskin snorted. "I like the gloom. Dark One … remember?"

Belle rolled her eyes and reached up, tugging on the heavy crimson drapes. "Well, it makes it rather difficult to clean in here when I can barely see my duster. What if I miss a spot?" Another tug. "I find it hard to believe you can even see what you're spinning, Master."

He paced around the bottom of the ladder, his fingers rubbing nervously against his thumb as she leaned over to give a hard pull to the fabric. "Belle …"

"These things are filthy," she mumbled. "They could use a good wash. I found some lovely golden cord in one of the storage rooms we can use to tie them back once they've been cleaned and rehung."

"Belle …" His lips quirked. She was rambling now, no doubt afraid he'd be displeased with her task. He didn't give a damn about the bloody drapes. She swayed, the ladder lifting up on one side before it righted. He was going to have heart failure before she was done. "Why don't you come down from there before you fall?"

"It will make the hall so much more inviting, don't you think?" Another strong pull.

"Belle!"

She ignored him. "What did you do, nail them down?" she queried, her brows shooting up as she met his gaze.

"Yes," he mumbled, frowning up at her as if securing them with nails had been the most natural thing in the world.

Belle shook her head, determined to take the drapes down. "Stubborn man. A little light isn't going to hurt –"

She didn't get to finish her thought, the words getting lost on her tongue as she overbalanced. The feeling of her foot slipping on the wooden rung seized her heart and turned her blood to ice. The scream froze in her throat as she began to fall, and all she could do was brace for impact with the hardwood floor, her eyes squinched shut … one which never came. Instead, two strong but wiry arms wrapped around her, plucking her out of the air before she could collide with the floor in a broken bloody heap.

Rumpelstiltskin's lips parted in a silent gasp as he looked down at her in awestruck amazement. Her hand was pressed to his chest, and he was sure she could feel the frantic beating of his heart. The fingers of the other curled over his nape and he was forced to suppress a shiver lest she know of the effect she had upon him. He hadn't thought, but acted instinctively. His Belle must be protected. Oh, gods! His … he shouldn't be thinking of her in such a way. She was his caretaker. It was all she would ever be. For who could love a beast?

His befuddled amber eyes darted down to her lips as he licked his own. What would she do if he were to kiss her? Belle seemed as dazed as he was. Would she deliver a well-deserved slap or … no, he wouldn't let himself hope. That fleeting emotion had never led him to anything aside from disappointment and pain. He blinked up at the light streaming in through the window from the drapes she'd yanked down in her fall. A soft halo of pale winter sunlight surrounded her, and he couldn't help but think of the illustrations of angels he'd seen once in a cleric's chapel before he'd taken on the curse.

Her touch against his cheek, her delicate hand warm and unafraid of his unnatural skin tone, brought him out of his reverie. "Thank you," she breathed, her breath fanning hotly over his face. When had she gotten so close? "You're getting rather good at being my hero, Rumpelstiltskin."

The mage's lips moved, but no sound would issue forth. The arm beneath her legs trembled, and he slowly lowered her to the floor, one hand at her waist until he was certain she was steady on her feet. He waved off her praise with a dismissive hand. "It's no matter."

"It is to me," she murmured softly. She smoothed her hand over her skirts and gestured to the drapes. She didn't want to push, her master clearly far out of his comfort zone. "I'll put the curtains back up after I launder them."

Rumpelstiltskin backed further away from her, worried if she continued to look at him like that, his restraint would shatter and he'd gather her back into his arms. "Leave them. I'll get used to it." With a wave of his hand, the remaining drapes fell from their hangings. "Just stay off the ladder, dearie. I might not be there next time."

The Dark One chortled in the back of Rumpelstiltskin's mind as he fled the hall.