When she'd first come to Longpaw Castle, Belle had found the place lovely and her every desire met in terms of luxury. Considering the deal she'd gotten on her room and board at the converted hostel, she was shocked at how wonderful the service was. Of course, she should have known from the start that it was too good to be true.
She'd been especially taken aback by the interest the castle's keeper, whom the staff referred to as Lord Dante, showed in her. He courted her, really, walking her around the gardens at dusk, showing her all the expansive rooms of the castle, and inviting her to a private dinner with him in his personal dining room.
So, when he'd come to her room and bedded her the first time, she'd been more than willing. What a story to tell -- coming to a foreign land and being wooed by the lord of the manor while staying in rooms fit for a queen. Her friends would go crazy to hear of the absolute blissful fairy tale she'd lived for two weeks.
But things had changed when she'd mentioned her impending departure. Lord Dante had gone into a rage, thrown her into this room she'd adored, lush with satin and silk, and locked her in. She hadn't been out since, the door only opened long enough for servants with eyes cast to the floor to bring her food and drink.
It had been two days.
And she was supposed to fly out tomorrow.
Belle didn't get upset often, and she certainly didn't go emo, getting all depressed or feeling hopeless. But this was a situation she had never expected to encounter. She was being held captive, and no one was willing to help her get out of here.
The worst part was, now that she listened and paid attention to things around her, she heard other women screaming from time to time. On occasion, it didn't sound as though they were in pain, or suffering in any way. But often, it resonated like pleas, the same ones she was guilty of in begging for release.
She'd refused her earlier meal, and now, she stared at the latest offerings that had been left only a few minutes ago by an apologetic looking frail man in his later years. Her stomach growled. She was ravenous, but she couldn't sit here and accept the kindness of a man who, at the same time, rendered her hostage, could she? No, she must rebel. It was the only way to make her point.
As those words crossed her mind, the door creaked open, and she held her breath, wondering if this was to be the end. Maybe Dante was truly a sick man and held women captive, only to satisfy lustful cravings and then murder them. Or perhaps it was just another servant, coming to collect her untouched tray of food. Either way, a sense of doom settled over her, and she stood, waiting for the inevitable.
When Lord Dante himself stepped inside, clad in an expensive suit and wearing an expression of extreme embarrassment across his perfectly sculpted, patrician features, Belle dared to hope momentarily for a bout of sanity to strike him, for him to release her. He cleared his throat before he spoke, bowing to her in a most formal manner.
"Lady Belle, I wish to apologize for my earlier behavior. I have a tendency to mismanage my anger and am prone to bouts of uncontrollable rage. I hope you don't hold that against me."
She raised an eyebrow at him. Was he serious? Crossing her arms and copping an attitude, she glared at him. "I don't believe any issue you may or may not have justifies locking me in a room like a prisoner for two days. Do you realize I could file kidnapping charges against you right now?"
His face grew more grim, and the light filtered across the dusting of his five o'clock shadow that spoke to just how quickly his beard grew. It did wonders to accent his fine cheekbones and strong jaw line, but she focused on his words, spoken between clenched teeth, rather than on his beauty. It would keep her angry at the man with whom she'd almost fallen in love.
"My sincerest apologies, Belle. I panicked when you spoke of leaving and couldn't bear the thought, not after the connection we've had and the nights of pleasure we've shared. Did none of that mean anything to you?"
Frustrated, Belle narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. She didn't want to admit just how much she wanted to stay, just how much the time had meant to her, not after this behavior. And she certainly didn't know which version of the man to trust -- this kind, gentle Dante or the one who had locked her away without a second thought. He was of dual minds, and in her book, that sort of mental instability spelled disaster.
