"What punishments?" West later asked her during their quiet dinner alone in her bedchamber, after West made the decision that he would rather have a quiet meal than being introduced to the other Belles.

"What?"

"The punishments you get should Belcourt find you guilty of a crime."

She shrugged. "We have the dungeon amongst others."

"Dungeons have long been abolished—"

"Then a prison—is that what you call it now? Anyway, it is located underground—a dungeon."

"Dungeons were proven too harsh—"

"Then whoever committed a crime should have taken caution. Punishment works best when you suffer, is that not right?"

He chewed his food slowly, just looking at her. "What are the crimes that would land you in this dungeon?"

"Murder."

"That is all?"

"Every other crime also punishable by the Kingdom of Sutherland. And a few other things."

"Such as?"

"Looking into records of children born in Belcourt because you were paid to," she replied in a whisper.

He narrowed his eyes at her.

Sasha straightened. "I am not jesting."

He scoffed. "Well, I am certain you always think with caution."

She took a sip of her wine. "I do. Why do you think I am winning our little game?" Before West could open his mouth for a witty rebuttal, she leaned over the table to say in a low voice, "And I have also found that it was indeed a little girl who was borne here in 1781."

West leaned forward until their faces were merely inches apart. "And I believe I also told you I am looking for a sister," he retorted, matching her tone.

"Facts, West. I had to look for facts as a foundation for my search."

He let out a long sigh and leaned away, realizing too late that his heart was hammering against his chest. Hard, resonating. Bloody tarnation, he just stared close into her eyes, nothing more!

"I hope I have satisfied your curiosities," Sasha calmly told him, seemingly unbothered by their short close interaction. "So, please, Your Grace, avoid asking other Belles questions that you could otherwise just ask me. Belles are women. They gossip."

He lifted a finger. "So do men. And you do not know how much."

"I believe you when you say that."

West looked at her for a long time, the silence around them broken only by the constant laughter from downstairs.

"You are cross, are you? Your hands are in fists more often than usual in the course of our interaction."

"I am still cross," she corrected, throwing him a darting look. "I have been for quite a while now since you snatched me out of the streets in Coulway." When he did not reply, she met his gaze. "I told you not to get out of the bedchamber earlier."

"Yes, you did—"

"You claim you do not wish for me to taint your precious reputation, and yet you come down very willingly after Aliya requested you to join her for tea and sandwiches."

"You are not shouting. You can shout if you want. I would not care. It will help with the anger," he said, his mind thinking of a diversion, one that he desperately needed at that point.

"I do not have to. That is how bloody cross I am."

"Why are you bloody cross? Because I did not heed your order to stay in the bedchamber?"

"You," she said in a low voice only he could hear, taking another sip of wine, firmly replacing the glass on the table before she continued, "dragged me here today because you claim I have not been..." she leaned closer to whisper, "...doing my task. I obliged. I went to the Library—on foot—and upon my return, I find you strolling in the garden with another Belle, probably asking her questions that would have made her draw conclusions on her own. Aliya is one of the most experienced and smartest Belles in the court, Your Grace. I just hope you did not say anything that could have pushed her to knock on Lady Mariam's door."

He frowned at her. "Is this why we are not dining with the other Belles? You believe you are different from them? That they would immediately draw conclusions against your favor?"

Her voice returned to normal. "It was you who decided that we have our dinner here, not I. I would have gladly introduced you to the ladies. Would you wish for me to do so? Very well, first thing on the morrow, I shall. So you can begin to socialize and ask them questions. Ah, wait," Again, she lowered her voice to a whisper, "Why don't you take your money back and do your own search? It will save me the trouble."

"You make no sense."

"I am cross, I may not make sense. Change the subject entirely or we can continue to talk nonsense."

West took the challenge, but he waited until he thought she had calmed down and asked, "Why were you re-courted, Sasha?"

Sasha blinked. "Why? Do you not think I do not deserve to be a Belle? I shouldn't, yes? Because I am not as beautiful as the others, is that what you are trying to say?"

Even she had to admit that this was ludicrous. West took a lungful of frustrated air. She was angry and was provoking him at every turn. "You are once more judging me, Sasha."

*****

"Then I beg your pardon," Sasha said, standing up.

She was doing it again. She was being irrational when she should not be.

They ought to have gone home.

She was given advice not to come to Belcourt and she should have heeded.

"You are jealous."

Sasha froze.

Was she?

No, that could not be.

She scoffed.

"You are bloody jealous," he repeated, his tone filled with amazing realization.

Sasha whirled around. "I am not! How dare you suggest that I am!"

West stood and she knew she should escape for it was there in his eyes.

The game was still on, she thought.

She did manage to escape, but it was in the wrong direction. The wall behind her was as formidable as the man before her.

West stepped closer.

"I think I know what you intend to do, sir," she said, voice nearly shaking. "You are going to tease me, and you shall fail. So, please, tonight is not the best time for this game. I am weary at the moment."

He bent his head beside hers. His breath was warm against her shoulders, a hint of something she could only start to imagine. He was not touching her. His hands were on the wall beside her face. Sasha felt the tip of his nose touch her neck as he rolled his head to the side and murmured, "What game, Sasha?"

The breath that escaped her lips was shaking and she shifted her body, wanting to press closer into the wall to maintain a semblance of a distance between them. That was a mistake. She felt his broad chest as she moved. Sasha took a lungful of air, trying to calm herself. She could start to see the darkness closing in on her, but this time it was a different kind for it brought along a different feeling. This time, she was not dreading what would happen next. She was in a way anticipating it.

She caught herself. That was what he wanted her to feel. He was pushing her to do something.

His head moved higher. His lips touched the lobe of her ear as he added, "I am merely teasing as what you would call it. I would not do anything more because I would hate to lose this game."

His breath was hotter against her ear. Her eyes closed. Her teeth bit her lower lip to keep herself quiet as West stepped closer, pressing his length against her. Her dress was protection enough. His was a reinforcement. Yet she still felt him. His warmth seeped through the fabrics, igniting something within her, something new.

If she was going to faint, she wanted it to be now. It would probably be the best escape from this man.

He was doing this to win the game. He was doing this to make her lose.

The thought did not help put out the fire starting in her midriff. It merely obliged her to feel.

If he could do this to her, she could very well do the same to him. So, why could she not do the same?

Sasha tried to move and froze.

His face was too close they were sharing the same breath, his lips merely an inch away.

She stood motionless when he dipped his head toward her, his lips almost touching hers. Sasha could trip and they would be kissing.

But that was not happening for neither of them would want to be a loser.

His hand moved away from the wall. The fingertips traced her exposed jaw. A current of sensations ran down to her fingertips.

Her hands went to his shoulder and she felt his muscle clench. She was bracing herself for her knees were feeling weak. She did not mean to... did she just touch him and he reacted?

"You must realize it's power, yes, Sasha?" he asked, his moist breath brushing against her lips. His fingertips traveled down her neck. "The power of teasing."

Sasha swallowed. "I do enjoy it to an extent," she lied through her teeth. Or was she telling the truth?

His light blue eyes seemed to have gone dark as they traveled down to her lips. "Of course, you do," he murmured, dipping his head just slightly so his lips brushed against hers for a very light touch.

The room spun around Sasha, the current surging throughout her body. She gulped. He smiled, she silently cursed.

"But one of us should know when to stop for the temptation to move forward is quite strong," he said, pressing his hips against her and her eyes widened as she felt the evidence of his arousal. Of course, she knew of it. They were taught about it. They laughed with mirth and embarrassment in the classroom back in their days at the Manor, but they never thought of it seriously for they knew that merely a few of them would have to see what arousal looked like. Or in this case, felt like. "Standing this close to you and doing nothing is akin to punishment in a dungeon," he said. "But nothing can go far unless you kiss me first." His lips moved to the side of her cheek, brushing the skin, sending yet another wake of tingling sensations down her spine. "Will you not do it, Sasha? It is not against our agreement. It is just a kiss."

He was correct. Why was she fighting this?

It would not be against their contract if she kissed him.

It should be nothing. A kiss can mean nothing.

Sasha swallowed, her lids closing as she felt faint. But why was she not on the floor when she should have countless minutes ago? Why was she feeling more than just the room moving around her? Why did it feel as though it was slowing to a stop only to spin once again, making her dizzy?

She could stop this now, she thought. She could save herself more trouble if she kissed him now. Then the game would be over. He would win.

And she would lose.

And that was not happening.

"No," she managed through clenched teeth, feeling the breath snatched out of her as he pulled away from her with a smirk.

He sighed. His light blue eyes dark, withing their depths is a mysterious promise that she had once more deprived herself of. "I could always try again."

"Or you could end it anytime and lose as I would not mind kissing you," she snapped, pushing away from the wall. Walking over to the bed, she added, "The bed is huge enough. I am certain it can accommodate us both. You must have slept with other women before."

"Whatever is it that you are suggesting, Sasha, I must remind you that it is something far bigger than a bloody kiss."

"Whatever do you mean? I am only suggesting that we sleep in the same bed. Whatever it is that you think I am suggesting, imagine it done and consider yourself too tired after the act. Then sleep."

He scoffed at her in disbelief. "One moment you were saying you would not mind kissing me. The next moment you talk about how that bed can accommodate us."

"They were two different thoughts!"

"I pictured one continuous act, Sasha."

Sasha gasped in disbelief. "We are having another useless banter."

He nodded. "I agree." His eyes landed on the bed. "You must know it will not be easy sharing the same bed."

"It should be easier than sleeping on the floor, or is it not?" She walked to ring the bell. "I am calling for a bath and a change of dress. Would you like clothes as well? They can provide one for you."

"Yes, please."

*****

West had never been forced to stand like a bloody statue before. It all took one woman to do so and for such petty reason.

She was having a bloody bath.

He may be successful in diverting her anger earlier, but it seemed as if he was being punished for it. He was the one who needed a bath—and a very cold one at that.

West could see her silhouette through the screen of the partition placed around her tub through the glass of the window. He could clearly see her moving inside, completely naked.

He closed his eyes.

He had to remind himself that he was here because he dragged her here.

Then a scoff escaped him.

She was jealous. Who would have bloody thought?

He shook his head.

The only thing that was keeping him from kissing the woman was his own pride, one, he believed he had enough of to last him a couple more weeks. Any more would send him to the brink.

"Why are you called the Fainting Belle?" he asked.

"How did you—of course, the Belles," she said with a sigh from behind the partition. The sound of water as she moved made his throat dry. He swallowed and shifted in his feet. "I was called the Fainting Fairy before that."

"Why the change of name?"

"I fainted when they told me I was re-courted."

He chuckled. "No, you did not."

"You cannot imagine the horror."

"Then why the Fainting Fairy before the Fainting Belle?"

"I have fainting spells. Not too frequent, but they happen too often in comparison to those who do not faint at all." He saw her silhouette stand and he ought to look away, but he could not. His mind did not have enough imagination, after all, for she was shaped better than he had thought.

He was in trouble, was the thought that was running in his mind when he heard Sasha commented, "You have been asking about me."

He did not answer. She was drying herself as she spoke and was now moving on to get dressed. He looked away.

"What happens if you decide to stay here?" he asked. "Surely, you will grow old. You will lose your gentlemen. You must have somewhere to go."

"Of course, but that should not be your concern, sir. I understand that you are curious at the moment after your discovery of Belcourt, but I assure you that you need not be. You are not to be my flower for long, yes?"

West opened his mouth to speak but stopped himself. Aliya was wrong. Sasha was too prepared to part with him. He did not have to teach her how to detach herself from him.

A knock came on the door and West rushed toward it. "Lady Sasha is currently unavailable" he announced, walking over to wrap a firm grip around the handle.

"Lady Mariam wishes to see her, my lord," the woman's voice said from outside.

"Why?" Sasha asked.

"I was only asked to tell you that your presence is expected in her study, my lady."

"I will be there in a moment!"

"Very good, my lady."

His brows meeting in a line, West asked, "Why would she want to see you at this time of night?"

"Not a good question, West. Cannot answer it," she replied with a grunt. "Could you please see if the maid is still outside?"

West opened the door a cracked. "No. Why?"

"I cannot close the middle buttons of my dress."

*****

Sasha nearly yelped when she heard his voice behind her. "Allow me."

"No, you will not—"

"I am already doing it," he cut in. "I can manage three bloody buttons."

Sasha swallowed, her grip around her long damp hair tightening as she felt the back of his fingers against her bared back.

"Thank you," she curtly said, taking a step away from him the moment she felt the last button hook in place. "I will ask for a maid to replace the bath. Do not take your time bathing. I will be back soon."

"Sasha," he called.

She turned to face him. A look of concern in his eyes. He was silently asking, "What if she found out?"

"That is not possible," she assured him. Mariam already knows, she silently added in her head.

Sasha quickly made her way up to Lady Mariam's study.

Breathless, Sasha knocked and waited. Her left shoulder was damp from her hair which she tried to comb in place, realizing too late that she was not presentable enough.

"Come in."

And even before Sasha could close the door, Lady Mariam's authoritative voice demanded, "What have you been doing, Sasha?"