XVI

Difficult Man to Love

Belle set down the basket of cleaning supplies at her feet and huffed away a lock of hair which had come loose from its pins. She stared petulantly down the long corridor of rooms – bedrooms mostly – which would never be used. Unless the Dark One got a burr in his boot and decided to turn the Dark Castle into a hostelry. She shook her head at her errant thoughts. As if that was ever likely to happen. She picked up the basket and moved to the next room. She might have just enough time for one more before she was due to tidy the hall and serve dinner.

Her mood soured as she thought of her irascible master. Once again, he'd been avoiding her, lingering longer over his deals, making excuses to cut their tea time together short, and refusing to join her in their library in the evenings. For the life of her, she couldn't imagine what she might've done. Had she been too forward with him, she wondered for the thousandth time. It was becoming evident, the more time she spent with him how much she was beginning to care for him. And not just as her employer or her friend. No, now her feelings went much deeper. Frankly, they frightened her a bit, because she was sure he didn't feel the same way about her.

It was rather depressing.

Belle pushed the door open and slumped across the plush Agrabahan rug to set her basket down on the floor by the hope chest. It was probably empty like so many of the others, or else filled with useless trinkets her packrat master had collected over the centuries. She ignored it for the moment, taking a cloth and cleaning the furniture. She shook out the bedding on the four-poster and worked up a sweat sweeping the carpet. Sitting down on the chest when she'd finished, she drummed her fingers against the polished mahogany.

She shrugged, deciding to take a peek inside as she knelt on the floor beside the chest and lifted the lid. Reaching in, her fingers explored the rough texture of a small homespun tunic, and her brow knitted in a puzzled frown. Why would her master keep peasant garments hidden away in an obscure chamber in his castle? There was so little she knew about Rumpelstiltskin before he'd become the Dark One. She knew he hadn't been born cursed. She couldn't see their benevolent gods doing that to an innocent babe. And she refused to believe the stories of the Dark One making off with children for his cook pot. That wasn't what he was about, and people were foolish to believe such tales about him. The clothes were well cared for, but the sizes were much too small to fit her master. A son, perhaps?

Belle dug deeper, finding shoes, a cloak and various toys including a rough leather ball and a handcrafted sailboat. The mystery which was her dark master only deepened, new questions forming in her mind. Dare she ask about her findings? He was so quick to temper, and she had no desire to upset him, but it might open up a way back in. She didn't like the distance forming between them.

*.*.*

"Meddling again, dearie?" The Dark One asked from the open doorway. Just because he'd been avoiding his little caretaker, didn't mean he hadn't been keeping tabs on her. It wasn't by choice, however. She was getting just a little too close, making him feel things he hadn't felt in centuries. She was burrowing her way past his walls and he didn't need the distraction. Belle was his maid. Her duties were to clean the castle and relieve his boredom on occasion.

The girl didn't flinch or show distress in any way. She folded Baelfire's clothes and tucked them away in the hope chest just as they'd been before closing the lid. "I was cleaning, Master; nothing more. I thought you might have a clean bedspread tucked away in there," she said, casting a smile his way as she rose to her feet. "Was there something you needed?"

He could smell the furniture polish as he inhaled, and knew she wasn't lying. But then, his maid wasn't in the habit of babbling untruths. "No, I was on my way up to my workroom and noticed the door ajar. I thought it would be wise to see what you were meddling this time."

She chuckled. "You mean you wanted to see what mischief I was getting myself into this time."

Rumpelstiltskin nodded, averting his gaze as he moved across the room to stand at the window. Seeing Belle rifling through his son's things was making him wonder what their life would have been like if she had been there for them then. With her soft nature and willingness to give of herself, she would have been a wonderful mother for Baelfire. But they were fanciful notions he couldn't allow himself to dwell upon.

"Master?"

"Hmm?"

Belle laid a gentle hand on his upper arm, her fingers sliding over the silk as she looked up curiously at him. She nodded at the chest. "Those clothes … were they yours when you were a child? Or did you once have a son?"

The mage couldn't answer, his throat constricted with emotion. He blinked rapidly to ward off the tears stinging the backs of his eyes, and ducked his head so she couldn't see.

"Rumpelstiltskin … please don't shut me out. I promised you forever, and I don't regret that decision in the slightest, but if I'm never to know another person for my entire life … can't I at least know you?" she queried, her voice whisper soft. When he didn't answer, her teeth clamped nervously over her lower lip and she sighed sadly, seeing he wasn't going to let her in.

Belle turned to go back to her duties and leave him to his thoughts, surprised when she'd barely taken a step away and his arms curled around her waist, dragging her back against him.

Rumpelstiltskin froze, realizing what he'd done. He'd crossed that line and now he'd have to pay the price. He closed his eyes, preparing himself for her rejection, his lips parting on a silent gasp as she crossed her arms over his, her fingers curling gently over his wrists to hold him to her. He shivered, his heart beating a frantic tempo he was sure she could feel against her back. "There was a son," he managed to choke out. "I lost him."

Belle smiled as she turned her head, her brow pressing against the smooth curve of his jaw. "So, you were an ordinary man once with a family of your own," she stated, happy to have her suspicions confirmed. "Will you tell me about them?"

His nose pressed against her hair, the scent of rose and lavender and a hint of vanilla wrapping around him to tease his already heightened senses. He reveled in her comfort. If he could only find it in his heart to trust, he knew it would be as easy as breathing to bare himself to her. Monster … Beast … Deceiver … Dark One … She will never care for you … Why was it so easy to listen to the voice of the Dark One in the darkest recesses of his mind and heed the warning? "There's nothing to tell really … just that I'm a difficult man to love, Belle."

Her gaze met his, her heart quickening as warmth spread throughout her body. Those sloe-lidded eyes couldn't disguise the wealth of emotions he tried so hard to hide from her. "I don't believe that."

His clawed fingers traced over the delicate line of her lovely face from temple to jaw, tilting her head back as he closed the distance between them, his face mere inches from hers. "Then you're a fool."

Belle's fingers tightened over his wrist, needing something to cling to in order to ground herself. "And you're afraid … to let someone in. You don't need to push me away, Rumpel."

Rumpelstiltskin huffed a bitter laugh, though his voice was soft, gentle when he spoke. "You think to save me, dearie … to be the hero and slay the beast?" he asked, setting her away from him and heading for the door. He paused to glance back over his shoulder. "There is no saving me, Belle. This is just who I am. It would just be best if you accepted that now."