Lucky Stars

Chapter Fifteen All Right

Jack

Later that evening, Jack drove Belle back to The Point.

She’d called him that afternoon to inform him that they could not, again, spend another highly enjoyable evening alone together in her quiet cottage. A cottage which was simple, inviting and subtly feminine all of which, Jack thought, was very Belle. A cottage where he found almost instantly he was completely at ease.

Instead, Belle was under strict orders from Lila to come home that evening.

They had, in the overwhelming fullness of their reconciliation, forgotten to call home, not that it even once crossed Jack’s mind. He was not used to being accountable to anyone for his whereabouts.

Also, as said reconciliation had been intense and thoroughly engrossing, they hadn’t heard Belle’s phone ringing in her bag or Jack’s which was muted by his clothing.

Therefore Lila and Rachel had spent the evening wondering where they were and not liking being engaged in this activity.

This was what they learned upon arrival at The Point that morning.

Lila, followed by Rachel then, far more slowly (because she was likely only lending moral support or being polite) followed by his mother, confronted them in the hallway when they walked through the front doors.

It had been short and to the point.

“Belle Ursula Abbot,” Lila said in a severe voice, addressing her like she was ten years old and Belle’s hand went to her mouth.

“Holy heck,” Belle muttered under her hand, her eyes adorably huge with guilt then she took her hand away and breathed, “I forgot to call.”

“That you did,” Lila declared then stomped away.

“We’ve been worried sick,” Rachel added then she stomped away.

Belle and Jack looked to Joy.

“I told them not to worry,” Joy said casually.

Jack and Belle made no reply.

When they didn’t, Joy smiled and asked, “Did you two have a nice evening?”

“We were also having a nice morning,” Jack returned.

“That’s lovely,” Joy’s smile deepened, “Have you eaten? Do I need to call Elaine?”

Jack assured his mother they’d eaten and she’d given them another smile and wandered away.

Now they were on their way to The Point at Lila’s command.

In other words, they were in trouble and being punished.

Jack found it entirely unacceptable that he was a thirty-eight year old man escorting his thirty-five year old pregnant girlfriend home because they’d spent the night having unbelievably great sex and forgot to call thus they pissed off her grandmother.

He was not used to doing anything other than what he damn well pleased.

He’d been doing exactly what he damn well pleased for over twenty years.

And what would have pleased him was to pack a bag, load up his dogs and spend the fucking night at the cottage with Belle who he’d make absolutely certain was naked the vast majority of the time.

However Belle felt it necessary to perform this act of contrition.

He found this odd, he didn’t like it but he’d speak to her about it later.

At that moment, he had another mountain to climb.

“Belle,” he called and he felt rather than saw her eyes turn to him from their study of the landscape.

“Yes?”

“I spoke to Elaine today,” he told her.

There was silence then a hesitant and somewhat confused, “That’s good.”

“About your things,” Jack went on.

“My things?”

“She’s moved them into my room.”

He heard her sharp intake of breath.

“Jack –” she began.

Jack cut her off, “There’s no longer any reason why you or I have to roam the halls in our pyjamas every night.”

“But…” she started and trailed off.

He glanced at her to see she was staring at him. He saw she looked that annoyed confused or a confused annoyed, he again didn’t know which.

He still thought it was adorable and wanted to grin but he bit it back, looked at the road and asked, “Can you give me a reason?”

“A reason for what?”

“A reason why you or I need to be roaming the halls at night.”

There was more silence then a quiet, “No.”

“Good. That’s settled then,” Jack declared decisively.

“Jack!”

“Belle,” Jack said to the windshield.

“What will Elaine think?” she asked and Jack couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing.

When he glanced at her swiftly again, the confusion was gone. She was still staring at him, definitely now just cross, before turning his eyes to the road.

“Poppet, you’re pregnant. I think Elaine has guessed by now we’ve been sexually active.”

There was another moment of silence, she sighed then she asked, “Don’t you think it’s too soon?”

“What’s too soon?”

“Any of it. All of it,” she replied.

He knew what she was asking.

Jack looked to her lap, reached out and took her hand then his eyes turned back to the road. He brought the back of her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips against her knuckles.

Then he dropped their hands to his thigh and kept hold of hers.

“No,” he stated simply.

“You’re sure?” she whispered.

At her question, a number of memories rapidly tore through his head. They included that tendril of hair against her neck the first night they met. The way she responded to his first kiss and every one since. Last night, the third time he’d had her, after they ate, when she was on top, moving on him but bent forward, her face in his neck, the sexy noises she made sounding direct in his ear while he felt her sleek, tight wetness sliding against him. And that morning, her excitement about eggs and her resulting, adorable chatter.

“More than I’ve been of anything in my fucking life,” he replied firmly.

He felt her hand convulse in his.

Finally, she said softly, “Okay.”

The Point came into view and Belle, clearly ready for a subject change asked, “How did The Point get its name?”

“It’s a house on a cliff,” Jack replied.

“I know but how did it get its name?” Belle repeated.

He gave her hand a squeeze, “Chy An Als, in Cornish, means ‘house on a cliff’.”

She let out a surprised giggle, something she’d been doing a lot lately, the sound of it something he enjoyed immensely and said, “That’s it? Your ancestors named their formidable castle the House on the Cliff?”

“Apparently they weren’t very creative,” Jack remarked dryly.

She emitted another giggle. Jack squeezed her hand. She squeezed his back and said in an amused whisper, “I love it.”

“The name or the house?” Jack asked.

“Both,” Belle gave her answer, an answer which Jack thought earned her another brush of his lips on her hand and that was exactly what he did.

He’d parked in front of the house and they were halfway up the steps when she stopped and turned to him.

Jack looked down at her.

She met his eyes instantly which made Jack smile.

“I have a feeling,” she started softly, “at some point you should explain exactly what I agreed to in the car.”

There was no anxiety in her voice or self-consciousness in her posture.

She knew it was important, Jack moving her things to his room.

But she wasn’t frightened of it.

This indicated to Jack that she trusted him.

He had the intense desire to snatch her into his arms and carry him to their room and, in celebration, christen it exhaustively.

He controlled that desire and instead told Belle, “We’ll talk soon, poppet.”

She looked away and kept walking up the stairs saying only, “Okay.”

They’d stepped a few feet into the entry hall when Rachel, wearing another of her strange t-shirts, this one green with yellow writing that declared “I said… I want coffee!” came flying down the stairs.

“I found them,” she shouted, skidding to a halt in front of Belle and Jack before she continued excitedly, “And they sound perfect.”

“Who sounds perfect?” Belle asked.

“The Ghost Helpers!” Rachel cried with enthusiasm and Jack tensed.

“The Ghost Helpers?” Belle asked Jack’s question and she asked it in an alarmed tone that reflected Jack’s feelings precisely.

“Yes.” Rachel got closer. “They don’t work together all the time but Cassandra thinks this might be a case where they need to team up.”

“Cassandra?” Belle queried.

“Cassandra McNabb. She’s a clairvoyant white witch,” Rachel answered.

“Fucking hell,” Jack muttered and Rachel’s eyes went to him.

“No, she’s good. I called her references,” she informed him.

“Fucking hell,” Jack repeated at the thought of a witch having references and Rachel’s eyes narrowed ominously.

“You said she’s working with someone?” Belle put in quickly, seeing, and probably knowing far better than Jack, the level of portent behind Rachel’s narrowed eyes and they cleared when she looked back at her daughter.

“She works with The McPherson!” Rachel announced grandly as if this meant anything at all.

“The McPherson?” Belle enquired.

Rachel came forward and wrapped her arm around Belle’s waist, moving them deeper into the hall.

“I called a friend of mine in Tucson who knew some Native Americans who had healers amongst them who bought rare herbs from some women who they said were in a coven who knew another coven on the East Coast who knew Cassandra who knew The McPherson,” she rambled her explanation. “And Cassandra says he’s the best. They just helped to dispatch a particularly nasty ghost witch up in Devon.”

“Dispatch?” Belle asked with concern.

“Well, they sent her to hell,” Rachel replied and Belle pulled out of her mother’s arm.

“We don’t want Myrtle and Lewis to go to hell!” she exclaimed.

“No, of course not!” Rachel exclaimed back, “I told Cassandra the story and she knows they’re supposed to go to heaven. She was happy to accept the gig.”

It was at this announcement Jack decided it was time to enter the conversation.

“The gig?” Jack asked and Rachel looked at him.

“Yes, the gig. She does this kind of thing for a living. Not just ghosts, other stuff. Talking to family members beyond the veil. Whipping up potions. Things like that.”

Jack ignored the ludicrous notion that anyone would have such employment and focussed on the more important issue at hand.

“You’re saying you’ve hired her,” Jack stated. When Rachel nodded, Jack asked, “How much?”

“Thirty pounds an hour, plus expenses,” Rachel answered.

“Fucking hell,” Jack muttered yet again.

At the same time, Belle cried, “Mom!”

Rachel looked at her daughter, “What? She’s highly specialised. I thought that was a bargain.”

“Who’s going to pay her?” Belle snapped.

“Your grandmother, for one, me for another. I’m not destitute you know,” she hesitated, “Though I should look into getting a job. Do you think I could help at your shop?”

Before Jack could speak, Belle said briskly, “Of course you can work at my shop. That isn’t the point. The point is this could take hours. What does this McPherson person charge?”

“I haven’t chatted with him yet. I’ll talk to him when he and Cassandra get here tomorrow,” Rachel answered.

Belle opened her mouth but Jack got there before her.

And when he did, he simply said, “Belle.”

She closed her mouth and turned to him.

When her eyes met his, Jack went on, “I thought I explained you were leading the pack.”

He watched Belle wet her lips but she didn’t reply.

Therefore he repeated yet again, “Fucking hell.”

“It’ll be just fine,” Rachel reiterated nearly the same exact words her daughter said to him the other night while they were sitting in the window of her room.

“Do I need to get involved in this?” Jack asked.

At the same time, both Belle and Rachel exclaimed, “No!”

Jack approached their huddle, got very close to Belle and put his hand to her jaw.

When she’d tipped her head back to look at him, he demanded, “You be safe.” Then, not taking his hand from Belle, he turned his head to look at Rachel and warned, “You keep her safe.”

“Of course!” Rachel snapped, “You don’t have to tell me that.”

“I feel better doing it,” Jack replied.

“Why?” Belle asked and Jack looked back to her.

“Because when you two make the mess I’ve the feeling you’re going to make and I’m forced to extricate you from that mess, I’ll be able to feel superior and say, ‘I told you so’,” Jack answered, feeling his lips twitch.

Belle’s eyes dropped to his mouth and he saw her lips form a small smile.

Before any more could be said, Joy rushed into the hall.

Her eyes were glued on Jack, they looked worried and her face was pale.

Jack’s body tensed, he dropped his hand from Belle’s jaw and turned to his mother.

“What is it?” he asked.

She stopped close but looked to Belle swiftly before her eyes flew back to Jack.

“Miles just pulled up,” she answered.

The air in the hall changed. Jack felt fear coming from Belle and his mother, undoubtedly for different reasons, and anger coming from Rachel.

To make matters worse, Lila chose that moment to descend the staircase and she did this quickly.

Her eyes were on Jack and for once they didn’t look filled with dislike or rebuke. He didn’t spend much time assessing her look but the time he did it looked like she was silently offering him moral support.

Therefore, he knew that she also knew Miles was there.

He also knew that somewhere along the line he’d earned Lila Cavendish’s acceptance and, possibly, her regard.

Jack didn’t have time to consider Lila’s acceptance or regard nor did he have time to make it to the doors and intercept his brother.

One was already opening so Jack moved to Belle and got close, curving an arm around her shoulders and tucking her front to his side. She immediately wrapped her arms around his middle.

Miles barely got the door closed before Jack said, “I thought we had an understanding.”

Miles turned from the doors and walked to them, stopping well away. The bruising and cuts on his face that Jack had given him hadn’t entirely healed but they were far less noticeable. He carried a magazine rolled in his hand.

Jack couldn’t read his expression.

Miles’s gaze went to their mother.

“Mum,” he said.

“Miles,” she whispered.

Then his eyes moved to Belle and Jack watched them change.

He did not like the way they changed, not in the slightest.

“Belle,” Miles said softly.

Belle pressed closer into Jack’s side and breathed, “Miles.”

“Miles –” Jack began but Miles looked at him and started speaking.

“I’d like a word.”

“You’ve had your words. Too many of them as I recall and none of them good,” Jack returned.

Miles looked from Jack, to Rachel, to Lila.

“You’re Belle’s family,” he said, a polite smile forming on his lips.

Rachel and Lila were cautiously silent for once and Jack spoke again.

“Miles, we had our conversation. I thought I made my feelings clear.”

“A word, Jack. Five minutes of your time,” Miles requested.

“Jack,” Joy urged softly, he knew his mother wanted him to concede and Jack’s mouth went tight.

“In the study,” Jack clipped.

Miles nodded and moved toward the study.

Jack let go of Belle but Belle didn’t let go of Jack so he looked down at her.

“Are you going to be okay?” she whispered her sweet question and the even sweeter way she uttered it cut through him sharply but pleasantly.

He nodded.

Then he bent his head to brush his lips against hers, gently disentangled himself from her arms and followed his brother to the study.

Once there, he closed the door behind him and walked into the room.

Miles was at the window staring out to sea.

Jack moved to the side of his desk, stopped and crossed his arms on his chest.

“Miles, say what you have to say and then I want you gone,” Jack demanded and his brother turned to him.

Then he unrolled the magazine, opened it and held it out to Jack.

Jack took it and saw it was a celebrity rag. The pages Miles showed him were a spread of “the history” of Jack, Belle and Miles.

The title of the article pronounced, To the Victor Go the Spoils.

Jack’s mouth tightened with irritation at the title and he flipped to the next page, then the next. The article was six pages long but barely had any text.

However, there were a goodly number of photos.

All the ones of Miles had been chosen to make him look the fool. Shots captured when he’d looked angry or impatient, either emotion contorting his face in an unpleasant manner. They’d also managed to get a photo of him, what Jack guessed was several days ago, his face battered, his eye blackened.

On the other hand, the photos of Jack and Belle were chosen for different reasons.

There were pictures of Belle before she met Jack, head bowed, looking stylish and regal, ignoring the cameras.

There were pictures of Jack, head up, strides wide, also ignoring the cameras.

There were also pictures of Belle and Jack recently, kissing in his car, walking close together, clearly an item. They looked close, they looked smitten and it appeared they were lovers even before that was again true.

Jack looked from the magazine to Miles and asked shortly, “Your point?”

“I can’t bear it any longer, Jack. I look like a fucking fool.”

Jack thought, rather unkindly and not for the first time, that his brother was, indeed, a fool. He’d had Belle for a month and he hadn’t done everything in his power to keep her. Instead, he’d mistreated her, actively and with mal-intent.

Jack didn’t share this, instead he repeated, “Again, your point?”

“I’m asking you to do something,” Miles told him.

Jack leaned a hip on his desk, threw the magazine on it and put his hand to it, saying, “I have no control over the media, Miles.”

“No, I know you don’t, but…” he stopped, looked away then went on in a voice where Jack knew what he said next cost him. “This can’t go on with you and me. It hurts Mum and if Belle is going to be in your life for any amount of time, which it appears she is –”

“She is,” Jack cut in firmly and watched Miles’s body jerk.

Then his face grew hard and he said, “You’re my fucking brother.”

Jack’s patience slipped a sizeable notch. “You didn’t think of that when you were insulting the mother of my fucking child direct to her face.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Miles gritted through his teeth.

“I’m not the one you need to apologise to,” Jack returned.

“Like you’ll let me speak to Belle,” Miles snapped.

“No, I won’t,” Jack agreed remembering his brother’s taunting vows, during and after their fight, to make Jack pay. Vows that stated he’d do it through Belle.

Miles straightened and Jack watched him clench his teeth before he remarked, “It took a lot for me to come here.”

“Explain why I should care about that,” Jack suggested.

“What I’m saying is, I’ve made the first step. You should meet me halfway.”

“As I recall, you used the woman who would become important to me as a prize in a competition.” When Miles opened his mouth, Jack kept going, “I don’t give a fuck if you were dating her at the time. You had to know Belle. You’d been dating her for a fucking month. Therefore you had to know she wasn’t the type of person to jump into someone’s bed if that someone didn’t matter to her. And matter to her a great, fucking deal.”

Jack watched Miles’s mouth clamp shut, Jack knew he scored his point and he continued.

“Then you told her I wanted a crack at her, knowing Belle had made her choice and what that might mean to her and knowing how she would react to something like that. You didn’t take your loss like a man. You did what you did out of spite.”

Miles’s brows snapped together in confusion, “I didn’t tell her that. Where she heard that, I’ve no idea.”

Jack studied his brother and saw, to his surprise, he wasn’t lying.

Still, he carried on, “Regardless, when I caught you with her, you were physically abusing her. Then, months later, when you knew she was pregnant and I’d moved her into my home, which is something which should have given you a clue as to what she meant to me, another clue was the fact you walked in on us kissing, you didn’t duck out quietly. Instead you abused her verbally.” Jack watched his brother’s face go tight and he went on, “Therefore, Miles, I don’t think I need to meet you halfway.”

“We should have talked about this four months ago when it happened,” Miles told him, “I was angry. You must understand I was angry.”

“Anger doesn’t excuse physically abusing a woman. Nor verbally doing it,” Jack retorted.

“She fucked my brother while she was dating me!” Miles clipped.

“No, I fucked her. There’s a subtle difference Miles. You know me. You knew her. You had to know the way it happened. You can’t think I believe for one second you didn’t. You took your anger at me out on Belle. As a result, I nearly lost her and I’m finding it hard to forgive you for that.”

“And you can’t believe for one second that, if the same thing happened to you, and a woman you cared about spent the night with me, that you wouldn’t be livid,” Miles shot back and Jack’s patience slipped another considerable notch at his brother’s very selective memory.

“If a woman I cared about spent the night in your bed, my first thought would be that you could have her,” Jack returned with complete honesty and the look on Miles’s face showed he knew it. As he would. As it had happened before and, even though Jack didn’t need to remind him, he did, “For instance, when you fucked Yasmin.”

Miles looked away and muttered, “That was a long time ago and you two weren’t exactly together.”

“It was a long time ago. That doesn’t change the fact that, years ago, you discovered Yasmin and I were having difficulties because of a ridiculous argument she blew out of proportion. We’d grown up with her. You knew the way Yasmin behaved. How she’d take any opportunity to screw up her life. You also knew how I felt about her. You purposefully got her pissed out of her skull and took her to your bed. When she admitted it to me, she was a fucking mess because she knew it was over. And it was, irrevocably. I shouldn’t have forgiven you, or Yasmin for that matter, but I did. That’s two women in my life you’ve toyed with because of this ridiculous compulsion to best me and, if I didn’t make it clear in the stables, I will now. I’m done, Miles. This is finished.”

Miles stared at Jack and Jack returned his stare.

This went on for quite some time.

Finally, and quietly, Miles said, “I’m done too, Jack.”

“I’m supposed to believe that?”

Miles nodded and repeated, “I’m done.”

Jack shook his head but Miles took a step forward, Jack pushed away from the desk and Miles stopped.

“This is my family we’re talking about,” Miles went on, still quietly and, when Jack didn’t speak, Miles continued, “Not just you, but Mum, even Yasmin isn’t talking to me and now Belle’s expecting. That’s my niece or nephew she’s carrying, Jack. And I’m banished from my own fucking house.”

“You brought it on yourself,” Jack retorted ruthlessly.

“I know!” Miles shouted, “God damn it, I know,” Jack watched his brother swallow and then he said, “Dad would be so pissed off, Jack, if he saw us now. He’d be furious.”

“He’d be furious at you,” Jack returned.

“I know,” Miles whispered, shut his eyes then opened them and focussed on Jack, “Okay, not halfway, Jack. You win, I apologise. I’ll apologise to Belle.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Jack cut in.

“You can be there,” Miles put in quickly and repeated, “You can be there, Jack. And I’ll try to…” He hesitated then carried on, “Figure out why I do the things I do and I’ll control it.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed and he remarked, “Yes, I guess you will. A nice reunion of the Bennett Brothers to show the press that you aren’t a sore loser and we’re one big happy family.”

“That’s not what this is,” Miles informed him.

“That’s what you led with the minute I entered this room,” Jack retorted.

“It’s eating me. I’ve admitted that but it’s more and you know it.” He paused then reminded Jack, “We used to be close.”

“We haven’t been close since Yasmin,” Jack reminded Miles.

“We can get that back, if you’ll let it happen. Mum would be thrilled and you know Dad would have been.”

Jack’s body went solid, his patience vanished and his voice went low when he warned, “Don’t use Dad in your games, Miles. Don’t you fucking dare use Dad in your games.”

“It isn’t a game,” Miles asserted.

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to prove that to me,” Jack replied.

Miles leaned forward in supplication and vowed, “I will. I promise I will.”

“Good luck with that,” Jack returned, disbelief evident in his tone.

“You’ll see,” Miles stated.

Jack leaned against his desk again, his posture back to casual, his voice anything but when he spoke again. “This turns out to be a game, Miles, that’s it. We’re through. You’ll never return to The Point and I won’t want to see your face again. If I do, you won’t like what happens.”

“It isn’t a game,” Miles declared fiercely.

Jack took in a breath and, upon letting it out, he said softly, but his voice was vibrating with meaning, “It better not be.”

Jack watched the bathroom door open, Belle took two steps out, looked at him where he was lying on his side and up on an elbow in bed and she stopped dead.

“Poppet, come here,” Jack said quietly.

When he spoke, she jerked out of her freeze and walked to him, looking nervous.

He knew this was difficult for her. Everything was happening quickly even if some of it was by her own design.

If he had been in the same situation with any other woman, Jack would give her some space. He would give her an opportunity to get her thoughts together, get used to her changed living arrangements, the changes in her body, the media intrusion, a new employee, him.

With Belle, he was absolutely not going to do any of that.

Instinctively he knew space and Belle was not a good thing.

Firstly, and most importantly, because it was likely she’d use it to question his commitment to her, her trust in him and, in the end, to retreat.

Secondly, she’d been dealing with a great deal for some months on her own, traumatic memories and misguided guilt, all with the media breathing down her neck. She had, to appearances, handled it beautifully on her own.

However, she was not on her own anymore.

There was only so much one person could take and Jack decided she’d had enough.

Therefore, she had, indeed, had enough.

Belle going it alone was a memory.

Although it started well, it had not turned out to be a good day.

After Jack’s discussion with Miles, Jack had gone to talk privately to Belle to ascertain if she was willing to listen to an apology from his brother.

After he told her he would be with her, Belle had agreed.

It all fell apart when they were waylaid on the way back to the study by the other three women living in his house.

This meant that his mother and her mother and grandmother were all in attendance when Miles apologised to Belle.

Jack didn’t mind this but Miles did. He tried to hide it but he failed.

Therefore, Miles’s apology came out stilted and sounded unconvincing.

This did not go over well.

Although Belle accepted his apology, Rachel and Lila clearly didn’t and Joy was looking less than impressed with her son.

Regardless, Miles, as usual, pushed his advantage and stayed for dinner. Jack did not want this neither did Belle nor, by appearances, did Rachel and Lila. They all acquiesced to Miles’s request mainly because everyone was attempting to accommodate Joy who, it was not hard to read, wanted reconciliation between her sons.

Dinner, also, didn’t go well.

Belle retreated completely. Jack didn’t know why but it was likely due to acute embarrassment because of her past relationship with Miles, her current one with Jack mingled with Miles’s past treatment of her. Through dinner, she barely even glanced at Miles much less anyone else at the table.

Lila and Rachel, in an obvious attempt to behave themselves and not cause Joy distress, were practically silent.

Jack’s mother was nervous and therefore chattered uncontrollably.

Luckily, Olive had come back to the castle after successfully browbeating some innocent cottage owner who wanted to charge summer rates for Dirk’s extended residence in his property (she convinced him to charge winter rates regardless of the fact that Jack could afford double the summer fees until Dirk found more permanent accommodation in St. Ives).

Olive joined them for dinner and would intervene, often hilariously, when Joy’s chattering started to become frantic. Although Belle never laughed, Rachel and Lila did.

Miles had switched from being wooden to being overtly charming which was, unfortunately for him, just as unconvincing as his apology had been.

Jack noticed all this vaguely. His attention was devoted to alleviating Belle’s obvious discomfort. This he did by holding her hand on the table between courses and engaging her in quiet, private but short conversations.

He also touched her face once, when, even at his request, she didn’t meet his eyes. Gently, he put his fingers to her jaw and turned her to face him as she continued to speak to his shoulder.

When he did this last, Jack caught Miles looking at them. He clearly saw Miles’s irate glare before his brother gained control of his expression.

At any other time, seeing that, Jack would have thrown him out.

With everyone on edge and his mother desperate for a brotherly reunion, Jack did not.

However, he did escort Miles to the door directly after coffee.

“I hardly need to be shown the door as I’ve been using it since I could walk,” Miles informed him as Jack pulled open the door.

Jack, having already lost his patience, ignored his comment and replied, “It’s only fair to warn you, Miles, you aren’t doing very well proving you wish to change.”

At Jack’s words, Miles’s mouth went tight. Without speaking, Miles lifted his chin to Jack and walked out the door.

Jack immediately put his brother out of his mind and went in search of Belle so they could walk the dogs.

Belle’s attitude altered the minute she knew Miles was gone. Their walk was long, and for the most part, comfortably silent. They held hands the entirety of it and Jack found it an immensely pleasant excursion.

Upon their return, however, Joy informed Jack that Yasmin was on the phone saying she urgently needed to speak to him.

Jack left Belle with Joy and spent the next half hour listening to Yasmin who had apparently been informed of the evening’s activities by Rachel, unnecessarily warning him that Miles couldn’t be trusted.

He knew that. He knew his brother was planning something.

And he hated it.

He hated it that their relationship had deteriorated to this point and he hated knowing Miles intended to use Belle to destroy it beyond repair.

He hated that his hands were tied for, with Miles’s current submissive behaviour, Jack had no choice but to let it play out or he ran the risk of upsetting his mother. Thus, considering how Joy was accepting Belle and her family into the fold, this meant that eventually, when Miles made his play, Miles and his mother’s relationship would also be destroyed beyond repair.

Jack was making quick and immensely satisfying progress in winning Belle but he knew he had to take care not to do anything to damage her fragile trust.

Further, she was pregnant with his child but hell bent on helping Myrtle and Lewis all the while coping with significant life changes.

Therefore, with recent events, he hated it that he also had to protect her from his fucking brother.

Jack watched as she stopped beside the bed. He leaned forward and took her hand, gently pulling her into their bed and his arms. He rolled to his back, taking her with him so that her torso was resting mostly on top of his.

When she lifted up on an elbow and looked down at him, his hand came up and he tucked her hair behind her ear.

When he did this, her eyes slid to the pillow beside his head and she asked, “What did Yasmin have to say?”

Jack ignored the direction of her gaze and answered honestly, his words bringing Belle’s eyes quickly back to his and they’d grown wide.

“She told me not to trust Miles.”

“She did?”

“She did,” Jack replied and he saw her head tilt in confused enquiry.

“I thought you were all close,” Belle said.

“We were, once,” Jack answered. “Yasmin’s mother was a good friend of Mum’s. They were here often. When Yasmin’s Mum divorced her Dad, Yasmin was still very young. Her Mum moved them from London down here, a few miles away. We grew up together.”

“What happened to make you not close?” Belle asked.

Jack didn’t want to talk about what happened. Not at that moment. Not when Belle’s clothes were hanging in his wardrobe, her tubes and bottles were in his bathroom and her warm, soft body was in his bed.

Instead, he slid a hand up her spine and into her hair. He cupped the back of her head and put pressure there until her lips where on his. Softly, he touched her mouth with his own then rolled so she was on the bottom and his torso was mostly on hers.

He lifted his head and told her, “It’s a long story, poppet, but it’s not for tonight. I’ll tell you some other time.”

“Why don’t you tell me now?” she queried and he smiled before he dipped his face closer to hers.

“Because, now, I’d rather welcome you to your new room.” He gave her another brief kiss before continuing, “We started the day well and it went to hell. I intend to salvage the night.”

He watched her eyes grow warm and felt her hands glide along his skin as she wrapped her arms around him.

Then she whispered shyly and very sweetly, “Okay.”

Jack smiled again before he kissed her, not briefly this time and, after that, together, delightfully, they salvaged the night.

Jack was dead asleep when he felt Belle’s body jerk violently against his.

Seconds later, he was wide awake when he felt her jerk again then again.

In between these jolts, she was shivering uncontrollably in his arms even though her skin felt unnaturally hot.

Quickly, Jack moved away, rolling her to her back while he called her name.

She didn’t wake and instead he heard her make a disturbing whimpering sound deep in the back of her throat.

Jack rolled to his back taking Belle with him and reached a hand out to turn on the light. Then he circled her with his arms and gave her a mild shake.

“Poppet, wake up.”

She jolted again even as her head came up, her face pale, eyes sleepy but cloudy, the look in their unfocussed depths lost and frightened.

“Belle,” Jack said softly, his hand coming up to pull the hair away from her face, “look at me, love.”

She blinked and her gaze came to his.

“You’re awake,” he told her. “You’re safe.”

Rather than be assured by his words, he felt her body trembling and watched her eyes fill with tears.

“Jack,” she whispered, her voice husky with sleep but the sweetness was gone. She sounded frightened and defeated.

At her tone, Jack’s arms tightened reflexively around her and he rolled them to their sides.

“Poppet, put your arms around me and hold tight,” he ordered and without delay, she did even as she tucked her face in his throat, her body still shaking. He kissed the top of her head before asking, “Did you have a nightmare?”

She didn’t hesitate with her reply.

“I remembered,” she whispered, her voice hitched on a sob and brokenly she went on, “Jack, I remembered the bus. I dreamed the whole thing. The whole thing. Penny, Davey, everything.” The shaking became intense and uncontrolled, wracking her body against his and she went on in a voice filled with horror, “Oh my God, Jack, I remembered everything. Every second.”

Jack pulled her deeper into him. Keeping one arm tight around her waist, he let his other hand drift up and into her hair, his fingers sliding through it and then back again.

“You just had a nightmare. Talking about it the other night made you –” Jack started but Belle’s head snapped back and she looked at him through tear-filled eyes.

“It wasn’t a nightmare,” she spoke fiercely through her crying. “It all came back to me. It was awful. I knew I didn’t want to remember it, Jack. I knew it.”

“Poppet –” he began again but she jerked her head in the negative and clenched her arms tight around him.

“Now it’s there. I’ll never get it out of my head. Never. Never, never, never,” she declared, a fresh wave of tears overcame her and she pressed her face into his throat again.

“Hold tight to me, love,” Jack urged and when she did he continued, “It’s over. It’s done. You’re here and safe. It’s finished.”

“Their eyes were open, Jack,” she choked and he felt his own body jerk at her hideous words but she either didn’t feel it or ignored it and went on, “They were staring at me but not seeing me. Their hair floating. Their arms adrift. Oh my God, Jack. It was so terrible. It was unspeakable. Oh my God. Oh my God.”

She began chanting these three words and rocking in his arms and Jack repeated, “Hold tight, love.”

She shook her head but held onto him.

“Take deep breaths,” he demanded but she shook her head again, forcefully this time, and then tilted it back with a sudden snap.

“What if that happens to Nathan?” she asked hysterically, eyes round with fear and horror. “Oh my God, Jack, what if –”

Jack cut her off by saying firmly, “That’s not going to happen to our child.”

Panic undeterred, her hands moved to his chest and pushed but he held her close as she exclaimed, “Jack, what if he’s smothered in his bed like Myrtle and Lewis?”

Jack gave her a gentle shake in an effort to break through her irrational fear. “Belle, he’s not going to be smothered in his bed.”

This effort as well was unsuccessful.

“We shouldn’t have a baby. Anything could happen,” she declared then suggested wildly, “You’re rich! Too rich! You own a castle, for goodness sakes! No one owns a castle. What if he’s kidnapped? Held for ransom!”

Still attempting to control her rampaging hysterics, Jack rolled into her and covered her body with the warmth of his. “Belle, calm down. He’s not going to be kidnapped.”

“It could happen!” she asserted, voice rising. “It happens all the time!”

“It doesn’t happen all the time,” Jack returned. “In fact, it rarely happens.”

“It could happen.” she pushed.

“It isn’t going to happen.”

“But it could,” she stressed.

“It isn’t going to,” he repeated.

“But it could!” she declared on a near shout.

“So you’re saying we shouldn’t have a child because there’s an absurdly remote possibility that he might get kidnapped?” Jack asked.

She nodded instantly and added, “Or smothered in his bed. Or drowned in freak bus accident.”

It was then Jack realised she was no longer trembling, crying or pushing at him. Her hands were resting lightly on his chest and she was gazing up at him defiantly.

Because of this, the humour of her words suddenly hit Jack and he couldn’t stop himself from chuckling.

“What’s funny now?” she yelled, again pressing against his chest, now angrily, at the same time declaring, “This is not funny, James Bennett. If anything is not funny, this… is… not… funny!”

He dipped his head and gave her angry mouth a soft kiss before pulling a scant inch away, “Poppet, our child is not going to get kidnapped, smothered or drowned in a freak bus accident.”

“You can’t promise that,” she snapped.

All humour vanished from his voice and he watched the anger fade from her face and fear replace it when he replied, “No, you’re right. I can’t.” He lifted a hand to cup her jaw, his thumb moved to stroke her cheekbone and he went on before she could say a word, “I can’t promise he won’t sprain his ankle or burn his fingers or fall off his horse either.”

“Jack –” she started, her voice trembling but he kept talking.

“I can’t promise he’ll mind us when we tell him what to do or that he’ll get good marks in school or that he’ll bring home only girls we like or that he’ll listen to music that doesn’t drive us mad.”

As he spoke, he watched her face begin to grow soft and the storm started to shift out of her eyes.

After a moment, she whispered, “But I like all kinds of music.”

At her words, Jack grinned. “Odds are, he’ll find some you hate.”

She regarded him a moment and her eyes finally cleared.

“This is true,” she told him, the sweetness back in her voice and he saw her mouth form a small smile.

Jack rolled again to his side, moving her to hers and he held her close as his face got closer.

“What I can promise is we’ll do the best we can and we’ll keep him as safe as we can.” His hand tangled in her hair and he pulled her head gently back so he could get even closer before he finished, “And even when he’s pissing us off or we’re worried about him, I can promise you that we’ll be happy we took this risk.”

He felt a shudder move through her body and she pressed tighter to him before she asked softly, “Do you think Davey and Penny’s Mum and Dad were happy they took the risk?”

Jack’s reply was immediate, “Yes.”

She wet her lips before her eyes dropped to his throat and she whispered, “I suspect you’re right.”

He gave her hair a soft tug and her gaze came back to him.

“Are you all right now?” he asked and he watched her blink, her expression turning oddly startled before it cleared.

“I think I am,” she answered, sounding surprised by her own words.

He brushed her mouth with his and said, “Good.”

Then he moved to turn off the light but she moved with him, her hand coming up to grab his forearm and he turned back to her in enquiry.

“I think I am,” she repeated. “I think I’m all right.”

Jack stared at her a moment before he said, “I got that, poppet.”

She shook her head and came up on a forearm to look down at him. “You don’t get it, Jack. I said, I think I’m all right.”

Jack rose to his own forearm to look her in the eyes. “I’m sorry, love, but you’re going to have to explain to me what I don’t get.”

“I’m all right,” she repeated and when she did Jack smiled instead of laughing which he preferred to do but it would likely have annoyed her. Then he wrapped his fingers around the back of her neck, pulling her closer.

“Repeating it isn’t going to help me understand, Belle,” he explained.

“I remembered,” she whispered, her voice solemn. “I remembered something horrific, something I didn’t think I could handle.” She leaned closer, put her hand on his chest and looked directly into his eyes. “And I’m all right.”

His fingers at her neck gave her a squeeze. “I’m glad, my love.”

He started to move to switch off the light again but turned back when she said, “Jack, no.”

His eyes caught hers and he waited.

“I’m not strong,” she admitted softly. “You know that. I’ve never been strong. Never in my whole life. If I’d been alone, I wouldn’t have been able to handle that.” Her hand went to her belly as did her gaze before returning to him. “Or this,” she threw her arm out and went on, “or anything.”

“Belle –” he started to disagree but she finished what she intended to say, using words that tore through his system, searing a direct path straight to his soul.

“But I’m all right because I’m not alone. I’m all right because I’m with you. Tonight, you made me all right.”

Jack’s body went still, his eyes held hers for a long moment and he forgot about the light. He forgot about going back to sleep. He forgot about everything.

He forgot that he graduated top of his class.

He forgot that he’d been made captain of the rugby team not because of his name but because of his abilities.

He forgot that he’d turned his back on the family business and built his own company from nothing.

He forgot the thrill he felt when he earned his first million pounds through his own hard work.

He forgot when he earned his second.

He forgot all the times he’d bested his brother.

And he forgot the last words his father said to him, telling Jack that he made him proud.

He forgot about everything he’d ever achieved, everything that ever mattered to him and in that instant, thought that if he’d never succeeded in anything again, that would be perfectly fine.

Because he’d made Belle feel all right.

When he came unstuck, he didn’t turn to the light.

He shifted into Belle’s soft body and she readily accepted his weight, his mouth on hers and his hands trailing along her skin.

And although they’d made love in his room four times before. Although he remembered every second of every time, all of them magnificent and one of them life-altering in a way Jack would be grateful for until the end of his days. None of them were as beautiful as that night when he slid inside her as her fingers glided into his hair, her calves wrapped around his thighs, his tongue tangled with hers and that sexy noise slid from her throat into the depths of his.

She was not filled with fear, with panic, with anxiety.

She was filled with him and his child, moaning her desire into his mouth.

And Jack was making her more than all right.