Lucky Stars (18 page)

He didn’t have to wait for this opportunity, though it would not come to fruition.

As he entered the stables, Lila was climbing down the ladder to the loft wearing jeans and a chambray shirt, both of them old, worn and covered in paint.

A quick glance around showed Belle was nowhere to be found.

“She’s in the loft,” Lila said quietly and Jack’s eyes went to her and then to the seemingly empty loft.

Lila’s announcement that Belle was in the loft surprised him. When he’d taken her up there, she’d acted frightened as a rabbit.

“She’s sleeping,” Lila went on and Jack’s gaze went back to her. “I’m glad you’re here,” she further surprised Jack by announcing. “I have to go to the house to call New York. I didn’t want to leave her up there because when she wakes she’ll go nuts and won’t be able to get down without me with her. It was an actual miracle I got her to go up there in the first place. But I have to make this call. Now, you can hang out and help her down if she wakes before I return.” She gave Jack a look that he couldn’t read and finished, “I’ll probably be a while.”

With that and without another word or inviting Jack to say one, she walked by Jack and his dogs and left the stables, quietly closing the door behind her.

Jack looked back to the loft.

Then he went to the ladder and climbed up.

Once there he saw Belle was sleeping on her side on a pile of old blankets. She had one hand under her cheek, the other arm curved around her face, palm up and resting by her forehead. Her legs were curled into her stomach and her face was soft in sleep. Some of her hair was spread on the blankets but mostly it was bunched against her neck and falling in her face.

He had, he realised, never seen her sleep.

She looked about twelve years old.

With some ease, he quelled the desire to bend and pull her hair away from her face and neck.

The desire to settle in behind her and draw her sleeping body into his took much more effort to subdue.

Nevertheless, he did it.

To take his mind off Belle, he looked to the sliding doors.

They’d been opened, an easel set in front of them, a large working canvas on the easel, a small wooden table next to it covered in a mess of tubes and brushes.

Lila was painting the view he’d shown Belle.

Likely Belle had shown Lila the view to paint.

This made Jack contradictorily pleased and annoyed.

He decided to go with annoyed.

He walked to the canvas and studied it, unable to suppress his fascination at seeing a Cavendish landscape in its early phases.

Lila had a tremendous following, many museum pieces, her work was coveted by galleries worldwide and she’d been written about in a variety of art books. She’d been deemed a living, contemporary master.

Many would pay for the opportunity he had at that very moment to see her art in process and it was not lost on Jack that this was one of those rare gifts life let fall in your lap.

“James?” He heard Belle’s honeyed, drowsy voice call his name and he had to stifle unwelcome desire at the sound of her drowsy voice just as he clenched his teeth in order not to correct her.

He despised it when she called him James. It was his name and there were people who called him that therefore he knew it was an irrational reaction.

He also could care less.

His eyes went to her and she was up on an arm, pulling her hair away from her face at the same time she was watching him, her face flushed with sleep.

She was wearing a red camisole top and a dark brown skirt that hit her knees and had cream and red patterns in it. The camisole and skirt showed a goodly amount of skin, now tanned from her many excursions with his dogs and her quiet, seaside reveries in the sun.

She had, quite clearly, entered the phase of pregnancy where she’d taken on what many referred to as “the glow”.

For Belle, since her natural glow was considerable, the additional element was spectacular.

“Where’s Gram?” she asked, pushing up to her feet which were bare, a pair of muted bronze flip-flops were lying by the blankets.

Her toes, Jack noted, were also painted a very bright red.

He took his eyes from her toes and looked into hers.

“She went to the house. She had a call to make,” Jack informed her.

“Oh crap!” Belle cried, looking at the ladder, her anxiety immediately evident. “It’s already time for that call? I must have been asleep
ages
. I can’t
believe
it’s that late and I can’t
believe
I fell asleep again.”

Jack watched her face work through her fear, his mind focussed on the fact that he had words to say to her. They were words he’d rather not say in the hayloft where he’d become absurdly enchanted with her four months ago.

The stable floor, he could do.

He’d prefer the house.

But not the loft.

“I’ll help you down,” he offered as she continued to stare at the ladder at the same time she pushed her feet into her shoes but when he made his offer, her eyes shot to him.

“I’m okay, actually,” she said, throwing out an arm in a false casual gesture, an effort to hide her discomfort. “I’ll just hang out and wait for Gram.”

“She gave the impression she might be a while,” Jack replied and he watched her wet her lips nervously but then she nodded.

“That’s okay too,” she lied.
“I’ll just, um –”

Jack cut her off, “Belle, I’ll help you down.”

“No, really.
I’m all right up here until she gets back.”

The last time she climbed down the ladder, she did it unaided.

She was also ordered by Jack to do so and she’d done it as they’d both been in the grip of a consuming passion that, looking back, seemed ludicrous.

Even so, it wasn’t and Jack knew it.

However Jack had no intention of recreating that event in order to assist her now.

“Lila asked me to look after you. I’ll help you down,” Jack pushed and her eyes went to his shoulder, something else he once found endearing and now he loathed. He decided not to call her on it and went on, “We’ll go down like the time we came up together. I’ll go first and you come down right after me.”

As he spoke, he watched her tanned face grow pale at the memory he too wished he didn’t have to share.

“No,” she whispered. “Really, I’m all right to wait for Gram.”

Jack was losing patience. He had things to do, the priority being his child and getting things straight with Belle. Then he had other pressing items on his day’s agenda.

He didn’t have time for her phobias.

“Belle, it’s a one story ladder,” he stated wearily. “If I go down first and you fall, I’ll be in the position to catch you.”

“I know that,” she lied, still looking at his shoulder.

He walked to the ladder and swung his arm toward it. “Then let’s go.”

She shook her head and took a step back.

“Belle,” Jack said in warning.

“Why can’t you just leave me up here?” she asked, her eyes moving to his ear.

“Because we have to talk and we can’t do it up here.”

“I’m okay to talk up here,” Belle replied instantly, latching onto an excuse to remain in the loft.

“I’m not,” Jack returned.

She tilted her head and asked, “Why?

He’d seen her tilt her head before.

Twice.

Both times it had been lying on his pillow.

He controlled his need to clench his teeth at the memory and instead replied, “I don’t have time to explain. I have things to do and I’d like to have our chat and then do them.”

“Okay, what do you want to talk about?” she invited.

“Not here.”

“I don’t under –”

Jack’s patience, already wearing thin, snapped and he strode across the loft to her. She had only the chance to back up two steps before he bent at the waist and put a shoulder to her hips.

She let out a small cry but he ignored it, lifted her on his shoulder and walked back across the loft as he felt her arms wrap tightly around his waist from the back.

“What are you –?” she started to ask but her words halted as her body stilled when he turned and executed a one-armed descent of the ladder, Belle over his shoulder, his other arm wrapped firmly around her thighs.

By the time his feet hit the stable floor, her arms were so tight around him they were causing pain, her body was stiff as a board and she was completely silent except for very heavy breathing.

He walked from the ladder, bent again and set her on her feet.

When he straightened, stepped away from her and took one look at her face, it was his turn to go still.

Her fear was so stark, she actually looked in pain. So much in pain, she completely ignored Baron and
Gretl
who were both clamouring around her legs for attention.

Then her expression changed, the pain didn’t go away, in fact, it got worse.

Far worse.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” she whispered, sounding like she’d just witnessed him hacking away at a body with an axe.

“I climbed down a ladder, Belle, you were safe the entire time,” he told her.

She looked away, seemingly trying to compose herself.

And failing.

She pulled her hair from her face with a shaky hand and muttered, “I thought… I’d hoped…” She dropped her hand, her eyes came directly to his with no evasion and she declared, “It’s true.”

He ignored the unease he felt at her reaction and stated, “Belle, I don’t have time for this. Say what’s on your mind so I can explain why I need to speak with you and then get on with my day.”

She stared at him a moment as if she’d never seen him before then he watched her squeeze her eyes shut and turn her face away.

She took in a deep breath and her gaze came back to his face. This time, she focussed on his nose.

“Of course, James.
You’re very busy,” she said softly. “What did you need to speak with me about?”

He ignored her question and asked his own, “You said, ‘It’s true’. What’s true?”

“Nothing,” she muttered. “What did you want to talk about?”

Without a reserve of patience to draw on, Jack quickly lost his again.

This made his tone sharp when he demanded, “Belle, just answer the fucking question.”

He watched her body jerk and after a moment’s hesitation, her chin lifted, her eyes caught his and she spoke.

“I never liked Miles,” she announced and Jack braced, instinctively knowing he would not like where this was going before she continued. “I’m sorry. I know he’s your brother but it’s true. I don’t know why I went out with him in the first place. Even after considering this question for four months, I still don’t have an answer. He showed no regard for me, or my wishes, ever.”

She stopped speaking and Jack waited.

Then she started speaking again.

“You did.”

This time, he felt his body jerk and watched as her arms moved to wrap around her midriff in a way that looked protective before she went on.

“You seemed to know I was different, I had phobias, I was neurotic and you didn’t care. You acted like you
liked
it, like you thought it was cute.” She threw out a hand.
“Or something.”
She paused as she wrapped her arm back around her. “Now I know.”

Jack crossed his own arms on his chest, not really feeling like getting into this, talking about Miles or her time with Jack and definitely not how she felt about it.

Even so, he found himself
asking,
“Now you know what?”

When she spoke again, her voice was quiet and unbelievably sad. “Now I know that night was an act. It was all an act because the Jack I met that night would never have carried me down the ladder like that, knowing he’d frighten me the way you just did.”

She couldn’t have scored a better hit if she’d pulled a trigger at point blank range.

Before Jack could form a reply, she kept going, softly, her voice now devoid of emotion sounding like it came from an entirely different being, not Belle.

“Now, James, what did you need to speak to me about?”

“It wasn’t an act,” Jack stated, again ignoring her question.

Belle didn’t reply.

She just stared at him, right in the eyes as if she had no neuroses, no phobias, no anxiety, no self-consciousness and lastly, no fear of him.

At this, his unease grew.

“It wasn’t an act,” he repeated.

She sighed then requested quietly, “James, just tell me what you need to tell me.”

He covered the two steps distance between them in an instant.

She didn’t flinch or back away.

His unease shifted to something that felt a great deal like alarm. This alarm drove him to do something about her mistaken impression. Something which he found he couldn’t abide, not for another second.