CHAPTER TWO

PRINCE Adam stared straight ahead of him, unable to take his eyes off his prickly new maid as she gingerly entered the dining hall and closed the door behind her with the heel of her boot, an act which he would have scolded any other maid for, yet for some strange reason, he let it pass, grateful his father had not seen it.

As if sensing his son's interest, the Duke, who was seated to his left, turned his head colly to regard him and the vengeful glower on his lined and weathered face nearly chilled the blood in Adam's veins to ice.

"She is your new maid and nothing more, boy, need I remind you of what happened to your last one?" he gruffed, speaking rhetorically as he raised his eyebrows.

Adam flushed and sharply turned his head to the left, though not before he caught the lovely brunette, pretty Belle, eyeing him with curious interest. No, he did not need a reminder of what had happened to Colette.

He could still see her image as plain as day and willed his mind to not let her ghost haunt him.

No doubt she had seen the cracked and red rims of his eyes and noted there was drama brewing between father and son, but then what else was new in his life? He watched, interested, as Father's gaze flicked curiously towards his newest maid still hovering by the door, a look of trepidation and uncertainty plastered all over her face, as if she was unsure whether or not to approach without being asked. He heard his father sigh.

"Come closer, girl, contrary to what vicious stories you might have heard of my son and me, we do not bite."

Adam slowly turned his head and watched as the girl gingerly approached, carrying their heavily laden supper trays of steaming bowls of soup in her arms, careful not to spill a single drop as she swiftly approached the table.

Her expression was hollow as she lifted her chin as she set down their meals in front of them and when her hands were free, she managed a tiny bow that was small and nearly mocking, yet never once did she tear her eyes away from the Duke. Father's eyes narrowed slightly, and he straightened in his seat. The Prince grimaced. The Duke was every bit his title now, all suspicion and on the alert. He clenched his teeth and cursed the stubborn girl and her stupid pigheadedness, but his pride would not allow him to whisper to the girl to show him respect.

There was even a part of Adam that firmly believed his father did not deserve this prickly farm girl's respect.

"…You are very nearly late, girl, and you call that a bow? Tell me, mademoiselle, do you intend to make it a habit to disrespect your Duke so blatantly that you would bow instead of curtsy to your lord?" The Duke sneered coldly.

Out of the corner of his eye, as the Prince shoveled a spoonful of broth into his mouth and pretended not to listen, he saw the girl Belle swallow hard, and she forced herself to bend an inch or two further. To the two of them, she was nothing but a shadow, there to exist only when called upon.

"I'm sorry, My Lord, if you saw it as disrespect, I am afraid growing up in my village left me with few opportunities to practice social graces when dealing with nobility such as yourself," she replied in a steady voice.

The Duke raised a brow by way of response, but he offered no comment.

But what the girl said next, not even the Prince could have guessed.

"I merely thought that you wished to look at me, considering your gaze has been intense and has not left my face since I entered the room," she blurted out, her words sounding clumsy and blunt.

Adam felt the blood drain from his face as he sharply turned his head in Belle's direction, uncertain where in God's name she had learned to speak so rudely and plainly to a superior.

He hardly felt the way his nails raked down the arms of his chair, fiercely pouring out his anger without giving a hint to Father or his new servant in the room. His eyes grew wide with alarm as he realized he wanted this woman.

He would have kissed her then and there for daring to talk back against Father were the man himself not in the room. He inched his eyes to Belle to see if he could catch the familiar glint of longing that many of the castle's maids would give him whenever he passed them by in the halls, finding him attractive, but there was none there.

Belle, strangely enough, had a pained expression on her face and she took a shaky step back and moved to stand with her back pressed against the wall, hands folded neatly over themselves and pink blush on her face, almost as if the farm girl were embarrassed.

Adam nervously flicked his gaze towards the Duke, and he was astonished to see the ghost of a smile cross the older Frenchman's thin lips, but it was there and gone again in an instant the moment the Prince blinked.

"I see that my son's new maid is insolent as well as flippant," he grunted. "Obedience does not come naturally to you, girl, does it?" he questioned and turned towards Adam without waiting for the girl to respond. "Does your new servant have a name, boy, or am I forced to draw that out of you as well?" the Duke grunted, his harsh voice sounding more than annoyed.

Adam's blush deepened a shade further until he was sure his face was now a deep cherry red. He lifted his chin and boldly stared down the man who had helped give him life, his jaw taut.

"Belle, Father." He was surprised at how prettily the girl's name rolled off his tongue.

It was a good name, the name he wished to hear more of, and he could do that by filling his time with her company. She was his maid now, bound to do as he commanded until her debt was paid.

She could not leave him until he gave the order to do so. He crossed his arms and huffed, feeling like throwing the scalding bowl of hot onion soup in front of him at the vicious bastard who was now eyeing Belle curiously.

"Belle," the Duke repeated slowly as if he were tasting her name. A chill was stuffed down the Prince's throat at the almost sensuous little smile that played at his lips, and he was startled when he realized it was not fear.

Adam felt a little tightness in his chest and an uncomfortable aching pit that now formed in his stomach.

It took him nearly a minute to realize that the discomforting feeling that was raging inside of him the longer Father eyed his servant, his Belle, was jealousy. Why the thought of Father eyeing his servant upset him so much that he could not come to terms with it, but he felt oddly betrayed. Mother had been dead now less than a year, and he had the ridiculous thought that Father was too old, and Belle would surely refuse him.

Though he suspected and was correct in his estimation that Belle saw through the Duke's look judging by the way her expression was now one of disgust, the thought that Father wanted her bothered him. He would need to keep a close eye on her, two eyes, as often as he could spare them when he could not always be by the girl's side.

It was at that moment that Adam knew he needed to give Lumiere a task.

He needed to know where his new servant would go during her off hours, and with whom she spent her time.

He was pulled from his raging tempest of thoughts at the sound of Father's voice once more, that smooth buttery purr that was enough to set his hackles on edge.

Nothing Father ever said to anyone ever sounded sincere, and now as he spoke to his new maid, was no exception.

"Beauty. A fitting choice of a name. Your parents at least seemed to possess some sense when you came into this world and they bestowed upon you that name. You are beautiful, Belle. Surely you can see that, and yet, it seems that such beauty is wasted on as foul a mouth as yours. I have never met a young woman, lowborn or otherwise, so contemptuous."

Belle immediately stiffened at the remark, the young woman's dark chocolate eyes losing their warmth and kindness and instead going cold and hard.

Oh, God. No. Please, no.

Adam squeezed his eyes shut and already knew what was coming, having recognized the beginnings of a solar flare of a temper erupting, having suffered it himself on his bad days.

"And I've never met a Duke so obtuse," Belle snapped as her jaw clenched angrily as she looked at him.

She did not flinch as both the Prince and the Duke looked up at her with an angry, troubled expressions. She merely waited patiently for them to speak, knowing that it was too late to take back her words, but despite herself trying to contain her honesty, Belle could not do it. Belle swallowed hard and shifted her weight from one foot to the other, nervously toying with a lock of her hair that had come loose from her ponytail.

The Prince was briefly surprised to see that Mrs. Potts or another maid under the old woman had not insisted her hair be done up into a tight and severe bun, as Father had always been a stickler for neat appearances.

Yet if the man was at all put off by her unkempt appearance, then the Duke was good at hiding it, for his expression remained menacing and blank. The Duke smiled coldly, the look not reaching his eyes.

"You have been brought here to my family's home as I have been searching for a chambermaid to tend to my son for quite some time, one whom he won't dally with. The rooms in this castle are of an impressive size and sad to say that I have had yet to find a girl who could manage them and my son properly. I suspect, however, given your flippant attitude, that you shall do, though you will stay away from my son. Do not let yourself become swayed by his pretty words and good looks, girl, there is nothing for you by pursuing him." There was no question in his voice when he announced his decision to let Belle remain, despite her boldness. He was not asking. He was commanding.

Adam half expected Belle to protest, but she did not. Instead, this time, she dropped into a nearly perfect curtsy, her head bowed low, a lock of her long dark hair hiding whatever expression she currently wore from both of the men.

"You honor me, My Lord."

The Duke grunted by way of response. "Indeed, I do, wench, and you would do quite well to remember that."

Adam nervously shifted his eyes to the left and was relieved that Belle had gone quiet.

Father's words had stunned the girl into silence, for which he was grateful.

If the Duke was of a mind to, he could have ordered his captain of the guard, Brutus, to beat Belle within an inch of her life and then remove her tongue that must have been hung in the middle at birth so it could wag at both ends.

He gave his father a curious look as it seemed his father was in a merciful mood tonight, which he was grateful for. Adam briefly met the Duke's gaze and looked away, sick at the thought that he could already feel the boiling in his blood begin to burn hot and bright, and recognized he'd need to leave soon.

Yet he wanted in his mind more time to linger with this girl, with Belle, alone, without Father's meddling eyes watching his every move, or eavesdropping on his conversations. Dinner seemed to drag on in awkward silence as the Prince silently fretted like a child, the food on his plate growing cold and untouched.

The Duke had launched into a one-sided conversation about finding the Prince a suitable bride, a woman of noble blue blood, yet the Prince held no interest in marrying some Princess from a distant land. His mind remained fixated on his newest servant as he could not seem to take his eyes from her face, enchanted by the girl's very presence.

The door opened and in shuffled Monsieur Lumiere, and it was only upon looking at the face of perhaps the only man in the castle whom Adam could call a 'friend' to him, that he felt some of the tension in his shoulders dissipate.

Behind her, as Lumiere shuffled awkwardly into the room, he heard Belle suck in a breath and knew without needing to look behind what had her so shocked.

Adam knew all too well what she and others saw when they looked upon Lumiere. Father had never much liked Lumiere, dismissing the castle's maitre'd as something of a pest and showman.

But he was well-liked and respected amongst the other servants in the castle, and even the Duke could begrudgingly admit that there was no finer servant than Lumiere, who served as a prominent member of his son's unofficial council of close confidants. He was young, though ten summers older than the Prince, clean-shaven, but the plain fact of the matter remained that Monsieur Lumiere was extraordinarily ugly.

He was unnaturally tall, fair-skinned, possessing a rather prominent chin and a flattened nose. One of his hazel eyes possessed somewhat of a fearful squint, and his left hand was useless to him these days except to move things by nudging them, a result of an accident years ago in the kitchens when he was just a small boy and his father before had held the position and rank that he did now. The man's only redeeming feature was his thick head of bright copper hair currently pulled back into a low ponytail.

His inquisitive gaze swept across the room as his eyes landed on Belle, who flinched at his physical appearance at first glance, but then the girl relaxed when he smiled warmly at her and she was already growing more accustomed to his appearance which was by right, upon first glances, shocking, even Adam could admit that of his friend.

There was nothing handsome of Lumiere in the slightest, yet Adam could tell his new maid was slowly becoming charmed by him, as there was something of the man's genuine warmth that was contagious. Belle shyly returned his wide smile with a soft one of her own, yet she was given no chance to speak as the Duke excused himself and left without a word. Only Prince Adam, Lumiere, and Belle were left alone in the dining hall. Belle gingerly stepped forward and made to clear away the plates, yet before she could reach for the Prince's plate, Monsieur Lumiere bounded forward and took her hand in his good hand, and brought her fingers to her lips for a kiss.

"No, pretty Belle, please allow me." The man's French accent was richly accentuated and deep, and it lulled Belle even deeper into her confused haze. "It is lovely to meet you. Please. Call me Lumiere. I am grateful that you are here, as are my colleagues, Mrs. Potts, and Monsieur Cogsworth, whom you have already met, my dear lady. I was hoping to get this chance to meet you for myself. You should take this time to explore the grounds, and become familiar with your…new home." He paused and exchanged a quizzical look with Adam and let out a little breath before carrying on. "The master seems keen to show you the castle. I hope you will let him," Lumiere said gently.

It did not escape Adam's attention at how the farm girl was looking at Lumiere now as though the man had lost his mind, and she glanced down at the floor in front of her. Belle was silent for a few moments before she lifted her gaze and spoke softly.

"You should not speak to him like that, good monsieur," she muttered, her tone angry.

Lumiere furrowed his brows, clearly confused, and exchanged a worried look with the Prince, who stiffened in anger.

"Like what?" he asked quietly as he cradled his bad hand close to his chest.

"Like he's…human, monsieur," Belle snapped after a pause. "He's not. Your Prince here is nothing but a Beast. He could have spoken up and defended me when his father spoke against me, but he did not. He does not care for the servants here," Belle hotly accused, her gaze icy as her dark eyes washed over Adam angrily as she pursed her lips.

Disgust and anger moved the Prince to bolt upright from his chair so fast that he overturned it and kicked it aside as he ran to her and in an instant, pushed his new maid against the wall, ignoring Lumiere's startled exclamations and pleas that he show the girl mercy, she knew not what she was saying.

But the man's pleas fell on Adam's deaf ears. His friend was wrong. Oh, she knew exactly what it was that she said, as her brows furrowed at the sudden shake.

For a moment, the Prince wondered if she suffered a headache, but he could not manage to pretend to care.

Red was in his eyes. The girl had better hope that Father would continue to remain in his merciful moods, for she would be turned out of the castle at the slightest insolence and her father likely imprisoned if not outright killed.

"That comment was unnecessary!" Adam spoke through gritted teeth as he gave her a shake, his wintry blue eyes a striking contrast of fire and ice as he glared.

But Belle looked upon him without any hint of fear or dread or disgust in her dark chocolate eyes.

"And neither was staying silent."

The Prince felt his jaw still and his muscles condense as he stared at her in shock.

He did not recall loosening his vice grip on her arms, but he must have, for Belle freed herself easily and stormed out of the room without ever once looking back, leaving Monsieur Lumiere unable to call for the Prince's maid in defeat.

Lumiere stared at the now-closed door with a confused expression plastered all over his face that only ensured the boiling in his veins that reminded the Prince of the precariousness of his position.

He needed to leave, to flee, or else he would be a danger to all. But his feet felt like lead in his brown suede boots.

Lumiere blinked a few times before he spoke and slowly turned back to face Adam, clearly nervous.

"She's a beautiful woman, master, isn't she? Your Belle," Lumiere murmured, sounding wistful, his gaze distant.

The Prince grunted and scowled, the edges of his mouth pinching and turning down in a frown as he looked indignantly toward the door the girl had slammed. He thought it would be a miracle if his maid lasted a week.

"She will be once she has the dirt scrubbed off her face and her hair combed and wears something befitting of her new station here," he begrudgingly admitted, folding his arms across his chest, and shooting Lumiere a rueful look.

The man flushed under the scrutiny of his gaze and continued to cradle his bad hand to his chest.

Lumiere stopped moving and twisted his neck to look Prince Adam square in the eye and was flushing to see how the master thickly swallowed and recognized the familiar look brimming in the young Prince's eye.

That look of frustrated desire, yet to see him behaving almost melancholy over a woman whom they both knew he could not have, not unless the girl possessed noble blood, was very new, and unlike him. Lumiere could only stare.

The Prince felt something dark and ugly shift within himself as he noticed the wistful way Lumiere was eyeing the door, as though the older man was half hoping Belle would appear through the doorway and proclaim her love for him. He sneered, unable to help it, as he prayed that Belle had retreated within the comfort of her chambers. He wanted his friend to find his peace, his happiness, one day, but it would not be with his prickly maid.

"I would suggest you turn your eyes elsewhere, Lumiere, it pains me to say it, but you've no chance with her," the Prince bit out as Lumiere turned to him and squinted. "The maid is my charge," he grunted as he felt his anger inexplicably flare up.

His jealousy threatened to implode until he caught himself and shook his head to rid his mind of his frenzied thoughts. What had gotten into him? The girl had only just arrived in the castle, and she was already leaving quite an impression on him. Belle had not seemed too taken with Lumiere anyways, and Adam suspected a part of her was still put off by his looks. Ugly or not, he knew that Lumiere was charming and playful, in his way, and knowing there was even the slightest chance his oldest friend could even think of snatching Belle from him, made him feel uneasy.

There was a muttering of concern from Lumiere, but the Prince quickly excused himself, not in the mood to hear Lumiere's spluttering and protesting that thoughts of the farm girl had been the furthest thing from his mind, and perhaps they were, but he was not in the mood to hear. Prince Adam gruffed at Lumiere as he took his leave.

"Perhaps a goblet of wine, my old friend, will help to calm your mind tonight and let you get some rest. You need it, Lumiere, your eyes are turning darker than Father's heart," he sneered and fled the dining hall before Lumiere could say yet another word. Satisfied, he slammed the doors to the dining hall shut behind him and decided to go right.

He had his maid to find.

BELLE vested herself to remain in one piece as she took the deserted passageways of the East Wing at a near run, no longer certain of where she was going, just that she knew she could not remain here, hell be to the threat on Papa's life.

If she could somehow make it home in secret, she could convince Papa to come away with her, to go anywhere else, to see other lands, cities, mountains, and oceans, to travel, as they'd wanted. The shock and embarrassment at the humiliation she had suffered now twice at Duke Henri's cruel hand were slowly but surely subsiding.

All that remained was the steady aching pain she had felt since the moment she'd fled the room, drowning in humiliation, and the hurt in her heart that refused to leave. She feared she'd never be rid of it at this rate.

Reaching the end of the Wing, before determining to turn left or right to continue her fleeing, Belle paused for a moment. She almost expected to hear Prince Adam's heavy footsteps behind her, hurrying to catch up to scold her or punish her further for speaking so harshly against his father and his methods.

She'd felt his angry cutting stare burning a hole through her in the lavish dining room, and it had taken everything she had within herself not to lose herself in the man's wintry blue depths that were his eyes. They were wide and brimming with fascination as he looked at her. Almost as soon as the thought formed in her mind, Belle felt her resolve failing her. It made her angry with herself, that she could not let her fury with the Prince fade. She could not risk her father's life, she knew that, yet nor could she remain in this place. If there was a way out, she'd take it…

Belle tried her best to not let her anger overcome her until she decided she needed fresh air to help her think.

When the carriage had arrived at the castle gates earlier, she had spotted a lovely rose garden in the Courtyard and thought that sufficient to go to clear her mind.

Her mind made up and her decision made, she sped through the castle as quickly as her legs would carry her and was outside in a flash, hungrily breathing in the crisp autumnal air and wiping at the thin sheen of sweat on her brow.

Guards outside were stealing glances at her, and a few men had begun whispering amongst themselves for all she cared. She moved her legs towards the rose gardens and came to a grinding halt, agitated and white-faced, to find she was not alone.

A cloaked figure stood near the fountain, seemingly unaffected by the overwhelming scent of the rose blossoms that now almost made Belle dizzy. She was alarmed to find that even without a cloak or thick winter coat, she could not feel just how cold it was.

All she could focus on was the way it seemed the world steadied around her as her lungs filled. She was living an entirely different life now, and she suspected nothing would erase the way the air that lingered around the Prince's shining castle tasted bitter. She looked curiously upon the cloaked figure whose back was paraded to her.

Belle's first thought was that an enemy would not be standing still and taking in the sights, yet the fact that he did not lower the hood of his cloak struck Belle as odd. Even still, she was overcome with curiosity and approached the stranger without fear. Belle made it a point to purposefully step loudly on a few twigs and leaves the closer she drew, for she did not want to frighten the man and end up with a dagger through her stomach this evening.

The first thing Belle noticed as she approached was the bow and arrow slung over the cloaked man's back, and a jolt ripped through her as she recognized the weapon to be Gaston's, but what was he doing here?

She had hardly shared ten words with the most handsome boy in their village since she and Papa had moved there when she was little, but now, Gaston seemed hellbent on asking for her hand. Had Papa sent him, was that it?

Gaston glanced at her as Belle moved to stand beside him, and even in the darkness, Belle could admit the rugged hunter's features were striking in the moonlight. Gaston's jaw and cheekbones were sharp, his black hair neat, pulled back into a low ponytail beneath the hood of his heavy woolen cape.

Belle gaped at him until Gaston took it upon himself to break the silence settled in between them.

"I've come to rescue you, Belle, your father came to the tavern and told me what happened." The edges of Gaston's mouth turned down in a scowl as he let out a frustrated exhale and looked away. "It was no easy feat to sneak into the grounds, Belle, but I expect in return for this kindness of seeing you home to Maurice, you will give me something in return," he told her, his voice a buttery purr adapted by confidence over the years.

His tone of voice immediately set Belle on edge, and she could only glower.

"My hand in marriage?" she asked dryly, though she was surprised when Gaston gave a light jerk of his head no.

A cold feeling of dread swept over her and her mouth, already dry, went dryer still, as Gaston spoke, though what he said, she could have never anticipated it.

"Not yet, Belle, I would want you to marry me willingly. I want you to act of your own accord. I would start by simply asking that you let me spend some time with you. I thought perhaps I could call upon you tomorrow night for dinner….Let me bring you home, Belle. Maurice, he needs you. I fear your father would wilt and wither away in his home otherwise."

"We'd never get past the guards—"

"Who would stop me, Belle?" he snorted sardonically. Belle let out a little squeak of surprise when she felt the sharp cold steel of a hunting knife pressed to her throat. "When I have this? Or this? Hmm?" He motioned to his bow and arrow slung over his back and he slowly lowered his knife from around her throat. "Are you scared, Belle? I could keep you safe. No one would dare touch you, or I would kill them. You know I would do it," Gaston spoke coldly.

Belle hesitated as she desperately searched Gaston's face for any hint that this was a ruse, any sign that she could not trust him. But the handsome boy's expression was as grim as a graveyard and there was no jest in the man's colorless gray eyes.

She could hardly believe it was true, but Gaston had spoken with conviction just now. She swallowed past a lump in her throat and by a miracle of God, she found her voice.

"If the Prince or the Duke catches you, if you are caught Gaston, they will kill you," she whispered as a chill went down her spine at the very idea.

As cold and apathetic as she had acted towards Gaston the moment the former soldier had started taking a romantic interest in her, not even she would wish upon him certain death.

"You're dead if you stay, Belle. And so am I," Gaston rasped in a low voice that Belle could later only describe as a low growl. She did not know what he meant by his words, but she felt herself nodding slowly.

"Gaston," she pleaded, his name sounding funny on her lips. "Take me home, then. Take me to my father."

He nodded, for a moment, a kernel of happiness sparked to life behind his dark eyes and Belle found herself nursing a little desire to see it more often. Gaston was always so solemn, she hardly recalled the hunter smiling much. But it was gone as soon as the odd look had come, and he stepped back and unfastened his cloak.

Gaston wrapped it around Belle's slender shoulders and pulled the hood up to cover her face.

"Be silent and do as I tell you when I tell you, no matter what it is, you will do it, or I will turn around and leave you here to rot, do you hear me?" Gaston told her sternly in a harsh voice Belle had only previously heard him use on his friend LeFou back home in the village when he was in something of a foul mood. His expression was suddenly grave.

Belle nodded nervously but said nothing and struggled to keep up with the hunter's long strides as she allowed Gaston to spirit her away from her prison, and hopefully, to home.

THE Prince stalked towards the Courtyard, unsure why his conscience was telling him to look for the prickly girl there first, yet his intuition had never led him astray.

As he strode quickly outside, his mind remained stuck on the way Belle had looked at him, her dark eyes practically begging him when her lips could not when Father had talked so cruelly to her. He had enjoyed the look in her eyes and resolved to keep her close by his side and away from Father's attention.

He would play her little games and treat her with some small semblance of kindness. It might force her into obedience and to remain by his side better than any other punishment Adam could doll out to her.

And once she understood that she was his maid and she could not leave him, he could do to Belle whatever he wished, and for the moment, he was simply content to bask in her presence.

Adam did not understand how it was that a simple lowly peasant and a farm girl at that with no hopes of a better future for herself and no prospects in terms of marriage could make him feel almost apathetic to the hurt that had haunted him since his Mother had passed away.

Thoughts of seeing the shock revel in her dark eyes had him quickening his pace into a nearly light jog. He was more than ready to enjoy time alone with his maid. Each step was nearly painful as the boiling burning in his blood worsened. His boots thudded against the stones, but the sound was drowned out by the sound of his pounding heart in his ears. His mouth went dry, and he licked his lips. Adam did not think he could find Belle fast enough.

He turned the corner and came to stand in front of the rose gardens and felt his face freeze and his anger swell.

The Prince furiously stomped to the center of the fountain to see how it was possible. A stranger was whisking a hooded young woman away from his grounds, likely the girl was his maid, but where was Captain Brutus?

He cursed himself for not being more careful. He should have ordered her to remain in the room. Then she would have not wandered off and gotten herself kidnapped.

There was no telling if the man who had Belle now was friend or foe to her.

Adam waited for a moment to compose himself before he began his search as he watched the young man and woman disappear into the thick of the Wolves' Woods.

They would not escape that wretched haunt of a forest alive.

The Prince could only hope he found her before she stumbled across a pack of hungry wolves or even worse, discovered his darkest and greatest kept secret.