Dancing at Midnight (22 page)

He touched her chin with his fingers and drew her closer, ever closer.

Belle's breath caught in her throat as his lips swooped down to claim

her own. The kiss was different than any other they had shared. There

was a fierceness to it that hadn't been there before, a sense of

ownership. And Belle had to admit that this possessiveness was not

one-sided. The way she kissed him with all her passion, clutched at the

sinewy muscles of his back—all this was meant to show him that he

belonged to no one but her.

John's hands roamed down her back, spreading warmth through the thin

material of her nightgown. He strayed down to her bottom and cupped it,

pulling her tightly to him so that she could feel the hard, physical

evidence of his desire. "Do you realize

how much I want you?" he rasped. "Do you?"

Belle couldn't speak, for his lips had covered her own. She couldn't nod

because one of his hands had stolen back up to her

thick hair and was holding her head immobile. She responded in the only

way she could, which was to reach around to his

buttocks and pull him even closer to her. A harsh moan was his answer,

and Belle felt a feminine thrill at her power over him.

He sank to his knees, his lips burning a hot path through her nightgown,

descending through the valley between her breasts and settling over her

navel.

"John?" she asked breathily. "What... ?"

"Shhh, just let me take care of everything." He sank down even lower,

until his hands could wrap around her ankles.

"So soft."' he murmured. "Your skin is like moonlight."

"Moonlight?" she said in a strangled voice. The powerful sensations

streaking through her body had rendered her voice barely usable.

"Soft and gentle, yet with a touch of mystery." His hands made the slow

trip up her calves, pushing her nightgown up along with them. When he

was halfway up, he twisted around her to deposit twin kisses on the

backs of her knees. Belle cried out and

nearly fell over, and she had to clutch on to his head for support.

"You like that, do you? I'll have to remember that." He continued moving

upward, marveling at the delicate skin of her thighs.

With a devilish laugh, he darted his head under the now rather high hem

of her nightgown and planted a kiss in the crook

between her leg and her hip.

Belle thought she might faint.

The nightgown moved even higher, past her hips, and Belle felt a vague

relief that he had moved from her thighs straight to her stomach,

bypassing her most private area.

As John pushed the material further, he rose to his feet, pausing

briefly before he bared her breasts. "Did I remember to tell

you the other day that they're perfect?" he murmured huskily into her ear.

Belle shook her head mutely.

"Round and ripe with two precious pink buds. I could suckle at them all

day."

"Oh God." Belle's knees went completely and totally weak again.

"I'm not done yet, love." He held the hem of her gown just below her

breasts and then pressed it to her skin. As he lifted it up, Belle could

feel the pressure traveling up the underside of her breasts. Spasms of

pleasure shot through her as the hem caught

her nipples and then freed them with a bounce. And then before she knew

it, she was completely naked, her skin glowing soft

and white in the dim light of the candles.

John sucked in his breath. "Never in my life have I seen a sight so

glorious," he whispered reverently.

Belle flushed with delight at his words, and then all of a sudden she

seemed to realize that she had on not a stitch.

"Oh my God," she croaked. Shyness swept over her like a cool wind, and

her hands snaked forward to cover herself.

As best she could.

Which wasn't, after all, very well.

John chuckled and lifted her into his arms. "You, love, are perfect. You

shouldn't feel ashamed."

"I'm not," she replied softly. "Not with you. It's just very strange.

I'm not... used to this."

"I should hope not." He pushed the books off of her bed and laid her

down on the soft white sheets. Belle stopped breathing momentarily as

she watched him begin to undress. His shirt came first, baring a firmly

muscled chest that spoke of years of

hard exercise. The sight of him caused warm, tingly feelings to pool in

her belly. Without thinking she reached a hand out,

even though he was much too far away to touch.

John both smiled and groaned at her curiosity. It was getting harder and

harder for him to maintain his control, especially when

she was lying there looking up at him with huge blue eyes. He sat down

on the edge of the bed and yanked off his boots, then stood up again to

peel off his breeches.

Belle gasped when she saw his manhood, huge and ... no this wasn't going

to work. He must be bigger than normal, or maybe

she was smaller than normal, but—she gasped again.

His knee.

"Dear God," she whispered. It was covered with scars, and it looked as

if a large chunk of flesh had been removed from just above the joint.

The taut skin was discolored and without hair, its mere presence an

angry reminder of the horrors of war.

John's mouth twisted. "You don't have to look at it."

Belle's gaze shot quickly up to his face. "It's not that," she assured

him. "It's not ugly at all." And to prove her point, she slid out

of bed and knelt before him to kiss the scars. "It makes me sick to

think of how this must have hurt you," she whispered.

"And how close you came to losing your leg. You're so vital, so strong.

I can't imagine what that would have done to you."

She began to kiss him again, raining a soft stream of love onto his skin.

Emotions John had never expected to feel, never dreamed he could feel,

surged powerfully within him, and he pulled her

roughly to her feet. "Oh God, Belle," he rasped. "I want you so much."

They tumbled onto the bed, landing so that John's hard frame covered

hers. The breath was squeezed from Belle's body, yet the weight of him

was glorious, unlike anything she'd ever experienced. He kissed her and

kissed her until she was certain she would melt, and then suddenly he

lifted his head and looked deeply into her eyes.

"I'm going to pleasure you first," he said. "So you know that there is

nothing to fear, that there is only beauty and wonder."

"I'm not afraid," she whispered. Then she remembered how large he had

looked. "Well, maybe a little nervous."

John smiled reassuringly. "I haven't any experience with innocents, but

I want this to be perfect for you. I think it might be

easier if I give you release first."

Belle had no idea what he was talking about, but she nodded anyway. "You

sound as if you've given this considerable thought."

"Believe me," he said hoarsely. "I've thought of little else." His hand

gently slid down the length of her body.

She reached up, touched his cheek, and softly said, "I trust you."

John brushed his lips against hers to distract her when his fingers

sought out her very essence. She'd be nervous, and he didn't want it to

be too much of a shock.

It was. She nearly flew off the bed. "Are you sure this is what you're

supposed to be doing?" she asked breathlessly.

"I'm sure."

And then his mouth joined his fingers. Belle was certain that she'd

died. Nothing could possibly feel that wicked ... or that good.

"Oh John!" she gasped, unable to stop her soul from spiraling out of

control. "I don't think... I can't..."

And then she did. It felt as if every nerve ending in her body suddenly

converged in her abdomen. She tensed, then exploded.

It took her several minutes to float back down to earth, and all she

could say was, "Merciful heavens."

She heard John laugh, and when she opened her eyes saw that he was

looking down at her with an amused expression.

He leaned down and kissed her nose.

"Was that normal?" she asked in a small voice.

He nodded. "Better."

"Really?"

He nodded again.

"Did you... ?" She let her words trail off. She was new to this and

hadn't much idea how to go about it.

He shook his head gently. "When I find my release you'll know it."

"Will it be as good as what I... ?" She couldn't finish the sentence.

John's eyes darkened with desire, and he nodded.

"Good." Belle sighed. "I wouldn't like it if you didn't feel as good as

I do. But if you don't mind, I'd like to cuddle up against

you for a minute or two."

His straining manhood disagreed with his words, but John said, "There is

nothing I'd rather do."

He'd only held her in his arms for a few seconds when they heard an

awful noise.

Persephone's voice.

There was a knock at the door. "Oh Belle?" she said in a stage whisper.

"Belle?"

Belle shot up straight. "Persephone?"

"May I come in for a moment?"

Panic gripped her. "Uh, just one moment!" Thank God her door was locked.

"Hide!" she hissed at John.

"I'm trying," he hissed back. He hopped out of the bed, cursing the cold

night air. He gathered up his clothes, praying he'd got

them all, and stumbled into her dressing room.

Belle grabbed her dressing gown, covered herself, and went to the door.

She turned the key and opened it, marveling that her quivering legs were

actually holding her upright. "Good evening, Persephone."

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I couldn't sleep, and I knew that you had

gone to the bookshop today. I was wondering if I could borrow something

to read."

"Of course." Belle rushed back into the room and gathered up some of the

books. "It's all poetry, but I'm done with it for the evening."

Persephone noticed Belle's bare calves peeking out from under her

dressing gown and said, "Don't you wear a nightgown?"

Belle blushed and silently thanked the dark cloak of night for hiding

her embarrassment. "I was hot."

"I can't imagine why. The window is wide open. You'll catch a chill."

"I don't think so." Belle thrust the books into Persephone's arms.

"Thank you." Persephone wrinkled her nose and sniffed. "What is that

smell? It's most peculiar."

Belle prayed that Persephone's maiden aunt status was entirely accurate

because the room reeked of lovemaking. One could

only hope that she wouldn't recognize the smell. "Umm, I think it's

coming in from outside."

"Well, I can't imagine what it is, but you ought to remember to shut the

window before you go to sleep. And if you'd like I

could give you some of my violet-scented perfume. I'm sure that smell

will go away if you spray a bit of it around."

"Perhaps in the morning." Belle led the way back to the door.

"Good night, then. I'll see you in the morning."

"Good night." Belle shut the door and locked it quickly, leaning back

against it with a sigh.

The door to the dressing room swung open. John emerged, his upper body

tangling in Belle's dresses. "Good God, woman,

you have a lot of frocks."

Belle ignored him. "I was so scared."

"And I felt damned foolish. I'm warning you, I'm not going to put up

with this for long." He viciously thrust his bad leg into his breeches.

"You're not?" Belle asked weakly.

"Not a chance. I'm a grown man. I've fought a bloody war, nearly got my

leg shot off, played the market for five years and amassed enough money

to purchase a damned house. Do you think I like creeping around in closets?"

Belle didn't really think that a reply was necessary.

"Well, I don't, I tell you. I don't like it at all." He sat down in a

nearby chair so that he could put his good leg into his breeches. Belle

surmised that his injured leg wasn't quite strong enough to hold him up

for long.

"And I'll tell you something else," he added, working himself up into a

fine bout of annoyance. "As far as I'm concerned, you're mine. Do you

understand that? And I don't like being made to feel like a thief for

enjoying what is mine."

"What are you going to do?"

He grabbed his shirt. "I'm going to marry you right away. And then I'm

going to take you back to Bletchford Manor and toss

you into bed and keep you there for a week. All without having to worry

about Miss Lemon Tree barging in to spoil the mood."

"You really need to find a new name for your home."

"Our home," he corrected, scowling at her attempt to change the subject.

"And I've been too busy chasing after you to give the matter much thought."

"I'll help you." Belle smiled. He loved her. He might not have said as

much, but it was right there in his eyes.

"Good. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to jump back out your window,

slide down that tree, return to Damien's, and get some sleep. Then I've

got to see about getting a special license."

"A special license?"

"I'm not putting up with this nonsense any longer than I have to. With

any luck we'll be married by the end of the week."          

"By the end of the week?" Belle echoed. "Are you mad? I can't get

married this week. I can't even get officially engaged until