Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

“M y lady.”

Belle slowly opened her eyes and sat up. She was still curled up in the chair in Michael’s room. Jones was halfway across the room, looking at her as if she might pounce at any moment. Perhaps she deserved that after the way she’d treated him.

“His lordship instructed me to unlock the door and check on your welfare.”

Belle rolled her eyes. “How magnanimous of him.”

Jones fidgeted nervously, and there was a bit of pity in his eyes. That was probably not a good sign. Hopefully it had nothing to do with Isaac.

“And where is his lordship now?”

“He’s gone to London, my lady.”

“Of course he has.” She closed her eyes and sighed. Running away seemed to always be his answer. “Thank you, Jones.”

“My lady,” he said with a bow and turned to leave.

“Oh, and Jones.”

He stopped in the doorway. “Yes, my lady?”

“I’m sorry if I’ve ever been short with you.”

“Not at all, my lady.”

“I appreciate you taking such good care of him.”

“Thank you for saying so, my lady.” He paused for a moment. “If it’s any consolation, he didn’t take me with him, which probably means he won’t be gone long.”

When Belle entered her dressing room a few minutes later Lizzie immediately wrapped her in a tight embrace. “What happened, Belle? There’s been some speculation below stairs, albeit inappropriate speculation, that you left and returned with a man who is your?—”

“Oh for crying out loud. Isaac is not my lover.” Belle threw off Michael’s robe. “Will you please just help me to dress? I don’t have patience for this nonsense.”

“What does Isaac have to do with any of this?”

“It’s a long story, Lizzie, and I really just want to go down and see how he’s doing. I promise I’ll tell you everything later.” Belle finally walked to the armoire and pulled out her own chemise and threw it over her head.

Lizzie helped her to dress the rest of the way in silence. Guilt gnawed at Belle’s stomach and a voice in her head nagged that it was peevish behavior like this that had caused this whole mess in the first place. She justified it by saying she needed to know Isaac was still alive and at least not worse off than he had been when last she’d seen him.

Belle wasn’t really even sure where to find him. They’d been dragging him toward the side of the house last she’d seen him, so she went outside and wandered in that direction. Ash was there, in conversation with one of the burlies, and looked surprised by her sudden appearance.

“Is something wrong, Belle?”

“No. I’ve just come to see Isaac.” She nodded toward the door.

Ash hesitated a moment before speaking. “I don’t think Michael wants you to see him.”

Right now, she didn’t really care what Michael wanted. “If Michael didn’t want me to go down there and see my friend, then he should have stuck around instead of running off to God knows where. Now let me pass. Please,” she added as an afterthought.

Ash rubbed a hand over his face with a sigh. “Fair enough.” He opened the door and gestured for her to enter. “Watch your step.”

Inside the door was a steep set of stairs leading into darkness. Ash followed her down to the bottom. The air was damp and cold against her skin. A shiver snaked through her body.

“He’s down at the end.” Ash pointed with his cane.

Belle made her way slowly down a wide corridor of sorts. It was lined on one side with a row of barred cells, a few small lanterns trying to chase away the darkness. The stone floor radiated cold. It was a place that should have echoed with screams, but instead was filled with a heavy silence.

“Isaac!” Belle called when she finally spotted him in the last cell. He rushed to the bars to meet her.

“Belle! I’m so glad to see you!” He slipped his hand through the bars, and she grasped it with both of hers. It was ice cold. He tried to smile, but his lips were swollen and scabbed. His right cheek was marred by a nasty gash and his left eye was beginning to blacken.

“My God, Isaac.” Her heart broke at the state of him. This was a horrid place and he had done nothing to deserve being locked inside its walls.

She turned to face Ash, who stood a few feet back, his arms crossed rigidly atop his cane. “You have to let him out of here!”

The icy bite in his chuckle startled her. “Not a chance.”

She marched up and pointed a finger into his chest. “I am the lady of this estate, and I demand you release him. He’s injured and frozen half to death.”

“Belle, stop,” Isaac pleaded from behind her.

Ash glared at him over her shoulder. “This is not a battle you’re going to win, Belle.”

Frustration gripped her. “Contrary to popular belief, Isaac is not my lover.”

Ash simply shrugged. “That is none of my business. What I do know,” he said as he took a step nearer, “is that that son of a bitch shot Michael. I was there when the doctor stitched him back together. I had to hold him down while he screamed because he refused to take anything for the pain. So I will not be letting that”—he jerked his cane toward Isaac—“out of that cage, even if he dies in there. And if he somehow finds a way out, I will kill him myself.”

Belle breathed in sharply and took a step back. He hadn’t raised his voice, but somehow that made him even more frightening. She really didn’t think he would hurt her, but powerful, seething anger flowed from every inch of him and it set her nerves on edge.

“I’ll allow you five minutes with him, and I won’t be moving from this spot.” He tapped his cane against the stone floor.

“Belle,” Isaac warned from behind her. Even from inside that cage, he knew her well enough to know she was about to argue.

“I don’t need a chaperone, Ash.”

Ash pulled out his watch. “Five minutes, Belle, and then you’ll either walk or be carried out of here.”

If she had to guess, Ash did not bluff any more than Michael. With a huff she turned and hurried back to Isaac’s side. “I’m so sorry, Isaac. Why did you follow me through the woods?”

“I had to know you were safe.”

“I told you he wouldn’t hurt me. Why don’t any of you just listen to me? You should have just stayed put and I could have dealt with Michael.”

“But then I wouldn’t have been able to have a conversation with him. He came to see me a while ago.”

“Did he hurt you again?”

“No.” He shook his head and squeezed her hand. “He was perfectly civil.”

“And what about Ash?” She threw a scowl over her shoulder. “Has he hurt you?”

“No. No one has hurt me, Belle.”

“Oh really? Because your face says otherwise.”

He began to chuckle, but then grimaced in pain.

“Isaac. I’m so sorry. All of this is my fault. I never should have sent that stupid letter.” She turned to give Ash a piece of her mind, but Isaac grabbed her wrist to stop her.

“Don’t, Belle. The only person to blame for any of this is me. You did nothing wrong. And that man”—he nodded toward Ash—”is only being a loyal friend.”

“A bully, more like.” Belle shook her head in frustration. “It’s all just a huge misunderstanding. Michael thinks you're my lover, Isaac.”

“Of course he did, Bells. What other conclusion could he possibly have come to?”

“He could have asked. He could have listened to me instead of accusing me of infidelity.”

“He was angry.”

“I’m angry!” she shouted.

“I would expect nothing less.” He nodded and tried to smile again. “He’s a good man, Belle, and you need to show him some grace. He cares for you, deeply.”

“Then why did he abandon me and run off to London again?” Tears pricked her eyes.

“He probably needed to blow off some steam. He’s been through a lot these past few days, but he’ll be back. Be patient with him, Belle.”

“How can you be so understanding after he hurt you the way he did and locked you in this terrible place?”

“It’s all about perspective, Belle. After everything I’ve done, he should have just shot me. Quite frankly, I assumed he would. Instead, he gave me a chance to tell my side of the story, I have a roof over my head, and he even made sure I had food brought down to me before he left.”

“Did he?” That was more like the Michael she knew.

Isaac nodded. “Best meal I’ve had in days.” He tried to wink at her, but his swollen eyelid didn’t cooperate very well. “I know patience isn’t something you excel at, Bells, but try your best. That husband of yours is a good one, and the two of you are lucky to have each other.”

“I know he is. But he's a stubborn fool sometimes.” She let out a long sigh. She just wanted him to hold her, if she was honest. Why did he have to run off? “Thank you for talking me around, Isaac.”

“That’s what friends are for.”

“I’ll get you out of here somehow.”

“Your five minutes are up,” Ash announced.

Isaac gripped her hand. “Don’t argue with him, Bells. Just go.”

Belle pressed her lips into a thin line. “You men.”

He squeezed her hand one last time then nudged her to go. “Patience, Bells,” he called from behind her as she preceded Ash to the staircase and back outside.

“Thank you, for allowing me to see him, Ash,” Belle said, if somewhat grudgingly, after the door closed behind them.

“I’m sorry if I frightened you down there, Belle. I can be a bit overly protective of the people I care about.”

She shook her head. “I think these past few days have been a trial for all of us. Perhaps Isaac is right, and we all need to afford each other a bit of grace.”

Ash gave a reluctant nod. “As much as I hate to admit it, your friend in there was right about something else as well. Michael cares for you. Deeply. He would sacrifice anything for your happiness and safety.”

She rested her hand lightly on his forearm. “I care for him too, Ash.”

“I know you do.” He patted the back of her hand.

“Do you think we could at least provide Isaac a blanket? His hands were as cold as ice.” Her voice was tremulous, unsure of how he might react to the request. He’d been so angry down there.

To Belle’s surprise, he nodded. “I’m sure I can arrange that.”

“Thank you, Ash. And thank you for being there for Michael in his time of need.”

* * *

A punishing blow landed against Michael’s face, sending him stumbling backwards. “Wait,” he mumbled. “Not the face.” He’d been in such a hurry to start this pummeling, he’d forgotten to make the request. And it was a pummeling. His opponent huffed a laugh before slamming a fist into his stomach. He landed two more solid punches before Michael’s body gave out and he crumpled onto the floor.

Michael tried to get up, but the other man shook his head. “We’re done. You need to go home, Michael. You’re not even giving me a challenge tonight.” He removed one of his gloves and helped Michael to stand.

It wasn’t quite the beating he’d been hoping for, but he supposed it would have to do. Even with the nap he’d had on the train, his body was still tired. Between the unrelenting pain from the wound in his arm and now the one in his heart, it was definitely taking a toll. At this rate, he’d be lucky to make it home.

Michael didn’t keep any alcohol at his townhouse. But tonight, he definitely needed some, so he’d stop at the Den on his way past. It might help to erase the image that was flashing relentlessly in his mind. Belle’s legs forced open, and her eyes clamped shut as she braced herself for Michael to—he jammed the key into the back door of his club. He kicked it shut behind him and stormed to the bar, grabbing a bottle of their cheapest liquor. It wasn’t for him to savor, after all. A resonant pop echoed through the empty room as he yanked out the stopper and lifted the bottle to his lips.

He stopped.

Letting out a long sigh, he lowered the bottle and pushed the cork back into place. Alcohol wasn’t going to fix this.

He remembered the hurt that had crossed her eyes when she’d realized he was accusing her of being unfaithful. At the time, he’d stupidly thought it was guilt, confirming what she’d done. Only once he’d spoken to Isaac did he realize how wrong he’d been. He had no doubt about the man’s truthfulness. Right now, he hated himself for doubting her loyalty, almost as much as he hated himself for the rest of it.

He left the club. The chilly air prickled his skin as he walked. At some point in the last two days, his body seemed to have lost the ability to warm itself. His muscles shivered violently by the time he finally made it home. But it wasn’t home, anymore. He wasn’t sure when that had changed, but now his home was wherever Belle was. So why was he here? As he climbed the stairs to his bedroom, his mind replayed the time he’d made this trek with Belle in tow. The cautious curiosity that had filled her eyes as he’d slowly undressed her. He entered his bedroom with a long sigh. He had to make this right somehow.

As he walked toward the bed, he glimpsed his reflection in the mirror. The image stopped him in his tracks. Jesus, he looked like a goddamned tramp. Black circles ringed his bloodshot eyes that were sunken in his dirty, unshaven face. The image of Belle with her eyes clamped shut flashed in his mind, once more.

“Why?” he shouted at the ceiling. Why had he behaved like a bloody brute? Why had he wanted to force her to accept him?

He knew why, though. He hadn’t been angry with Belle. He hadn’t even been angry that she may have taken a lover. He’d been terrified that she may have chosen someone else, when she’d never been given the opportunity to choose him.

But rather than giving her the chance to choose, he’d forced her, or very nearly, anyway. He’d been so busy trying to control everything, forcing her to marry him, forcing her to accept his life, he’d never even given her the opportunity to choose any of it. In so many ways, he’d made her his prisoner, just as she’d said he had. He desperately wanted her to choose him, but because he’d never allowed her to, he couldn’t trust that she actually would.

He looked back to his reflection with a humorless laugh. No one would choose that.

First, he had to sleep. He pulled the cord from his disheveled hair allowing it to fall around his shoulders. Slowly, he removed his rumpled clothing and climbed into bed. For a long time, a part of him had resented the marriage that he’d in many ways also been forced into. But he’d had fifteen years to come to grips with it before they married. He’d given her two days. From this moment, he was choosing Belle. Choosing her with his whole heart and soul, and he would give her as long as she needed to choose him in return. Hopefully one day she would.