He managed to go three whole days without talking to her. Five, if one discounted orders and brief replies of 'yes, sir' and 'no, sir.' He couldn't avoid her completely; the welfare of the entire household was his responsibility, and that included thirteen men and herself. There were only so many messages he could relay through his Lieutenant, though, before the man gave him strange looks or the practice became cumbersome.
He didn't speak to the woman his brain kept calling 'his' Belle, but he couldn't keep his eyes off of her. He watched her as she served their food, still sitting with them for dinners though she ignored him as completely as he ignored her. He watched her through the windows as she hung the clothes she washed twice a week, fed the animals and swept the front steps. Watched her in the evenings, when anyone who didn't have other assignments gathered in the parlor to talk of places they'd rather be than in the middle of a war. Gold never joined them, believing the men needed time without worrying what their commander was thinking of their wistful stories, but he passed through the hall a little more than necessary, sometimes catching a glance through the door and always hearing her voice twining through the deeper male ones.
Some nights rather than talking the men listened as Belle read aloud from the Bible or the local newspaper. Tonight, though, she'd apparently found a copy of Grimm's Fairy Tales that must have been someplace other than the library when he'd banned her from taking more books. She'd started reading five minutes ago, her voice floating out from the parlor door and holding him entranced where he stood at the base of the stairs. It wasn't until something brushed against his legs, catching his attention, that he realized how long he'd been listening.
"Damn cat," he swore at the tom that had taken to following him around since he made the mistake of giving it a bite of his fish a week ago He'd meant to distract the wretched animal that followed Belle around the house, trying to lure it outside where it belonged. Instead he'd only managed to split its attention between himself and Belle, the exile outdoors lasting for less than an hour. Lucifer, as he'd christened the beast, was in possession of two distinct personalities. With Belle it purred, gently lapped at the milk she warmed for it, and curled in her lap so she could pet it absently and call it 'sweet baby.' With him it curled up in his chair and swiped a clawed paw at him when he tried to sit down, left mice on his pillow and shed all over his uniform.
"Why aren't you in there, whoring yourself out for her attention, huh? If I could slip so easily onto her lap I wouldn't be out here bothering some old bastard, not even if it meant another chance to shred his trousers. You might want to take advantage, Lucifer, before I find a way to keep you in the barn. It's a war, and we all have jobs. Yours is keeping rats away from the grain." And his, apparently, was talking to dumb animals. "I'm losing my mind."
"Captain?" The voice that interrupted him was hesitant.
"Nothing to report, Hopper?" The medic had, for the third time in five nights, been assigned patrol, walking the perimeter of the plantation. Apparently it had started raining sometime during the two hours he'd been outside, because he was dripping all over the foyer.
"No, sir. Not a soul out there except Graham." Archie stumbled a little, either from the slickness of his wet boots against the floor or the fact that he could barely see out of raindrop covered spectacles.
"Fine. Go change before you catch cold; a sick medic's less than useless to me." His feelings for Hopper were conflicted, and such that he prefered to have the man out of his sight and away from the house, but he didn't actually wish illness on him.
"Yes, Captain." Archie headed for the stairs and Gold, narrowly escaping tripping over the devil cat, headed for his library. He didn't make it across the foyer, let alone into the room.
"This has to stop." Just minutes ago Belle's voice had been full of vivacity as she had read out each character in her storybook with their own distinct speech patterns. Now her tone was sharp and cool, sure signs of the anger that was reserved for him and never shown to any of his men. Not even Leroy had earned the barbed side of her tongue, and Gold had lost his temper with the man less than twenty-four hours after meeting him.
"Goodnight, Miss French," he said pointedly. He found it difficult dealing with her at all since his talk with Graham had lead to revelations he had no intention of acting on. Now, though, he was tired and just relaxed enough from one glass of whiskey that he could not be able to guard his speech as well as he liked. He was also keenly aware that most of his men were but a room away, and with entertainment being rare a loud discussion would be considered something not to miss.
"I have held my tongue for five days, Captain Gold, but after tonight I can no longer keep my silence. I will speak my piece, and you will listen." She was wearing a gold dress. None of her dresses were well suited to performing the functions of a maid, but the one she wore now was even less suited to her current position thank usual. She was every bit the plantation owner's daughter, ready for a ball with Gaston or some other beau. She was beautiful. She was killing him with the barely controlled desire to touch her.
"There is only one person here who gives orders in this house, Miss French, and in case you've forgotten it is not you. Goodnight," he added firmly. She had barely opened her mouth when he added: "You will keep your voice down and do as you're told."
"I will keep my voice down because I am a lady, not because of your orders. And as a lady it is my duty to tend to those less fortunate than myself, which is why I can not keep quite a moment longer." Her skirt swayed from side to side as she approached him. If he hurried he might be able to slip into the library before she got to him, but that would mean not only slamming the door in her face but looking desperate while doing so.
"This is not a charity house, and you have enough to do with seeing to the meals, laundry and housework. Helping the less fortunate will have to be the job of some other gentlewoman." There was just a hint of mocking in his voice. She already coddled Hopper and the damn cat as well as spending her free hours listening to or reading with his men. What else could she possibly think she had time for?
"One does not have to look outside this house to find a troubled soul, Captain Gold." If her expression was any softer he might think that it was his own soul she worried about, which was ridiculous. The only trouble he had was wanting this blast war to end so he could go home to his son. And being in love with a woman that was untouchable for a dozen reasons, but he wasn't thinking about that. She was another problem that would end when the war did; she'd stay here, he'd go home, and they'd never have to see each other again.
"You're being a brute and a bully." Her accusation was enough to draw him from a line of thinking he'd rather not follow, but given the set of her mouth and the words ringing in his ears he was not grateful.
"I'm attempting to wish you a pleasant evening." Hadn't he said goodnight twice now? "There is nothing indecorous about my manner."
"To Archie. You're bullying Archie for some perceived but non-existent slight and it isn't fair. Take away my books if you like, but you're running Archie ragged with your demands." She looked up the stairs where Hopper had stepped just a few minutes ago, and spoke with the passion of a man defending himself in court. That she was willing to concede the books she claimed to love so much spoke a great deal for her regard of the medic. A part of him wished he had the power to send them both north; at least then he wouldn't have to see the affection that was so clear between them.
Poor Gaston, who didn't have any way of knowing that the woman he was supposed to marry had feelings for another man.
"I assign duties to my men. All of them." And if he'd shifted things around the last few days that was his prerogative; he had to use his limited resources as he saw fit.
"You have him up before the crack of dawn to see to the fires and out long past dark to look for an enemy that's nowhere near here. He's a medic, not a soldier." In the midst of her scolding she touched him, just a finger to his arm. He pulled back as if she was a spark from a camp fire.
From the corner of his eye Gold could see movement in the parlor. With a hand to her back he guided Belle into the library and away from prying eyes. He was rather proud of the fact that he had been keeping his voice so calm. He also managed to remove his hand without lingering or brushing against anything other than the small of her back once they were in the room and the door was closed behind them. The satin of the dress was smooth beneath his fingers.
"Every single person in this unit is a soldier, no matter what their other skills are," He explained patiently, as if to a child. "With no ill or wounded to tend Hopper must earn his keep in other ways."
"I don't understand why you're upset with him." For just a moment her eyes flicked to the corner of the library where he'd hurled the books a few nights ago. They were in his desk drawer now, though why he'd saved both books and loose pages instead of throwing them away he didn't know.
As vividly as she could probably see the books flying through the air at her head he could remember her and Archie embracing just a foot away from where he now stood. He pursed his lips together. "I'm not..."
"You're punishing him, for some reason neither of us can understand."
It was the 'us' that did it. She didn't even have to stop and think about the two of them, her and Archie, being an 'us.' He snapped.
"Do you really want to know what my problem is, Miss French?" If she'd just followed his orders he could have bitten his tongue, instead of barking questions at them that should not be answered.
"Please." Afterwards he wasn't certain whether she said the word, or if it was just her eyes talking to him.
"Fine. Just remember that this was your choice." The very first time they'd met, after all, she'd held up her head and insisted that she chose her own fate. Maybe even then they'd been starting down the path that led to this moment.
He took a step forward and like a well known dance she took a step back. Her back was pressed to the bookcase and for a moment she just looked at him, eyes as unreadable as a book written in an ancient language. When he couldn't restrain himself any longer he closed the distance between them and covered her mouth with his own, his teeth nipping at her lower lip in his demand for entrance to her mouth. She gasped, and he used her surprise to plunder her.
This was no gentle kiss, politely asked for and shyly given after the proper introductions and two dances at a ball. If he was only going to kiss her once he was going to possess her, tasting her like a dying man's last meal, breathing her in as if there was no other air in the room. His hand once again found its way to the small of her back, pulling her body close to his, not giving a damn about honor or propriety or the man upstairs that might have her heart but not this moment.
It wasn't until he felt her trembling against him that he stopped. Her hand against his shoulder was shaking, her lips were swollen and her eyes were wide. Though her mouth was open to speak no words came out. He called himself every kind of bastard; she was an innocent girl, and he'd all but forced himself on her. If he were to catch one of his men treating a lady in such a way he'd have them bucked and gagged.
"Go," he rasped, taking two steps back and avoiding her eyes. She was right when she called him a brute and a bully; he was that and far worse.
"Captain?" She didn't move. He wondered if she could, or if she was paralyzed with fear.
"You have my apologies, and any concessions you need in order to sleep tonight. I can have one of the men guard your door tonight, but I give you my word that I will not touch you again. You're under my protection, and that means from any unwanted advances, even from a despot like myself." It would not be easy, explaining to his men why a guard was necessary, but he would do what was needed to restore her peace of mind.
"I hope that's not true, about staying away from me." He waited, jaw clenched and eyes downcast, for the door to open and close behind her. He was not prepared for the hand on his cheek or the curve of her mouth when he looked up in surprise. "I'm not afraid of you, Captain Gold."
"You should be." It would be so easy to kiss her again. So easy to do more than kiss. For her sake he pushed her away.
"Go. Find whatever bed makes you feel the safest, and sleep." He wondered if she would seek out her own bed, or Hopper's. He didn't have the right to ask.
"Archie's my dearest friend, here, but that's all he is." Her voice, still close to his ear, was low and soothing. "Captain..."
"Goodnight." If she wasn't going to leave then he would. It was for the best. Gold tore himself away from her touch and strode out into the night as if Cerberus was after him. He ran, but even when he stopped her taste lingered against his tongue and he could all but feel her fingers against his cheek.
"Damn."