Lucky Stars Read online

  “Oh my goodness gracious,” Belle breathed in horror.

  “I think the stress and strain your grandmother is talking about, poppet, begins and ends at the breakfast table,” Jack murmured dryly and Belle’s eyes flew to him.

  He was gazing at her with an expression on his face that said he didn’t know whether to laugh or yell and Belle couldn’t have helped it if she tried (which she didn’t), she burst into uncontrollable giggles.

  When she stopped giggling, she wiped her eyes and saw Jack watching her, a look on his face so tender it was nearly raw. She felt her entire system shut down as she stared back with what she knew was unconcealed wonder.

  “Jack, you get top prize for the day,” Mom butted into their very public moment. “Bellerina doesn’t giggle much so when she does, it’s a gift.” Belle turned her head to look at her mother and saw Rachel had a look on her face that was tender too and it was directed at Jack. “Thank you,” she said softly to finish.

  It appeared then that Jack and Rachel were having a moment but it was the look on Gram’s face that caught Belle’s attention.

  She was looking pleased with herself.

  It was then Belle knew Gram was working a scheme. She just didn’t know what it was and she also didn’t like it. Her grandmother’s schemes were always harebrained and half-witted and, when they bumbled clumsily to fruition, usually heralded the time for them to move to a new town.

  Belle didn’t have time to question her grandmother. It was time for Jack to take her to work.

  Which he did.

  And the media frenzy was reaching its zenith, Belle knew this by experience.

  There were more of them when they surrounded Jack’s car thus Jack did not leave her in the shop.

  He took her there, let her in, left her there (locking up behind him) and went to get her a decaf caramel latte (after he asked her preference). He brought back her coffee and one for him. Then he sat on the sales counter, sipping his coffee while she prepared to open. When she opened the store, he got off the counter and mingled and chatted (more like charmed) her many, many, many customers like this was not only his job but his calling.

  Not to mention Belinda, her twenty-year old, starry-eyed shop assistant who Belle was certain was going to throw herself bodily at Jack’s feet and declare her undying love for him when he told them at lunchtime he was going to go out and buy them a sandwich.

  When the door closed on Jack as he went to get their lunch, Belinda stared at it but asked Belle, “Can I have his baby too?”

  “No,” Belle answered instantly.

  “I wouldn’t share either, luvie,” a woman stated, standing across the store and staring at the door as well.

  It was then, out the windows of her shop, that Belle saw the man.

  He had dark brown hair, a rugged but handsome face and a tall, muscled body.

  He was watching her through the windows and, normally, this would give her the creeps but there was something kindly in his expression that didn’t alarm Belle in the slightest.

  After he’d caught her attention, he gave her a small smile, turned and walked away, giving her the impression it was just a chance moment of eye contact.

  She put him out of her mind and got on with her day.

  Jack had spent the day in St. Ives in her shop or with her when she was in her workshop, alternately talking on his phone or talking to Belinda and her customers, and then he took her home.

  She escaped him the first moment she could, running to her room and changing into her Fat Day Jeans. She was going to have to buy new jeans soon, she’d already begun to design her maternity wardrobe and had even made a few pieces. She took the rug and went out to the sea, trying to understand her behaviour, Jack’s behaviour and wondering about her future.

  Because this Jack, who seemed a permanent fixture (the multiple personalities had totally disappeared), was the Jack who slipped into her heart that night four months ago in a way she thought he’d never leave.

  And this would mean she’d been wrong when she’d accused him of using her as a prize in a competition with his brother.

  And that would mean that she’d thrown their night in his face, a night to her that was so magical she thanked her lucky stars for it. A night about which, at the time, she thought he’d felt the same thing.

  Which would mean what she’d done was beyond rude. It was insulting and even unforgiveable.

  But she couldn’t ignore the conversation she’d heard Joy and Yasmin having. And she couldn’t ignore the behaviour of Jack and Miles in the stables which proved true their obnoxious rivalry. And lastly she couldn’t ignore the way Jack himself had treated her when he was one of the different Jacks.

  And she knew better not to proceed with caution.

  She’d been hurt before, again and again (and again) in ways many women (luckily) never endured.

  Belle knew the pain of a betrayal of trust hurt far worse than a fist slammed into your cheekbone or an arm twisting yours excruciatingly painfully up your back.

  Therefore she knew better than to let anyone have that opportunity again.

  On this thought, either her mind was so engrossed or the sound of the sea swallowed all other noises, because she missed the auditory warning of someone approaching and felt movement right at her back.

  Before she knew what was happening, Jack settled behind her as she saw his legs surround her body, bent at the knees.

  Then his arms slid around her at her waist and he pulled her back into his chest.

  Belle’s body went still at both the memory of when he held her this way before and the beauty of being held that way now.

  His mouth came to her ear and he whispered, “I see you out here and wonder what’s in your mind, poppet.”

  “I come out here to clear my mind,” she told him honestly.

  “Is it working?” he asked.

  She shook her head so she heard his chuckle, up close, right in her ear and the sound of it made her tremble.

  She felt his hand’s slight movement and it came to rest on the baby while his other arm stayed wrapped loosely, but strangely possessively, around her.

  Belle had the sudden wish that this was them, sitting by the sea next to his daunting but beautiful castle after sharing a Saturday together, quietly and patiently waiting for their baby to arrive. A baby whose arrival would not mean the end of what they had now, but would be the beginning of something even more wonderful.

  As she had this thought, Jack asked, “Do you want to share what’s on your mind?”

  She shook her head again instantly.

  No, it was safe to say she did not want to share.

  He didn’t speak.

  She looked down at her belly and her hand, as if it had a mind of its own, moved to touch the healing scabs at his knuckles.

  “Do you want to tell me about Miles?” she asked, also as if her mouth had a mind of its own.

  “No,” he replied in a way she wished she could take the words back but his hand left her belly, twisted and caught hers. He lifted it, up and over her shoulder, where he brought it to his mouth and touched his lips to it.

  Belle lungs compressed all the air out of her body as he dropped both their hands and positioned them, hers flat against the baby, his on top.

  “Let’s just say Miles was far more polite when you were there than he was after you left,” he told her and Belle couldn’t imagine that as Miles had been well beyond rude when she was there.

  Jack kept talking.

  “It was coming for a long time, Belle. He’d been pushing for it for years. It was what he wanted and, finally, I gave it to him.”

  “You didn’t want to,” she made a guess and his hand twisted again, his fingers lacing with hers, he moved their hands to rest on his hard thigh.

  “No, I didn’t want to,” he agreed.

  “I don’t know if Joy is okay with it. Gram won’t let us talk to her about it,” Belle informed him.

  “She’s not
okay with it but she’s lived with it all our lives. She’ll cope,” Jack replied.

  Belle turned her head to look at him and he lifted his chin from where he’d been resting it on her shoulder so he could meet her eyes.

  “He’s been that way all your life?”

  Jack nodded and said, “Not that bad but he’s always been competitive. When Dad got sick, it changed, degenerated, got compulsive and became all constant.” He stopped and there was something so sad, so resigned in the tone of his voice that Belle had the urge to comfort him. To touch her lips to his or turn in his arms and give him a fierce hug.

  Or both.

  She did not do either, of course.

  Instead she whispered, “I’m sorry. You said you didn’t want to talk about it.” She looked away and stated firmly, “We’ll stop talking about it.”

  “We have to talk about something else,” he told her and the way he said that made her brace. And her bracing made her realise she’d relaxed into his arms and had been resting her weight into his like it was the most natural thing in the world.

  This made her brace even more.

  “Maybe we can just watch the sea?” she suggested, terrified that he was going to bring something up she didn’t want to talk about. Like agreeing a visitation schedule after the baby was born. Like discussing child support payments. Like a number things that didn’t go along with sitting in his arms and watching the sea.

  “No, this needs to be said.”

  She held her breath a moment then sighed.

  “Okay,” she relented and his hand gave hers a squeeze.

  “We need to talk about what happened in the stables.”

  She didn’t know which time they were in the stables that he wanted to talk about. The first time, which was marvellous and she didn’t want to talk about it. Or the second time which was terrible yet, also, in the end, marvellous, and she didn’t want to talk about that either.

  Nevertheless, talking about either time was better than child support or visitation schedules.

  “What about it?” Belle asked.

  “I need to apologise.”

  Her head twisted around as his turned and she looked into his eyes.

  “Apologise?” she asked, confused.

  “For carrying you down the ladder.” She felt her lips part in surprise as he kept speaking. “I was angry at you for avoiding me. I had residual anger at you for keeping the pregnancy from me. And I had a number of things on my mind, many of them needing my attention. This made me impatient. But none of that excused what I did.”

  “Jack –” she whispered but he interrupted her and now his voice was fierce.

  “I frightened you. The look on your face, I’ll never fucking forget it.”

  “Jack –” she tried to cut in again and failed.

  His hand in hers moved to wrap around her body, taking hers with it and he gave her a squeeze before he stated, his voice low and rumbly, “It won’t ever happen again.”

  “Jack –” she said yet again and yet again he kept talking.

  “And, you should know, you were right. It was exactly your imperfections that drew me to you.”

  Belle stopped trying to interrupt and her parted lips became a mouth dropping wide open in complete and total shock.

  His eyes dropped to her mouth hanging open and his lips twitched before his gaze rose to her eyes again. “That and your hair.”

  She kept staring at him.

  “And your dress,” he continued.

  She didn’t utter a word, just kept staring at him.

  “And your eyes,” he went on, the grin turned playful, his eyes went wicked and his voice dropped deeper when he finished, “And, a lot later, those unbelievably sexy noises you made while I was fucking you.”

  She felt her belly dip and her breasts swell and both felt too darned good for her peace of mind.

  Therefore, in a belated attempt at self-protection, her body moved to bolt out of his arms. Where she was going, she had no clue but she was going there, and fast.

  The problem was, he’d prepared for it and his arms went tight the minute her body prepared for action and he held her in place.

  Her eyes flew to him in alarm even as her skin tingled in anticipation.

  “Jack –” she started yet again but he talked over her.

  “Now, should I kiss you or are you going to kiss me?” he asked and her mouth dropped open and his eyes moved to it again. “I’d prefer you kiss me but that doesn’t look like it’s going to happen, so…”

  He let that dangle in the air only the merest moment before he bent his head and kissed her.

  His tongue slid inside her mouth and even though she really, really, really, really wanted to resist, she didn’t.

  Not even for a second.

  So maybe she didn’t really, really, really, really want to resist.

  Instead, her head tilted, her torso twisted, he let go of her hand and she wrapped her arms around him as he pulled her up his chest and deepened the kiss.

  It felt good.

  No, it felt perfect, kissing Jack on the rocks by the sea. It was the best moment in her life (barring the other best moments she had with Jack) and she never wanted it to end.

  His mouth broke from hers, trailed down her cheek to her ear and he whispered, “So fucking sweet.”

  She trembled in his arms, felt his hand glide up her spine and trembled again.

  She was about to twist her head to invite another kiss when her eyes fluttered open, they caught on something odd, she focussed on that something and she went completely still.

  She stared and terror raced through her, so strong, she didn’t feel Jack’s body responding to her withdrawal nor did she hear him call her name.

  Instead she stared at the two children standing in the window looking down at them. A boy and a girl. The boy was black-headed, the girl was fair. They couldn’t be more than eight and ten or even younger.

  And, even though Belle could see them plain as day, she could also see through them.

  “Jesus, Belle, what is it?” Jack’s voice was harsh and it snapped her out of her terrified shock, she jerked from his arms and got to her feet. Her eyes never leaving the window, she retreated, walking backwards.

  Then, the little girl waved at her.

  Waved at her!

  Belle let out a strangled scream just as Jack’s arm hooked around her waist, pulled her to his body and dragged her back several wide steps.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” he clipped and her eyes flew to him. “You nearly fell over the cliff.”

  She looked around her dazedly, not having time for the possibility that she nearly did herself, and their child, bodily harm.

  She looked back at Jack and said in an urgent, frightened voice, “Jack, there are children in the turret.”

  Jack’s head whipped around and up and when Belle’s eyes moved back to the window, the child ghosts were gone.

  Jack turned back to her and Belle’s gaze met his. “They were there. I swear. I saw both of them!”

  “Myrtle and Lewis,” Jack said and Belle’s mouth dropped open.

  “Myrtle and Lewis?” she whispered.

  “Who told you the story?” Jack asked.

  “The story?” Belle repeated stupidly.

  “Was it Yasmin?”

  “Yasmin?” Belle parroted again.

  His hand came to her jaw. “You can’t let it get to you, love. It’s just a ghost story. They aren’t real.”

  “Ghost story?” Belle breathed in horror.

  He grinned and she was certain at that point he was definitely mad. Mad enough to be locked up because there was nothing to grin about when there were ghosts haunting his castle.

  “Trust me, I’ve lived here all my life and I’ve heard that story dozens of times and I’ve never seen them,” he assured her, still grinning like he thought she was hilarious.

  “I just saw them,” Belle told him.

  “No, you didn’t.�
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  “Yes, I did.”

  He looked over his shoulder and up at the turret again then back at her.

  “Are they there now?” he asked and, hesitantly, she glanced up but there were no ghostly children in the window.

  “No,” she told him when she was looking at him again.

  “Belle –”

  It was her turn to talk over him. “I can’t live here when there are ghosts in the castle.”

  “Belle –” he said again and this time his tone had changed significantly. It had grown slightly dangerous.

  She put her hands on his chest and fisted his shirt in her fingers. “We have to move to the cottage,” she announced then added hysterically, “this instant.”

  “Poppet –” he began but she kept talking.

  “You can sleep with me,” she blurted then went on. “And you can bring the dogs.”

  His arms slid around her and drew her to his body. She could feel his shaking, not with terror, but with laughter.

  She tipped her head back to look at him and saw it was true.

  He was laughing.

  “This isn’t funny!” she screeched.

  “It’s hilarious,” he contradicted, still laughing.

  “There are ghosts in your house,” she cried. “Child ghosts. There’s nothing creepier than child ghosts. Everyone knows that!” she yelled.

  His face dipped close to hers.

  “Everyone?” he teased.

  “James Bennett, I do not find this amusing!” she was still yelling. Then again, there were ghosts in his castle.

  “Well,” he started as one arm dropped, the other one shifted up to wrap around her shoulders and he guided her toward the rug. “That decides it,” he finished and bent to nab the rug before moving her toward the castle.

  She looked up at him as they were walking. “Decides what?”

  “Considering there are creepy child ghosts haunting the castle, even when I’m not in the mood to sleep with you, if that mood should ever strike me, which, so far, it hasn’t, then I’ll have to sleep with you anyway.” His arm gave her a squeeze. “Protection.”

  He was still teasing.

  She pulled out of his arm, planted her feet and gave his bicep a light smack, shouting, “This is serious!”