Lucky Stars

Chapter Four Sibling Rivalry

Belle

Belle woke tucked in the curve of Jack’s warm, hard body, his heavy arm resting on her waist.

The sunlight was shining in her face.

The events of the night before hit her in a happy rush. Thinking about them, she snuggled into Jack and felt his arm tighten in his sleep.

This made her smile.

She shouldn’t be smiling. She should be embarrassed at how she’d behaved, what she’d done.

Belle “Meek and Mild” Abbot would be embarrassed.

No, Belle “Meek and Mild” Abbot wouldn’t be embarrassed, she’d be mortified.

But this Belle, whoever she was, wasn’t.

She wasn’t because Jack Bennett didn’t take her back to the party.

In the dark, in his study, he saw her pet his dog and look out his window.

Then he spent the next hour showing her things she’d want to see not things he wanted her to see.

And he knew straight away she wasn’t a people person and didn’t judge her. Nor did he force her to stand at his side while he introduced her to person after person necessitating that she make small talk, her most hated thing in the world (outside of the media and their microphones and cameras, she hated them more than small talk, loads more).

Instead, he protected her, took her away from the crush to someplace safe. Someplace she liked to be.

And he asked her questions and listened to her answers like not only was he interested in her responses but as if he cared.

And he’d given her three orgasms.

Three unbelievable orgasms.

She’d never had one induced by a partner.

Not a single one.

And in one night, Jack had given her three.

Belle read romance novels but she always thought all that rigmarole about passionate, mind-boggling sex which could sweep you away on a fiery hot wave was all fiction made up by extremely imaginative women.

But it wasn’t.

It was real.

And it was fantastic.

And she wanted more of it, lots more (if it was with Jack that was).

Furthermore, he said she could trust him.

And she believed him.

There was no way not to believe him, the way he made his promise. His voice was all low and rumbly, his arm was tight around her, his eyes were looking straight into hers.

After Calvin, Belle knew better than to trust anyone ever again, or at least not a man.

But she couldn’t help it, she trusted Jack.

It was a risk. An uncalculated, spur of the moment, outrageous risk but for the first time in her life Belle wasn’t the least bit frightened.

Because somewhere during their middle of the night, moonlit talk she realised she was safe with him. She could be herself with him and he actually liked it.

Criminally Handsome James Bennett liked her, Belle “Meek and Mild” Abbot.

He liked her a lot.

She could tell. It was hard to miss with all of the sex and cuddling and moonlit conversations full of promises.

Lastly, he called her “poppet” and it wasn’t like Miles calling her “gorgeous”.

Belle understood why she wasn’t fond of endearments uttered early in a relationship.

Because they were empty and meaningless.

When Jack called her “poppet”, it was different. It wasn’t empty nor was it meaningless.

It was warm and full of the possibility of something rich and rewarding.

She finally knew why she had that strange, thrilling feeling of expectation before she joined the party last night.

She had her very first premonition. Her mother, who had them all the time (practically hourly) would be in fits of delight when Belle told her.

She’d had the premonition that she’d meet Jack and it would be as wonderful as it was.

On that thought, she heard the jangle of dog tags and saw Baron sit up from his place on the floor at her side of the bed. His head swung toward Belle and he rested it on the mattress, his doggie eyes blinking at her.

Belle stretched out a hand to stroke his soft head and whispered to the dog, “Morning handsome.”

She heard Baron’s tail thump on the floor as the arm around her waist moved, curling up to become what she knew was a strong, long-fingered hand curving around her breast.

Belle felt a tingle slide up her spine as Jack’s body pressed forward.

His chin moved the hair at the back of her neck and then he said in a just waking up growl, “I take it you aren’t talking to me.”

Belle smiled at Baron and shook her head, saying, “No.”

Jack kissed the back of her neck then its side. His body and hand disappeared but only to press her to her back. He got up on an elbow and loomed over her.

She looked at him in the daylight.

He looked slightly sleepy but no less handsome.

In fact, he looked better than ever.

Really, it should be against the law (but she wasn’t going to turn him in, no way).

She smiled again, Jack’s eyes moved to her mouth and then his hand came up to frame the side of her face.

“Sleep well, poppet?” he murmured.

Belle nodded and his gaze moved from her mouth to her eyes.

“Good,” he muttered, his head descended, his mouth touched hers in a sweet, effective, barely there, morning kiss. When he lifted it again, his gaze turned toward Baron and he remarked, “You’ve stolen my dog.”

Belle let out a surprised giggle and asked, “What?”

Jack’s eyes came back to hers and she saw they were smiling even though his mouth was not.

It registered somewhere in the depths of her soul that this was the most beautiful sight she ever beheld about a nanosecond before he repeated, “You’ve stolen my dog. He always sleeps on the floor on the other side. My side. He never sleeps on this side.”

Belle’s head tilted enquiringly on the pillow. “You have a side?”

Jack studied her face a moment before asking, “You don’t?”

She shook her head. “No, I sleep in the middle.”

He kept watching her before his face went soft and he said quietly, “That’s good news, poppet.”

“Why?” Belle asked, confused at his statement.

His head descended again, this time to bury his face in her neck where he muttered, “No reason.” Then he went on to say, “Feel free to sleep in the middle with me.”

Belle let out another giggle and she slid her arms around his back, curling toward him as she informed him unnecessarily, “I did, last night. You did too. We’re in the middle now.”

“Mm,” he replied, mouth against her neck and Belle felt a shiver slide through her right before she felt his tongue touch her neck which made the shiver turn into a full blown, luscious tremble.

“Jack,” she called before things got out-of-hand which, if their experiences of last night were anything to go by (both times before their talk and the time after), they could do.

And fast.

“Hmm?” Jack mumbled as he slid his mouth to her ear.

“I have to go to my room,” Belle told him and instantly his head came up.

“What?” he asked.

“I have to go to my room,” she repeated.

His brows drew together and he queried gently, “Do you want to tell me why?”

She slid her hands up the hard muscle of his back and answered, “I need to go and get my toothbrush.”

His brows unknitted, his face relaxed and he kissed her nose then for some unknown reason he declared, “I’ve got an electric toothbrush.”

Then his face disappeared in her neck again.

Belle stared at the canopy of the four-poster and tried not to think about how nice his lips felt on her neck.

Jack’s room was larger than hers and this was saying something since hers was enormous. His was decorated in rich browns, dark blues and mustardy golds. The canopy, curtains and coverlet were a subtle, swirling, paisley mixture of the three.

It was lush.

“Um, I’m glad,” Belle mumbled and went on uncertainly as his mouth worked at the sensitive skin at her neck. “My dentist tells me every time I visit him to get one. They’re supposed to be the thing. It’s good you take care of your teeth. That’s important.”

His head came up and he studied her again, his green eyes shining and his mouth twitching like he was trying to control laughter.

She had no idea what was funny except maybe him telling her he had an electric toothbrush. But he wouldn’t think that was funny as, apparently, he thought that was the most natural thing in the world to share while having a morning cuddle.

When he succeeded in this task, he said, “Belle, what I meant was, I have an electric toothbrush with separate heads. You can have an unused one.”

“Oh,” Belle breathed, feeling like a complete idiot and his eyes watched her mouth form that one syllable like it was mesmerising.

Then he muttered, “God, you’re sweet.”

She completely forgot she was an idiot, a trill shot up her spine straight into her scalp, her belly melted and Belle’s head tilted again when she asked, “I am?”

His eyes came back to hers. “Yes, poppet,” he replied softly. “You are.” His voice dropped even lower when he finished, “Unbelievably sweet.”

For a second, she couldn’t speak mainly because she couldn’t breathe.

Then she didn’t know what to say but she felt she should say something. He’d just given her a lovely compliment. The best she’d ever had (by a mile). It would be rude to let it pass without comment.

So she whispered, “Thank you.”

For some reason her response made him roar with laughter. His body collapsed on hers but she took his weight for only a moment before his arms curled around her. He rolled to his back taking her with him so she was on top.

She lifted up with her forearms on his broad chest. He held her closely and she watched as he got control of his hilarity.

He was, if it could be believed, even more handsome when he was laughing.

“I still need to go to my room,” she told him and his hand came up to pull her hair away from her the side of her face to hold it at her back.

“Why?” he asked, still smiling.

“I need a change of clothes,” she told him.

He shook his head. “No you don’t.”

Belle blinked. “What am I supposed to wear?”

His fingers slid through her hair at her back, came up then plunged in for another pass (and she distractedly registered she liked his hands sifting through her hair, quite a lot) as he answered, “If you need clothes, I’ll get you another shirt.”

Belle didn’t mind wearing his shirts. In fact, she liked it.

Still, for some reason only known to someplace deep in the back of her anxious mind, she knew she needed her stuff. She didn’t know why but she felt somehow exposed without it. Not to Jack but to everyone else in the castle.

She didn’t want to emerge from Jack’s room sometime in the afternoon with the remnants of her makeup from the night before on her face and either Jack’s shirt or her dress on her body.

The very idea was the definition of mortifying.

Therefore she kept trying to find a way to get to her room. “I need underwear.”

His smile turned wicked as his eyes caught hers. “No you don’t.”

Her belly did a flip before it dipped at his words (and his smile) but she kept trying. “I need something to pull my hair back.”

He moved a thick tress over her shoulder and twisted it around his fingers against her chest. “I like your hair down.”

“Jack!” she exclaimed in frustration.

“Belle.” He grinned, totally disregarding her frustration and seemingly having the time of his life.

Belle tried yet again. “I need my cleanser, moisturiser. I need my stuff.”

The amusement in his gaze gentled, he lifted his head and touched his mouth to hers again. “All right, poppet. I’ll call Elaine and get her to move your things in here.”

Belle’s body went solid and almost at the same instant she felt Jack brace under her but she didn’t pay any attention even as his hand left her hair so his arm could wrap tightly around her back.

“You can’t call Elaine,” Belle declared even though she had no idea who Elaine was. She didn’t want anyone to know she was moving into Jack’s room except her and Jack.

“Why not?” Jack asked.

“Because she, whoever she is, will know I’m with you.”

“And?” Belle felt her eyes grow wide at that question, thinking the “and” was obvious but Jack kept talking. “Belle, people are going to know, very soon.”

“They’re going to think –” Belle started but Jack cut her off with a squeeze of his arms.

“I don’t give a fuck what they think.”

“Well, I do,” Belle told him.

“You shouldn’t.”

He was right. She shouldn’t.

Perhaps there was still some Old Belle hanging around.

“I know,” she admitted softly. “I still do.”

He studied her face and then he sighed.

Belle instinctively felt she’d forged an advantage so she took it.

“Can we please have a little time?” she asked quietly. “Just for, you know, ourselves?”

She watched his face grow soft before he replied, “Of course,” and Belle relaxed on top of him for half a second before he spoke again. “I’ll go get your things.”

She went solid in horror before declaring, “You can’t get my stuff.”

His mouth did that twitching thing again before he asked, “Why not?”

She had no ready answer. She just didn’t like the idea of Jack gathering her stuff, of which there was a lot. She was very girlie. There were tons of bottles and tubs and things.

He might think she was high maintenance.

She didn’t want him to think she was high maintenance (even though she was).

And worse, what if he missed something?

“You just can’t,” she returned.

This, bizarrely, made him start chuckling. She felt the sound in her belly and the feeling had nothing to do with his body shaking with laughter beneath hers.

“Poppet,” he said. “If you don’t like the idea of people knowing about us yet then I don’t like the idea of you roaming the halls in the morning looking like you’ve been thoroughly fucked.”

Belle gasped and her hand flew to her hair.

Was that what she looked like?

What did that even look like?

Oh goodness gracious! Her mind breathed in horror.

“It’s a good look,” Jack went on, his eyes smiling again as he watched her face. “But it’s my look. I gave it to you. I’m the only one who gets to see it.”

He had a point.

And what he said made her feel all warm and squishy inside.

She still didn’t want him to go get her stuff.

Belle looked to his bedside table and saw it was early. The party undoubtedly went late. Belle knew a bunch of people were spending the night (they had, like, a gazillion bedrooms). Still, she couldn’t imagine anyone was up yet. Belle was an early riser. By his instantly alert behaviour, she could tell Jack was too.

She looked back at Jack. “It’s early. No one will be up yet. I’ll hurry.”

“Belle –” Jack started to protest.

She broke in, “I promise, I’ll be really fast.”

“I’d prefer –” he began again but Belle leaned closer to him.

“Please, Jack. I’ll be quick.” When he seemed unrelenting, she got even closer and repeated, “Please?”

At her plea, he lifted a hand to the side of her face, his thumb moving to slide along her cheekbone and she knew she’d won.

Therefore, she smiled.

His eyes dropped to her mouth right before he smiled back.

At the sight, she knew she’d been wrong.

The smile in his eyes that didn’t reach his mouth wasn’t the most beautiful thing she ever beheld.

His returning her smile while giving into her crazy, neurotic wishes was.

“All right,” he muttered and she couldn’t help it (and didn’t try), she got even closer and brushed his mouth with her own before starting to push away but his arms tightened. He brought her back so she was crushed to him.

Then his hand sifted into her hair at the back of her head and he put pressure there until her mouth was on his. Then he gave her an open-mouthed kiss that was hot and wet and sweet and very, very long. So long, he curved her body around so she was on the bottom again, her arms wrapped around him and he was on top.

When his head lifted, she was in a daze. Not only her spine and scalp were tingling but other places where tingling besides and she forgot all about going to her room.

“Hurry,” he muttered his demand in a growl against her mouth, her desire (now significantly muted) to get her things came back to her and she nodded.

She scooted out from under him and got out of bed all of a sudden distressingly mindful of her nudity. She grabbed the first thing she could find which was his shirt. It was still partially buttoned so she quickly pulled it over her head and shoved her arms through. She then snatched up her panties and, back to him, slid them on under the voluminous folds of his shirt.

Her eyes went to the bed and as she feared, he was up on an elbow. The sheets were down to his waist. His broad, hard-muscled chest was on display. His chest was one of the myriad things she liked most about him. In fact, he had a great body which he did, indeed, have entirely at his command, in very delicious ways.

His gaze was on her.

She felt heat in her cheeks and she dashed to nab her dress and shoes.

Then she walked swiftly to the door.

She heard dog tags behind her.

Then she heard Jack demand, “Take Baron.”

She stopped at the door, hand on the knob and looked at Jack then at Baron who was standing halfway between the bed and the door. His head was swinging between them both looking doggie confused.

“He wants to stay with you,” Belle told Jack.

“He wants to go with you,” Jack told Belle.

“No, he doesn’t,” Belle returned.

“Belle, he does,” Jack retorted and went on, “Take him.”

Dress under her arm and shoes dangling from her fingers, Belle still managed to put an affronted feminine hand to her hip.

“You’re very bossy, do you know that?” she asked him.

“I have one hundred and eleven thousand, nine hundred and fifty-three employees. I have to be bossy,” he answered.

Belle’s mouth dropped open in astonishment at that impossible to believe fact.

Belle had only three and they were always driving her straight up the wall (or, at least, Belinda, her young, starry-eyed shop assistant did).

Therefore she asked on a whisper, “Really?”

He grinned but didn’t respond to her question. Instead, he ordered, “Go get your things.”

She turned to the door because standing in his shirt across the room and not in his arms in his bed, she was losing the courage to banter with Jack, and she muttered, “I’m not taking Baron.”

She heard him chuckle before he let out a sharp, short whistle, giving in and calling his dog.

She opened the door, stepped into the hall and started to close it behind her but threw him a grin of gratitude.

Baron was at the side of the bed, tail wagging, getting a head rub from Jack but Jack’s eyes were on her.

He smiled back.

Her belly did a flip, she licked her lips and closed the door.

Then she hurried down the hall.

As she did this, even though it was daylight, she thanked her lucky stars.

Belle had many lucky stars and she thanked them often.

She had a loving family even if she didn’t see her Dad very much and her Mom and Gram were a little nuts. She’d had an interesting childhood, seen many places, met nice people. She had a small cadre of good friends she cared about deeply. She owned her own business and did something she loved. She had a gorgeous cottage that was cosy, inviting, safe and very close to the sea, the sea being something that always made her feel happy and at peace.

Only once in her life had her stars turned. That was when she met, fell in love with and married Calvin.

But now, somehow she knew, with Jack those stars shone brighter than ever before. She also knew in her heart even after only one night that what she and Jack had was good, it was natural and it was right.

It could even be destiny or, at least, that was what her Mom would call it.

And she was ready to throw caution to the wind in order to have it, to hold it and keep it forever.

She was so caught in these happy thoughts she almost missed the murmuring voices as she made to turn from the wing Jack’s room was in to the one where hers was located.

She stopped just in time, took several steps back, away from the voices, hiding herself, and she plastered her back against the wall.

“… seen Belle?” Belle heard the final words of the question uttered quietly by Joy.

“No,” Yasmin answered. “She disappeared shortly after Jack.”

Belle bit her lip with concern that they were talking about her and she was eavesdropping which was beyond rude as Joy mumbled, “Oh dear.”

“Oh dear is right. Miles is livid. He was looking for her all night,” Yasmin went on.

Belle’s stomach pitched and she wondered if she could get back to Jack’s room without them noticing but before she could make a decision, Joy started talking.

“I know. He must have asked me if I’d seen her a dozen times,” Joy told Yasmin.

Belle wasn’t surprised about that (though she was worried).

“He asked me too,” Yasmin replied.

Belle wasn’t surprised about that either.

“Do you think she just went to her room? She looked very uncomfortable. I don’t think she’s a party person,” Joy commented wisely.

“She didn’t go to her room,” Yasmin answered and Belle held her breath in an effort not to gasp.

“How do you know?” Joy asked the question in Belle’s head.

“Because Miles told me some of the staff saw her and Jack walking through the kitchens and out the backdoor,” Yasmin answered and in an effort not to suffocate herself, Belle forced her breath out silently and took another short, silent (yet fearful), intake of lifesaving oxygen.

Miles knew she was with Jack.

So did Yasmin.

And now Joy.

This was not good.

“Oh dear,” Joy repeated but this time she sounded worried.

“When I see Jack, I’m going to wring his neck. He should know better,” Yasmin declared fiercely and Belle thought this was odd. So odd she forgot about how rude it was to eavesdrop and she leaned closer to the corner.

“You’re right, darling, he should,” Joy muttered.

“It’s worse than you think,” Yasmin said in a soft voice and Belle inched even closer to the corner so she could hear better.

“I don’t think I want to know,” Joy replied and she sounded like she didn’t want to know. In fact, she sounded like she really didn’t want to know.

Even so, Yasmin told her and what she said made the floor lurch crazily under Belle’s bare feet.

“Miles told me Jack told him to back off from Belle,” Yasmin confided and Belle felt her eyes widen in surprise, wondering why Jack would do such a thing.

“I’m not sure that’s a bad thing,” Joy remarked and Belle wondered anew why Miles’s mother would agree.

“No, except Miles told me that Jack said this because he told Miles he wanted a crack at her,” Yasmin returned.

Belle’s hand went to the wall as her weight pressed into it because her knees had buckled.

A crack at her?

What did that mean?

She didn’t have to wait long to find out.

“Jack wouldn’t say that,” Joy defended.

“Normally, I wouldn’t think so either but you didn’t see Jack when he first met her. As they were being introduced, right in front of Miles, he made a play for her,” Yasmin said.

“He didn’t,” Joy whispered in horror.

“He did,” Yasmin returned. “He knew who she was the minute he saw her. The gorgeous, enigmatic Tiny Dynamo, the ultimate challenge for the Bennett Brothers. And he knew why Miles brought her here, to throw down the gauntlet, to shove her in Jack’s face. And Jack took up the challenge immediately. I saw it with my own eyes. Miles told me Jack threw down when they were talking about her. Miles informed me Jack even said, ‘You’re on’.”

Belle’s heart started racing so fast she felt her pulse beating in her neck and her wrists and she thought surely the two women could hear it.

But she was too astounded to care.

You’re on?

A crack at her?

Her mind flew from memory to memory of the night before, wickedly handsome, outrageously famous, incomprehensibly rich James Bennett determinedly wooing her.

Her, Belle “Meek and Mild” Abbot.

Not because he liked her.

Not because he thought she was interesting.

But because he was competing with his brother to win a prize.

She should have known she’d never capture the attention of a man like that.

She should have known.

She didn’t want to wish that she’d never saved that school bus driver or the children from drowning but in her darkest moments of the last eight months (for instance, now), she had to admit that she sometimes did.

She felt bile slide up her throat and tears stinging the backs of her eyes. She swallowed painfully and blinked back the wetness as the women kept talking.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with those two,” Joy’s voice was filled with angry frustration. “This constant rivalry, it’s driving me mad. It started practically the day Miles was born and it just gets worse and worse. But I thought Jack…” She paused for a moment and then went on, “Poor Belle, caught in the middle. She’s such a sweet girl. I should never have left her side. I knew it. I just knew it.” She sounded like she knew it and her certainty made Belle’s heart lurch.

“She is,” Yasmin agreed. “But if I know Jack, it’s too late. He doesn’t often take Miles up on one of his challenges but when he does, he stops at nothing to win. I think he thinks eventually Miles will tire of losing.”

“Yes, but this has gone too far. I’m going to have to have a word with the two of them the first chance I get,” Joy replied with resolve.

“I’m sorry, Joy, but you’re right,” Yasmin gently concurred. “I don’t care if they’re grown men, something must be said. Playing with Belle like that, it’s just cruel.”

“Yasmin, darling, if this hasn’t gone past the point of redemption and you see Belle, you’ll have to look after her. I’ll do the same. She isn’t leaving until tomorrow. We have to protect her from this,” Joy declared.

“Of course,” Yasmin murmured and Belle knew by their voices they were moving down the hall.

As their conversation trailed away, Belle stood plastered against the wall feeling utterly, devastatingly, irreparably humiliated.

The handsome, legendary, born in a castle with a silver spoon in their mouths Bennett Brothers had competed to win her, a human being.

And she’d fallen for it. Not only with James but also, if not to the same extent, with Miles even though she’d always known something was off about him. Now she knew exactly what it was and, in hindsight, it was glaringly obvious.

Worse, Joy and Yasmin felt they needed to protect her like she was some naïve idiot unable to look out for herself.

Worse than that, they were right.

She was a stupid, silly, foolish, naïve idiot.

Belle choked back tears as she peeked around the corner and saw the hall deserted. Joy and Yasmin had disappeared.

Then she ran to her room like the very devil was at her back.

She had to get out of there.

Immediately.

She knew all along this wasn’t a safe place.

And she was right.

She should have listened to herself.

She now understood the reason she wrapped herself in cotton wool. To protect herself from this kind of irrevocable damage because it hurt worse than anything she could ever imagine. Worse than a broken arm. Worse than a sprained ankle. Worse than anything.

She threw open the door to her room and charged in only to come to an immediate, rocking halt.

And this was because Miles was lying on her bed clothed in his tuxedo without the jacket or tie but still wearing his shoes. He had his arms lifted, his head resting on his hands. He looked, for all the world, like a man in thoughtful repose.

When she arrived, his eyes turned to her, they took in her face, her hair, James’s shirt and they narrowed dangerously.

Then his voice, low and trembling with fury, came at her, lacerating her frayed nerves and exacerbating her already overwhelming humiliation.

“He fucked you,” Miles declared.

At his awful but very true words, Belle jolted out of her horrified stance and ran to her handbag. Throwing her dress and shoes in the direction of her suitcase, she turned and dug in her purse to find her phone.

“You let him fuck you,” Miles’s voice said from behind her.

She pulled out her mobile and bent her head to it, her mind racing, her thumb touching the screen, her shaky hand making her call nearly impossible.

“Belle,” Miles called.

He was closer. She could hear it and she could feel it and it terrified her.

She hit the call button and put the phone to her ear.

“Belle, I’m talking to you.” Miles’s voice was changing, his tone had turned biting. She didn’t have to look at him to know his anger was fierce.

She’d heard that tone before, dozens of times and her fear escalated alarmingly.

The call connected and she asked to be put through to a taxi service.

“Belle, put down the fucking phone,” Miles demanded but the call went through and Belle moved. Digging in her bag, she pulled out a pair of jeans.

“Belle, I said put down the fucking phone.” Miles’s voice was getting louder but Belle, beginning to panic and almost unable to cope with her stifling humiliation, ignored him, focussing solely on escape.

The taxi service picked up and Belle said in a tremulous voice, “I need a taxi at Chy An Als Point. Immediately. It’s an emergency,” she semi-lied.

It wasn’t a true emergency, just an emergency to her.

But in order to get away, she was willing to lie.

She’d worry about the black mark against her soul later.

A lot later.

“Belle.” Miles’s voice was an ugly warning.

“What’s the name?” the lady at the taxi service asked in her ear.

“Belle Abbot,” Belle answered.

There was a brief pause then a breathy, “The Tiny Dynamo?”

Belle shut her eyes tight at the hated, ridiculous title the papers had given her as she felt the fury emanating from Miles hitting her.

“Yes,” she replied, not willing to extend the energy to fight it.

“And it’s an emergency?” the lady asked.

“Yes,” Belle semi-lied again.

“Someone will be right there, love. Don’t you worry,” the lady assured her and Belle felt immense relief mingled with guilt for leading the nice taxi lady on.

“Thank you,” Belle whispered, only the relief evident in her voice then she touched the screen to end the call.

She threw her mobile on top of her purse and shook out the jeans, still ignoring Miles.

“So, you think you can come to my home, meet my mother, spend the night fucking my brother while I’m at the party searching for you, half mad with worry and then just go home?” Miles’s dangerous voice asked.

“Go away, Miles.” Belle sounded exactly as frightened as she felt and she didn’t care. She yanked up the jeans, fastened the button fly and then dashed around the room, gathering her things and running back to the bag, shoving it in.

“Go away?” Miles asked quietly as she did this.

“Yes. Go away,” Belle repeated, rushing around the room, blindly grabbing her belongings, not looking at him.

“Go away,” Miles whispered and it was a sinister whisper. A whisper that sent shivers of fear up her spine.

Belle didn’t respond, she pushed her hand into her bag, found her flip-flops and pulled them out, dropping them to the floor.

She felt him get close when she shoved her feet into the shoes.

“Look at me,” he demanded.

“Go away,” she whispered, thrusting her stuff into the bag so she could do the zip.

She felt fingers tighten brutally around her upper arm and with an instinct borne of experience, she braced minutes before he shook her by her arm savagely so she turned to him.

His face was frighteningly red with clearly evident wrath and Belle sucked in a terrified breath at the sight right before he roared, “You fucking whore!”

She flinched then belatedly tried to jerk her arm out of his grip.

This didn’t work.

Fear spiralled through her belly as he took her other arm in his grasp and shook her so hard her head snapped back.

He was shouting loudly when he said, “A month I’ve been taking you to the finest restaurants, feeding you the best food, dancing fucking attendance on you like an absolute jackass and you barely let me put my tongue in that sweet mouth of yours. Yet, in one fucking night you open your legs for my fucking brother when I’m under the same goddamned roof.” He shook her roughly again and yelled, “You fucking whore!”

“Let her go, Miles.”

Belle and Miles’s eyes swung to the voice that came from door.

There stood James wearing faded jeans and a black t-shirt that fit snug on his chest and stomach. His black hair was tousled. His feet were bare. His powerful body was held stiff and the expression on his face was downright scary.

At the sight of James in all his angry beauty, Belle forgot her current physical predicament and tears crawled up her throat, stung her eyes and she didn’t have the strength to hold them back.

They spilled down her cheeks.

James’s angry gaze swung to her face, he took one look at her and the obvious anger turned to even more obvious fury and he strode purposefully into the room.

“Take your hands off her,” he demanded.

“Fuck you,” Miles returned viciously.

James got close, his eyes locked on his brother and he warned softly, “I’m not going to ask again.”

James and Miles glared at each other and Belle stood frozen watching them as the white-hot current of what seemed to be hatred crackled between them.

Suddenly Miles moved. He tossed Belle toward James with great force, sending her flying across the short expanse and colliding into James’s body.

James’s arms immediately folded around her to hold her close.

“Have her,” Miles snapped, sounding like she wasn’t a she but an it. A toy, a plaything, something you could blithely toss around and throw away.

“We’ll talk later,” James said in a way it was clear anyone in their right mind wouldn’t want to be present at that particular chat and Miles’s ugly expression turned uglier.

“No, Jack, we won’t. Fuck that,” Miles clipped.

“We’re going to have words,” James demanded.

“We’re done talking,” Miles retorted.

“What’s going on?” Joy asked, her concerned voice coming from the door and Belle had had enough.

She yanked out of James’s arms and ran to her bag.

There was stuff in the bathroom but she didn’t care. She’d buy more. She was leaving, immediately, even if she had to walk halfway to town to meet the taxi.

She started to zip her bag but felt the hot touch of James’s hand at the small of her back.

“What’s going on?” Joy repeated in a motherly demand at the exact same moment James murmured, “Poppet.”

At that word, Belle zipped her bag with a sharp movement and whirled around, dislodging his hand, her eyes shooting up to lock on his.

“Don’t touch me,” she whispered, her voice thick with tears.

His hand came up and toward her face as he said gently, “Belle.”

She lifted her own hand, knocking his aside. It registered somewhere that her action made his body jerk and his brows drew together.

“I said, don’t touch me,” she repeated and turned away. Grabbing her suitcase by the handles, she moved to get her purse. “I never want to see you again.” She turned, her gaze sweeping the room to see Miles was still there, Joy was at the door and Yasmin had joined her.

The women looked pale, Miles looked furious, James looked concerned.

All of them were watching her.

“Any of you,” Belle declared then grabbed her purse, hitched it on her shoulder and started to march to the door but James brought her up short with a hand at her wrist.

She stopped and looked up at him.

“Poppet –” he started and at his repeated endearment, something fundamental inside her that was holding together by a miracle broke apart.

“Don’t you dare,” she hissed, the tears clearing from her voice and eyes. “Don’t you dare. You wanted a crack at me?” she asked and James flinched, his eyes shot to his brother in what Belle read as guilt causing her heart to flutter in an altogether too painful way before they came back to her on her next words. “You got it. Three of them if I’m counting right. You won, James,” she told him and his eyes narrowed when she used his real name. “You can stop playing the game. Just note your hash mark on the board, move onto your next victim and leave me alone.”

She yanked from his hold and started to walk away but he caught her by the wrist again.

“Belle, listen to me –” he began when her eyes moved to his.

“No, I listened to you last night when you told me I could trust you,” Belle shot back. “You lied. I’m not listening to you again.”

James’s face changed. It took on a look of frustrated but controlled anger and he used his hand to bring her closer as he looked to the door.

“Get out and close the door behind you,” he ordered.

“Don’t bother,” Belle said immediately to the women who hesitated at the door. “I’m leaving.”

“Belle, we’re talking,” James told her.

That something that was broken inside her started cutting deep, the jagged ends tearing at her insides. The pain was immense and she couldn’t hold on much longer.

“Take your hand off me,” she demanded.

“Belle, we’re talking,” James repeated.

Belle leaned in, overcome by hurt and humiliation, she screeched into his face. “I said, take your hand off me!”

Then, with force, she pulled free and started running.

He caught her just feet from the door with an arm around her waist. Joy and Yasmin had begun to move aside but stopped when he swung her around.

“Get out and close the goddamned door,” James clipped harshly.

Belle twisted around in his arm to look at Joy. “Don’t close that door!”

“Belle, darling…” Joy started but Belle didn’t listen. She’d dropped her suitcase somewhere along the line and was struggling in earnest to break free of James’s arm that was held tight around her waist.

“Go and close the fucking door!” James shouted and Belle heard everyone move around her, including Miles. Someone closed the door but she was still pushing against his arm with her hands and her weight.

Once the door closed, James used his arm to shake her gently.

“Calm down,” he ordered, his mouth at her ear, the heat of his body pressed against her back.

“Let me go,” she demanded.

“Belle, I don’t know what Miles said to you –”

“Miles didn’t say much of anything except he called me a fucking whore,” Belle snapped, gained an inch but only so James could turn her to face him then both his arms locked around her. She stopped struggling, looked up at him and added, “Twice.”

“That’s unfortunate, love, but –” he began but she cut in.

“Unfortunate? You call that unfortunate? I’ve never been called a whore in my life!” she screamed.

“Belle –” he started again but she kept talking.

“And I deserved it. He was right. I know it, you know it. That’s exactly how I acted.”

He gave her another gentle shake as she watched his face grow hard. “Don’t say that.”

She changed themes and accused, “You said you’d take care of everything.”

“It wasn’t me who wanted you to go to your room,” he shot back.

He was right.

So right.

She was such an idiot.

Then again, if she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have known who he was. He would have kept using her and lying to her to rub his brother’s nose in it.

Until he lost interest.

And she would have loved every second of it.

Until he broke her heart.

“You’re right,” she told him. “It’s my fault.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

She was losing the will to fight so again she switched themes.

“Let me go,” she demanded.

That earned her another gentle shake. “I’m not letting you go.”

“Let me go!” she shouted.

“You have to give me the chance to explain.”

“I don’t have to do anything, James,” she retorted.

At the sound of his name, his arms tightened and she knew he was getting angry with her.

“Stop calling me that,” he warned.

“Okay, I will. Gladly. I’ll stop calling you anything,” she returned.

“Cut the crap, poppet, you know, between us, it’s bullshit.”

She was right, he was angry with her, she could tell.

And for some reason, she didn’t care.

And furthermore, she didn’t know anything.

Except there was no “us”. There was a one night stand, something else she’d never done in her life and something else that caused her extreme humiliation.

“I don’t know anything of the sort except you and Miles take sibling rivalry to unprecedented extremes and I got caught in the middle.”

“That isn’t fucking true,” he snapped.

“No? So you’re saying me and my winning personality knocked you clean off your feet?” she asked sarcastically.

His eyes narrowed even as he admitted, “Something like that.”

She felt anger tear through her at his lie and got up on tiptoe to hiss, “You are so full of it.”

He glared at her a moment then his gaze moved to the ceiling as his hand slid up her back and tangled in her hair.

She steeled herself against how good his touch felt, how sweetly familiar it was even though she’d only had it for one night.

When his gaze came back to hold hers, his anger had disappeared and with one look at his gentle face, she had to re-steel herself.

“You’re full of surprises,” he murmured.

“Funny, I was thinking the same about you,” she snapped back and this, for some insane reason, made him grin.

His head dipped closer and her body froze.

“Who would have thought the woman I met last night who could barely bring herself to look in my eyes, could stand here this morning in my arms arguing with me?” he asked a question to which he didn’t want the answer and he did it in a voice that said this no longer annoyed him. Instead, it said he found it adorably entertaining.

It occurred to her what he was doing and she felt tears sting her eyes yet again.

“Don’t,” she whispered.

His face got even closer, so close their foreheads were nearly touching.

“Don’t what?” he asked softly.

“Don’t do this,” she told him. “You don’t have to worry. I won’t go flying into Miles’s arms. That ship has sailed.”

She watched his eyes flare before he lowered his head so their foreheads were now, actually, touching.

It hit her in a way that wounded her deeply that she liked that.

It felt nice.

Calvin had never done that to her. Calvin’s intimacy and affection began and ended in bed.

“Poppet,” he muttered. “That’s not what I’m doing.”

“Don’t, James. Just stop it.”

“Belle.”

“You played your game, you won. Just score your point and let me be.”

“That isn’t what’s happening here.”

“I’m not stupid,” she whispered. “I know who you are. I know who I am. The man you are can’t possibly want the woman I am. You can’t think I’m that stupid.”

His arms gave her a squeeze. “I don’t think you’re stupid and I don’t want to hear you talk about yourself like that. You need to give me the chance to explain.”

“I need to leave.”

“You don’t want to leave.”

“I do.”

“You don’t.”

“Trust me,” Belle returned with feeling. “I do.”

She felt his body go still and his face moved away from hers.

“You mean it,” he stated quietly, something weird in his voice. Something that sounded like surprise and maybe affront.

She didn’t reply. She just nodded.

He stared at her a moment before asking in soft, awful voice, “You’re telling me you think what happened last night was all an act so I could best my fucking brother?”

The way he said it made it sound ludicrous.

Then again, it was.

“Wasn’t it?” she enquired and went on even though his face now held an expression that made him look like he’d been struck and hard and it hurt her to say what she said next but she did it anyway, (self-defence, as it were). “You should feel proud, James. You did a bang up job. I’d convinced myself you were half in love with me.”

At that, he let her go and took a step back. He did this so swiftly she swayed for a moment without his arms around her.

She righted herself even as she felt that maybe, just maybe, she’d made a colossal mistake.

She stared at him for one hopeful second, trying to read his face.

It was hard and it was cold.

“You want to go, Belle?” he asked, she kept quiet and he finished, “Then go.”

Belle studied him, suddenly unsure. He was holding his body stiffly as if he was stopping himself from doing something, what, she couldn’t imagine.

She looked into his eyes, usually warm and gentle or soft and amused, now they were blank.

She waited for a sign, any sign, that she hadn’t misread her lucky stars.

He gave her none.

Nothing.

Just stared at her, his face hard, his eyes blank.

That was it then. He was done.

Challenge accepted, mission accomplished and he was through.

She swallowed the lump that formed suddenly in her throat and turned. She reached down to grab her bag and walked to the door. She felt his eyes on her but she didn’t look back even as she hoped she’d feel his hand on her wrist, his arm hooking about her waist, making an effort, any effort, to stop her.

She opened the door and walked through.

James (as far as she could tell), didn’t move.

Joy and Yasmin were in the hall but they weren’t far away. Miles had disappeared. There were others there, people she’d met at the party, just a few of them likely woken by the shouting, moving slowly down the hall, pretending to be on their way somewhere but looking curious.

She ignored them and kept walking even as both Joy and Yasmin called her name.

She just kept going, head bowed, eyes to the floor. She moved as swiftly as she could down the stairs, across the massive hall, through the huge, studded wooden doors that it took all her strength to shift even a few feet so she could slide through.

The taxi was waiting and only when she saw it did she start running.

Lewis and Myrtle

At the top window of the eastern-most turret, two children, a black-headed boy and a fair-haired girl, stood holding hands and looking out the window at the pretty woman wearing jeans, a man’s shirt that was way too big on her and funny-looking shoes that weren’t really shoes but they also were. They were something they heard people in these times call “flip-flops” which they both thought was very funny and they’d made a game of the words. Hiding themselves, closing their eyes and one calling “flip” and the other calling “flop” until they found themselves again.

They watched as she ran to the black taxi shining in the sun like a rabid dog was close at her heels.

The taxi driver barely had a chance to get out before she had the back door open. She threw her bag in then she did the same with her body and slammed the door.

The driver wasted no time and drove off with a squeal of wheels.

The little girl, named Myrtle, turned to the little boy, named Lewis, and dropped his hand.

“She doesn’t look very happy,” Lewis remarked.

Myrtle wrinkled her nose. “If Miles was my boyfriend, I’d run from the castle too.”

Lewis grinned. “Only because you love Jack.” He put great emphasis on the world “love” and Myrtle punched him in the arm and looked back out the window.

“She looked sweet with Jack last night when we saw them walking to the stables,” Myrtle commented.

“Yes,” Lewis unusually concurred with his sister. Then again, he liked the look of the blonde lady, she was very pretty and she reminded him vaguely of his long since dead Mum. “Though, maybe something happened because when they came back, they were walking really quickly.”

Myrtle giggled. “I know! He was practically dragging her.”

“I wonder why they were in such a hurry?” Lewis asked and Myrtle bit her lip.

“Did you see them kissing?” Myrtle whispered.

Lewis didn’t look at his sister when he answered back in a whisper, “Yes.”

Myrtle’s voice was worried when she asked, “Do you think Miles found out Jack kissed his girlfriend?”

Lewis’s eyes moved to the window and he looked down the road, the taxi long gone.

“I hope not. He can be not very nice and I don’t think he’d like Jack kissing his girlfriend,” Lewis replied and felt his sister shiver beside him.

As he’d been doing for quite a number of years (over two hundred of them), he tried to protect his sister from anything that might distress her.

So he leaned in, bumped her with his shoulder and shouted, “Flip-flop!”

Myrtle needed no further encouragement. She shot up several inches from the floor and darted across the room, her ghostly body melting through the wall. She did a forward spin and headed down and through the stairs.

Then, when she found her hidey-hole, she shouted, “Flip!”

And some ways away, she heard her brother’s ghostly, “Flop!”

Eyes firmly shut, Myrtle floated in his direction.