#also um...

Groaning, she swung her legs to the side, and her naked feet met the softness of a thick carpet. A fire was crackling in an enamel woodstove, emitting pleasant warmth, but Belle wrapped herself into the duvet nonetheless, for nowhere in the room were any of her clothes. Not even shoes or slippers were to be found, and Belle half expected the door of the room to be locked. But under her hesitant grip, the knob turned and the door opened. Gathering the duvet around her, she stepped into the hall outside and started her exploration.

She recognized the architecture, at least. She had to be at Gold's house. The thought heated her cheeks and made her brim with anger. How could she ever have trusted him and his word? Of course he would use this mercilessly to his advantage! She didn't believe for a second that he had any other motive for holding her up here in nothing but her underwear than to press her once more into marrying him.

Belle tried to open the next door down the hall. Maybe she would find some clothes somewhere, so she could dress and sneak out. She wouldn't even object to stealing his clothes – he had impeccable taste, after all, and it was only just. The door opened just as easily as that of her room, the hinges well oiled, but as soon as she stepped in, her plan of finding something to dress and disappear ran into an unexpected obstacle: the man himself.

Gold stood there in front of a dressing table, scandalously underdressed himself in nothing but tight breeches and a shirt that, to make matters worse, was wide open and showed a shocking amount of skin on his chest. And he was about to unlace his breeches, God help her. Belle clutched her duvet and wanted to remove herself from this room immediately, but when she took a step backwards, she stepped onto the duvet and nearly let go of it. She grappled desperately for her only protection and stumbled with her back against the door, banging it shut. Gold looked up and met her eyes in the mirror.

“Belle? What are you doing here?”

“That's a question I would like to ask you, my Lord. Why am I here?”

Gold turned around, and Belle quickly looked away, fixing her eyes on the first thing catching her gaze. Which was, unfortunately, the huge four poster bed. “You were drunk and fast asleep. Should I have delivered you on your own doorstep in a state like that?”

“Better than to keep me in your own house in a state like this!” She sneaked out one arm from under her cover and gestured down her front. Gold raised his brow, and there was that quirk at the corner of his mouth again. “Or, keep me at all, for that matter.”

“Why, what's wrong with your state?” He enjoyed this entirely too much.

“Where are my clothes, Gold?”

“What, no longer Rutger? Or ‘my Lord’? I'm deeply hurt, Belle.”

She just raised her eyebrows.

“Oh well. I had your clothes laundered.”

“You laundered my leather breeches?”

“Not personally, of course. Would you have preferred them with the blood stains intact?”

“Yes! That is… no…” Belle's bottom lip trembled. She had the memory of what happened in that cart pushed far to the back of her mind, but the mention of her blood stained clothes brought it back. She had killed a man. She stumbled, and Gold rushed to her side, grasping her arm and keeping her upright. “I killed someone,” she whispered.

“You merely saved the headsman another rope. He would have hung anyway.”

“How can you be sure of that? Maybe he would just have done some time in Newgate.”

Gold’s eyes were drilling into hers, but nothing gave his thoughts away. “Actually, no. I inquired after your unfortunate collateral. He would have hung.”

Belle hoped his words would bring her relief, but she waited in vain. Knowing now that the man had been heading for the gallows did not free her from her guilt; after all, she had not known that when she drove her dagger between his ribs. She pressed her eyes shut, trying to push away the memory of the toothless mouth, like a knife wound in the face, red spittle flying from his lips as he cursed her with his dying breath. And she tried to forget the panic punching her to the guts when the man shot up from his seat, chains clanking, and grabbed her arm, black nails digging deep into her flesh, foul breath hitting her face as he hissed at her to cut him loose. She just wanted to push him back. How she drew her dagger in the process, and how the blade found its way between his ribs… she didn't know.

Belle turned to the side, doubling over, and it was Gold's grip on her arms that kept her from falling to her knees. The ripping of fabric echoed through her mind, followed by the sickening sound of her blade sliding through flesh like it was butter.

“Oh god,” she murmured.

“Na, na, it's not that bad, my Lady. Those were the complications that were to be expected.”

Belle straightened and shook his hands off. “Maybe you're callous enough not to feel any guilt over this tragedy, but I am not!”

“Well, then, what are you going to do now? Hand yourself over to justice? Go to the gallows yourself over the death of a murderer? Go on, no one's holding you back. Just be so kind and leave my name out of it.” Gold stepped back and pointed to the door, but Belle stood rooted to the spot.

“He was a murderer?”

“As I said, he was not a good man. Letting him go would have accomplished nothing, if anything it would have put more people in peril. Leaving him without silencing him would have put ourselves and Lady Blanchard's life at stake. You did the only right thing.”

Belle was breathing heavily, feeling dizzier with each deep intake of air. She wanted to believe that Gold was right, that it had been her only choice, but she just couldn't bring herself to such cynicism. She clutched the duvet around her shoulders tighter, as if it would shield her from the truth. It didn't.

“Wait. Does that mean you knew I would have to kill anyone being in that cart with Mary Margaret and sent me in regardless?”

Gold clenched his jaw, lifting his chin. “Would you have gone in if you knew? This was a dirty business, my Lady, and it's just as much on you as it is on me. Accept it.”

“How can you be so cold?”

“It's called pragmatism, my Lady. You should know that better than anyone. I'm surprised to find you so unhinged.”

“I value human life, other than you, apparently.”

Gold's eyes darkened, a storm forming in their depths, and Belle gasped when he closed the distance between them with one swift step, cornering her with the door in her back. Belle was glad that he didn't touch her, for he looked grim, his look promising no mercy.

“You have no idea how much I value human life, my Lady. I lost enough to treasure every moment my loved ones spend alive and breathing more than anything.”

Belle trembled under the intensity of his gaze. “You're right,” she whispered, “I know nothing about you. I'm sorry.”

Gold exhaled, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, looking at her, they were no longer shrouded in darkness. “No, I'm the one who needs to apologize. Apparently the flutter got to me, too.”

“I didn't even know that you have a family.”

“I don't. Not anymore.”

“Oh.” Belle was out of words. Her social conduct left her at the sight of the raw pain that flickered across his face just before he turned away. She was close to tears and shivering with the cold, despite the duvet she was wearing like a cloak. She wriggled her toes, looking down at her naked feet.

“By the way, who undressed me?”

“Huh?” Gold had limped back to his dressing table and pretended to focus on taking off his cuff links. “What do you mean?”

“What I said: who undressed me?”

“You are truly a mistrustful individual. Do you suspect me of ogling your half clad form while peeling you out of your scandalous attire?”

“Yes.”

“That hurts. But rest assured, it wasn't me.”

“That's not very reassuring, to be honest.”

“I respected your privacy, Belle. It was Dottie who took care of undressing you.” He rolled up his sleeves while he spoke, and Belle had to force her eyes away from his naked forearms. So focused was she in not looking at him, that it came as a surprise when he pulled a chair to his dressing table and sat down, pointing at a washstand at his side. “You can start with the towel.”

“I… what?”

“You're here to hold up your end of the bargain, aren't you? I have to admit that this scruff is a rather scratchy business. I'm looking forward to losing it.”

“Now?”

“Now is a time as good as any, so…”

Belle was torn between protesting and running. Instead, she found herself stepping closer. “But I'm not decent…” It was a feeble protest, and Gold grinned, much like a wolf.

“I won't tell anyone, I promise.”

“You planned this!” Of course he had planned this; why else would her clothes be mysteriously missing and everything be ready for his shave the moment she walked into his room?

“How could I have planned that you walk into my room half-naked and rolled into nothing more than a duvet?” He met her eyes through the mirror on his dressing table, and his voice was brimming with glee. He was mocking her.

“I don't know how you planned it, but it worked, didn't it? I'm here in nothing but my stays!” Her voice was increasingly shrill, and Gold chuckled.

“Back to your favorite topic, are we? You're a feathery roll of wrath, that's what you are.”

“Feathery? Do you think me easy?”

“Oh no, I wouldn't dare. No one could think you easy, my Lady. But since you're already here, why not make this whole business enjoyable for both of us?”

“Because that is impossible. Nothing could make this enjoyable for me.”

“You haven't even tasted my kisses yet, so the only thing impossible here is for you to know that. And we both know that you enjoy nothing more than holding a blade to my throat.”

“I don't need to taste anything to know how detestable it is!”

“Does that mean you want to go back on our deal?” Gold narrowed his eyes, and Belle shivered with the sudden cold prickling at the nape of her neck.

“No,” she said, pulling the duvet tighter around herself. “No, of course not.”

“I wouldn't want to press my detestable kisses on you, so if I seem so objectionable to you, just say so. I'm not one to force myself on anyone.” The lighthearted air was gone from his features, and Belle pressed her lips together, swallowing an acid remark. Gold kept looking at her for another moment, but when she kept silent, he grimaced and looked away. “You can say it. I'm not going to bite off your head for it.”

Belle huffed, squaring her shoulders. It would be so easy to just turn and leave and forget her silly promise of a shave and five kisses. But she had killed a man, and something told her that Gold would keep this deed of hers a secret and take it to the grave. A shave and five kisses were a cheap price to pay for all that he'd done for her. With a deep breath, she shook off her duvet and stepped to the chair.

“You can stop sulking, my Lord. It doesn't become your face to look so dark, and you're so much harder to shave when you’re all wrinkled from your sinister frown.”

Gold reached for his face and rubbed his chin. “Sinister, huh?”

Belle smiled silently. Despite no longer having the duvet around her, she was quite warm when she took the last few steps to stand behind Gold's chair. Even the air she inhaled seemed to prickle inside her lungs, and there was a flutter inside her, tickling against her diaphragm, that made her feel almost queasy. She could grow addicted to that feeling, and she tried hard to ignore her humming nerves and instead concentrate on the task before her. She found the towel Gold had indicated beneath a copper cover on his washstand. Steam rose from it when she lifted the cover, and Belle found a heating brick under the damp towel, keeping it hot. She wasn't quite sure what to do with it once she uncovered it, so she just stood there, towel in hand, and thought about ways a hot towel could be needed in a shave. Maybe she was supposed to rub Gold's face with it?

“Have you ever shaved someone before?” Gold asked when she kept hesitating, and she shook her head. He sighed. “This is going to be interesting then. The towel goes on the face for a little while. It makes the hair softer and easier to shave.”

“Oh.” Deciding not to let her insecurity stop her, Belle slapped the damp towel onto Gold's face as he leant back and closed his eyes, and he grunted. But he didn't protest, and although it looked funny, Belle wasn't unhappy to be spared the intensity of his eyes for a while. While his beard soaked under the towel, Belle examined the rest of the tools ready for use on the washstand. There was a leather strap with a hook that could be attached to the brass rail of the washstand, a porcelain bowl with soap, a thick brush, and a straight razor. Belle brought the bowl with the soap to her nose and smelled it. Its scent was stronger on its own, but she still recognized it; her cheekbones heated with the memory of Gold pressed against her in the confinement of Lady Leopold's murder cabinet, his scent flooding her senses. She put the bowl down so hard that she winced, and Gold reached for the towel to pull it down and glance at her.

“What the…” he started, but Belle quickly pulled the towel back over his eyes.

“Nothing, nothing,” she hastened to assure him, and once more he grunted.

“You know, there's no need to soak my eyebrows as well, I'd like to keep some facial hair…” he said, voice muffled through the cloth.

“Don't be ridiculous, your eyebrows will be fine.” Belle took up the razor while she spoke, testing the blade against the pad of her thumb, and hissed when she cut herself. It was only a tiny cut, but it burned, and a drop of blood appeared. She sucked it off her thumb, and the taste of it made her nauseous. She would never be able to shave Gold without killing him. She had to choke back the panic crawling up her windpipe.

She was still fussing over the cut on her thumb when he pulled the towel off his face again. “That's really long enough now. Time for the soap.”

Belle took the towel, leaving a bright red stain on the white cotton as she deposited it on the washstand. She couldn’t look at it.

“Wet the brush and lather up some soap with it before you lather my face,” Gold instructed, and Belle thoroughly soaked the brush in the washbowl first, before she started whipping up foam. After a while, Gold huffed. “There will be no soap left for my face when you keep doing this.”

“Oh. Of course.” She had to move to his side to reach his face properly, and she was very aware of her indecent state as she did so. She was much too close to him, and he would have an excellent view of her chest, only insufficiently covered by her thin shift beneath the corset. Her clothes seemed too tight all of a sudden, her bosom too prominent and only thinly covered, pressed up by her corset and so close to his face that he would see the frantic beating of her heart beneath her skin, the throbbing of her pulse when she leant forward and reached for his face to lather it with soap. A breathless shriek broke from her lips when Gold reached up and clasped her wrist before she made contact with his skin. He held her hand, so close to his face that his lips almost touched the inside of her wrist, his palm warm and rough against her skin. His breath was tickling her when he murmured, “Don't be afraid, you're not going to kill me. Just try not to tremble quite as much.”

His words, his closeness, the husky tone of his voice, it all made Belle shake even more, and a fleck of soap dripped from the brush down onto his neck, slowly trailing down to where his neck met his collar bone. Belle's throat was as dry as rice paper, and her corset seemed to grow even tighter. Gold rubbed the inside of her wrist with his thumb, and when he brought it even closer to his lips, she thought he was going to kiss it. She wanted him to kiss her, wanted to feel his lips there, warm and tingly, but he paused, closing his eyes and wincing as if he fought an urge so overwhelming that it distorted his face, as if he thirsted just as much to kiss her as she thirsted for it. The kiss never came, and only when he let go of her wrist, Belle realized that she had been holding her breath.

Gold tilted his head back, exposing his throat, and Belle shook off the silly notion that had befallen her, lathering his face with erratic and pointedly indifferent movements. She could pretend it wasn't him as she covered his face with thick foam, but his features were still prominent, and the heat in his eyes burnt through her skin. She would recognize him anywhere from the intensity of his gaze alone. No one else's eyes made her feel so apprehensive and weak inside, as if she could only breathe when she was with him.

Shaking the ridiculous feeling, she put the brush down and reached for the razor. It had the weight of a feather, fitting into her palm as if it belonged there. Inhaling deeply, holding the air in, Belle indicated him to tilt his head with a touch of her fingertips to the sharp arch of his cheekbone. It was hardly a touch at all, yet her fingertips prickled and the feel of his skin jolted through her like the kick of a horse. She had to force herself to breathe as she put the edge of the blade to his face and slid it across his skin, shaving off foam and scruff. As she cleaned the blade in the bowl of water, their eyes met.

"See? I'm still very much alive," he rasped, his voice cracking.

"I'm not done yet. If you want to stay alive, tilt your head back and close your eyes. I cannot guarantee for anything if you keep looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like… like you want to eat me!"

Gold chuckled. "But I do."

Heat rose into her cheeks, and she gritted her teeth against the fury roiling in her stomach. She was sure he didn't mean that he literally wanted to eat her, but she failed at deciphering the true meaning of his words, and the feeling of sparring on uneven ground left her off-kilter and insecure. Putting the blade to his skin again, she dragged it across his cheek with more pressure, nicking his skin just below the line of his jaw.

Gold winced and Belle jumped, but he did not snap at her like she expected. Instead, he made a sound deep in his throat, almost a growl, finally closing his eyes and letting his head fall back.

Belle stared at the drop of blood forming on his jaw, frozen in place. Her skull echoed with the ugly, wet sound of her dagger sliding in between two ribs. The memory of blood stained teeth grabbed her by the throat, pressing the air out of her lungs. She focused on Gold, on his face, on his slightly parted lips and the strange hunger lurking just behind the surface. How could he not fear the blade in her hand? He wore a face as if he couldn’t wait for her to slit his throat.

"Don't just stand there like a goose. You have to finish what you started, or I won't be able to attend any parties until that one shaven strip has grown out again."

"You could always shave yourself," Belle huffed, stomping out the fear nipping her heels. He trusted her and somehow this comforted her. She closed the distance again and resumed shaving him. She was more careful now and he seemed to melt like butter under her light touches. Her eyes were fixed on the blade, her focus entirely on the task, so for a moment, she was confused when she finished shaving and found his gaze resting on her chest. Then she remembered her state of undress, and realized that he was feasting his eyes on her décolletage. She'd basically shoved her breasts into his face, and she flushed with white hot embarrassment as she realized that one of her nipples was peaking out of her corset and pressing hard and dark against the thin fabric of her shift. She tossed the razor into the water bowl and hastily pulled the traitorous garment up to cover her again.

"Don't cover up on my account," Gold said with a grin. "I'll take it as compensation for the cut on my throat."

"Oh, I'll cut you some more! You turn everything into a reason to be compensated! I won't even live long enough to pay all the debts you want to force on me!"

"I already said it, I'm not forcing anything on you, dear." His voice had lost its playful tone.

Belle's throat moved, but she didn't get out a single sound. He was right, of course. But that didn't change the fact that he drove her wild.

He watched her in silence as she shifted on her feet and stared intently at the floor. Belle's skin grew too tight and hot, and she flinched as he stood and reached for a towel, wiping his face.

"I feel like a new man. Thank you, Belle."

He had to like speaking her name. He did it relentlessly. Or maybe he didn’t and she just thought so because every time he called her by her name, it had such a weight, like a hefty punch to her guts.

"I only paid my dues."

"Did you?" He took a swift step towards her, bringing him up so close she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. He challenged her, teasing her with that subtle smile twitching at the corner of his lips. It shouldn't take her breath away, and yet she was dizzy and unable to move.

"There's still the matter of the kisses I owe you," she whispered. If he bent only a tiny bit closer, he could take her lips now. The scent of his shaving soap enveloped her, clean and fresh, and she longed to melt against him.

"There is the matter of your kisses, yes. May I have them?"

"Now?" Oh why did she squeak like a mouse?

"If you let me."

"Oh." Her lips parted. Her eyes were drawn to his lips, and she prickled from head to toe. "Yes," she whispered, so breathless the word sounded like a sigh. A smile spread across his face.

Belle thought he would lean close and cover her mouth with his then, or make her kiss him, but instead he clasped her upper arms – his palms hot on her, burning through her shift – and guided her towards the bed. Belle allowed him to lead her, walking backwards, and her knees buckled and she flopped down on the bed with a gasp.

Gold stood between her open knees, his closeness overwhelming, but not intimidating. In fact, she wished him much closer.

Slowly, he knelt down, his eyes holding hers as he put his hands on the bed on either side of her. Belle trembled, arching up and offering her lips for the taking. A taking that never came. Instead, his palms slid along the outside of her thighs – a touch so indecent it made her dizzy – until he reached her knees and pulled them apart even further. And then he bent down.

Belle grabbed his hair and pulled, forcing him to look up. "What are you doing?"

"What I said I would do: I'm going to kiss you."

"This isn't a kiss."

"I never specified where I would kiss you, did I?"

Belle swallowed heavily, breathless at the magnitude of her oversight. "I thought a kiss meant… putting your mouth on mine."

"Oh sweet Belle. There are so many more places to kiss. Like here –" He painted a circle on the inside of her knee with his thumb, a touch so light it sent butterflies crawling across her skin. A tingle spread from his touch, sending a wave of weakness through her leg, and her mouth went dry. "Shall I show you?"

She had to wet her lips, but her voice still broke, cracking like a dry branch going up in flames. How disgustingly weak she was. Not weakness, she told herself. Curiosity. "Yes. Please."

The feel of his thumb on her was nothing compared to the rush washing up from her knee as his mouth replaced his finger. Hot, wet, breathtaking. Belle gasped, curling her fingers in his hair as she arched up and every muscle in her body tensed.

"One," Gold murmured. He painted circles on her other knee, smiling up at her. "May I kiss you here as well?"

"Yes." She wanted to feel the rush again, and she couldn't swallow the groan as he moved to her other knee to kiss the inside of it. His mouth left a damp spot on her pantalons, and Belle wished it were on her skin.

"Two." He slid his hands up her thighs, his thumbs drawing a line on their insides, slowly. Belle's heart raced, a breathless crescendo in her chest. He stopped his advance short of her groin. "I long to kiss you here," he growled, his thumb brushing the sensitive inside of her thigh. A thin whine rose in her throat.

"Please," she whispered. Curiosity is a dangerous thing. Letting her legs drift apart a little further, she tilted her hips, as if to bring herself closer to his mouth. As his lips met her flesh, scorching heat washed through her, followed by a tension that would snap her in two if he'd stop kissing her. Her groan was as much from protest as it was from pleasure when he pulled back.

"Three."

"Oh, please!" Belle moaned, not sure what she was begging for.

"Another, here?" He brushed his thumb over the spot mirroring the first one on her other thigh, and Belle nodded frantically. She groaned as he kissed her. "Four."

Gold looked up at her, his eyes hooded with desire. Only one kiss left, and with the path his mouth had taken, Belle knew exactly where the last one would fall. She sucked in a deep breath, holding it in as she bit her bottom lip. Her center pulsed, sending waves of longing through her.

Gold's palms slid up to circle her waist. His breath was warm on her belly, full of promise.

"Lie back," he said. It sounded like a plea, so full of yearning. It matched her own longing, and Belle couldn't resist the promise of it. She let herself fall back, presenting herself to him in all her vulnerability. "I yearn to kiss you here, my Belle," he rasped, and his hot breath on her center told her exactly where he meant. His voice alone shattered her with want.

"Yes. Please, Rutger!"

He groaned as she spoke his name, bowing his head and placing his mouth softly upon her throbbing mound. His lips were separated from her flesh through a thin layer of fabric of her pantalons, but they were so hot that they seemed to burn right through it.

Belle rolled her hips, overtaken by the intensity of the sensations his wet mouth imposed on her. It was at the same time too much and not enough, robbing her of coherent thought and leaving her craving for more. More of his mouth, of him, of his touch. Her nails dug like claws into his scalp, desperate to keep him from breaking this sweetest of kisses. It was her luck that he didn't show any intention of moving his lips away.

The kiss went on forever, stoking the wonderful sensations it inflicted with every minute it lasted. The tension mounting between her pelvic bones kept coiling and coiling tighter, until Belle could no longer hold it and it broke in a myriad of blinding lights. Pleasure rolled through her, ripping her control over her body away and throwing her into a chasm of heat, and she couldn't even breathe anymore as her body spasmed and convulsed beneath his mouth.

Gold struggled up from his knees and slipped to her side, pulling her into his arms as she panted raggedly. "Five," he whispered, sounding more than a little pleased with himself. Belle allowed him as much.

"If I had known that those were the kisses you had in mind…" She ran out of breath and trailed off.

"What? You'd denied me my reward?"

"No, I'd given you more than just five."

"Well, you can always do that. I'm glad to kiss you anytime you ask for it."

"Scoundrel!" But Belle couldn't be mad at him. Not when she felt so liquid and drunk with bliss from his expert kisses. She turned her head to look at him. "Tell me, does it feel like this to you as well? When someone kisses your… member?"

"That is certainly no subject I should discuss with a lady such as yourself."

"I'm not a lady anymore. I killed a man."

"I'm tempted to show you the art of kissing a man's prick just to make you forget this unfortunate event." His dark scowl sent a shiver across her skin. She concentrated on his words to shove the images crawling into her mind back into the dark.

"There's an entire art form? Why have I never heard of this?"

"Because men prefer to leave gentle women in the dark, lest they discover the power of their kisses."

"Now I'm intrigued." She lifted her head to glance down at his crotch, but Gold quickly pulled the duvet up to cover his loins. Not quick enough, however, as that she wouldn't have seen the prominent bulge in his pants. His face crinkled into a grimace as she tried to lift the duvet once more. He looked like he was suffering from something rather painful.

"Does it hurt you?" Belle gave up fighting for the duvet, placing her hand on his chest. She could feel the pounding beat of his heart.

"I'm sorely afflicted, yes, but that's not enough to do something unforgivable. I will not teach you to suck a prick."

"Not even if I ask you to?"

"Not as long as we're not married."

"So… never. But you kissed me down there."

"That was part of our deal. I admit that I had a phenomenal case of weakness there, and one of exceptionally bad judgment."

"I make you weak?" Belle had no idea why she was so dizzy all of a sudden, and so buzzing with happiness. It shouldn't matter to her at all how he felt about her. She might have offered herself and her ships in the despair following Mary Margaret's arrest, but she got away lucky. No matter how fuzzy her head became around him, she did better to remember that.

"Why else would I've been so foolish to help you?"

"You got the shave you wanted so much."

"True." Gold chortled, but his face sobered quickly. "You should go, though, before I take more than you granted. Holding you in my arms is a dangerous thing. As you remark so frequently, I'm not a gentleman."

"It's a risk I'm willing to take." Strangely enough, it was the truth.

"All very well, but I'm not. I failed to force you into marriage once already, I'm not going to attempt this again and expose you to the risks of such a dalliance." He disentangled from her, sitting up and turning away. Belle told herself to be relieved, but she was just stung. She didn't even want to marry him, for God's sake! There was nothing she wanted less than giving up her ships and her freedom.

Sitting up, she pulled the duvet around herself with as much dignity as she managed. It was hard, considering that her pantalons were wet between her legs and clung to her skin as she struggled to her feet, reminding her mercilessly of his mouth and the pleasure he'd given her.

"I'll send Dottie with some clothes," he said, turning away from her. He didn't look at her again, and he didn't even say goodbye when she left his house, properly dressed in a set of clothes that weren’t hers but fitted her well enough.

She was glad. Her friend was alive and on her way to safety, she was still in control of her company and life, and all her debts with Gold were paid. As she sat in the carriage Gold had provided, she trembled, dizzy with relief. Maybe her knees still trembled a tiny bit from his kisses, and she remembered them with lightheaded giddiness. Gold had gifted her with something truly extraordinary, instead of demanding she'd pay a debt. He could have asked her to kiss him like he’d kissed her, after all; not that she would be disinclined to do so with her new found knowledge informing her about the pleasure of such kisses. But he hadn’t demanded such a thing. He'd left her her freedom.

Deep, aching gratitude tugged at her heart and filled her with warmth.

She was almost euphoric, but it all came crashing down when she reached home and found Mr. Humbert and Lady Leopold waiting for her. Her father was a shaking heap of misery between them.

"Lady Leopold. Mr. Humbert. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Lady Leopold snorted, springing up from her chair and coming towards her like a steam boat rolling up the river, huffing and puffing. "Hardly a pleasure. We're here to arrest you!"

It took all her restraint not to flinch, despite the vortex of blackness forming at the pit of her stomach.

They knew she'd freed Mary Margaret. They knew she'd killed a man.

"Arrest me? What for?"

Mr. Humbert took a step towards her, and her father crumbled even more. "Can you tell us where you've been yesterday? And tonight?"

The blackness threatened to swallow her, but Belle fought it back. "Yes, of course," she said, thoughts racing. She had no time to think this through. "I was with Lord Gold."

Her father's head shot up, gaping, his mouth moving as he tried to form words and failed. The silence was deafening.

"With Lord Gold?" Lady Leopold asked then, a vein throbbing on her forehead. "You spent the night with Lord Gold? All night?"

Belle's face burnt. She knew all the implications of this admission. She was sealing her fate with it, and his as well. "I spent the night with my fiancé. All night."