A/N: I do not own Once Upon a Time or Plunkett and Macleane.
It is time for a Belle centered chapter don't you think? I thought so. Enjoy. Feel free to review, they help Dearies. Should start updating faster, if I could get rid of this damn cold.
Chapter 4:
Belle lay naked stretched across the silk sheets of a four poster bed. Her hair fanned out among the large amount of pillows as a cool breeze rolled in gently from an open window. Goosebumps prickled throughout her skin but she couldn't tell if it was from the window or the attentions of the man between her knees. Her chest fell in deep waves as she tried to return her breathing to a state of normalcy. Large hands, rough from years of hard work, but gentle against her smooth skin, caressed her flesh, squeezing her greedily in places that made her back arch ever so slightly. Passion ignited within her body even though she was already well sated from the evening's activities.
"T-thank you." She breathed with a smile as the lips of her experienced lover trailed along her stomach, up her breasts, over her collar bone and hovered against her lips, leaving just enough space to speak.
"Always a pleasure M'lady," a deep voice said into the dark room. Belle looked up at the face hovering right above hers and starred into the eyes of William Plunkett.
Belle's eyes flew open and she sat straight up in bed. Breathing quickly and glancing around the dark room in an almost frantic panic. She reached shaky hands to her night stand and opened up the bedside drawer, grabbing the matches and quickly striking one; she lit the candle on the table. Soft shadows filled the room as she looked around and realized she was once again alone in her bed.
This was the third dream that week. This had to stop. Each time she woke up in a light sweat, breathless and aching from things that had never happened. Never would happen either for that matter. But just because something would never happen, didn't mean it was bad to dream about it, right? She heard her open window give a small creek and she was pulled from her thoughts.
Sliding out of the covers she padded quietly across the cold hardwood floor and leaned out the window sill, breathing in the refreshing air of the night. Her father, as well as the maid, always scolded her for leaving it open, saying, 'It's dangerous for a young maiden to leave the window open. It is asking for trouble.' But Belle never saw the harm. The air was cool and the moonlight that poured in always gave her the fairytale feeling of her books.
She placed her hands on the cool edge of the sill and looked out onto the hilly land of their plantation right on the outskirts of the city. The world out there was bathed in dark blues and ebonies as the silvery light played along the dewy grass and the shadows of the trees cast by the forest beyond. Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, she tried to recover from her very vivid dream. Three nights had passed since her waltz with Plunkett and there seemed to not be a moment in which he didn't fill her thoughts. She was growing increasingly annoyed with the fact because there was nothing she could do to remedy it. William Plunkett was not a gentleman. He was not involved in their circle; he had no fortune and was not the heir to anything most likely. If he was, the ladies of the town would have had their corsets in a twist knowing that there was such a nobleman with a face like that. A face that had more than likely caused women to lift their skirts for decades; with its prominent cheek bones and firm jaw line, a face like that managed to be soft without you ever mistaking it for being feminine. 'Stop it Belle.' She thought and she gave her head a firm shake, sending her curls dancing around her head.
However noteworthy they may have been, his looks were not what impressed her. The eyes, definitely the eyes are what set him apart in her mind. The velvety brown of his irises intrigued her even from behind his mask that night of the robbery as well as the night of the masquerade. There was weight to his gaze; a weight that had seen hard times, knew more knowledge than that of the average man and had seen things, perhaps even done things, to place certain pain and longing in the depths of one's soul. Perhaps the most important of all for Belle was that his eyes held intelligence and he was not afraid to use it.
The way he stared at her was not as if he was a wolf devouring the thoughts of her naked beneath his snarling jowls. No, that wasn't it at all. The way he stared at her was the way a man looked as if he had never seen the sea. As if he were looking at the shore for the first time and was simply marveling at the beauty and silently commending God on a job well done. Those eyes held no hidden agenda or wicked desires and that was enough to make Belle want to bow to his every whim. After a life time of chasing away marriage proposals by nothing more than money hungry animals that lusted after her body instead of her mind, the way Plunkett looked at her was a refreshing change of pace.
She moved to the fire place and tossed some kindling in the bottom, before assembling a few small pieces of wood in the center of the hearth. She knew how to light her own fires and would deal with her maid's repercussions in the morning. As she knelt in the soot and lit the match, lightly blowing on the embers so they would catch, she tried to force her thoughts away from Plunkett and his partner that she had yet to officially name. If they made a living as two dangerous highwaymen, why were they at her father's ball? How did they get invitations? Plunkett's partner had mentioned needing to go see a 'Rebecca'; could this be Lady Rebecca Gibson? Surely not.
Settling in the chair Belle pulled a shawl around her shoulders and tucked her feet into the edge of her linen night gown as she curled up to the crackling of the fire. Her mind raced with these questions and more as she closed her eyes and drifted back into another dream, identical to the one from before.
Belle woke with the sunrise after a restless night. She slid her fingertips along the spines of the old books on her shelves slowly in almost a therapeutic way. She was too wound to read and yet she did not want to be left alone with her thoughts for they had proved to be otherwise…distracting. Her father had yet to make an appearance this morning and the maid was preoccupied with the duties around the house. Belle was alone. But that was pretty normal actually. She tip toed to the door and silently slid a hard backed chair under the door handle. Wiggling the handle she made sure the door was jammed well before walking back over to her bed and kneeling on the floor.
Tucking the skirt of her linen night gown out of the way she quietly pried up a loose floorboard, a secret from everyone in the house, and took out her mother's lock box. After unlocking it she rifled through the jewelry and yellowed paper before finding what she was looking for. Pulling a cloth wrapped bundle out of the box, she carefully unwrapped it; listening for movement on the stairs before standing up and placing Macleane's gun on her bedspread. The metal was perfect; obviously it was a well cared for object. The silver glinted in the sunlight coming though her window and she carefully picked it up running it through her hands, side to side, examining each piece.
Belle had never been around guns, let alone held one with her own hands. It was beautiful and intriguing. After Plunkett's partner had dropped it the night of the robbery she had all but coveted the weapon. It made her feel dangerous, like a true adventurer right out of one of her books. Alright maybe not like a true adventurer but she felt it was as close as she would ever come. It couldn't be very complicated to operate could it? She was bright and loads of men with half her intelligence used guns every day. So how did it work?
Walking into the middle of her room, she lifted the gun and aimed at the wall. There seemed to be a small lever towards the top by her thumb; gently, she pulled it back and it issued a small click. Belle's heart was fluttering in her throat. Excitement coursed through her veins at the knowledge that she must have done something right for the mechanisms inside the object to move into place. She mimicked how she had seen a gun held and extended her arm. Her index finger slid naturally against a small piece of metal inside a loop underneath the gun and somehow she knew the last step was to squeeze.
Belle jumped almost ten feet as a stern knock came at her door. She hurried to the box and placed the gun back inside, pushing everything underneath the floor before replacing the floor board. Belle turned around and tried to look innocent as she removed the chair from the door and opened it.
"Still not dressed at this time of day! Lady Belle, what will I do with you?" Alice, her maid, said with a shake of her head as she strolled past Belle and into the room. She straightened the bed clothes and fluffed the pillows. "Best hurry and get dressed, M'lady. You have a visitor." She said with a knowing smile.
A visitor? Belle's mind wondered back to her highwayman Plunkett. It couldn't be him, it just couldn't be. But she could think of no one else who would come calling out of the blue. She walked to her dresser and pulled out her simple light blue dress and laced up her bodice as best she could without any help. Whoever it was would have to deal with her in her comfortable clothes; she quickly braided her hair and tied a blue ribbon in it before walking down the stairs. Her visitor was standing in the foyer and Belle let out a breath, blowing her bangs out of her face in frustration; it was most certainly not Plunkett.
"Bonjour Gaston." She said as she reached the bottom step.
Gaston turned around and gave her what she could only assume was his million dollar smile. He reached a large hand up and smoothed back his jet black hair, which was already tied at the nape of his neck, more out of habit than necessity. He was a good foot taller than she and he dipped down to kiss her in hello.
Belle ducked out of the way and offered him the back of her hand instead; it was the best he was going to get. His smile faltered to a light glare for a fraction of a second before it returned and he took her hand, kissing it. Although it was quick, Belle caught the glare. Gaston had a short temper and was not one that took a 'no' very well. A dangerous combination.
"Belle. You seem surprised." His voice boomed in the small foyer as if he was trying to impress people that were not there and Belle fought the urge to wipe the back of her hand on her dress.
"You always surprise me Gaston." She said and it was not a lie. Lots of things about the man did in fact surprise her. The size of his ego, his amazingly little intelligence, his theory on how he was God's gift to the women of the world, see, full of surprises.
"Well I have one more up my sleeve," he smirked. "Could we go into the drawing room?"
Belle nodded and walked in front of him, leading them into the drawing room. Her stomach was in knots as she leaned against the desk and crossed her arms under her breasts. Why was he here? Gaston sat in the leather chair like he was in his own home. He plopped his dusty boots up on the desk and put his hands behind his head, looking her up and down like she was a piece of meat.
"You look lovely Belle." He smirked as his eyes paused on her chest. "Today is your lucky day."
Belle bit her lip and tried to keep the anger out of her voice, "What do you want Gaston?" She moved to the side, away from his boots so as to keep the mud from getting on her dress.
"So eager; A perfect trait for my little wife to have." His voice was so natural that it took her a moment to register what he had just said.
"Excuse me?" Belle stood and put her hands on her hips, unable to believe that he would be so bold.
Gaston stood up and walked towards her, his boots making heavy footsteps on the wood floors, he was large and intimidating and he knew it. She backed up until her back bumped up against the edge of the desk and she felt like a small bird, trapped in the corner by a very large animal.
"You heard me. Marry me Belle."
It wasn't a question and Belle knew that. It was a command. Her heart sped and it was not from excitement. She tried to get around him but he was too large and the desk blocked her escape. "You'll have to talk to my father…"
Gaston cut her off and leaned into her body, "Don't worry, I already took care of that and he said it was a wonderful idea." He leaned his face into hers, placing a hand on the desk on either side of her body, "Our sons will be beautiful and just like me. Imagine it Belle. You'll be set for life. Never wanting for anything."
Sons? Belle felt like she was going to throw up. She turned her face away from his to avoid any more contact with him. Never wanting for anything? Except freedom, and love and adventure and countless other things that Belle wanted most in the world. This couldn't be happening. How could her father agree to this? Gaston could have probably waved his money and charm in front of all of Parliament if he had to, he wasn't used to being told no and Belle was more than happy to be the first. She put her hand on his chest gently, trying to make it feel like a caress, when all she really wanted to do was punch him in the face.
"Gaston, I'm flattered." She said gently as she walked forward making him walk back away from the desk. He smirked and let her maneuver him. "What girl wouldn't be? I must be so lucky." Her voice was slightly sarcastic as the words coming from her lips felt like poison to her. His smirk though showed that he believed everything she was saying. "But you see the thing is, when it comes to me being your wife…" she paused as they stopped in front of the open door. "Hell would sooner freeze over."
She shoved him with as much force as she could muster and when paired with how unprepared he was to be shoved, he tumbled out the drawing room door and onto the foyer floor. Belle slammed the door hard and slid the latch into place, locking herself inside the drawing room. She let out a small yip and Gaston banged his fist against the door once he had recovered, making the doorframe shake.
"How dare you! Open this door Belle! Open. This. Door." With each separate word, his fist collided with the wood and Belle looked around the room as to what to do next. She hurried to the coat rack and slipped her cloak off of the hook and threw it around her shoulders. Gaston continued to pound as she ran to the window and slid it open. He was making so much racket that there was no way he heard her do it, she would be well on her way into town before he even knew she had left the house. The drop to the ground was a little higher than Belle remembered but she took her chances, letting out a breath and jumping. Landing on her knees, she stood quickly and wiped the mud from her dress before hurrying down the gravel drive. She didn't know where she was going but if she hurried she could make it somewhere before night fell. And as far as she was concerned, anywhere was better than here.