Thoughts of running a fleeting memory, Belle froze in terror under his heated stare.
“You were married?” he asked. He was no longer roaring, his voice was low, menacing, showing his fury in a vastly more terrifying way.
His question made every cell in Belle’s body petrify.
“What’s going on?” Joy entered the room.
Jack ignored his mother and demanded, “Belle, I asked you a question.”
With great effort, she cleared her throat but even doing so, her voice was breathy when she replied, “Yes.”
She barely finished the sibilant ending of her word when Jack clipped, his tone no less infuriated, “He beat you.”
Joy gasped and Cassandra made a strangled noise.
He’d found out.
Oh God, he’d found out!
Belle couldn’t answer, she just nodded.
“For years, he beat you?” Jack pushed, his eyes spearing Belle, his words feeding his own rage.
“How…” Belle’s voice hitched but she persevered, “How did you find out?”
“Well you sure as hell didn’t tell me, poppet,” he bit out.
“Jack!” Joy snapped.
Jack ignored his mother again and answered Belle, “The papers. Front page. With photos. Would you like to see?”
The newspapers. Of course, the stupid, stupid newspapers.
“N… no,” Belle stammered, her eyes glued to Jack.
“No, I suggest you don’t,” Jack agreed immediately.
“Maybe you should calm down, mate,” Cassandra advised softly but firmly.
Jack ignored her too, his eyes searing into Belle. She felt their heat like laser beams and he repeated, “He beat you?”
“Jack –” Belle whispered.
“He raised his hand to you?” Jack didn’t let it go.
“Jack, darling, don’t –” Joy tried to soothe, moving forward.
Jack only had eyes for Belle, his questions stopped and this time he made a statement. “He hurt you.”
Belle just stood frozen to the spot and stared at him.
“Again and again.” Jack’s voice was cutting and she knew it. She knew. If he found out he’d think she was weak and he’d judge her for it and she’d been right. “Come here, Belle,” Jack suddenly ground out and when Belle stood unmoving, Jack shouted, “Come fucking here!”
“Jack, darling, calm down,” Joy demanded, stepping in front of Belle.
“Get out of her way, Mum,” Jack ordered but Joy shook her head and Jack threatened, “I won’t ask again.”
“What’s happening?” Rachel whispered as she walked in the room.
“Take Belle out of here,” Cassandra said urgently.
“Belle, get over here!” Jack commanded, his voice close to being back to a roar.
“What’s on earth is happening?” Rachel whispered, this time fear threading her voice.
Cassandra moved behind Joy, shielding Belle, repeating, “Rachel, get her out of here.”
Something about Cassandra’s words caused something in Belle’s brain to fire and finally the demand from her brain reached her feet, she turned and she ran.
She got ten feet down the hall before she was caught at the waist by a strong arm and then she was going back.
Fear sounded in a muffled way deep in her throat as Jack backed her against the wall and caged her with his body.
She winced and braced, waiting for it to happen, the blows, the slaps, the punches, the pain.
But instead, his hands came to her head, sliding down her hair to her neck, over hers shoulders, down her back and he pulled her to his hard body, his arms wrapping around her tight.
“He hurt you.” Jack’s voice was no longer angry.
There wasn’t a shred of fury in it.
Instead, it was tortured.
Slowly, Belle’s head tilted back and she looked at his face.
It was ravaged.
“Again and again,” Jack’s voice throbbed.
Her heart clutched.
“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 fucking 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 fucking 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.
But it didn’t halt the thoughts assailing his brain.
Joshua Bennett, James Bennett.
Brenna Addison, Belle Abbot.
Caleb Caldwell and Calvin fucking Cole.
Belle had been married. Married to a man that hurt her.
Again and again.
Just like Brenna.
He already understood the coincidences that bound him to Joshua and Brenna to Belle were more than coincidental. He’d heard Lewis’s disembodied voice. He understood the impossible was happening.
Now he knew it deep in his soul.
And this meant Belle was not safe.
Brenna had been tossed over a cliff.
This was not going to happen to his Belle.
I love you, Jack Bennett.
The words Belle whispered to him twenty minutes ago after he’d made love to her, while he still held her in his arms, she held him back and just before she’d drifted off to sleep sifted through his head.
And as they did, they settled into his heart.
No, Jack thought, his jaw tightening, not one thing was going to happen to his Belle.
He heard the door open behind him but he didn’t turn.
He still didn’t turn when he heard Olive’s voice.
“You called?”
The view stopped working, his chest got tight and that heavy weight settled in his gut.
“I want you to find someone to find Calvin Cole,” Jack told the window. “And when he’s found, I want him dealt with.”
“Are you going to be specific about how you want him dealt with?” Olive asked.
Yes, he most certainly was.
“When it’s done, he’ll have absolutely no desire whatsoever to see Belle again.”
“And do you have a limit as to how much you’re willing to invest in this project?”
Jack’s torso twisted so his eyes could fall on the shadow of Olive standing several feet in from the open door. As he did this, he heard dog tags jangling as Baron and Gretl’s heads came up but they otherwise didn’t move.
“As pertains to who you hire, your budget is unrestricted. But Calvin Cole will be convinced he has no desire, ever again, to see Belle and he’ll be convinced of this without money changing hands.”
There was a hesitation before, with a smile in her voice, Olive murmured, “I’ll see to it.”
She began to move to exit the room when Jack called, “I’m not done,” and she stopped.
Jack took in a breath.
Then he ordered, “I want Mickey Dempsey brought to me.”
There was another hesitation before, with uncertainty in her voice, Olive asked, “Jack, are you certain that’s wise? He’s a member of the media. You’re used to it but Belle’s plagued by it. She doesn’t need any more attention. And if you anger this man, he might see she gets it.”
“He had an agenda with that article and it wasn’t to harm Belle. It was to expose Cole.”
“I noticed that but I don’t understand why you –”
Jack turned fully to her while cutting her off, “He’s an investigative journalist. He uncovered something that the rest of the media, even after a year of her being under scrutiny, didn’t find. He has skills. As I’ve explained it to you, you’re aware that we’re currently involved in an unusual situation where we have very little knowledge of what’s going on considering what precipitated it happened over two hundred years ago. The story is old, the trail is cold and his skills might prove useful.”
“I see,” Olive muttered.
“Bring him to me,” Jack ordered.
“Consider it done.”
He always did after he gave Olive a directive.
Without another word, Olive left.
Jack turned back to the view and listened as his dogs again settled.
He studied it until it brought him peace.
Then he turned from the window, strode through his house with his dogs at his heels and he went to his and Belle’s bedroom.
He disrobed and pulled on some pyjama bottoms as he heard Baron and Gretl settle on Belle’s side of the bed.
Then he slid in beside his sleeping Belle, curled into her warm body and the peace he’d garnered from the view settled deep.
I love you, Jack Bennett.
Curled into Belle, Jack fell asleep.
Chapter Nineteen
Beyond Belief
Jack
“So, when will you be home?” Belle’s honeyed voice asked in his ear.
It was afternoon the next day and Jack was sitting behind his desk in his London office. As he listened to Belle, his eyes went to the door which had opened.
Olive stuck her head through.
Her lips moved, no sound came out but he saw them mouth, “Dempsey.”
He lifted one finger to her. She nodded, ducked out and closed the door.
Jack went back to Belle.
“I have one more meeting and then I’ll be on my way home.”
“So, you’ll be home for dinner,” she murmured, sounding slightly uneasy and Jack’s back went straight.
But his voice was gentle when he asked, “Is there a reason you sound concerned about my being home for dinner?”
“Just that, um, Dad has decided to commandeer the kitchen.”
Jack closed his eyes.
“And,” Belle went on, “he’s done this because he’s decided to introduce you all to American food.”
Jack opened his eyes.
“He does know that I, and Mum, and Yasmin, have all been to America?” Jack asked.
“Um… I did inform him of that,” Belle answered.
“Repeatedly,” Jack added.
“Uh… yes. Actually, Joy shared that. He’s still determined,” she replied.
“And this dinner would entail?” he prompted.
Her voice was tight but not with anxiety, with suppressed laughter when she replied, “I don’t know. It could mean his Texas chilli which is so hot it’s inedible. Or it could mean his barbeque ribs which are so messy we’ll all have to wear bibs. Or it could mean his famous flame-grilled hamburgers which would require, um…” she paused then stressed her final three words mock-ominously, “an open flame.”
The thought of Jensen Abbot anywhere near an open flame did not fill him with delight.
“Poppet,” Jack said quietly, “The Point has withstood centuries of bad weather, wars, different political regimes, religious unrest and a triple murder. I like our home. You like our home. Please, for me, encourage your father to cook something that would not threaten its destruction.”
He was pleased to hear her laughter wasn’t suppressed when her sweet voice vibrated through her respo
nse. “I’ll see what I can do, honey.”
“I’d appreciate that,” Jack muttered.
The humour was sadly gone and her voice was soft and strangely wistful when she said, “I know you’re busy, Jack, but I need to share something with you.”
His voice was also soft when he returned, “I am busy, love, but never too busy for you to share something with me.”
She hesitated and whispered, “Thank you.” Then she went on quietly, “I called Dr. Flanagan and made an appointment. As you know because of… well, everything… that I’m not and haven’t been on birth control for a while. I think maybe we should, um… since we’ve started again, you know, yesterday and, um, last night and, uh… again this morning, maybe… we should see to that. I don’t want to –”
“Excellent, my love,” Jack whispered back. “When we’re ready to try again, we’ll plan it.”
“Okay,” she replied, her voice again soft and in it was also the wistful.
But a better kind.
“Do you want me to go with you to see Dr. Flanagan?” he offered.
“If you have time. If you don’t, Mom or Gram will come with me.”
“We’ll talk about it tonight.”
“Okay, Jack.”
“In the meantime, we’ll take other precautions.”
“That sounds fun,” she muttered and he grinned because she sounded like she didn’t think it sounded fun at all.
“How about we make it fun, my love?” he suggested and his body reacted to her breathy one syllable response.
“Oh.”
He took in a deep breath to control his reaction at the same time he struggled to control all his myriad thoughts as to how they would make it fun then unfortunately he had to change the subject.
“The man I’m meeting is here. I have to go.”
“Okay,” she repeated then whispered, “See you soon. Love you, Jack.”
His body responded again to her last three words. Words she’d whispered to him for the first time last night. Words that affected him deeply then.
Words that affected him no less deeply now.
“And I you, poppet,” his reply was low and vibrating. “See you soon.”
“’Bye, Jack.”
“Soon, Belle.”
He heard her disconnect and he touched the button on his mobile. Then he dropped it to his desk, leaned forward and touched a button on the phone on his desk which would buzz on Gillie’s phone indicating that he was ready for his visitor.