embarr—"
"Just sit down, please, and we'll make polite conversation until your
butler gets here."
"I don't think I can," Belle said, her voice barely a whisper.
"Why not?"
She sank down onto a chair and kept her eyes focused on her feet.
"Because every time I look at you I remember you
holding me."
John's heart slammed in his chest. He took a deep breath, fighting the
increasingly painful need to leap over the settee, grab
Belle, and ravish her right there on the spot. Thankfully, he was saved
from having to reply to her emotional comment by a discreet knock on the
door.
Norwood entered with a tray of tea and biscuits. After thanking him,
Belle picked up the teapot and began to pour. John
noticed that her hands were shaking. Wordlessly he accepted the cup she
held out to him and took a drink.
Belle sipped at her tea, willing her hands to stop their trembling. It
wasn't that she was ashamed of her behavior; she was
simply shocked by the extent of her reaction to him. She'd never dreamed
that her body could feel so totally warm from the
inside out.
"Penny for your thoughts," John said suddenly.
She looked up at him from over her teacup and smiled. "Oh, they're worth
far more than a penny."
"How about a pound, then?"
For about one second Belle toyed with the idea of telling him what she
was really thinking. But for only one second. Her
mother had not raised her to be such a wanton. "I was wondering if you
want me to pour the tea on your leg now or wait
until it has cooled off a bit."
John stretched out his injured leg as far as he was able and looked down
at it assessingly, pretending to give the matter serious thought. "Oh, I
think hot, don't you?"
Belle picked up the teapot with a devilish grin. "If this works, we'll
change medical science forever." She leaned over him, and
for a second John thought she was really going to pour the tea on his
leg. At the last possible moment she righted the pot and
put it back down on the table. "The rain is coming down quite hard now,"
she said, glancing out the window. "You won't be
able to return home for some time."
"I imagine we'll be able to keep ourselves occupied."
Belle took one look at his face and knew exactly how he wanted to keep
them occupied. She didn't deny to herself that she
also longed to while away the afternoon in his arms, but there was a
good chance that Alex or Emma would happen upon
them, and the last thing she needed was to get caught in an indelicate
situation by her cousins.
"I think," she said finally, "that we may have to pursue a different
activity."
John looked so disappointed that Belle could barely stifle a laugh.
"What do you suggest we do?"
She set her teacup down. "Can you dance?"
*
*
*
*
*Chapter 7*
*
*
John lowered his cup very, very slowly. "Belle," he said finally, "you
must know that I cannot." Nonsense. Everyone can dance. You have only to
try."
"Belle, if this is some kind of joke—"
"Of course it isn't a joke," she cut in quickly. "I know that your leg
is injured, but it doesn't seem to slow you overmuch."
"I may have taught myself to move with a reasonable degree of speed, but
I do so with a complete lack of grace." His hand strayed unconsciously
to his leg. Nightmarish visions of himself tumbling clumsily to the
floor played out in his mind. "I'm sure
we can entertain ourselves without my playing the fool trying to dance.
Besides, we haven't any music."
"Hmmm, that is a problem." Belle glanced around the room until her eyes
rested on the piano in the corner. "It appears that we have two choices.
The first option is that I could ask Emma to come in and play for us,
but I'm afraid she has never been
accused of possessing musical talent. I wouldn't wish her noise on my
worst enemy." She smiled sunnily. "Much less one
of my good friends."
The force of her smile hit John squarely in the heart. "Belle," he said
softly. "I don't think this is
"Just sit down, please, and we'll make polite conversation until your
butler gets here."
"I don't think I can," Belle said, her voice barely a whisper.
"Why not?"
She sank down onto a chair and kept her eyes focused on her feet.
"Because every time I look at you I remember you
holding me."
John's heart slammed in his chest. He took a deep breath, fighting the
increasingly painful need to leap over the settee, grab
Belle, and ravish her right there on the spot. Thankfully, he was saved
from having to reply to her emotional comment by a discreet knock on the
door.
Norwood entered with a tray of tea and biscuits. After thanking him,
Belle picked up the teapot and began to pour. John
noticed that her hands were shaking. Wordlessly he accepted the cup she
held out to him and took a drink.
Belle sipped at her tea, willing her hands to stop their trembling. It
wasn't that she was ashamed of her behavior; she was
simply shocked by the extent of her reaction to him. She'd never dreamed
that her body could feel so totally warm from the
inside out.
"Penny for your thoughts," John said suddenly.
She looked up at him from over her teacup and smiled. "Oh, they're worth
far more than a penny."
"How about a pound, then?"
For about one second Belle toyed with the idea of telling him what she
was really thinking. But for only one second. Her
mother had not raised her to be such a wanton. "I was wondering if you
want me to pour the tea on your leg now or wait
until it has cooled off a bit."
John stretched out his injured leg as far as he was able and looked down
at it assessingly, pretending to give the matter serious thought. "Oh, I
think hot, don't you?"
Belle picked up the teapot with a devilish grin. "If this works, we'll
change medical science forever." She leaned over him, and
for a second John thought she was really going to pour the tea on his
leg. At the last possible moment she righted the pot and
put it back down on the table. "The rain is coming down quite hard now,"
she said, glancing out the window. "You won't be
able to return home for some time."
"I imagine we'll be able to keep ourselves occupied."
Belle took one look at his face and knew exactly how he wanted to keep
them occupied. She didn't deny to herself that she
also longed to while away the afternoon in his arms, but there was a
good chance that Alex or Emma would happen upon
them, and the last thing she needed was to get caught in an indelicate
situation by her cousins.
"I think," she said finally, "that we may have to pursue a different
activity."
John looked so disappointed that Belle could barely stifle a laugh.
"What do you suggest we do?"
She set her teacup down. "Can you dance?"
*
*
*
*
*Chapter 7*
*
*
John lowered his cup very, very slowly. "Belle," he said finally, "you
must know that I cannot." Nonsense. Everyone can dance. You have only to
try."
"Belle, if this is some kind of joke—"
"Of course it isn't a joke," she cut in quickly. "I know that your leg
is injured, but it doesn't seem to slow you overmuch."
"I may have taught myself to move with a reasonable degree of speed, but
I do so with a complete lack of grace." His hand strayed unconsciously
to his leg. Nightmarish visions of himself tumbling clumsily to the
floor played out in his mind. "I'm sure
we can entertain ourselves without my playing the fool trying to dance.
Besides, we haven't any music."
"Hmmm, that is a problem." Belle glanced around the room until her eyes
rested on the piano in the corner. "It appears that we have two choices.
The first option is that I could ask Emma to come in and play for us,
but I'm afraid she has never been
accused of possessing musical talent. I wouldn't wish her noise on my
worst enemy." She smiled sunnily. "Much less one
of my good friends."
The force of her smile hit John squarely in the heart. "Belle," he said
softly. "I don't think this is
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