Lucky Stars

by Kristen Ashley

  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.

  “Fucking hell,” Jack repeated at the thought of a witch having references and Rachel’s eyes narrowed ominously.

  “You said she’s working with someone?” Belle put in quickly, seeing, and probably knowing far better than Jack, the level of portent behind Rachel’s narrowed eyes and they cleared when she looked back at her daughter.

  “She works with The McPherson!” Rachel announced grandly as if this meant anything at all.

  “The McPherson?” Belle enquired.

  Rachel came forward and wrapped her arm around Belle’s waist, moving them deeper into the hall.

  “I called a friend of mine in Tucson who knew some Native Americans who had healers amongst them who bought rare herbs from some women who they said were in a coven who knew another coven on the East Coast who knew Cassandra who knew The McPherson,” she rambled her explanation. “And Cassandra says he’s the best. They just helped to dispatch a particularly nasty ghost witch up in Devon.”

  “Dispatch?” Belle asked with concern.

  “Well, they sent her to hell,” Rachel replied and Belle pulled out of her mother’s arm.

  “We don’t want Myrtle and Lewis to go to hell!” she exclaimed.

  “No, of course not!” Rachel exclaimed back, “I told Cassandra the story and she knows they’re supposed to go to heaven. She was happy to accept the gig.”

  It was at this announcement Jack decided it was time to enter the conversation.

  “The gig?” Jack asked and Rachel looked at him.

  “Yes, the gig. She does this kind of thing for a living. Not just ghosts, other stuff. Talking to family members beyond the veil. Whipping up potions. Things like that.”

  Jack ignored the ludicrous notion that anyone would have such employment and focussed on the more important issue at hand.

  “You’re saying you’ve hired her,” Jack stated. When Rachel nodded, Jack asked, “How much?”

  “Thirty pounds an hour, plus expenses,” Rachel answered.

  “Fucking hell,” Jack muttered yet again.

  At the same time, Belle cried, “Mom!”

  Rachel looked at her daughter, “What? She’s highly specialised. I thought that was a bargain.”

  “Who’s going to pay her?” Belle snapped.

  “Your grandmother, for one, me for another. I’m not destitute you know,” she hesitated, “Though I should look into getting a job. Do you think I could help at your shop?”

  Before Jack could speak, Belle said briskly, “Of course you can work at my shop. That isn’t the point. The point is this could take hours. What does this McPherson person charge?”

  “I haven’t chatted with him yet. I’ll talk to him when he and Cassandra get here tomorrow,” Rachel answered.

  Belle opened her mouth but Jack got there before her.

  And when he did, he simply said, “Belle.”

  She closed her mouth and turned to him.

  When her eyes met his, Jack went on, “I thought I explained you were leading the pack.”

  He watched Belle wet her lips but she didn’t reply.

  Therefore he repeated yet again, “Fucking hell.”

  “It’ll be just fine,” Rachel reiterated nearly the same exact words her daughter said to him the other night while they were sitting in the window of her room.

  “Do I need to get involved in this?” Jack asked.

  At the same time, both Belle and Rachel exclaimed, “No!”

  Jack approached their huddle, got very close to Belle and put his hand to her jaw.

  When she’d tipped her head back to look at him, he demanded, “You be safe.” Then, not taking his hand from Belle, he turned his head to look at Rachel and warned, “You keep her safe.”

  “Of course!” Rachel snapped, “You don’t have to tell me that.”

  “I feel better doing it,” Jack replied.

  “Why?” Belle asked and Jack looked back to her.

  “Because when you two make the mess I’ve the feeling you’re going to make and I’m forced to extricate you from that mess, I’ll be able to feel superior and say, ‘I told you so’,” Jack answered, feeling his lips twitch.

  Belle’s eyes dropped to his mouth and he saw her lips form a small smile.

  Before any more could be said, Joy rushed into the hall.

  Her eyes were glued on Jack, they looked worried and her face was pale.

  Jack’s body tensed, he dropped his hand from Belle’s jaw and turned to his mother.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  She stopped close but looked to Belle swiftly before her eyes flew back to Jack.

  “Miles just pulled up,” she answered.

  The air in the hall changed. Jack felt fear coming from Belle and his mother, undoubtedly for different reasons, and anger coming from Rachel.

  To make matters worse, Lila chose that moment to descend the staircase and she did this quickly.

  Her eyes were on Jack and for once they didn’t look filled with dislike or
rebuke. He didn’t spend much time assessing her look but the time he did it looked like she was silently offering him moral support.

  Therefore, he knew that she also knew Miles was there.

  He also knew that somewhere along the line he’d earned Lila Cavendish’s acceptance and, possibly, her regard.

  Jack didn’t have time to consider Lila’s acceptance or regard nor did he have time to make it to the doors and intercept his brother.

  One was already opening so Jack moved to Belle and got close, curving an arm around her shoulders and tucking her front to his side. She immediately wrapped her arms around his middle.

  Miles barely got the door closed before Jack said, “I thought we had an understanding.”

  Miles turned from the doors and walked to them, stopping well away. The bruising and cuts on his face that Jack had given him hadn’t entirely healed but they were far less noticeable. He carried a magazine rolled in his hand.

  Jack couldn’t read his expression.

  Miles’s gaze went to their mother.

  “Mum,” he said.

  “Miles,” she whispered.

  Then his eyes moved to Belle and Jack watched them change.

  He did not like the way they changed, not in the slightest.

  “Belle,” Miles said softly.

  Belle pressed closer into Jack’s side and breathed, “Miles.”

  “Miles –” Jack began but Miles looked at him and started speaking.

  “I’d like a word.”

  “You’ve had your words. Too many of them as I recall and none of them good,” Jack returned.

  Miles looked from Jack, to Rachel, to Lila.

  “You’re Belle’s family,” he said, a polite smile forming on his lips.

  Rachel and Lila were cautiously silent for once and Jack spoke again.

  “Miles, we had our conversation. I thought I made my feelings clear.”

  “A word, Jack. Five minutes of your time,” Miles requested.

  “Jack,” Joy urged softly, he knew his mother wanted him to concede and Jack’s mouth went tight.

  “In the study,” Jack clipped.

  Miles nodded and moved toward the study.

  Jack let go of Belle but Belle didn’t let go of Jack so he looked down at her.

  “Are you going to be okay?” she whispered her sweet question and the even sweeter way she uttered it cut through him sharply but pleasantly.

  He nodded.

  Then he bent his head to brush his lips against hers, gently disentangled himself from her arms and followed his brother to the study.

  Once there, he closed the door behind him and walked into the room.

  Miles was at the window staring out to sea.

  Jack moved to the side of his desk, stopped and crossed his arms on his chest.

  “Miles, say what you have to say and then I want you gone,” Jack demanded and his brother turned to him.

  Then he unrolled the magazine, opened it and held it out to Jack.

  Jack took it and saw it was a celebrity rag. The pages Miles showed him were a spread of “the history” of Jack, Belle and Miles.

  The title of the article pronounced, To the Victor Go the Spoils.

  Jack’s mouth tightened with irritation at the title and he flipped to the next page, then the next. The article was six pages long but barely had any text.

  However, there were a goodly number of photos.

  All the ones of Miles had been chosen to make him look the fool. Shots captured when he’d looked angry or impatient, either emotion contorting his face in an unpleasant manner. They’d also managed to get a photo of him, what Jack guessed was several days ago, his face battered, his eye blackened.

  On the other hand, the photos of Jack and Belle were chosen for different reasons.

  There were pictures of Belle before she met Jack, head bowed, looking stylish and regal, ignoring the cameras.

  There were pictures of Jack, head up, strides wide, also ignoring the cameras.

  There were also pictures of Belle and Jack recently, kissing in his car, walking close together, clearly an item. They looked close, they looked smitten and it appeared they were lovers even before that was again true.

  Jack looked from the magazine to Miles and asked shortly, “Your point?”

  “I can’t bear it any longer, Jack. I look like a fucking fool.”

  Jack thought, rather unkindly and not for the first time, that his brother was, indeed, a fool. He’d had Belle for a month and he hadn’t done everything in his power to keep her. Instead, he’d mistreated her, actively and with mal-intent.

  Jack didn’t share this, instead he repeated, “Again, your point?”

  “I’m asking you to do something,” Miles told him.

  Jack leaned a hip on his desk, threw the magazine on it and put his hand to it, saying, “I have no control over the media, Miles.”

  “No, I know you don’t, but…” he stopped, looked away then went on in a voice where Jack knew what he said next cost him. “This can’t go on with you and me. It hurts Mum and if Belle is going to be in your life for any amount of time, which it appears she is –”

  “She is,” Jack cut in firmly and watched Miles’s body jerk.

  Then his face grew hard and he said, “You’re my fucking brother.”

  Jack’s patience slipped a sizeable notch. “You didn’t think of that when you were insulting the mother of my fucking child direct to her face.”

  “I’m sorry about that,” Miles gritted through his teeth.

  “I’m not the one you need to apologise to,” Jack returned.

  “Like you’ll let me speak to Belle,” Miles snapped.

  “No, I won’t,” Jack agreed remembering his brother’s taunting vows, during and after their fight, to make Jack pay. Vows that stated he’d do it through Belle.

  Miles straightened and Jack watched him clench his teeth before he remarked, “It took a lot for me to come here.”

  “Explain why I should care about that,” Jack suggested.

  “What I’m saying is, I’ve made the first step. You should meet me halfway.”

  “As I recall, you used the woman who would become important to me as a prize in a competition.” When Miles opened his mouth, Jack kept going, “I don’t give a fuck if you were dating her at the time. You had to know Belle. You’d been dating her for a fucking month. Therefore you had to know she wasn’t the type of person to jump into someone’s bed if that someone didn’t matter to her. And matter to her a great, fucking deal.”

  Jack watched Miles’s mouth clamp shut, Jack knew he scored his point and he continued.

  “Then you told her I wanted a crack at her, knowing Belle had made her choice and what that might mean to her and knowing how she would react to something like that. You didn’t take your loss like a man. You did what you did out of spite.”

  Miles’s brows snapped together in confusion, “I didn’t tell her that. Where she heard that, I’ve no idea.”

  Jack studied his brother and saw, to his surprise, he wasn’t lying.

  Still, he carried on, “Regardless, when I caught you with her, you were physically abusing her. Then, months later, when you knew she was pregnant and I’d moved her into my home, which is something which should have given you a clue as to what she meant to me, another clue was the fact you walked in on us kissing, you didn’t duck out quietly. Instead you abused her verbally.” Jack watched his brother’s face go tight and he went on, “Therefore, Miles, I don’t think I need to meet you halfway.”

  “We should have talked about this four months ago when it happened,” Miles told him, “I was angry. You must understand I was angry.”

  “Anger doesn’t excuse physically abusing a woman. Nor verbally doing it,” Jack retorted.

  “She fucked my brother while she was dating me!” Miles clipped.

  “No, I fucked her. There’s a subtle difference Miles. You know me. You knew her. You had to know the way it happene
d. You can’t think I believe for one second you didn’t. You took your anger at me out on Belle. As a result, I nearly lost her and I’m finding it hard to forgive you for that.”

  “And you can’t believe for one second that, if the same thing happened to you, and a woman you cared about spent the night with me, that you wouldn’t be livid,” Miles shot back and Jack’s patience slipped another considerable notch at his brother’s very selective memory.

  “If a woman I cared about spent the night in your bed, my first thought would be that you could have her,” Jack returned with complete honesty and the look on Miles’s face showed he knew it. As he would. As it had happened before and, even though Jack didn’t need to remind him, he did, “For instance, when you fucked Yasmin.”

  Miles looked away and muttered, “That was a long time ago and you two weren’t exactly together.”

  “It was a long time ago. That doesn’t change the fact that, years ago, you discovered Yasmin and I were having difficulties because of a ridiculous argument she blew out of proportion. We’d grown up with her. You knew the way Yasmin behaved. How she’d take any opportunity to screw up her life. You also knew how I felt about her. You purposefully got her pissed out of her skull and took her to your bed. When she admitted it to me, she was a fucking mess because she knew it was over. And it was, irrevocably. I shouldn’t have forgiven you, or Yasmin for that matter, but I did. That’s two women in my life you’ve toyed with because of this ridiculous compulsion to best me and, if I didn’t make it clear in the stables, I will now. I’m done, Miles. This is finished.”

  Miles stared at Jack and Jack returned his stare.

  This went on for quite some time.

  Finally, and quietly, Miles said, “I’m done too, Jack.”

  “I’m supposed to believe that?”

  Miles nodded and repeated, “I’m done.”

  Jack shook his head but Miles took a step forward, Jack pushed away from the desk and Miles stopped.

  “This is my family we’re talking about,” Miles went on, still quietly and, when Jack didn’t speak, Miles continued, “Not just you, but Mum, even Yasmin isn’t talking to me and now Belle’s expecting. That’s my niece or nephew she’s carrying, Jack. And I’m banished from my own fucking house.”

  “You brought it on yourself,” Jack retorted ruthlessly.