VI.
Belle rolled over and clutched her pillow more tightly to her chest, a low moan escaping her parted lips as the dream dug deeper and pulled her under its thrall.
Belle paced at the bottom of the winding marble staircase leading to his tower laboratory, wringing her hands, her lower lip clasped firmly between her teeth. He'd been up there three days. He'd been acting oddly since she'd fallen from the ladder and he'd saved her from broken bones and likely a cracked skull. Her strange master now acted as though he couldn't bear to be in the same room with her and when he was, he surreptitiously watched her every move when he thought she wasn't looking. A whimper passed her lips as she unconsciously bit down harder than necessary on her lip. She didn't want to think of how that episode had affected her.
Heat flooded her face as she thought of his arms wrapped so securely about her, his face scant inches from her own and his scent of straw, pine and woodsmoke enveloping her senses. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, sending her blood rushing to her pounding heart and threatened to beat out of her chest. She'd wanted so badly to thrust her hands into his hair and drag his head down to meet her lips and kiss him for all she was worth. He'd dropped her like a hot rock, his brow knitted, and his eyes filled with confusion. Never had she seen him wear such an expression, as if he were fighting the same impulses.
Just the thought of herself in his arms now sent heat unfurling in her belly and winding into her core. She could no longer deny her feelings. She wanted Rumpelstiltskin. Wanted him with a burning passion she'd never thought to experience for any man, being a servant in a nearly abandoned magical castle. For days after the incident, she argued with herself that she only felt this way because he was the only man … and yes, she was convinced he was indeed more man than monster … she spent time with, talked with and even laughed with him. She'd tried to convince herself if she had access to other men in her life she wouldn't be lusting after her master.
But it wasn't that at all. It was Rumpelstiltskin himself. It was the little things which drew her to him. It was the sadness which lurked behind his eyes when he sat spinning at the wheel, the simple joy he exuded when he was able to shock her and the shy surprise which crossed his lips when she did little things to please him. And now she found herself wanting to know all of him, his secrets, his dreams, his past and his desires. But she couldn't very well get to know him if he kept himself locked away for days at a time in his tower. He hadn't even come down in the evenings to dine with her and the trays she'd left outside his locked tower room had gone untouched.
Belle had a good idea his melancholy had begun when she'd asked him about the clothes she'd found in a trunk while cleaning, children's clothing. When she'd asked, he'd admitted they had belonged to his son and then completely shut down, refusing to satisfy her curiosity about the boy. He'd told her he spent so much time spinning because it helped him to forget and now she had a strong suspicion he was trying to forget about his son or what had happened to him. But he'd never closed her off so completely before. It wasn't until she'd intruded on him lighting a candle for his son on the boy's birthday, his way of remembering his child. It was then he'd retreated to the tower and hadn't come down since. And she couldn't bring herself to leave matters alone, couldn't allow him to continue to shut himself away.
She gathered her courage about her like a cloak and hesitantly placed her foot on the bottom step, letting her feet carry her up the stairs to the tower. She was halfway to the top when she heard a crash and a loud thump, prodding her to hurry her pace. She swallowed around the nervous knot which had formed in her throat and raised her hand to knock. When he didn't answer after the third hard rap to the door, she reached out and grasped the handle, calling softly as she opened the door.
"Master, are you there? May I come in?" When there was no response, she poked her head around the door, gasping at finding him prone on the wood floor. Disregarding that she was disobeying his most important rule … never to enter his tower laboratory … she rushed to him and knelt at his side, searching him for injuries. It was rather easy, considering he was wearing only his leather pants and a very wrinkled black silk shirt. A silk shirt which was falling open to reveal the bare expanse of his chest. Her cheeks flamed a brilliant red and her tongue darted out to lick her suddenly dry lips, the thought of running her hands over his bare skin causing a moan to form at the back of her throat, one she bit back with a sharp gasp as his eyes opened.
"Not s'posed to be up here, dearie," he mumbled, his slurred speech followed by a hiccup.
Belle wrinkled her nose as the alcohol fumes wafted up to assault her nose. Her eyes fell on the empty bottles which littered the floor of the room and it made her wonder just how much alcohol it actually took to put the Dark One in such a state. What would probably kill a normal man had just left him intoxicated. She could only pray he wasn't a violent drunk.
"Oh, master, what have you done to yourself?" she asked, petting her hand over his hair as she raised his head off the floor and placed it gently upon her lap. She refused to leave him up there by himself to continue imbibing in strong spirits whether he thanked her for it or not.
He ignored her question and pointed a long finger at her. "Breakin' th' rules again, pet," he scolded. "Wha'd'ya think yer punishment should be?"
She smiled down at him and grasped his waving fingers in her hand, dropping their clasped hands to rest against his chest. "I think having to see you such a mess is punishment enough, Master."
He closed his eyes and shifted his head until it was pressed against her stomach. "So soft," he murmured against the fabric of her dress and she somehow knew he wasn't referring to her clothes. He rolled over onto his side and wrapped his arm around her hips, pulling her closer.
"Master, let me help you up, get you to your room," she suggested, trying to ignore the sensations and heat curling through her at having him so close, so comfortable, cradled in her arms. "Please, I don't want to leave you here on the floor."
He gripped her tighter, his embrace nearly painful. "They all leave. N'body ever st-stays," he muttered, followed by another round of hiccups. "You'll leave too, m'Belle."
She could feel the tears prickle at the back of her eyes, stinging in their intensity and she had to choke back a sob. So lonely, so sad. He needed her, and she couldn't walk away from him now if he had dared hand over her freedom on a silver platter. She scooted her legs from beneath his head and helped him into a sitting position. "Come, my master, help me get you to your feet," she coaxed, blinking away the moisture which had gathered in her eyes and focusing all her strength on getting him off the floor.
After several attempts, she had him up and moving cautiously down the marble stairs to the floor below. Even in his inebriated condition, he seemed to be able to find his way to the double doors at the end of the corridor and to his room beyond. She felt her face flame as she took in the massive four poster which dominated one wall of the opulent room draped in rich crimson and gold silk. Only one word came to mind … sinful. But then, couldn't her longing for her master be termed as such?
He leaned heavily on her as they stumbled towards the bed and Belle hoped she wouldn't trip over anything which might lay in their path in the darkened room. She eased him down onto the side of the bed, thankful she wouldn't have to wrestle his boots off his feet. Her hands slipped under his shirt at his shoulders to draw it down his arms and she had to close her eyes briefly as she reveled in the feel of his toned flesh beneath her fingertips. She laid it carefully across the end of the bed, but before she could move to grab his legs and lift them up onto the mattress, his arms snaked around her waist and pulled her to him.
"Master …"
"Stop callin' me that," he hissed, resting his head against her shoulder, content to simply hold her. "I hate it when you call me that."
Belle gently ran her hands down his back, her nails scraping and causing him to shiver in her arms. "It's what I've always called you," she whispered softly, resting her cheek against his crown.
"I've a name y'know," he retorted.
"The same could be said for you. I'd actually like to hear you call me Belle instead of your usual condescending 'dearie'," she returned, smirking down at his sheepish smile. It slipped from her face as his smile morphed into a look of such longing it stole her breath.
His head dropped back onto her shoulder, his lips pressed to her throat. "M'Belle, mine," he whispered, his arms tightening about her waist. She barely had time to savor what her name rolling so sensuously off his tongue was doing to her when, without warning, he hoisted her up onto the mattress and rolled her beneath him, her shriek of surprise filling the room.
"Rumpelstiltskin!" she cried, her hands braced against his chest, her eyes wide with trepidation at the new position she found herself in. But wasn't this what she wanted? All the feelings she'd been struggling with for months had finally landed her in the exact position she'd been dreaming about … his bed, in his arms. And he was in no position to appreciate it, drunk as he was. Come morning, he'd be back to hiding from her. And how was she supposed to weather his rejection?
"Stay with me, m'Belle. Don't leave me," he whispered, the deep timbre of his voice vibrating against her throat. "Ev'ryone leaves."
She wrapped her arm around his shoulders and felt him sigh and relax against her, his arm curling around her waist as he began to lose himself to slumber. With her other hand she smoothed the hair back away from his brow. "I won't leave you, Rumpelstiltskin. I promise."
His grip on her slackened as he suckled gently at the ivory flesh of her throat and she had to bite her lip to stop herself from crying out at the sheer pleasure of his lips on her skin. He nuzzled his nose in her hair and finally stilled. Belle remained awake long into the night, watching over him, holding him. She would remain with him for as long as he wished. She'd promised him forever. Forever in his castle, at his side or until he tired of her.
Hopefully, she would be able to slip away before he woke in the morning, leave him to think it had all been a dream … if he even remembered anything at all. She yawned and snuggled into his embrace, relishing the way his body fit so perfectly against hers. She'd get up in just a few moments, but for now she just wanted take advantage of something which would probably never happen again … except in her dreams.
Belle woke, tears leaving her face damp as she sat up in her bed to take in the moonlight filtering in through her childhood bedroom. She threw back the duvet and swiped angrily at her tears. It was over, he was done with her and she wasn't going to cry anymore, she vowed. She wasn't going to sit there and think of the surprise on his face the next morning when he'd woken to find her in his bed. She'd pushed away her mounting desire and quipped that it wasn't as if she'd had a choice, pinned to the mattress with his body as she'd been. He'd apologized, and they'd agreed to never speak of it again.
But she'd never called him master again and he'd resolved to try to use her given name as well. No matter how much she hated it, she had to take back her life. She dug through her wardrobe, thankful her father hadn't tossed out her things when she'd left with Rumpelstiltskin. At the very bottom, she found a pair of breeches and the silk shirt she liked to wear when putting Dash through his paces. She changed quickly and braided her hair, securing the end with a strip of leather and coiling it atop her head to keep it out of her way. Dawn was peeking over the horizon and she had better things to do than think of her former master … and how much his rejection was slowly killing her.
*.*.*
Rumpelstiltskin jerked awake and nearly tumbled off the sofa, catching himself at the last moment to prevent himself from colliding with the hard wood floor. He was breathing heavily and sweating profusely as the last remnants of sleep left him. What the hell was that? He only had a vague recollection of the night Belle had spent in his bed, fully clothed, more's the pity. She hadn't even mentioned it in her diary to enlighten him. Had he just shared her dream?
There had been countless books written over the centuries about knights and damsels sharing true love, how it would break any curse, and was the purest and most powerful magic in the world, something to be fought for, cherished and held close to one's heart. Not in one of those tomes did it ever claim to produce shared dreams. Someone really should have written a manual. But he couldn't deny he'd just experienced it firsthand. She'd been dreaming of him and had somehow pulled his subconscious into hers to share it with him.
A shudder of pleasure rippled through his wiry frame as he remembered waking up in her arms that morning months before …
He had to be dreaming still. It was inconceivable his little caretaker was in his bed, his mouth hungrily suckling at her neck while her pale arms curled around his shoulders and toyed with the hair at his nape, her nails scratching in a most pleasant way. It was a dream which left him hard and wanting, one from which he wished never to wake. She could never, would never, be his. She was too beautiful, his little Belle, too kind, too giving. She would recoil in revulsion if she learned of his desire for her. So, he would have to be content with this dream of her and carry on as they always had … at a distance.
His hand curled over her breast, plucking at the hardened bud of her nipple through the bodice of her dress as he ran the flat of his tongue over the mark tattooed below her ear. His chest rumbled with a low growl at the satisfaction he found at having his mark on her, a visible claim she belonged solely to him, a warning to others that she belonged to the Dark One. His teeth scraped against the mark and he bit gently, drawing her succulent flesh into his mouth, thinking how lovely her mark would look with a bruise tinting it.
His dream Belle moaned her appreciation and pressed herself closer, thrusting herself against his palm. The breath left his lungs at her purely wanton gesture. It would have been perfect if it hadn't felt as though tiny hammers were trying to chip away at his brain matter. He groaned and tried to will the pain to subside. He wanted nothing to intrude on the sheer pleasure of having her willing and needy in his arms, holding onto him so tightly as if she were trying to meld into him.
"Rumpelstiltskin …" she breathed, her breath tickling the hair at his temple. And he froze. She'd never used his name before. It was always 'master' falling from her rosy lips. He shifted, his thigh positioned between her parted legs rubbing deftly against her core and another moan escaped her lips, sending a surge of lust to his groin.
Slowly, he lifted his head, realizing too late that this was indeed not a dream, his wide eyes meeting her heavy-lidded gaze, her face flushed with desire and he was nearly undone by the sheer beauty of it. His nose was touching hers now, his lips a scant inch from hers and her breath fanned over them in soft pants. It would be so easy to close the distance and claim her lips with his kiss, but if he did, there would be no coming back from it. He would take more than a kiss and her innocence would be destroyed. He couldn't - wouldn't - do that to her.
He rolled away from her, untangling himself from her limbs and coming to his feet to run a trembling hand through his wild locks. "Um … ah … what're you … I mean … why are you in my bed, dearie?" he stammered, fighting to school his features into a bland mask instead of the panic he knew was clearly visible. He failed miserably if the smile on her lips was any indication.
Belle, real Belle, not some shoddy imitation of his fantasies, propped herself up on her elbows and sighed heavily, meeting his frantic gaze with a level stare, unafraid to look him in the eye. "It seems I had little choice, pinned to the mattress as I was," she quipped, smiling shyly up at him.
Her bold gaze raked his chest and he looked down, emitting a little squeak so unlike the Dark One when he noticed just how bare he was, covered only by his tight leather pants. He snatched his shirt off the end of the bed where she'd placed it the night before and roughly drew it over his shoulders. "That doesn't explain how you came to be there," he retorted, feeling the heat rise in his face.
Feeling it would be best to find firmer footing for this discussion, she rolled out of the big bed and slipped her feet into her silk slippers. "I think I'll go down and see to your breakfast."
"No, you will bloody well not! You will tell me what happened last night," he demanded, pointing an accusing finger in her direction and she was thankful the bed was between them.
Belle crossed her arms over her chest and contemplated letting him believe the worst, but she didn't need to add new torment to those which already existed in her master. "I found you … quite intoxicated, I might add … in the tower and I simply helped you to your room."
"And?"
"And you asked me to stay. So, I stayed. As I said, I had little choice as tightly as you were clasping me," she explained, her hands fidgeting as she lowered her gaze. "Nothing untoward happened, Ru—Master."
He regarded her apprehensively. If nothing had happened, why did she seem to be disappointed? "My apologies, dearie."
"You said you wouldn't call me that anymore," she reminded him gently. Just as she'd promised not to call him master. It seemed they were both destined to go back on their word this morning.
"Go," he replied, waving her out of the room. "See to your duties … Belle." Her head lifted, and she smiled brightly as her name fell from his lips and he had to stifle the groan which rose up to choke him. If she only knew the effect her smiles had on him, life for them in the Dark Castle would be forever changed.
Several moments after she'd gone, he dropped face first onto the bed and pounded his head against the mattress, hoping the pain shooting through his head would alleviate some of the lust still raging through his groin. He couldn't allow this to happen again. He was growing too accustomed to her sweetness, her smiles, her touches and he didn't know how much longer he'd be able to fight it. He had to let her go.
Rumpelstiltskin checked the potion in the cauldron on his worktable and stirred it absently, intent on making certain nothing went wrong with it. It was too imperative to his plans to have it not come together as it should. The wards rippled, alerting him to a visitor and he left the tower, reaching the last step as a knock sounded on the door. He was jubilant to find Jefferson on the other side, stifling a yawn.
"Gods, Hatter, it's barely dawn," he said, covering his lapse and reverting to the snarky imp the man expected.
"You told me to present myself without delay. You did not, however, specify a time." Jefferson shrugged. "So here I am … at your service."
He ushered Jefferson into the Great Hall and conjured a tea tray and a chair for the man's comfort. He might as well lull the hatter into a false sense of security, much easier to bend him to his will. Jefferson sat and poured himself a cup, eyeing the imp suspiciously, but refraining from asking the myriad questions dying to slip from his tongue. Rumpelstiltskin poured his own tea into his chipped cup and stretched his legs out in front of himself, the picture of relaxation.
"I take it you didn't summon me for morning tea," Jefferson drawled over the rim of his cup.
Rumpelstiltskin knew it would only be a matter of time before the man's curiosity got the better of him. "I have a job for you."
"Does it involve retrieving a certain princess from the Marchlands?" he asked hopefully.
"In a roundabout way, yes."
"Does this mean you've finally come to your senses?"
"Hatter," Rumpelstiltskin warned, his eyes narrowing in irritation.
Jefferson raised a stubborn brow, refusing to budge an inch without an answer.
"I may have overreacted a wee bit," Rumpelstiltskin admitted ruefully, his lips twitching into a wry grin.
"Fine … what do I have to do?"
Rumpelstiltskin rubbed his hands together and tried to contain his glee. "There is a certain rare diamond of which I am in dire need. I need you to fetch it for me."
Jefferson frowned thoughtfully. "Fetch it for you? Why do I suddenly feel like a trap is going to spring closed and lop off my head? Who possesses this diamond that you can't procure it for yourself?"
Rumpelstiltskin rubbed the pad of his thumb almost lovingly over the chip in his cup. "Let's just say the witch who possesses it holds no great affection for me. She came out on rather the shoddy end of our deal."
"And this diamond, it's significant in bringing Belle home?" Jefferson asked, his grey eyes gleaming happily at the thought of the imp returning Belle to the Dark Castle. He was rather fond of the little maid, but more rather the softness she brought out in the sorcerer he regarded as his friend.
"Supremely significant," he said evasively. Jefferson didn't need to know the details. It didn't do well for too many to know the Dark One's secrets. "Interested?" he asked, his nose crinkling along the bridge.
"So, all I need to do is fetch this diamond? What's the catch, old friend?"
Rumpelstiltskin giggled, unable to help himself. "The diamond is set atop the witch's staff. You merely need to bring it here to me. Shouldn't take you more than a day to complete this task."
"Who is this witch?"
"The White Witch … you, Hatter, are going to Narnia."
A/N: Again, I cannot stress enough how very AU this is. So, what did you think? Yes, I forwent a diary entry in favor of a shared dream. I hope I didn't confuse or disappoint anyone. Really want to hear your thoughts so please, please, please review. More fun in store as soon as I can get it edited. Thanks so much for reading! You don't know how much I appreciate the support.