Lucky Stars (39 page)

“Really?” she asked softly.

“Really,” he answered just as softly.

He took his hand from her jaw and continued eating.

Belle took in a breath for courage and queried, “Are you going to try the grape jelly?”

“No,” he answered immediately, taking a bite of bacon.

“Why not?”

His gaze came to her and he said in all seriousness, even though his eyes were dancing, “I have a rule. I don’t eat purple food.”

She felt a giggle bubble up inside her and she let a little of it escape.

“Grapes are purple,” she informed him.

“Grapes are naturally purple.
That,” he indicated the grape jelly with a jerk of his head, “is
not
a colour nature intended.
Therefore, I amend my rule. I don’t eat chemically-induced purple food.”

Another giggle bubbled up inside her, it was softer, quieter and she let it free.

After she was done giggling but before she’d resumed eating, Jack’s hand came toward her again. This time it didn’t go to her jaw but around her neck. He pulled her forward, leaned forward himself and he kissed her.

It wasn’t long and it wasn’t hard.

It was soft, sweet and thorough.

When he was done, he let her go, sat back and resumed eating.

Belle studied him a moment then asked shyly. “Do you want to know more about my Dad?”

 
“Is it going to frighten me?” Jack asked back.

“Probably,” Belle answered honestly.

He looked at her and smiled. “Tell me about your Dad.”

So, she did.

* * * * *

Belle sat in the Jag as Jack drove them to The Point.

They’d showered at her place (as in,
together
, which she’d never done with a man and it was
nice
). But she didn’t have extra supplies of makeup and stuff for her hair (and he didn’t have anything), so he had to take her to The Point then back into town once she’d gotten ready for her day’s work.

Alone he’d walked across St. Ives to collect his car, leaving Belle at the cottage with orders not to leave the house even if she saw his car in front of it. He would, he informed her, escort her through the cameramen.

He drove back, parked in front of her house and collected her at the door.

Even though the street was narrow, her steps were right on it and it was about a ten foot walk, as he said he’d do, Jack escorted her to the passenger side, closing the door after she’d settled in.

Then he drove them out of St. Ives.

Belle watched the scenery and wondered what life had in store for her now that she’d taken this, what she considered the ultimate risk.

Then she decided not to wonder about it.

Whatever would
happen,
would happen.

This was so
not
Belle Abbot, it wasn’t funny.

But she had enough to worry about, what with a baby on the way and ghosts to send to heaven.

She’d worry about it later.

“Can we do that again?” she asked Jack.

“What, my love?”

“Stay at the cottage, just you and me?”

His reply was instantaneous.
“Absolutely.”

“You’ll need to bring some clothes,” she told him and when he didn’t reply, she added, “and the dogs.”

She heard his chuckle and looked out the window toward the sea.
 

And Belle Abbot, worrier extraordinaire, felt at peace.

Chapter Fifteen

All Right

Jack

Later that evening, Jack drove Belle back to The Point.

She’d called him that afternoon to inform him that they could not, again, spend another highly enjoyable evening alone together in her quiet cottage. A cottage which was simple, inviting and subtly feminine all of which, Jack thought, was very Belle. A cottage where he found almost instantly he was completely at ease.

Instead, Belle was under strict orders from Lila to come home that evening.

They had, in the overwhelming fullness of their reconciliation, forgotten to call home, not that it even once crossed Jack’s mind. He was not used to being accountable to anyone for his whereabouts.

Also, as said reconciliation had been intense and thoroughly engrossing, they hadn’t heard Belle’s phone ringing in her bag or Jack’s which was muted by his clothing.

Therefore Lila and Rachel had spent the evening wondering where they were and not liking being engaged in this activity.

This was what they learned upon arrival at The Point that morning.

Lila, followed by Rachel then, far more slowly (because she was likely only lending moral support or being polite) followed by his mother, confronted them in the hallway when they walked through the front doors.

It had been short and to the point.

“Belle Ursula Abbot,” Lila said in a severe voice, addressing her like she was ten years old and Belle’s hand went to her mouth.

“Holy heck,” Belle muttered under her hand, her eyes adorably huge with guilt then she took her hand away and breathed, “I forgot to call.”

“
That
you did,” Lila declared then stomped away.

“We’ve been worried
sick,
” Rachel added then
she
stomped away.

Belle and Jack looked to Joy.

“I told them not to worry,” Joy said casually.

Jack and Belle made no reply.

When they didn’t, Joy smiled and asked, “Did you two have a nice evening?”

“We were also having a nice morning,” Jack returned.

“That’s lovely,” Joy’s smile deepened, “Have you eaten? Do I need to call Elaine?”

Jack assured his mother they’d eaten and she’d given them another smile and wandered away.

Now they were on their way to The Point at Lila’s command.

In other words, they were in trouble and being punished.

Jack found it entirely unacceptable that he was a thirty-eight year old man escorting his thirty-five year old pregnant girlfriend home because they’d spent the night having unbelievably great sex and forgot to call thus they pissed off her grandmother.

He was not used to doing anything other than what he damn well pleased.

He’d been doing exactly what he damn well pleased for over twenty years.

And what would have pleased him was to pack a bag, load up his dogs and spend the fucking night at the cottage with Belle who he’d make absolutely certain was naked the vast majority of the time.

However Belle felt it necessary to perform this act of contrition.

He found this odd, he didn’t like it but he’d speak to her about it later.

At that moment, he had another mountain to climb.

“Belle,” he called and he felt rather than saw her eyes turn to him from their study of the landscape.

“Yes?”

“I spoke to Elaine today,” he told her.

There was silence then a hesitant and somewhat confused, “That’s good.”

“About your things,” Jack went on.

“My things?”

“She’s moved them into my room.”

He heard her sharp intake of breath.

“Jack –” she began.

Jack cut her off, “There’s no longer any reason why you or I have to roam the halls in our pyjamas every night.”

“But…” she started and trailed off.

He glanced at her to see she was staring at him. He saw she looked that annoyed confused or a confused annoyed, he again didn’t know which.

He still thought it was adorable and wanted to grin but he bit it back, looked at the road and asked, “Can you give me a reason?”

“A reason for what?”

“A reason why you or I need to be roaming the halls at night.”

There was more silence then a quiet, “No.”

“Good. That’s settled then,” Jack declared decisively.

“Jack!”

“Belle,” Jack said to the windshield.

“What will Elaine think?” she asked and Jack couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing.

When he glanced at her swiftly again, the confusion was gone. She was still staring at him, definitely now just cross, before turning his eyes to the road.

“Poppet, you’re pregnant. I think Elaine has guessed by now we’ve been sexually active.”

There was another moment of silence, she sighed then she asked, “Don’t you think it’s too soon?”

“What’s too soon?”

“Any of it.
All
of it,” she replied.

He knew what she was asking.

Jack looked to her lap, reached out and took her hand then his eyes turned back to the road. He brought the back of her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips against her knuckles.

Then he dropped their hands to his thigh and kept hold of hers.

“No,” he stated simply.

“You’re sure?” she whispered.

At her question, a number of memories rapidly tore through his head. They included that tendril of hair against her neck the first night they met.
The way she responded to his first kiss and every one since.
Last night, the third time he’d had her, after they ate, when she was on top, moving on him but bent forward, her face in his neck, the sexy noises she made sounding direct in his ear while he felt her sleek, tight wetness sliding against him.
And that morning, her excitement about eggs and her resulting, adorable chatter.

“More than I’ve been of anything in my fucking life,” he replied firmly.

He felt her hand convulse in his.

Finally, she said softly, “Okay.”

The Point came into view and Belle, clearly ready for a subject change asked, “How did The Point get its name?”

“It’s a house on a cliff,” Jack replied.

“I know but how did it get its name?” Belle repeated.

He gave her hand a squeeze, “
Chy
An
Als
, in Cornish, means ‘house on a cliff’.”

She let out a surprised giggle, something she’d been doing a lot lately, the sound of it something he enjoyed immensely and said, “That’s it? Your ancestors named their formidable castle the House on the Cliff?”

“Apparently they weren’t very creative,” Jack remarked dryly.

She emitted another giggle. Jack squeezed her hand. She squeezed his back and said in an amused whisper, “I love it.”

“The name or the house?”
Jack asked.

“Both,” Belle gave her answer, an answer which Jack thought earned her another brush of his lips on her hand and that was exactly what he did.

He’d parked in front of the house and they were halfway up the steps when she stopped and turned to him.

Jack looked down at her.

She met his eyes instantly which made Jack smile.

“I have a feeling,” she started softly, “at some point you should explain
exactly
what I agreed to in the car.”

There was no anxiety in her voice or self-consciousness in her posture.

She knew it was important, Jack moving her things to his room.

But she wasn’t frightened of it.

This indicated to Jack that she trusted him.

He had the intense desire to snatch her into his arms and carry him to their room and, in celebration,
christen
it exhaustively.

He controlled that desire and instead told Belle, “We’ll talk soon, poppet.”

She looked away and kept walking up the stairs saying only, “Okay.”

They’d stepped a few feet into the entry hall when Rachel, wearing another of her strange t-shirts, this one green with yellow writing that declared “I said… I want
coffee!
”
came
flying down the stairs.

“I found them,” she shouted, skidding to a halt in front of Belle and Jack before she continued excitedly, “And they sound
perfect
.”

“Who sounds perfect?” Belle asked.

“The Ghost Helpers!”
Rachel cried with enthusiasm and Jack tensed.

“The Ghost Helpers?”
Belle asked Jack’s question and she asked it in an alarmed tone that reflected Jack’s feelings precisely.

“Yes.” Rachel got closer. “They don’t work together all the time but Cassandra thinks this might be a case where they need to team up.”

“Cassandra?”
Belle queried.

“Cassandra McNabb.
She’s a clairvoyant white witch,” Rachel answered.

“Fucking hell,” Jack muttered and Rachel’s eyes went to him.

“No, she’s good. I called her references,” she informed him.