Dancing At Midnight

was standing near the sofa. As she gazed at him from across the room, she was certain her heart stopped beating. He looked so handsome and strong in his riding clothes, and she couldn't help but see the appreciation in his eyes as he gazed back at her. She remembered his words from the day before.

I'm not the man you think I am.

Was that true? Or was it possible that he was not the man he thought he was? It all seemed so obvious to her. It was in the way he had recited poetry and the firm embrace of his arms when he had held her on his horse. He needed someone to show him that he was good and strong. Dare she hope- he needed her?

Nervously, she crossed the room, stopping a foot or so in front of him. 'I think that you are a very good man,' she said softly.

John caught his breath as a surging wave of desire rocked through him. 'Belle, I'm not. When you rang for tea I was trying to tell you…' Christ, how could he tell her? 'I wanted to say…'

'What, John?' Her voice was exquisitely soft. 'What did you want to tell me?'

'Belle, I-'

'Was it the kiss?'

It was an erotic nightmare. She was standing there before him, offering herself, and it was getting so damned hard to listen to his conscience and do the right thing. 'Oh God, Belle,' he groaned. 'You don't know what you're saying.'

'Yes, I do. I remember every moment of our kiss by the pond.'

God help him, John leaned a little closer to her. His hand reached out with no direction from his brain, clasping hers in a warm embrace.

'Oh, John,' she sighed, looking down at his hand as if it had the power to heal the world of all its ills.

Such devotion, such faith, such pure beauty was too much for 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 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,