him. With a
groan that hovered somewhere between pleasure
and agony, he pulled her roughly against him. His lips found hers in a
frantic kiss, and he drank of her like a man who'd gone
years without nourishment. He sank his hands into her hair, savoring the
silky soft feel of it as his lips traveled the length of her face,
worshipping her eyes, her nose, the line of her cheekbones.
And at some point during the kiss, he began to feel himself healing. The
blackness in his heart didn't disappear, but it began to crack and
crumble. The weight on his shoulders didn't lift completely, but it
seemed to be lessened somehow.
Could she do that for him? Was she so pure and good that she could erase
the stain on his soul? John began to feel giddy, and
he clutched her to him more closely, raining light kisses along her
hairline.
And then she sighed. "Oh, John, I feel so good." And he knew that she
was content.
"How good?" he murmured, nipping at the corner of her mouth.
"Very, very good," Belle laughed, returning his kisses fervently.
John's lips trailed across her cheek to her ear, and he nibbled
playfully on her lobe. "You have such sweet little ears," he said
huskily. "Like apricots."
Belle drew back, a surprised smile on her face. "Apricots?"
"I told you I'm not very poetic."
"I love apricots," she declared loyally.
"Get back over here," he said in a laugh-tinged growl. He sat down on
the sofa and tugged her along with him.
"Oooh, as you wish, my lord." Belle did her best imitation of a leer.
"What a lusty wench you are."
"Lusty /wench? /That's certainly not very poetic."
"Oh, hush." True to his words, John silenced her with another kiss,
leaning back against the cushions and pulling Belle on top
of him. "Have I told you," he said between kisses, "that you're the most
beautiful woman I've ever met?"
"No."
"Well, you are. And the smartest, and the kindest, and"—John's hand
stole down the length of her body, cupped her buttocks,
and squeezed— "you have the cutest derriere I've ever seen."
Belle lurched back in shocked maidenly honor and then collapsed in
giggles atop him. "Nobody told me that kissing was so
much fun."
"Of course not. Your parents didn't want you running around just kissing
/anybody, /after all."
Belle touched the side of his jaw with her hand, rubbing against the
sandy stubble of his whiskers. "No, only you."
John didn't think that her parents particularly wanted her kissing him
either, but he pushed the thought out of his mind, unwilling
to give up the perfection of the moment. "Most people don't laugh so
much while they're kissing." He grinned boyishly and tweaked her nose.
Belle tweaked his back. "They don't? How unfortunate for them."
John pulled her tightly to him in a crushing embrace, as if he could
bond her to him by strength alone. Maybe some of her goodness would seep
into him, cleansing his soul, and... He shut his eyes. He was growing
fanciful. "You can't possibly
know how perfect I feel right at this moment," he murmured into her hair.
Belle snuggled closer. "I know exactly how perfect."
"Unfortunately, your pot of tea is going to arrive any second now, and I
don't think that the servants need to know just how
perfect we feel."
"Oh my God!" Belle gasped, nearly flying across the room. "Do I look all
right? Can you tell that I—that we—?"
/"I /can tell," John said wryly, trying to ignore the ache of
unfulfilled need that pulsed through his body. "But if you smooth
down your hair, I don't think that anyone else will be able to."
"It's raining," she said shakily. "Norwood will assume that that's why
I'm a bit of a mess." For all her forward behavior that afternoon, Belle
was not prepared to get caught in an amorous situation by her cousins'
butler.
"Sit back down," John ordered. "We'll converse like two reasonable
adults, and then Norwood won't suspect a thing."
"Do you think not? I'd be so
groan that hovered somewhere between pleasure
and agony, he pulled her roughly against him. His lips found hers in a
frantic kiss, and he drank of her like a man who'd gone
years without nourishment. He sank his hands into her hair, savoring the
silky soft feel of it as his lips traveled the length of her face,
worshipping her eyes, her nose, the line of her cheekbones.
And at some point during the kiss, he began to feel himself healing. The
blackness in his heart didn't disappear, but it began to crack and
crumble. The weight on his shoulders didn't lift completely, but it
seemed to be lessened somehow.
Could she do that for him? Was she so pure and good that she could erase
the stain on his soul? John began to feel giddy, and
he clutched her to him more closely, raining light kisses along her
hairline.
And then she sighed. "Oh, John, I feel so good." And he knew that she
was content.
"How good?" he murmured, nipping at the corner of her mouth.
"Very, very good," Belle laughed, returning his kisses fervently.
John's lips trailed across her cheek to her ear, and he nibbled
playfully on her lobe. "You have such sweet little ears," he said
huskily. "Like apricots."
Belle drew back, a surprised smile on her face. "Apricots?"
"I told you I'm not very poetic."
"I love apricots," she declared loyally.
"Get back over here," he said in a laugh-tinged growl. He sat down on
the sofa and tugged her along with him.
"Oooh, as you wish, my lord." Belle did her best imitation of a leer.
"What a lusty wench you are."
"Lusty /wench? /That's certainly not very poetic."
"Oh, hush." True to his words, John silenced her with another kiss,
leaning back against the cushions and pulling Belle on top
of him. "Have I told you," he said between kisses, "that you're the most
beautiful woman I've ever met?"
"No."
"Well, you are. And the smartest, and the kindest, and"—John's hand
stole down the length of her body, cupped her buttocks,
and squeezed— "you have the cutest derriere I've ever seen."
Belle lurched back in shocked maidenly honor and then collapsed in
giggles atop him. "Nobody told me that kissing was so
much fun."
"Of course not. Your parents didn't want you running around just kissing
/anybody, /after all."
Belle touched the side of his jaw with her hand, rubbing against the
sandy stubble of his whiskers. "No, only you."
John didn't think that her parents particularly wanted her kissing him
either, but he pushed the thought out of his mind, unwilling
to give up the perfection of the moment. "Most people don't laugh so
much while they're kissing." He grinned boyishly and tweaked her nose.
Belle tweaked his back. "They don't? How unfortunate for them."
John pulled her tightly to him in a crushing embrace, as if he could
bond her to him by strength alone. Maybe some of her goodness would seep
into him, cleansing his soul, and... He shut his eyes. He was growing
fanciful. "You can't possibly
know how perfect I feel right at this moment," he murmured into her hair.
Belle snuggled closer. "I know exactly how perfect."
"Unfortunately, your pot of tea is going to arrive any second now, and I
don't think that the servants need to know just how
perfect we feel."
"Oh my God!" Belle gasped, nearly flying across the room. "Do I look all
right? Can you tell that I—that we—?"
/"I /can tell," John said wryly, trying to ignore the ache of
unfulfilled need that pulsed through his body. "But if you smooth
down your hair, I don't think that anyone else will be able to."
"It's raining," she said shakily. "Norwood will assume that that's why
I'm a bit of a mess." For all her forward behavior that afternoon, Belle
was not prepared to get caught in an amorous situation by her cousins'
butler.
"Sit back down," John ordered. "We'll converse like two reasonable
adults, and then Norwood won't suspect a thing."
"Do you think not? I'd be so
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