meet with Spencer in person.
Of course that required knowledge of Spencer's whereabouts. John had no doubt that such information would not be difficult to obtain. News traveled fast in London, even in the off-season, and Spencer was from a good enough family to insure that his arrival would have been noted. One simply had to ask the right people.
John retired to the library and penned a note to Alex right away, requesting his help. A reply arrived not twenty minutes later.
Alex had been busy since the night before. John shook his head in admiration. He sat down with a quill and paper. After several drafts, he finally decided on simplicity and sent this letter:
John sent the note off with a messenger and gave him instructions to wait for a reply.
He wandered out into the hall, looking for Belle. He still didn't really know his way around the mansion, which was quite large for a town house. He felt damned strange staying in someone else's home, especially since the owners were off in Italy and had no idea that he'd just married their only daughter. If the Blydons were in residence, he'd feel more like a proper guest, but as it was, he felt like he was playing the master in another's home. The awkward situation only served to make him more determined than ever to put an end to his problems with Spencer. He'd spent five years saving money to buy a home of his own, and now he couldn't even use it.
If he hadn't just gotten married, he'd have been in a really foul mood.
He finally found Belle asleep on a sofa in her sitting room. He smiled to himself, thinking that she deserved her nap. He'd certainly done his best to keep her up the night before. Not wanting to disturb her, he tiptoed out of the room and headed back to the library where he settled into a chair with a copy of
He was well into the second act when Belle knocked on the door.
'Come in!'
She poked her head in. 'Am I disturbing you?'
'On my first day as a married man? I think not.'
She walked in, shut the door behind her and headed over to the chair next to John's.
'Hmm-mmm,' he said, catching her by the hand. 'Over here.' One deft tug, and she toppled onto his lap.
Belle laughed all the way down and planted two-kisses along the line of his jaw, marveling at how comfortable she'd grown with this man. 'What are you reading?' she asked, peeking at his book. 'The Passionate Pilgrim? Whatever are you reading that for?'
'You read it.'
'And?'
He tweaked her nose. 'And I remembered how adorable you looked when we were talking about it the day I met you.'
Belle's reply was another kiss.
'I've figured out what was wrong with our wedding,' John mused.
'Oh?'
He leaned forward and brushed his lips against the corner of her mouth. 'Most couples,' he murmured, punctuating his words with little flicks of his tongue, 'get to spend an entire week in bed after they get married. We didn't even sleep late.'
Belle fluttered her lashes. 'We could go back,' she suggested.
His hand stole up her midriff and rested on her breast. 'An interesting idea.'
'Do you think so?' she asked in a breathy voice.
John squeezed her ever so gently, reveling in her response. 'Mmm-hmm.' He smiled lazily as he watched her arch her back. He could feel her nipple hardening into a tight little bud, and his body hardened in response.
'Will we always feel this way?' she whispered.
'Christ, I hope so.' He leaned forward and captured her mouth in a hard, demanding kiss. His lips and tongue were ruthless, demanding everything of her, relentless in their mission to claim her very soul.
Belle's reaction was fast and furious. His brutal kiss inflamed her desire, and she returned his passion in equal measure, raking her hands along his back. His hot mouth moved down her neck, burning a trail of fire along her skin. 'Did you lock the door?' he asked raggedly, his lips never leaving her throat.
'What?' Belle was so lost on a sea of passion she could barely hear his words.
'Did you lock the door?'
She shook her head.
'Damn.' Reluctantly John tore his mouth from her tender skin and slid out from under her. Belle landed in a soft heap on the chair as he crossed the room to the door, her breath coming in uneven gasps.
John gave the key a decisive twist and turned back to his bride, his eyes gleaming with desire. Unfortunately, he had only taken two steps toward her when he heard a loud knock. He swore under his breath and shot a quick look to Belle to make sure that she was presentable before turning around. Taking his irritation out on the hapless doorknob, he viciously yanked the door open.
'What?' he snapped.
'My lord,' came the quavering voice of the footman. 'A letter for you, my lord.'
John nodded curtly and picked up the paper resting on the footman's silver tray.
'There is usually a letter opener on that desk over there,' Belle said, flicking her head toward the desk.
John followed her advice and slit the seal. The letter was written on expensive white paper.
'Who is it from?' Belle asked.
John crumpled the paper in his hands. 'George Spencer,' he said in a distracted voice.
'What?' she shrieked. 'Why is he writing to you?
'Well, he is trying to kill me,' John said mildly, his passion sadly diffused by the interruption. 'And aside from that, I sent him a letter earlier today.'
'What? Why? Why didn't you tell me?'
He sighed. 'You're beginning to sound like a nagging wife.'
'Well, you took care of the wife part yesterday, and as for the nagging-I think it's my prerogative given our intolerable situation. Now will you answer my question?'
'Which one?'
'All of them,' she ground out.
'I wrote him a letter because I thought I might have a better chance of protecting myself if I could meet with him face-to-face and discern the level and nature of his hatred for me. I didn't tell you because you were sleeping. And then you were, er, otherwise occupied.'
