Lucky Stars

by Kristen Ashley

  “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 k
new 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.