The British Billionaire Bachelor, Act Three (28 page)

“I wonder how many people are cheering the death of Darren Hardcastle,” Simon remarked as he closed the door behind them.

“I can’t say I’m surprised someone did him in,” Harry commented, watching his son pour them both a brandy.

“As I said to Belle, he had many enemies. I wonder what will happen to Hardcastle’s ill-gotten gains. It’ll be interesting to see if a will surfaces. Here you go,” Simon smiled, handing Harry the large crystal snifter. “I want to make a toast.”

“To?” his father asked.

“To balancing the karmic scales,” Simon smiled.

“Happy to drink to that,” Harry replied, lifting his glass. “To balancing the karmic scales.”

They sipped the warm, amber liquid, and Simon ambled across to his desk.

“Now that we’ve made the toast, exactly how do we achieve the goal?” his father asked.

“I believe I may already have,” Simon declared, handing his father an envelope.

Simon watched, his heart swelling, as Harry opened it and stared at the banker’s draft for eight million, seven hundred thousand, five hundred pounds, the amount remaining after Simon had paid the taxes and other costs associated with the sale of the land.

“I don’t understand,” his father stammered.

“That money is straight out of Darren Hardcastle’s pocket,” Simon said somberly. “I did a land deal with him, for the express purpose of recouping some of your losses.”

“But…how…when?”

“The details don’t matter, but I am truly blessed that the funds were transferred before he died. It’s all legitimate, all above board. I don’t know how much you lost, but I hope that gets you well and truly back on your very fine feet.”

The dinner itself was reminiscent of days past, everyone dressed in their finest, and the five course meal was served with aplomb in the large, formal dining room.

As the weekend slipped by, though it was a happy time, Simon continued to sense that something was weighing on Belle’s mind, and finally, on Sunday night, when the guests had departed, leaving them alone in the small living room curled up in front of a blazing fire, Simon pressed for answers.

“I know there’s something in that gorgeous head of yours, Miss Somers, and it’s time to spill the beans,” he insisted.

“It’s not that I’ve been keeping something from you, not really, I’ve just been cogitating,” she explained.

“Cogitating? I haven’t heard that word in a long time. What is it you’ve been, uh, cogitating?”

“I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure,” she continued, “but I am now.”

“Sure about what?”

“Remember the dinner on Wednesday night, when I was the maid and you were the Master of the house?”

“Remember? Of course, one of the best nights ever,” he exclaimed, “and one I very much want to repeat.”

“The thing is, after we made love, I had this overwhelming desire to call you Master,” she confessed.

“I see,” he said softly, studying her face.

“I didn’t know if it was because I was truly feeling it, like we talked about, or if I was just getting swept up in the moment, then on Friday night after you spanked me in the kitchen and I thanked you, I felt it again, very strongly. I wanted to say, thank you, Master. That’s why I was so quiet on the drive down. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

“What have you concluded?” he breathed.

“What do you think?” she murmured, gazing into his eyes. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Belle…”

“Yes, Master?”

Swallowing a sudden, searing heat in his throat, born from an unexpected surge through his heart, he hugged her tightly, then kissed her with a warm, sweet softness.

“Stay there, I’ll be right back,” he whispered.

Slightly bewildered, swept up in her own engulfing emotions, Belle leaned back into the sofa, breathing deeply, his kiss still alive against her mouth. A short time later he returned, and as she watched him walk towards her, she noticed he was holding his hands behind his back, not something she’d seen him do very often.

“Now then,” he sighed, standing over her, “I wasn’t expecting this to happen so soon, but I believed it would at some point, so I had this made. I picked it up just last week.”

His hand came forward, holding a square, black velvet case.

“This is for you,” he breathed, sitting beside her.

Taking the case between her fingers, she unsnapped the lid and raised it up, gasping as she saw the contents. A silver and gold mesh choker glimmered up at her, a gold heart set in the front, from the center of which hung a silver ring. Red cabochon stones were set on either side, and as she studied it, she saw a tiny padlock at the back where the collar locked.

Laying next to it, was a matching gold and silver mesh bracelet, complete with the tiny padlock.

“Simon…” she whispered.

“The bracelet will be worn every day, and the collar when I choose for you to wear it. I have the key to both,” he smiled.

“They’re so…incredibly beautiful,” she stammered.

“Are you ready to wear them?” he asked soberly.

“Yes,” she whispered. “So ready.”

“Kneel in front of me and lift up your hair,” he directed, taking the velvet case from her hands.

Slightly trembling, her heart madly throbbing, she slipped off the couch to her knees, and holding up her hair, she watched him pick up the choker and raise it up.

“This is going to look exquisite on you.”

She closed her eyes as he placed it around her neck, the cool, heavy metal feeling divine against her skin, and when he reached behind her, deftly locking the padlock down, she heard a faint click.

“It looks even lovelier than I thought it would,” he said warmly. “Drop your hair and give me your right wrist.”

Opening her eyes as she brought down her hands, and extending her right arm, he laid the bracelet around her wrist, snapping it in place as he had done the choker.

Lifting her eyes, her gaze met his.

“Master,” she murmured.

“Yes, I am,” he replied.