"Did you send my daughter to town?" Jefferson asked before Rhys even had a chance to take his shoes off.
"The dog needed a leash," Rhys replied as indignantly as possible, glancing to where the other man stood brushing out a coat. "Don't tell me you're going to be upset about it."
"I'm not," Jefferson replied wryly. "I gave her the money either way. I was just wondering why you sent Grace specifically."
"My wife thought she'd enjoy the trip," Rhys said. "Was she wrong?"
"No, not at all," Jefferson had a wide grin on his face now. "I'm sure Grace is having a wonderful time."
"So then what's the problem?"
Jefferson was entirely too cheerful all of a sudden, and Rhys was trying hard to maintain a scowl that would keep the other man from asking too many questions.
"Nothing," Jefferson finally replied, humming obnoxiously.
"By the way," Rhys said. "Can you think of a good location for a picnic nearby?"
"Did you have something special planned?" Jefferson asked. "A romantic lunch with the missus, perhaps?"
Rhys shot him a glare, but Jefferson just continued with his smug little grin and went about his work.
"I thought my wife and son might appreciate an outing," Rhys replied. "To get to know each other better."
"There's always the old fort," Jefferson said with a shrug. "It's supposed to be nice. But you do know that your wife has lived here her entire life. You could ask her."
It was an excellent point, and one that Rhys would have had an easier time taking if he had any idea at all how to approach his wife to ask her. He'd been reduced to using an eleven-year-old girl to get information on how Belle was doing, he wasn't at all sure he'd be able to ask Belle anything for a little while. She'd held his hand again. It was the first touch they'd had ever since that disastrous night, and it was the first time she'd touched him for any prolonged period during the day. She'd left him with a lot to think about, whether she'd known it or not.
"Don't you have any work to do?" Rhys finally snapped, to which Jefferson simply bowed (still with that damn smirk on his face) and retreated from the room carrying a shirt that was in need of a new button.
At least somebody would be useful today, even if the valet was going to be a thorn in his side while he did it. Rhys was simply too relieved to be left alone for the moment. He was having entirely too many thoughts in his head, and he needed a few moments to think them over. Perhaps he should ask Belle about the picnic. He knew she hated surprises, and she might enjoy planning it with him. He was just in over his head, really.
Rhys spent the next twenty minutes looking for something to keep him busy in his private rooms before finally giving up and going to his study. He hadn't really wanted to deal with making conversation with anyone he couldn't fire (not that he was going to fire Jefferson, but the possibility existed); he just honestly couldn't justify staying locked away in his room with his thoughts when there was work to be done downstairs in the study. He was already in a questionable mood when he reached his destination, and the presence of his son did little to remedy it once he arrived.
"You didn't tell me you cared about her," Neal called out from his seat on one of the sofas. "I knew you liked her, but you really care, don't you?"
"I don't have time to talk about this, Neal," Rhys replied, going to his desk and praying there was something he would need to look at. "I have to reply to this letter."
He frantically flipped through the day's correspondence and sent up a silent thank you to whatever force had landed a letter from his solicitor on his desk that day.
"Don't change the subject," Neal shot back. "You were holding her hand."
"And you were looking for her dog," Rhys said. "She was upset."
"You can admit to loving your wife," Neal said. "I don't even know what you're worried about. She's nice."
Rhys was torn between wanting to instantly deny the accusation and wishing the floor would open up so he could fall through it and escape this conversation. His relationship with Belle was complicated, and he wasn't even sure where they stood anymore. He knew she wasn't sleeping well and that she said she'd slept better with him there, but that didn't really mean anything. She'd held his hand when she'd been scared, and she'd lingered to talk to him once the puppy had been found. Things between them had never not been complicated, but this was entirely uncharted territory.
"It doesn't matter if she's nice," Rhys finally said, feeling himself deflate. "It's not about my feelings at all."
Neal seemed a little taken aback by that, as though it had never occurred to him that there might be more going on than he was aware of.
"She needs time," Rhys finally said, studying the envelope in his hands intensely. "I'm not going to push her."
"I didn't say to push her," Neal replied. "But you should at least let her know you love her."
Did he love Belle? He hadn't really thought about it - he had intentionally not thought about it, actually. He certainly enjoyed spending time with her, and he liked her company. She was clever and witty, sweet and gentle. It would be easy to let himself love her, and if he did that he was afraid of what came next. Love was a dangerous game to play between them. Belle needed time and patience, and any feelings he developed would just get in the way.
"It's not that simple," he finally said, turning toward his son. "You don't understand."
"Then explain it," Neal said. "Because from what I can see you're too scared to let her know how you feel."
"Do you think it really matters how I feel?" Rhys snapped. "Do you think she's in any position to deal with any of this? Honestly? Belle isn't like other women, son."
"I don't know if you've noticed," Neal replied with a calm that set Rhys' teeth on edge. "But she's not broken. I'll admit I had my doubts about it, but she seems like she's doing well. If anything, I think it might help her."
"You haven't even been here a day," Rhys said. "You have no idea what you're talking about."
"Maybe not," Neal said. "But you should think about telling her the truth. She's an adult, and I think she cares about you more than you think."
Rhys had no response to that, and Neal didn't wait for one. He simply tucked a book under his arm and walked out of the room, leaving his father alone with his thoughts.
There had been a time in Belle's life when she had scarcely been alone. She had been cossetted by maids and a governess who had kept her clean and entertained and under constant supervision. Once she'd been hurt, she hadn't wanted to be around anyone else and had been able to talk her father into not forcing her into spending too much time around anyone else, and aside from the nurse who had cared for her while she'd been bedridden, she had managed to be largely alone.
It was rather surprising to her how much she enjoyed the peace and quiet. When people were constantly around, it was easy to forget their presence. Once she had gotten truly used to having space and solitude when she wanted it, it was a strange sort of luxury for her. She could read whatever she liked no matter how scandalous, she could forgo a stiff corset for soft quilted jumps if she chose (and since Lizzie and Grace had been gone by the time she finished her bath, that's exactly what she had decided to do). There were hours left before she would have to dress for dinner, and she fully intended to make the most of them.
She'd found a new book to read. This was another of her Indian translations. It was some sort of manual for the wealthy classes in India for home life - there was an entire chapter on arranging furniture, for example. She was distractedly turning pages, more out of interest in the colorful illustrations than the directions for the proper behavior of a townsman in ancient India.
When she reached section two, however, Belle slammed the book shut out of pure shock. This section dealt with what was politely referred to as 'embraces,' though Belle hadn't seen such a thing done before. The illustrations themselves had suddenly become scandalous. Surely, Mr. Simon hadn't known everything that was in this particular lot. It had come from a private collection, and Rhys had purchased it before it had been inventoried. He couldn't have known, because nobody would ever sell a book like that for a lady to read - she wasn't even sure it was legal for her to have this book.
If she'd been a more virtuous, Belle would have set the book aside and given it to her husband to destroy, but she'd always been a curious girl and it galled her that she had no proper knowledge of embraces. Checking to make sure she was truly alone, Belle reopened the book to the chapter she had left it at. There were more than just pictures. The text of the book fascinated her, and she became completely engrossed in it. It outlined different ways of kissing or touching, and advocated spending hours in those pursuits. Kissing and being held were things Belle knew she could do, and which she had done. The idea of spending hours just having her skin stroked sent a shiver through her body, and she had the sudden, overwhelming image of laying next to her husband as he simply touched her or kissed her neck. It was something it had never even occurred to her to want before, but now she couldn't get the idea out of her head.
She became so engrossed in this manual that she didn't even hear Lizzie coming to fetch her for dinner until the girl announced herself. Belle slammed the book shut and looked up helplessly, hoping she wasn't too flushed,despite the warmth she felt in her face.
"I'm sorry to disturb you," Lizzie said, obviously picking up on at least some of Belle's distress. "But it's time to get ready for dinner."
"Right," Belle replied, standing up on legs that had become wobbly. "Dinner. I'm sorry, I guess I just lost track of time. Dinner."
She couldn't look the maid in the eye as she walked to her rooms from the library. Belle tucked the book she'd been reading under her pillow while Lizzie laid out her underclothes and dress for the evening - it was probably the sort of thing best suited to read alone when she couldn't sleep, anyway. The last thing she wanted was to be caught with it.
It was peculiar how intensely the book had affected her in just a short time reading it. Belle knew very little of what was supposed to happen between a man and his wife, and she was beginning to understand that what little she had thought she knew had been wrong. The expectation she'd always had was that she would learn what she needed from her husband, and she had accepted that. After what had happened to her, she had taken for granted that what Nottingham had done to her had reflected at least some version of what it would be like. She'd only recently come to realize that it wouldn't necessarily be painful every time it happened, but the idea that it had the potential to be pleasant as the text seemed to suggest had her at a complete loss for how to proceed.
Belle's first inclination was to ask her husband back to her bed and test out her new knowledge, but she was stymied in that by a lack of vocabulary. Short of showing him the pictures (which felt entirely out of the question) she had no idea how to ask for what she wanted to try. She also didn't want to run the risk of reacting the way she had the last time they had tried to do more. They'd only barely started speaking again, and she didn't dare chance another failure like that. She needed to know she was ready before she pushed him for more again, and she wasn't quite sure how to determine that yet.
By the time Lizzie had finished pinning her hair up and lacing her tightly into her dress, the strange buzzing sensation in her belly had settled down, but Belle was still distracted beyond reason. Once the maid left, she took a look at herself in the mirror. Her skin had lightened a bit since her marriage, but the fine dusting of freckles she'd developed during her walks had remained.
She'd never been one to use cosmetics, but she did have some kept in a little box on her vanity. They hadn't been touched in well over a year, and even then it was mostly a dusting of rice powder to smooth her complexion. She had nothing in the box to bring color to her lips, and only the lightest of color for her cheeks. Still, these things were easily applied and she liked the way she looked in the mirror. It had been too long since she'd cared much about her appearance, but for some reason she wanted to draw her husband's eye. Not that there was overmuch competition for his attention in their little house in the country, but it felt nice. It was something she would have done to prepare for a ball in another lifetime, to make sure that if anyone spoke of her it would be because she was beautiful and young and had a good life ahead of her.
Belle's face still looked young, but her eyes were older now. Belladonna in each eye would give her that youthful glow again, but she wouldn't bring poison into her house. She would just have to live with older eyes and the hard-earned wisdom that had come with them.
It seemed that her preparations had been a success, if the smile that Rhys gave her when he first saw her was any indication. Neal was watching his father more than her, and Belle wondered what they'd been talking about while she had been reading. She'd tried to leave them plenty of time for whatever business had needed to be attended to, but dinner was her time to rejoin the family and prove herself.
"So Belle," Neal asked once they were settled at the table. "How is your dog doing?"
"She's well, thank you," Belle replied. "She spent the entire afternoon asleep in her basket. I suspect she wore herself out."
"Well, it was a very big adventure for a little dog," he said. "I doubt she'll forget it any time soon."
"I doubt any of us will," Rhys broke in. "I don't think I've ever seen so many people so invested in a puppy."
"But such a pretty one," Neal said. "Who can blame them?"
Belle couldn't help but smile at that. She loved Rose desperately, and it definitely didn't hurt Neal in her estimation that he'd been the one to find her.
"My husband has excellent taste," Belle replied, glancing to Rhys in time to see him direct his attention directly at his spoon. "She's very dear to me."
"That reminds me," Rhys said to a spot somewhere above her left shoulder. "I have a gift for you after dinner."
"You'll spoil me," she replied and he simply shrugged and went back to his meal. What on Earth did her husband have for her this time?
"Perhaps," he said with a mysterious smile. "But that remains my prerogative."
She felt herself become a little agitated at the idea of a surprise, but he was watching her nervously and she could tell he was making sure she wasn't upset. That in and of itself soothed her a bit. He was worried about her, but he was giving her just this little test which was so much smaller than the one she had set before herself the night she'd ruined everything.
Belle decided to make a conscious effort to relax her shoulders and simply trust her husband. So far, he'd not let her down or given her any cause to doubt him personally. Even if she was still leery of men in general, couldn't she at least trust Rhys? It was going to be a miserable rest of her life if she couldn't manage that much.
"By the way," Belle said, turning toward Neal. "I did want to thank you again for finding Rose. I don't know what we'd have done without you."
"It was my pleasure," he said. "It's not every day I get to go on an epic quest, after all."
She giggled at that, and conversation progressed fairly well throughout dinner. It was nice to just have dinner like a normal person without everyone worrying over her, without worrying over herself and whether or not her reactions were the proper ones. She was actually rather surprised at how much she enjoyed Neal's company, all things considered. He was funny and he reminded her a bit of his father. It was a peculiar thing how attached she'd become to her husband, but she was. Rhys had gone out of his way for her and she liked it.
Her after dinner gift had turned out to be a pretty jeweled collar for Rose and a matching leash made of leather. She'd kissed him on the cheek - pretending not to notice the smug grin on Neal's face - and had then gone to track down the dog, who was a little less enthusiastic about the present than the humans had been. Teaching her to walk on the leash was going to be an entirely different matter, but at least now Belle had some recourse against the dog taking another unexpected tour through the wilderness.
By the time the household was ready to retire for the evening, Belle had almost forgotten about the book tucked under her pillow, but it was still there waiting for her after her hair had been let down and she was safely left alone in her nightclothes and a dressing gown. The idea of simply laying with someone and touching and kissing for hours was just as enticing as it had been before dinner, and that strange buzzing feeling from her earlier perusal of it had returned.
She wondered if Rhys would reject her if she asked him back to her room that night. Their last time together had ended so badly, but they'd made so much progress before and it had felt like they were reaching some new understanding during the day. He'd helped her with her dog, he'd given her a gift, and conversation had felt easier than she would have expected. It didn't even have to be the whole night, she reasoned. She just wanted to try, and in the end the ideas wouldn't leave her head and spurred her down the hall to the rooms she knew her husband occupied. It was also entirely possible he'd be downstairs in his study, but his room was closer and so she knocked on the door half expecting him to be asleep.
Instead, the door swung open and he looked confused to see her, but still smiled when she did.
"Belle," he breathed her name like he hardly believed she was there. "Did you need something?"
And that was the crux of the issue, wasn't it? She did need something. She needed courage, and strength, and the words to ask for what she wanted, and a little bit more time to adjust to the idea of him - and she needed him, too. Deep under everything else was that fundamental truth, the grain of sand around which a pearl would form. She needed Rhys, and she wanted to need him.
"I couldn't sleep," she replied at last, knowing he would understand the meaning of her statement.
"Would you like to come in?" he asked, stepping back from the door to allow her entrance and she didn't speak as she walked past him and towards the bedroom.
She heard him follow her, but she wasn't afraid even as she climbed into his bed. He looked at her for a split second longer than necessary as she removed her dressing gown and slid under his dark red sheets, but he quickly caught himself and divested himself of his own robe and snuffed the candles before joining her there. She felt him lay down, and before she could second guess her decision, she slid across to his side, tucking herself against his side and tracing careful patterns across his collar bones with her fingertips. He exhaled softly and pulled her closer with one arm. His hand rested on the dip of her waist, and she wondered if he even realized his thumb was moving in slow circles against her side or if it was simply a natural reaction to her touch and her closeness.
Either way, she took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and let herself focus on his touch. It wasn't much, but it was soft and pleasant and stoked the buzzing in her belly into a pleasant warmth that drew her closer. She didn't sleep for a long time, learning the feel of his skin under her fingers as she grew bolder and traced her fingers across his throat and his face. He eventually brought his free hand to hers, drawing her fingers to his lips and kissing each one in turn before releasing her and resting his palm over her elbow. The touch of his lips to her fingers stole her breath for a split second, but then she was back to her leisurely exploration of him. Her fingers went to his hair of their own accord, feeling the softness of it and the different textures between the hair at his temples and the nape of his neck. She ran her fingertips from root to tip, and twirled the strands around and around.
There was a softness to her husband she'd never have expected in this marriage, and she was completely enraptured by it. He drew her in and she found herself tempted by his shyness in the face of her obvious advances. She wanted more, even as she was sure she absolutely was not prepared to handle more yet. The temptation itself was intoxicating, though. It was beautiful and dangerous and she loved it. Was this what made other women fall, then? She knew there must be at least some temptation to men, though she'd never truly experienced it before now. Rhys tempted her, and that was enough for right now.
He let out a soft sigh that could have been her name, and his hand that had been on her waist trailed down to settle on her hip. She'd never really been touched so intimately before, and the feel of his palm spread a warmth from where he touched her and drew her further into him. It was a dizzying feeling of contentedness and she felt like a housecat caught in a beam of sunlight - drowsy and safe. She arched upwards, brushing her lips gently across his jawline and feeling the hint of stubble there. He made no move to turn into her kiss or pull her too tightly against him; as it had before, his gentle acceptance of her boundaries drew her closer even as her eyes grew heavy and sleep finally claimed her.
The last time he'd had Belle in his arms all night, he'd failed to sleep. This time, even with her soft touches and careful exploration, sleep had been the most natural thing in the world. If it hadn't been for the rosewater scent of her, he would have thought he had been dreaming as he awoke late the next morning. She was still there, and not a figment of his lovestruck imagination. The night before he'd half believed her a fairy after seeing the way her skin had glowed in the candlelight as she rested her head on the dark red pillows of his bed. He'd slept in those sheets for months, and never before had the color of them seemed unreal.
He had no idea what impulse had brought her to his door, and he would never question it for fear of breaking the spell. Nobody had ever touched him so gently or so reverently before, not even his previous wife. He could only be thankful that the darkness had kept her from seeing how deeply it had affected him.
Belle was still dozing when he woke, so he took advantage of the opportunity to study her face in the light of day. She looked the same as always, which is to say, she was beautiful in a rare sort of way. Some of her hair had come loose from her braid in the nighttime, and he couldn't resist the chance to touch her hair the way she'd touched his in the dark. Her hair was almost never let down, and he'd never truly had a chance to feel it before. He wrapped the loose curl around his finger when she stirred, looking up at him with wide eyes and he guiltily snatched his hand back. She smiled, though, and reached behind her to untie the ribbon that had held the braid in place all night.
Taking advantage of this tacit permission, he quickly unravelled the braid, raking his fingers through her hair. She sighed softly and nuzzled back into his chest as he touched her and breathed in the smell of her. He filled his senses with her, not daring to break the spell by speaking.
"What time is it?" she finally asked, her voice muffled by his chest.
He glanced to the window. The curtains were still drawn, but light was spilling out from around them.
"From the look of the light, it's midmorning."
"Oh," she muttered. "I should probably be back to my room, then."
He nodded and relaxed his arms, letting her roll over to the other side of the bed and climb out of it. Her nightgown pooled around her knees as she sat on the edge of the bed only to fall back to her ankles as she stood. The brief glimpse of her legs filled him with a helpless longing. He wanted her to want him, although it may be a fool's desire. She seemed closer, though, than she ever had. Perhaps he wasn't so foolish after all.
He got up as well, putting on his dressing gown and going around to help her untuck her hair from the back of hers. They walked to the door of his chambers together and he opened it for her. She stood in the hallway for a second with a warm smile on her face before he gathered his courage to kiss her forehead gently. Belle blushed just a bit and turned to leave, only to almost walk straight into Neal, who was watching his father with eyebrows raised and a smirk on his face.
Rhys could see Belle blushing a deep crimson, and heard her wish his son a quick good morning before skurrying back to her own room. He, however, was totally trapped there under the weight of Neal's gaze. He seemed more amused than anything else, and what he'd seen was hardly scandalous, but Rhys had absolutely no idea what to say to the 'I-told-you-so' look on his son's face.
Finally, Neal shot his eyebrows up and down quickly and strode off to the stairs, whistling all the way down. It was going to be a long day.
Historical Note: The book Belle is reading is the Kamasutra of Vastsyayana. It was first translated into English in 1883, and yes, there is a chapter in it that is simply tips for how to arrange your furniture. Not for sex, for sitting on. Westerners tend to have an idea of it as purely a sex manual, but that really just makes up a few chapters of the second section. However, the first two chapters of the second section are different ways to touch your love and different ways to kiss, and those are the chapters Belle is on right now. There's also an entire chapter on different types of bites. Later sections are on the duty of a wife, how to court a woman, and the duties of the intermediary between two lovers. Now, all those things don't mean that it's not pretty illegal for Belle to have been sold that. Ladies were sheltered from any depictions of sex, so while pornography was produced and published during that time it was the sort of thing men had in their library, not women.