III

Belle peeked up at the spinner from beneath her lashes for the third time in as many minutes. She couldn't seem to stop herself from watching him, fascinating as he was. She closed the book in her lap and set it on the seat beside her. After reading the same paragraph for the fourth time without taking in the first word, she knew it would be pointless to continue.

Her mind reeled with the ideas formulating there, ideas of how she wanted to improve his life. There were so many questions she wished to ask about his life, how he'd injured himself, how he'd ended up with such a shrew for a wife, his childhood, his son, but she didn't want to seem intrusive. She didn't want him to feel as if he were standing before an inquisitor and being judged for his past. No, she wanted him to learn to trust her, to regard her not only as his new mistress, but as his friend. Considering he would very seldom meet her eyes, keeping his own meekly lowered, she was going to have her work cut out for her.

Now he sat across from her and kept his expressive sable gaze trained out the window on his son. Baelfire's steady stream of chatter with Thorrin filtered in through the open windows of the coach from time to time and she was confident the lad was having a wonderful adventure. It was, however, distressing to see the worry on his father's face. "Try not to worry about Baelfire. Thorrin would never allow harm to come to his young charge," she said softly, smiling as his gaze met hers before swiftly lowering to his fidgeting fingers. They rubbed against his thumb and she wondered if it were a nervous habit of his.

"He's never ridden before, m'lady," he admitted ruefully. "He seems to be enjoying himself."

"But you're worried he'll fall," she finished his unspoken statement. "We all fall at some point in our lives, don't you agree? We simply have to lift ourselves back up and carry on. Otherwise we might not reach our full potential."

He nodded.

Belle sighed in frustration. "Rumpelstiltskin, look at me please," she commanded, irritation evident in her voice. He instantly obeyed and she could see the wary trepidation in his eyes. "I would like for you to look at me when I speak to you. You've nothing to fear from me."

"You are my mistress … my owner. Isn't it expected of me to show respect?" he said, forcing himself not to look away. "Besides, I don't care to see pity or scorn in the eyes of others. It's easier that way."

Belle was taken aback by the misery she heard in his voice. "You believe I pity you?"

"Isn't that why you agreed to Milah's wager?" he asked bitterly. "Why else would you want a lame spinner as your servant?"

Her eyes softened as her heart wrenched with an emotion she wasn't yet ready to identify. "No, never think that," she told him, her gentle tone sounding odd to her ears. She was used to commanding the knights in her service, being forceful and steadfast in her requests. Never cruel, but she wouldn't allow them to push her around. But with this gentle, damaged soul, she knew she would have to tread carefully to earn his trust. "I simply saw a … a kindred spirit in you. I know what it's like to feel alone in a crowded room, Rumpel, where you can be surrounded by people and feel no one understands you. I just wanted to know you, and perhaps help you if I could."

He stared at her in wonder. No one had ever claimed to want to know him before. He was lucky if he could get the vendors in the village to speak civilly to him. "Why?" he asked, his voice filled with awe.

She smiled. "I see you, Rumpelstiltskin, for the kind, loving man and doting father you are. I'm not sorry for what I did. Milah is a cruel vindictive woman and she doesn't deserve you. She ridiculed you in front of every patron in that tavern, and I couldn't let that stand. As I said, I wanted to help you if I could. Not because I pity you, but because you deserve better. Thankfully, I'm in a position to do so."

He shook his head dolefully. "I don't know what you expect of me, m'lady." He waved a hand at his mangled ankle. "I fear I will be a bitter disappointment to you."

"Nonsense," she scoffed. "We're going to get on splendidly, you and I … and Baelfire, too. I think you'll be quite happy in Avonlea, Rumpel."

For just a moment, he believed he could be happy with her. "M'lady –"

"Belle. You will call me Belle, yes?" she asked brightly.

"I couldn't!" he gasped, horrified at the idea.

"I insist."

He nodded, still unsure, afraid even to test it on his tongue, but the look she gave him brooked no objection. "B-Belle …"

"Famous!" she beamed at him. She picked up her book once more and moved across the limited space in the coach to sit beside him. "We're going to be great friends. Now, how about we begin with your reading lesson, hm?"

Rumpelstiltskin's brow furrowed with doubt, but he didn't have the heart to tell her no.

*.*.*

Three luxurious traveling tents – a must when the princess traveled, a slave to creature comforts – surrounded a large central campfire that evening, the next town too far for them to make it as dusk slowly waned into night. Belle's was the largest and had been erected in the center, the other two, which housed her knights set up on either side of hers. The small wagon which trundled along behind her sleek traveling coach was laden with all manner of bedding and she was happy with her bedroll when she rested at night, loving the way the thick silk-covered down caressed her after a day spent traveling. In Rumpelstiltskin's opinion, it resembled the tents of the sheiks of Agrabah he'd heard tales of.

A gauzy curtain separated her sleeping area from the rest of the tent. The only other 'room' of the structure was a small sitting area strewn with brightly colored pillows in various shades of blue and a small table and tea service Gaston had assured him would be put to use. The princess didn't mind camping – as long as it didn't require her to sleep in the coach – but she refused to give up her tea.

The newest member of her staff balked when told he'd be sharing the princess's tent – in the sitting room, mind, but still – along with his son. "We can't. It's highly inappropriate," he'd told Gaston.

One raven brow had arched in his direction as a rakish grin curled the knight's lips. "And where did you think you'd sleep, spinner? Out in the open by the fire? The princess would have my head if it were so," he'd chuckled. "Lady Belle is of the firm belief that if she is to have a roof over her head, then so shall we. If we were to sleep spread about the fire, she would join us and how would that look?"

Extra bedrolls were brought into the tent and spread out in the corner and he'd had no choice in the matter, forced to accept her will. How was he going to be able to sleep knowing she was mere yards away, tucked into the comfort of her bed … in a too revealing nightgown … which had his head spinning with thoughts of entirely too much satiny skin on display?

Rumpelstiltskin shook his head as he fetched the kettle hanging from a hook over the fire. He'd be a fool to deny the attraction he felt for his mistress. It had nigh killed him to have to sit next to her in the coach as she leaned into him with her book and explained the first ten letters of the alphabet and their sounds. He'd found his mind wandering to other things as her sweet floral scent surrounded him and filled his head with cravings he hadn't felt since the first year of his marriage to Milah.

And he would just have to suffer in silence. She was a princess and he was her servant. There was no way she would want him like that, and he was a fool to let himself dream. He passed it off as being starved for affection. The gods knew he hadn't gotten any from Milah in more years than he could count.

Rumpelstiltskin made his way carefully back to his mistress's tent and poured the hot water into the china pot – how it managed to survive her travels, he didn't know – set on the low table and reset the lid so it could steep. He busied himself tidying up – not that there was much to do – and laying out his mistress's nightgown over the screen in one corner. His face flamed as his fingers caressed the smooth silk, but he hurried with his task before she entered to find him fingering her unmentionables. She'd rethink his plight if she thought he was less than honorable. He couldn't allow himself to sabotage this chance to start over. He had to think about Bae and all the opportunities which awaited his son in Avonlea.

Belle entered the tent with the lad at her heels, his impish little face alight with happiness. It wasn't a look he was used to seeing his son wear. The princess took a seat on the cushions near the table and sighed happily when Rumpelstiltskin handed her the cup he'd prepared for her. "You make a fine cup of tea, Rumpel. Thank you, but …"

"Yes, m'lady … er … Belle?" he remembered, correcting himself.

She grinned at him over the rim of her cup. "Aren't you going to join me?"

He'd already risen from the table to leave the tent to see about her supper, but he turned back at her invitation. "I … um … I really should see to your supper. And how would it look for your servant to be taking tea with you?"

She snorted, waving a hand dismissively. "There's no need for formality on the road, Rumpel. Besides, I mostly do as I please and my knights accept that. As long as I'm not doing something which will bring shame upon my family, they prefer the relaxed atmosphere. Now sit and I will have Thorrin bring it in when it's ready." She smiled down at Baelfire sitting quietly – for a change – next to her. "Bae, darling, would you ask Thorrin to bring in our dinner when it's ready?"

Rumpelstiltskin watched, his eyes following the boy as Bae skipped out of the tent. Belle poured a cup of tea, refusing to allow him to escape her company so easily. "You've a fine boy in Baelfire," she praised softly, remembering to keep her tone muted so as not to startle him. "I got the impression you've been raising him alone. Another reason for you to be proud."

He stared down into his cup, savoring the sweetness of the sugar and the tartness of the lemon. "Bae is everything to me. There is nothing I wouldn't do for him. Milah, I'm sure, loved him in her own way, but … she had little time for either of us."

"And yet you stayed with her."

"She was my wife. It was my responsibility to see to her needs and wants." He didn't want to tell her how he'd stayed because he didn't want people to scorn him more than they already did. What kind of man left his wife to fend for herself, no matter how much she might deserve it?

Belle balled her free hand into a tight fist to stop herself from reaching for his own where it lay against the table. She wanted so much to comfort him. "Did you love her?"

He raised those dark soulful eyes to her and allowed her to see the desolation in their depths. "Love? I don't know that I ever loved Milah … perhaps long ago before I went away to war."

Her gaze was sympathetic but in no way pitying as she asked, "How did you injure yourself, Rumpel? Was it the ogres, or …" She could already see him closing himself off from her, erecting more walls than she had the strength to battle through at the moment. He was saved from answering as Thorrin entered the tent behind an exuberant Baelfire.

"I'm sorry, the fare is meager, milady," the young squire apologized. "Gwain and Merrick were able to snare a few rabbits, but the bread we procured from the bakery in the village is still fresh. It should provide ample sustenance until morning."

"Thank you, Thorrin, as always."

Thorrin bowed gallantly and grinned, winking at Baelfire as the lad placed three tankards on the table, two filled with mead and one with milk. "See you tomorrow, squirt."

Bae waved. "Bye, Thorrin!" He tore into a roasted rabbit leg which Belle set before him and stuffed his mouth. "Are we going to –"

"Bae, don't talk with your mouth full," Rumpelstiltskin scolded gently, giving him that look all fathers gave their children when they did something they knew they shouldn't.

He swallowed and looked up at Belle with adoring eyes. "Are we going to reach Avonlea tomorrow?"

Belle nodded. "Yes, we will. And then you will get to see your new room and the library and meet my father, the king."

Rumpelstiltskin listened to Belle tell the boy more and more stories of her home, long after their dinner had been finished and the dishes had been cleared away. He found he enjoyed listening to her, the sound of her voice soothing and kind. They had only spent one day with his new mistress, but already he was beginning to think it was a bargain well made. Finally, Baelfire yawned and he was forced to put an end to their quiet evening.

"But, Papa," Bae whined, rubbing his eyes. "I'm not sleepy."

"Of course, you're not," Rumpelstiltskin muttered dryly. "But if you don't rest tonight, you'll have to travel in the coach with me and Lady Belle instead of riding with your new friend."

The boy took off like a shot for his bedroll, calling a quick goodnight to the princess. Belle giggled. "Typical boy," she laughed. "They'll do anything you ask as long as you don't take away their adventures. My brother, Lucern, he's like that and he's nearly twenty-five."

"Will there be anything else, Belle?" he asked, mesmerized by her sweet laughter as he ignored the pang of longing clenching at his heart.

"No, Rumpel. You may retire if you like. I'll see you in the morning."

He bowed to her and picked up his staff, making his way to his bedroll. He laid down and reached out to tuck the blanket about his son's shoulders, his soft snores already filling their corner of the tent. He sighed, letting the tension ease from his body. For so long, he had been plagued with fear … for his son, for himself. Would they have enough to eat? Would they be warm enough? Would he make enough from his spinning to provide for them? It weighed on his mind every night as he found his pillow, but not tonight. Sleep found him quickly, confident in his mistress to see to their needs as he would see to hers.

*.*.*

"Bae! Baelfire! Where are you son?" the spinner hissed frantically, trying to be quiet so as not to wake his mistress. There was no sign of his son, and he was steadily growing panicky. "Bae!"

Rumpelstiltskin pulled himself to his feet with the aid of his staff and limped towards the tent flap, his ankle shrieking in protest at his rapid pace. He couldn't have cared less. He had to find the lad. Their little camp was already rousing to life and Baelfire sat with Fitzpatrick, their coachman, as he stirred a pot of porridge over the fire. The relief he felt nearly sent him to his knees.

"G'mornin', Papa," the boy greeted, giving him a wide toothy smile. "Hungry?"

"What're you thinking, son? My old heart nearly stopped when I woke and found you gone!" he scolded, reaching for an empty bucket to take with him to the stream.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd wake before I could come back in, and Fitzpatrick was telling me about the ogre attacks on Avonlea a few years ago," he explained, hanging his head.

Rumpelstiltskin felt his heart gripped with fear. "Ogres?"

"They're gone now," Fitzpatrick assured him, ladling up a bowl of the porridge for Gaston, who sat on a log near the fire, rubbing at his bloodshot eyes. The knight had taken sentry duty the night before and it was evident on his tired face. "The prince led a charge on the pass and blocked their way into the kingdom. Those brutes aren't the smartest creatures and had to find another route. Thankfully, they bypassed Avonlea altogether."

Baelfire took a bowl of porridge from the coachman turned cook and sat down beside the knight. "I didn't mean to worry you, Papa. I promise."

"Alright, lad, alright." He waved the bucket he held in his hand and smiled at his boy. "Just let me know next time, yeah?" When Baelfire nodded, he set off through the trees to fetch water for Belle's morning tea. The rest would be heated for her toilette. Baelfire had always been impulsive, but with his new duties, he didn't want to have to worry about the boy's welfare. He needed Bae to mind and stick close to his boundaries.

Baelfire was done with his breakfast and helping Thorrin with the horses when he returned and filled the kettle. By the time he had the water heated for washing and brought it into the tent, the princess was already sitting up and stretching her arms over her head, a huge yawn sounding from behind her gauzy curtain. He sloshed some of the water over onto the thick Agrabahan rug in his hurry to fill the basin.

"I-I'm sorry I haven't prepared your tea yet, m'lady. I'll do better," he offered, hurrying from the tent once more to fetch the kettle. She was sitting at the table when he returned, her sleepy eyes watching him with bemusement. He flushed scarlet under her perusal and filled the china pot to let the tea steep.

"Rumpel," she said, reaching out him, her fingers curling over his wrist. He raised fearful eyes to meet hers. "Relax. You're doing fine, ok? Take a deep breath and see to our breakfast. Has Bae eaten already?"

He stared at her, a frown marring his brow. "You want me to eat with you again, m'la – Belle?" he corrected himself when she arched a brow at him.

"I do. You're entirely too thin, Rumpel. At least if you eat with me, I know you're actually eating."

He gaped at her for a moment before he went off to see about their breakfast, returning with it shortly. He set the bowls on the table along with a small pot of honey and pitcher of cream. Belle poured tea for them both. He felt his face flush as he concentrated on his food. He could feel her eyes on him in silent contemplation and it made him uncomfortable. What if she could see into his heart and learn who he really was … a coward unworthy to serve her?

"You shouldn't eat so fast, Rum," she admonished, breaking the heavy silence between them. "My men aren't going to leave without us, I assure you."

His blush deepened as he looked up at her. "I just … I have duties to see to and I don't want to be the cause for our delay."

"Very well," she smiled. "You know you won't have that excuse once we reach Avonlea."

It took him a long moment of gaping, his spoon arrested before his mouth, before he realized she was jesting with him. He gulped his last bite of porridge and finished off his tea before asking to be excused. She let him go with a nod and watched him go to her trunk to lay out her traveling costume on her bed.

Belle gave up trying to engage him in conversation and pushed her bowl aside. She couldn't wait to get home and have one of Mrs. Pott's home cooked dinners and a decent bath. Oh, she'd kill for a hot bath! Rumpelstiltskin cleared away their breakfast dishes as she disappeared behind her screen to wash and dress. It took two trips to gather the dishes and the tea service, but he was industrious and didn't allow his leg to hinder him. He'd just finished with latching her trunk and rolling up their bedrolls, ready for her knights to dismantle the tent, when she called to him.

"Rumpel?" she asked hesitantly, not sure how he'd take her request. "Would you braid my hair for me?" She didn't make it a command, but he knew she was without her maid and she didn't think it was too much of her to ask. Yet she could see his throat work convulsively at the thought of touching her. Could it be he was as attracted to her as she was to him?

"Um … of course," he whispered hoarsely, taking the brush from her hands and motioning for her to take a seat there on the cushions next to the table. He settled behind her, making sure to keep his body from touching hers and slowly dragged the brush through her luxuriant hair.

Forcing his eyes to remain open, and ignoring the heady emotions stealing over his lithe form, he set to work. He used careful strokes, stopping and unknotting several tangles before continuing. It was so soft, not coarse like Milah's had been, and he found he could lose himself in the task.

Belle closed her eyes and sighed in contentment as his fingers followed after the brush, carding through the strands to massage her scalp each time the bristles snagged or pulled. His touch as light as butterfly wings, the barest hint of his breath on her neck as he leaned in close, worked magic on her innocent flesh. Goosebumps erupted on her arms and back and a strange sensation pooled in her belly. She'd never felt anything like it, but she knew what it was. She'd overheard enough talk from her ladies in waiting and from the maids who served her to know she desired this man.

"Alright, Bluebelle, let's see if –" Gaston halted in his tracks as he came to a screeching halt just inside the tent flap. One look at the sheer bliss on his lady's face had his hand hovering threateningly over the hilt of his sword. He stayed his hand, however, when he saw the spinner was simply braiding Belle's hair into a long plait down her back. He cleared his throat. "Let's … um … see if we can't get your tent packed so we can be on our way."

Rumpelstiltskin took the jeweled clip from her trembling fingers – not that his were much steadier – and fastened it around the end of her braid. "I'm done, m'lady," he murmured, cursing silently at the breathy tone of his voice.

"Thank you, Rum," she said, casting a warning look at Gaston. "Why don't you see to Bae before we depart," she suggested, sending him out of the tent before her friend exploded in want of explanations.

She didn't have to wait long. "What the hell are you playing at with the spinner, Belle?"

The princess rose from her seat on the cushions and reached for the jacket of her jade riding habit. "I don't know what you mean."

"Am I going to have to post a guard in your tent to protect your virtue?" he hissed, keeping his voice low so as not to alert the others of his pique.

"Don't be absurd, Gaz. There's nothing going on between us. I've barely known him a full day," she retorted. She swept out of the tent so her men could dismantle it, wandering closer to the tree line, knowing he'd follow to continue their conversation.

"And last I checked, Belle, there are no rules of etiquette where lust is involved. You want him. Your desire was written plainly on your beautiful face." He crossed his arms over his chest as he smirked down at her. "Tell me I'm wrong."

Belle sighed and bit her lip, her gaze falling to the grass at her feet. "You're not wrong," she admitted, unable to lie to her dearest friend.

"Belle," he groaned. "He's a servant. As it is, Luc is going to have kittens with you dragging home a stray, especially after he finds out how you came to be his owner."

"Don't talk about Rumpel like he's a pet to be kept on a leash or discarded to a shelter. He's a man … a fine man from what I've been able to tell." Her eyes were a bit wistful as she met his gaze. "I like him. I just want to have the chance to get to know him."

He scrubbed his hands over his face and yawned widely. "Just make sure you 'getting to know him' doesn't involve crawling into bed with him without a ring first."

Belle rolled her eyes. "Yes, dear."

"I mean it!"

"I'm well aware of that, Gaz." She took note of the tiredness clinging to his features. "And since you were on sentry duty last night, I think it would be best for you to ride in the coach for a while and take a nap. You don't mind if Rumpel and I ride Storm, do you?"

He gave a long-suffering sigh as he looked down into her twinkling blue eyes. "Belle," he whined, knowing she'd get her way whether he wished it or not.

The princess patted him on the cheek and sashayed across the clearing to collect her servant and share the good news. She wondered briefly if Rumpelstiltskin would see it that way.

A/N: I'm so glad everyone seems to be enjoying this story so far. It's been so much fun writing it :D Next chapter … Rum and Belle have an illuminating conversation as they continue on towards Avonlea. Thanks so much for reading … see you next week!

Great buckets of love to last week's reviewers: Guest, giuliaxaker, KatrinaCross, XelinaSkye, Twyla Mercedes, xXSedationXx, Melstrife, Delta667, Erik'sTrueAngel, MyraValhallah, onlyinyourdreams77, Chipped mug, Akumu Kagami, , and Wondermorena. *hugs*