Lucky Stars (Ghosts and Reincarnation #5)(130)
“Jack –” she whispered.
“Again and again.”
“Jack, stop it.”
His hands retraced their path up her back, her shoulders, her neck to frame her face.
“Again and again,” he whispered.
Tears filled her eyes and spilled over. “Please, stop it.”
“I’ll kill him.”
“Jack, stop.”
“I’ll f**king kill him.”
“Jack, please.”
Jack’s neck bent, his forehead touched hers and Belle watched his eyes close as he murmured, “He hurt you.”
“It’s over,” she whispered.
His eyes opened but he didn’t lift his head even as both his thumbs slid along the wetness at her cheekbones.
“Your Dad thought I hurt you,” he said softly.
“He didn’t mean anything by it,” Belle assured him quietly. “They’re protective of me now.”
His head moved a scant inch away. “Why didn’t you tell me, poppet?”
She swallowed and admitted, “I didn’t want you to think badly of me.”
He shook his head and a humourless smile touched his mouth before he said, “You should have told me.”
“I’m sorry,” she said in a barely there voice then, frightened out of her mind but needing to know more than needing to give into her fear, she asked, “Are you angry with me?”
Jack didn’t answer.
His hands left her face and his arms closed around her so tight she lost her breath.
“Does that,” she wheezed over his shoulder, “mean you’re not angry?”
His mouth at her ear, he replied, “Yes, it f**king well does.”
Her body relaxed into his and her arms slid around his waist.
“You seemed pretty angry when you were in the study,” she reminded him.
His nose nudged her ear before he whispered, “You’ll have to forgive me, poppet, I just found out the woman I love had been married before not to mention beaten viciously by her first husband. I was a little out of sorts.”
Belle’s tears stopped as did her breathing.
Jack said, “The woman I love”.
The woman he loved.
She was the woman he loved.
“You love me?” she breathed.
His head came up and his beautiful green eyes captured hers.
And he didn’t have to answer.
Because she saw it, stark, right there in his beautiful green eyes.
For a second.
Then he pulled away from the wall, grabbed her hand and started stalking down the hall, dragging her behind him.
He looked over his shoulder and ordered, “Call Dirk. Tell him Belle isn’t coming in today.” Belle looked over her shoulder too as she ran to keep up with his ground eating strides and she saw her mother, Olive, Joy, Rachel and Cassandra all gazing after them. Joy and Rachel were crying. Olive and Cassandra were smiling.
Jack continued, “Olive, you’re on your own for the next few hours.”
Then they were at the stairs, climbing up and before Belle could wrap her mind around what was happening, he had her in their room.
“Jack –” she started but he stalked to the bed, turned, sat, pulled her right along with him and laid back.
She fell on top of him, he rolled, pinning to her to the bed.
She blinked up at him.
“All right, Belle, starting with your first living memory, I want it,” Jack demanded.
Belle blinked again then asked tentatively, “Want what?”
“All of it.”
She blinked yet again and then asked incredulously, “Are you… um, are you talking about my life’s history?”
“Every minute you can remember.”
Belle put her hand to his neck in an effort to check his temperature and not appear like she was checking his temperature (just in case he was, say, delirious) and breathed, “Seriously?”
“Every minute.”
“That’s going to take a while,” she whispered. “I have a pretty good memory.”
“We’ll call up for lunch.”
“But –”
“And dinner.”
“Jack –”
His hand came to her face and his thumb slid across her cheekbone.
“Belle, talk.”
“Most of it’s boring,” she warned him.
“Belle –” Jack warned back.
She snapped her mouth shut.
Then she said, “Okay.”
Then she told her life story to criminally handsome James Bennett.
The man she loved.
The man who loved her back.
* * * * *
Jack
Jack stood in the bay window of his study, Baron and Gretl lying at his feet, his eyes trained to the view.
It was night, late, the sky midnight blue with fluffy dark grey clouds breaking the ink, the sky seamless with the dark of the sea, the muted white caps of intermittent waves fracturing the pervasive shadowy hue.
It was extraordinary, calming, beautiful in its vast simplicity and, until just over five months ago, Jack had never really noticed it in his life.
He allowed it to move through him, lightening the tightness in his chest, the heavy feeling in his gut.