Dancing at Midnight

  “I want you.”

  His words hung heavily in the air as Belle’s heart begged her head to let herself believe him. What did he mean—he wanted her. Did he just want to touch her, to kiss her? She already knew that he was strongly attracted to her; he’d never been able to hide that, just as it had been quite obvious that she felt the same way.

  Or did he want her in his life? As his friend, companion, or even his wife. Belle was terrified to ask the question. He’d already broken her heart once; she was not especially eager to let him do so again.

  John saw the hesitation in her clear blue eyes and hated himself for having made her so wary. It was time to tell her how much he cared for her, he knew that. But his own fears held him back, and instead he said softly, “May I kiss you?”

  Belle slowly nodded and stepped forward as John reached out and took her other hand in his. An overwhelming shyness washed over her, and she dropped her gaze.

  “Don’t look away,” he whispered, moving his hand to her chin. He gently tilted her face up as he closed the distance between them. “You’re so, so beautiful. And so kind and good and smart and funny and—”

  “Stop!”

  His nose was now resting on hers. “Why?”

  “It’s too much,” she replied tremulously.

  “No. No, it’s not. It will never be too much.”

  He tilted his face so that his lips could gently brush over hers, and Belle felt a shiver of excitement rush through her. They continued in that way for a long minute, their lips just barely touching, until John could bear it no longer, and he crushed her to him.

  “Oh God, Belle, I’ve been so, so stupid,” he groaned. He didn’t kiss her, just held her next to him as if he could somehow imprint her body on his. He clutched her tightly, hoping that some of her gentle goodness and courage would infuse into him. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you,” he whispered raggedly. “It was the one tiling I’d never meant to do.”

  “Shhh,” Belle broke in. She couldn’t bear to listen to him torture himself. “Just kiss me. Please. You see, I’ve been thinking about it for days, and I—”

  John needed no further urging, and this kiss was as fierce as the first had been gentle. He devoured her hungrily, drinking her in as he murmured nonsensical words of love and desire. His hands were everywhere, and Belle wanted them everywhere, wanted him more than she’d ever imagined, more than she could ever understand. She sank her hands into his thick hair, marveling at the texture of it even as his lips slid down her neck to the base of her throat.

  “I can’t believe this,” she moaned.

  “What?” he managed to ask between nips.

  “This. Everything. The way you make me feel. The—Oh!” Belle let out a whispered shriek as his mouth traveled to the sensitive skin just behind her ear.

  “What else can’t you believe?” he asked devilishly.

  “That I want you to keep on kissing me,” she answered in a feverish voice. “And that there is a party still going on in the next room.”

  Belle’s words had an unintended effect, and with great effort John pulled away from her and let out a low curse. “I’d almost forgotten,” he muttered. “Someone could discover us any minute.”

  Belle felt unbelievably cold without his arms around her, and she couldn’t stop herself from reaching out to him. “Please,” she whispered. “I’ve missed you so.”

  She was a mighty temptation, but John held firm “I didn’t come all the way to London just to ruin your reputation.”

  “I wish you would,” she muttered under her breath.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Nothing.”

  “We’ll have to go back in separately.”

  Belle smiled at John’s concern. “Don’t worry. I’m certain Dunford is covering for us splendidly.” At John’s raised eyebrow, she added, “I told him a little about you.”

  He shot her such a look that she was compelled to further explain, “Just a little, though, so don’t worry that I’ve spilled all your secrets.”

  John pushed down the guilt that bubbled within him. She didn’t know his biggest secret, and he’d have to tell her eventually. But not now. He didn’t have to tell her now. “Your hair is mussed,” he said instead. “You might want to do something about that. I’ll go back to the party first. I’m sure my brother is looking for me.”

  Belle nodded, and together they walked into the darkened hall. Before they parted ways, however, she took his hand. “John,” she said softly. “What happens now? I have to know.”

  “What happens now?” he repeated with a jaunty grin. “Why, I court you. Isn’t that what’s supposed to happen next?”

  She answered him with a smile and ran off.

  When John reentered the drawing room he was not surprised to find his brother regarding him with a curious expression.

  “Where did you disappear to?” Damien inquired.

  “Just wanted to get some fresh air.” If Damien had noted that Lady Arabella had left the room at the same time, he didn’t mention it. “Why don’t you introduce me to a few of your friends?” John suggested.

  Damien nodded politely. Sometime while he was busy introducing John, Belle reappeared and made a beeline for Dunford.

  “That was some exit,” he said with a grin.

  Belle flushed. “Nobody noticed, did they?”

  Dunford shook his head. “I don’t think so. I was just keeping an eye on you in case you needed any sort of rescuing. In the future, however, I’d keep my trysts to under five minutes were I you.”

  “Oh dear. How long was I, er, were we gone?”

  “Longer than you’d intended, I’m sure. I set it about that you’d gotten something on your dress. All the ladies were properly sympathetic.”

  “You’re priceless, Dunford.” Belle grinned.

  “Ah, there you are, Lady Arabella.”

  Belle turned to see Lord Westborough walking toward her. John was at his side, a knowing smile on his face.

  “How nice to see you again, my lord,” she murmured politely.

  “And I believe you have already met my brother,” Damien added. “Lord Blackwood.”

  “Yes, of course. We are well acquainted.” Belle winced inwardly at her double-entendre and refused to look up at John, certain that she would be rewarded with a devilish grin. She was saved, however, from any potentially embarrassing conversation by the arrival of their hostess, Lady Forthright.

  “Ah, Westborough,” she shrilled. “I did not see you come in. And Lady Arabella, it is always a pleasure.”

  Belle smiled and bobbed a polite curtsy.

  “And this must be your brother,” Lady Forthright continued.

  Damien nodded and introduced them. He then saw another friend and excused himself, leaving John and Belle in the clutches of their none too gentle hostess.

  “Lord Blackwood? A baron, are you?” she queried. “Hmmm. I’m not familiar with the title.”

  Belle’s insides clenched in anger. Lady Forthright had always been a meddlesome woman who tried to cover her lack of self-confidence by insulting others.

  “It’s a relatively new title, my lady,” John said, his expression deliberately even.

  “Just how new is ‘relatively’?” She smiled coyly at her little joke and then looked to Belle to see if she also disdained this newcomer to their ranks. Belle answered her with a scowl that intensified when she realized that the room had grown a bit quieter in the last few moments. Dear Lord, didn’t anyone have anything better to do than listen to Lady Forthright’s inane babblings? And where had Damien gone? Shouldn’t he defend his brother?

  “A few years,” John replied quietly. “I was honored for military service.”

  “I see.” Lady Forthright drew herself up and squared her shoulders, preening for her audience. “Well, I’m sure you’re very brave, but I cannot approve of this reckless handing out of titles. It wouldn’t do for the peerage to get too—shall we say—undiscrimina
ting.”

  “Lord Blackwood is the son of an earl,” Belle said quietly.

  “Oh, I do not fault his bloodlines,” their hostess replied. “But we mustn’t get like those Russians who give out titles to just about everybody. Did you know that if one is a Russian duke, all of one’s sons get to be dukes as well? Before long the entire country is going to be overrun with dukes. It will be anarchy. Mark my words—that country is going to collapse, and it will be because of all those dukes.”

  “An interesting supposition,” Belle said, her tone frosty.

  Lady Forthright didn’t seem to notice Belle’s irritation. “I find all these new titles somewhat gauche, don’t you?”

  Belle heard indrawn breaths all around her as all her eavesdroppers waited for her reply. Damien wandered back to her side, and she gave him a tight smile. “I’m sorry, Lady Forthright,” she said sweetly. “I am afraid I do not follow your meaning. Your husband is the fifth Viscount Forthright?”

  “The sixth,” she replied sharply. “And my father was the eighth Earl of Windemere.”

  “I see,” Belle said slowly. “So then neither of them did anything to earn their titles other than simply being born?”

  “I am certain that I misunderstand your implications, Lady Arabella. And may I remind you that your family’s earldom goes back for several centuries?”

  “Oh no, I assure you that I am well aware of that fact, Lady Forthright. And we regard the earldom as an important family honor. But my father is a good man precisely because he is a good man, not because he possesses an ancient title. And as for Lord Blackwood, I find his title all the more appealing because it represents the nobility of the man standing before you, not of some long-dead ancestor.”

  “A pretty speech, Lady Arabella, especially for one who obviously enjoys all the perks of her position. But not entirely appropriate for a gently-reared lady. You have become something of a bluestocking.”

  “At last! A compliment. I never thought to hear one from your lips. Now if you will excuse me, I am growing weary of this party.” Belle purposefully turned her back on her hostess, well aware of the scandal such bad manners would create. “John, it was lovely seeing you again. I hope you call on me soon, but I must find Dunford and have him escort me back home. Good evening.”

  And while John was still reeling from her passionate defense, she honored him with her most radiant smile and swept past him. He was left facing a furious Lady Forthright who simply “harumphed” at him and bustled away.

  John couldn’t help himself. He started to laugh.

  Later that evening, while the Blackwood brothers were on their way home, Damien brought up the subject of Belle’s now obvious friendship with John. “I did not realize that you and Lady Arabella knew each other so well,” he said with a frown.

  One side of John’s mouth twisted up in a wry smile. “She said we were well acquainted, didn’t she?”

  “Her passionate defense of your position would indicate that you are quite well acquainted.”

  “Well, we are quite.”

  Damien let the matter drop for a few minutes, but eventually his curiosity got the better of him. “Do you intend to court her?”

  “I have already said as much to the lady in question.”

  “I see.”

  John sighed. He was behaving rather sharply with his brother, and Damien really didn’t deserve it. “I apologize if this puts a crimp in your plans. I assure you I did not know that you had tender feelings for Belle before I arrived. If you must know, she was the reason I came to town in the first place.”

  Damien pondered that slowly. “I wouldn’t say I have tender feelings for her. I merely thought she would make me a good wife.”

  John looked at him oddly. He wondered if his brother’s emotions ever ventured beyond appreciation or mild dislike.

  “It is obvious, however,” Damien continued, “that we would not suit at all. She is a great beauty, to be sure, but I cannot have a wife who spouts out such radical notions in public.”

  John’s lips twitched. “Surely you, too, don’t begrudge me my title.”

  “Of course not.” Damien appeared affronted by the accusation. “You earned that title. And our father was, of course, an earl. But you must admit, too many cits are making their way into the aristocracy, whether by purchase or marriage. Lord only knows whaf s to become of us.”

  “Belle likes to read,” John blurted out, just to make absolutely sure that his brother’s interest in her would not resurface. “She’s read the complete works of Shakespeare.”

  Damien shook his head. “I cannot imagine what I was thinking. Bluestockings can be such a nuisance, no matter how beautiful. They’re so demanding.”

  John smiled.

  “She wouldn’t do, at all,” Damien continued. “But you should try for her if you want. She’d be a great catch for a man of your position. Although I must warn you, her parents probably wouldn’t approve of the match. I should think she could get a duke if she wanted.”

  “I imagine she could,” John murmured. “If, of course, that was what she wanted.”

  The carriage came to a halt in front of Damien’s town house. When they entered the main hall, Lightbody greeted them with a note which he said had been left expressly for Lord Blackwood. Curious, John unfolded the paper.

  I am in London.

  John frowned as he remembered the two similar messages he’d received a few weeks earlier. He’d thought that they had been meant for Bletchford Manor’s previous owners, but now he realized that he was mistaken.

  “Someone you know?” Damien inquired.

  “I’m not sure,” John replied slowly. “I’m not sure at all.”

  Chapter 12

  J ohn arrived at Belle’s house the next morning, arms laden with chocolates and flowers. It amazed him how easy this was—to simply allow her to lighten his heart. He’d been smiling all morning.

  Belle was unable to keep the delight from her eyes when she came downstairs to greet him. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” she asked with a bright smile.

  “I said I was going to court you, didn’t I?” John responded, thrusting the flowers into her arms. “Consider yourself courted.”

  “How romantic,” she said, not without a twinge of sarcasm.

  “I hope you like chocolates.”

  Belle suppressed a smile. He was trying very hard. “I love them.”

  “Excellent.” He shot her a jaunty grin. “Mind if I have one?”

  “Not at all.”

  Persephone chose that moment to sail down the stairs. “Good morning, Belle,” she said. “Won’t you introduce me to your guest?”

  Belle did the honors, and while John was deciding which chocolate to pop in his mouth, Persephone leaned over and whispered, “He’s very handsome.”

  Belle nodded.

  “And he looks quite virile.”

  Belle’s eyes widened. “Persephone,” she whispered. “I feel I must inform you that this is not the normal type of conversation between a chaperone and her charge.”

  “Is it not? It ought to be, I think. Ah well, I fear I will never get this chaperoning business right. Pray do not tell Alex of my shortcomings.”

  “I like you just the way you are,” Belle said honestly.

  “Isn’t that sweet of you, dear? Well, I’m off. The coachman has promised to take me on a tour of London, and I want to make sure we get to all the dangerous parts before dark.”

  Considering that it wasn’t yet noon, Belle could only wonder as to the length of Persephone’s route, but she didn’t say a word as the older lady fluttered out the door.

  “Not exactly the sternest of chaperones,” John commented.

  “No.”

  “Shall we retire to a parlor? I’m desperate to kiss you, and I’d rather not do it in the hall.”

  Belle blushed but led the way to a nearby drawing room.

&
nbsp; John kicked the door shut and hauled her into his arms. “Chaperone-less for the entire day,” he murmured between kisses. “Was ever a man so blessed?”

  “Was ever a woman so blessed?” Belle countered.

  “I think not. Come over here to the sofa so I can ply you with chocolates and flowers.” He took her hand and pulled her along with him as he crossed the room.

  Belle giggled softly as she let him lead her to the sofa. She had never seen him so lighthearted, so carefree. There was still a thin veil of sadness and hesitation in his eyes, but it was nothing compared to the haunted look she’d seen back in Oxfordshire. “The only person you’re plying with those chocolates is yourself. You’ve already had three.”

  John sat and pulled her down next to him. “There is no point in bringing a lady an edible gift unless you like it, too. Here, have one. They’re quite good.” He picked up a sweet and held it in front of her mouth.

  Belle smiled and bit away half of it, licking her lips with deliberate seductiveness as she chewed. “It’s exquisite,” she murmured.

  “Yes, it is.” He wasn’t talking about chocolate.

  Belle leaned forward for the rest of the candy and took it in her mouth, daringly licking his fingers as she did so. “A little bit melted on your skin,” she said innocently.

  “A little bit melted on your skin, too.” He moved toward her and licked the corner of her mouth, sending shivers of desire right to the tips of her toes. Leaning forward, he ran his tongue along the soft edge of her upper lip. “I missed a bit here,” he murmured. “And here.” He moved to her lower lip, which he teased between his teeth.

  Belle had quite forgotten how to breathe. “I think I like being courted,” she whispered.

  “Haven’t you ever been before?” John took a little nip of her ear.

  “Not like this.”

  “Good.” He smiled possessively.