Lucky Stars

by Kristen Ashley

  He threw his head back and roared with laughter at the same time his hand shot out and wrapped around the back of her neck, playfully yanking her face first into his chest.

  His other arm holding the rug came about her and held her to his shaking with mirth frame.

  Even before he’d completely quit laughing, he looked down at her upturned face and said, “I’ll have to have a word with Myrtle and Lewis. They’ve supposedly been around for two hundred years without causing the least harm but I’d prefer it if they wouldn’t appear and scare you silly when I’m kissing you.”

  “I do not find you funny,” Belle snapped.

  He bent his neck to touch his lips to hers and after he lifted his head, he remarked, “That’s all right, poppet, I do.”

  Then he moved to her side, arm still around her shoulders and guided her resistant body to the castle while she muttered, “I’m so pleased you amuse yourself.”

  He stopped at the foot of the steps and turned her to his front.

  She looked up at him to see his eyes still smiling but his voice was serious when he said, “I’ll not let anything harm you.”

  Since he sounded serious, she did too when she told him, “I saw those ghosts, Jack.”

  “I believe you,” he replied instantly and she was so relieved he didn’t think she was a raving lunatic, she relaxed into his body as his hand came to her jaw. “I don’t believe in them but I believe you think you saw them. But Belle, even if they do exist, they won’t hurt you and I wouldn’t let them. I promise.”

  She just stared at him and made no reply.

  “You’re safe in my home. You’ll always be safe in my home,” he told her.

  She swallowed because his eyes had lost their smile and had become as serious as his voice.

  She still made no reply.

  “All right?” he asked when she didn’t speak.

  She nodded but indicated her understanding of his serious words by letting her body rest deeper against his.

  “Can we go inside now?” he enquired, his tone lightening back to teasing.

  She looked up at the big castle behind him then at him.

  Even though she believed Jack would keep her safe (or, at least, wanted to), she still did not want to go into his castle.

  “I hope so,” she sighed dramatically.

  When they walked inside his haunted castle, Jack was still chuckling.

  Chapter Eleven

  Complicated

  Jack

  Jack lounged diagonal on the couch in his study, his feet up on the coffee table.

  Belle was asleep, curled into his side, arm resting lightly across his stomach, cheek to his chest. Jack had a book he was not reading in his hand which he held against his thigh, his thumb holding his place.

  His eyes were looking out the window at the sea stretched out to the horizon.

  Things had definitely changed with Belle.

  Not much but he was making progress.

  And he had Myrtle and Lewis to thank for it.

  The evening before when they’d walked into the house after their time on the cliffs, Belle hadn’t left his presence.

  He knew this was not because she wanted to be in his company but because she was frightened of the ghosts she thought she saw.

  He’d explained to her she had nothing to be frightened about. There was nothing more he could do.

  Except take advantage of her fear.

  This he did without a shred of remorse.

  Jack had been correct those months before, Belle was not someone he could take or he could win.

  He had to earn his place in her heart.

  And he was going to do this.

  Not for the sake of his child but because he wanted Belle.

  But she clearly was not going to make it easy for him. She’d proved this in many ways, starting with finding an excuse at her earliest opportunity to walk away from him without looking back that morning after the night they’d shared.

  And she’d do it again. This he knew for she was, for some reason, absurdly terrified of him and also what they’d shared.

  Therefore Jack had to do whatever he had to do to earn his place in her heart and that included entangling her in his life.

  To do this, first, he had to win her trust. He’d had it once but she’d taken it from him.

  Although he felt he was justified in his anger when she came back to him that didn’t change the fact that he hadn’t done himself any favours with his behaviour.

  Regardless, inherently Jack understood it was essential he conquer the obstacle of repairing the damage he caused and earning her trust before anything else.

  And he had little time to do it.

  In fact, he had around five months.

  At the outside.

  He’d prefer to have this accomplished far sooner.

  His preference being that very day.

  If not, the next day, if he could manage it.

  Obviously, Myrtle and Lewis making an appearance worked in his favour. And Jack Bennett was not one to waste an opportunity.

  So he didn’t.

  The night before, Belle had sat at his side at dinner and before they left the table, she’d turned her head to him and timidly asked if she could join him during his nightly walk with the dogs or, more precisely, she’d asked his shoulder.

  He’d agreed and they’d taken their silent but peaceful stroll.

  When they came back, he went to his study and she went in search of her grandmother.

  Not long later, a soft knock came at the door.

  When he called, he was surprised to see Belle put her head through and even more shyly ask him if it would be too much bother if she sat with him.

  He knew this mortified her on about the same significantly elevated level as it pleased him.

  What he didn’t know was how to make something that was clearly difficult for her, easier on her.

  He decided simply to nod. She’d scooted in with her sketchpad and a box of coloured pencils, head bowed, cheeks pink and without a word sat in the armchair across the room from him.

  Then she’d spent the evening in his study while he worked at his desk.

  This, too, they did silently until it was late and she was so drowsy, he saw her head was nodding in an effort to stay awake.

  Although Jack very much liked Belle sitting, feet tucked underneath her, silent and busy while he worked, the only noise being the scratching of her pencils on her sketch pad and he wished this to continue, he’d taken pity on her.

  He’d finished with his work and escorted her to her room. There, he lifted her face to his with a hand at her jaw and touched her lips with his own.

  Then he left her at her door.

  He had every intention of going to his room, preparing for bed and joining her in hers but he’d had a call come just as he was about to leave his room.

  Five minutes into his call, there was a knock on the door.

  Still talking, he opened it.

  Belle stood there wearing a cream-coloured silk nightgown with thin straps, a chiffon ruffle at the hem at her knees as well as around the neckline. Although it exposed a good deal of skin, it was not overtly tempting. It was simple, delicate, intensely feminine and, because of all of this, very sexy.

  He knew instantly she’d designed it.

  Her eyes went to his phone and Jack said into it, “A minute.”

  Then he took it from his ear and Belle, a hint of accusation mingling with the embarrassment in her voice, didn’t hesitate in saying, “I thought you said you were sleeping with me.”

  Jack controlled his desire to laugh at her disgruntled discomfiture at the same time he fought against catching her in his arms and kissing her breathless.

  “I did,” he replied.

  She looked down the hall then at him and asked, “Well?”

  “I’ve got a call, poppet,” he told her unnecessarily.

  Baron and Gretl were pressing for her attention and she ben
t to give them pats while looking down the hall again.

  Then he watched her wet her lips.

  Then she looked at his shoulder then his nose then his ear.

  Then she took in a deep breath and what she did next stunned him to immobility.

  She pushed through him and his dogs, walked into his room and around his bed to what had become her side. Once there, she pulled back the covers and slid between them.

  With some effort, Jack forced himself out of his frozen stance, put the phone to his ear and shut his door.

  He talked on the phone while she hung over the side of his bed, petted his dogs and then cooed to them to lie down which they did.

  He finished his call while she settled in, facing the windows.

  He turned out the lights, slid in behind her and pulled her to him.

  When her body relaxed, Jack thought it only fair to try one more time to calm her fears. “Love, you do know there are no such things as ghosts.”

  “I know,” she lied and he bit back his laughter but not his smile.

  The smile died when her arm came to rest on his at her waist, her hand over his at her belly.

  He closed his eyes and pressed his face into her hair.

  Minutes later, he felt her drift into sleep.

  Minutes after that, he did the same.

  He knew the minute she woke.

  He waited while she hesitated for long moments, lying awake in the curve of his body and it cost him to let her go when she eventually slid out of bed and left the room.

  But Jack was not going to move too quickly and make the same mistake twice.

  This time he was going to earn her trust and, when he knew he had it irrevocably, only then would he make her understand she was his.

  For he already knew it.

  He’d known it since their first night.

  She appeared at the breakfast table five minutes after him.

  After breakfast, she caught him and his dogs on the way to the stables and told him (or, more to the point, she told his ear) that she was taking a walk.

  Jack had intended to ride.

  He allowed himself a moment to consider taking Belle with him.

  Jack would very much enjoy riding with her in front of him, taking her along the coastline he knew she loved for she walked it nearly every day. His horse, Shadow, could take her farther than she could walk, showing her more than she’d seen and Jack knew Belle would like that.

  As pleasant as this thought was, he didn’t want her riding while pregnant even on Shadow who he knew would take care of her. So he changed his morning plans and walked with her.

  This did not go exactly well.

  His first mistake was to explain to her, when she’d quietly asked about him driving to and from London in a day, that he didn’t drive.

  He told her that he flew.

  That didn’t garner a reaction until he further explained that he not only flew, he piloted the plane.

  This garnered a response.

  She stopped, frozen and stared, open-mouthed.

  Then she asked in a voice dripping with horror, “You flew the plane?”

  Understanding her reaction, Jack got close to reassure her. “Belle, I earned my pilot’s license when I was twenty. I’ve been flying for eighteen years.”

  She blinked then repeated, “You flew the plane?”

  “Belle –”

  She cut him off, “Do you have, um… a qualified pilot with you?”

  Jack again bit back laughter and explained, “I am a qualified pilot.”

  “Yes, okay,” she replied swiftly. “But, when you fly, do you have another one, in case of emergencies?”

  To win her trust, unfortunately, he had to be honest.

  Therefore he answered, “No.”

  “Oh goodness gracious,” she breathed.

  “Belle –”

  To his amused surprise, she shook her head sharply, put her hands over her ears and chanted. “La la la, not listening. This conversation didn’t happen. La la la.”

  He noticed she had pink to her cheeks, either a reaction to her embarrassment at their conversation or her chanting of denial or both.

  She dropped her hands and started walking again, her pace picking up significantly, her bearing stiff and uncomfortable looking.

  He lengthened his strides to keep up thinking not only that he thoroughly enjoy seeing her blush, he’d never forget how adorable she was when she let her fear break down her guard.

  His second mistake was only ten minutes later when he took her hand and slowed their pace.

  Then he asked, “Have you hired another shop assistant?”

  He felt her hand jerk in his and she looked up at him in surprise. “No, I haven’t had time.”

  Jack looked down at her and enquired with what he thought was a good deal of patience, “I thought I explained I want you off the shop floor.”

  Her eyes widened the moment before she bowed her head to study the rocky path they were traversing.

  “You can’t hire a shop assistant in two days.”

  “Yes, you can,” Jack replied because he knew you could.

  She looked at him again, her eyes now narrowed with either annoyed confusion or confused annoyance, he couldn’t decide which.

  Either one, Jack thought, on Belle was cute.

  “No, you can’t,” she told him.

  “I can,” he told her.

  She stopped walking and started speaking. “Jack –”

  He pulled at her hand and kept walking, taking her with him and, he thought, ending this particular conversation by saying, “I’ll call Olive. She’ll have someone at the shop tomorrow.”

  She tugged at his hand to halt him but he ignored it and kept them moving.

  “Jack,” she called, her voice definitely moving toward annoyed rather than confused. “You can’t call Olive. It’s Sunday.”

  “I can. She’s available twenty-four seven.”

  Belle’s hand tugged his with a force he couldn’t ignore. He stopped and looked down at her.

  “She’s available twenty-four seven?” Belle asked with obvious disbelief and possible accusation as if he was a slave driver cracking a nasty whip.

  “Of course,” Jack replied with casual patience.

  “Who is Olive, anyway?” she queried, not quite recovered from her shock.

  “My PA,” Jack answered.

  “And she’s available at all times?” Belle went on, still, for some reason, not processing this information.

  Jack lost his casual patience and slid into amused impatience.

  Therefore his lips were twitching when he said. “Yes, Belle, and she gets paid well into six figures to be available at all times. She’s not an indentured servant. She’s a highly experienced, intensely skilled, extremely loyal, very valued employee who can find a way, on a Sunday afternoon, to hire the best shop assistant in the UK and have her in your store by tomorrow, end of business.”

  She stared at him a moment and then breathed, “Oh.”

  And while Jack was watching her parted lips at the same time fighting a nearly overwhelming urge to put his own against her mouth, slide his tongue inside and taste her, Belle continued on a whisper.

  “Wow.”

  Jack won his battle, lifted a hand to her jaw and smiled down at her as he leaned closer. “Wait until you meet her, poppet. Olive is definitely an ‘oh wow’.”

  At his words, for some reason, something in Belle’s face shifted, it softened and a fetching radiance came into her eyes.

  He understood he scored a point. He just didn’t understand how.

  Then she said softly, “I’ll look forward to that.”

  She turned and started walking again but he knew, somehow, her mood had lifted considerably, lightening in a way he’d never experienced from her before.

  It was as charming as it was surprising.

  Therefore ten minutes later (when he made his third mistake), it should not have taken him off-guard
when she threw a carefree smile over her shoulder at him and announced, “I’ll show you my new favourite place.”

  However, this did take Jack off-guard.

  Completely.

  He had an excuse for not controlling his reaction.

  A smile from Belle was infrequent and it was enchanting. A carefree one, though, was something he’d never seen and that was enthralling.

  When she started to scramble onto a dangerous outcropping of rock at a cliff face, Baron and Gretl protectively close to her but also alighting the outcrop with practiced ease as if they’d done it every day of their lives, Jack overreacted.

  Strike that, it was when Belle, the woman he considered his woman and the woman who was carrying his child, a woman who was scared of practically everything but that dangerous outcropping of rock, started to scramble onto it that he overreacted.

  He followed her quickly, caught her with an arm around her midriff and lifted her off her feet. Her back to his front, he carried her off the outcrop to the far safer cliff path and set her on her feet.

  When she whirled around to face him, he demanded curtly, “What did you think you were doing?”

  She’d stared at him a second then asked what he thought was bizarrely, “Oh no, you’re not going back to the jerky one, are you?”

  Jack decided to ignore her question, focussing instead on his far more important, and sensible one.

  “Belle,” he’d clipped. “That outcrop is dangerous. What were you thinking?”

  She looked at the rock then at him and stated, “No it isn’t. I go there a lot. It’s where I do my best non-thinking.”

  “So you’re telling me you won’t climb a ladder but you’ll scale a cliff?” he enquired with annoyed surprise.

  She looked back at the rock then at him. “It’s not a cliff.”

  He looked behind him and then back at her. “Belle, it’s a cliff. A rocky cliff. A dangerous rocky cliff.”

  She turned to the cliff and studied it as if seeing it for the first time.

  Then she muttered, “It is a cliff.”

  He didn’t know whether to burst out laughing or shake some sense into her.

  He did neither.

  Instead he ordered, “I don’t want you to go out there again.” When her gaze moved to his face, he asked, “Do you understand?”

  She regarded him a moment and said nonsensically, “No, it’s the bossy one.”