Dancing at Midnight (34 page)

teeth began to clatter loudly. Her prayers intensified, and she stopped

asking God to get her

home and started asking Him just to let her live.

Her hands grew shriveled and prune-like from the wet mud of the path.

Then she heard a sharp tear. Her dress had gotten

caught on a thorny bush which had spilled out onto the path. She

struggled to free herself, but her strength was nearly gone.

Wincing against the pounding pain in her head, she summoned what little

power she had left and tore her dress from the thorns.

She had just barely resumed her slow crawl when a bolt of lightning lit

up the sky. Terror consumed her, and she wildly

wondered how close the bolt had struck. A clap of thunder quickly

followed, and Belle jumped in fright, landing on her rear.

She sat in the middle of the muddy path for a few seconds, trying to

regain control of her shivering body. With a shaky motion,

she pushed away a few locks of hair which were plastered to her face and

tried to tuck them behind her ears. But the rain and

the wind were merciless, and her hair was soon back in her eyes. She was

so God-awful tired. So cold, so weak. Lightning tore through the dark

sky again, but this time it lit up the figure of a horse and rider

coming up on the path behind her.

Could it be?

Belle caught her breath and forgot all of her anger toward the man

riding toward her. "John!" she screamed, praying he could

hear her over the shrieking winds because if he couldn't, she'd soon be

trampled under Thor's hooves.

John's heart stopped beating when he heard her cry out, and when it

resumed, his pulse raced double-time. He could just barely make out her

form in the path about ten yards ahead of him. Her hair was so fair it

captured what little moonlight hung in the darkness and glowed like a

halo. He quickly crossed the distance between them and slid off his horse.

"John?" Belle quavered, barely able to believe that he was right there

in front of her.

"Shhh, my love, I'm here now." He knelt down in the mud and cradled her

face in his hands. "Where does it hurt?"

"I'm so cold."

"I know, love. I'm going to get you home." John's relief at finding her

quickly turned to fear when he lifted her into his arms

and felt her violent shivers. Dear God, she had been out in this

freezing rain for at least an hour, and her heavy riding habit

was now soaked.

"I was—I was trying to cr-crawl home," Belle managed to get out. "I'm so

cold."

"I know, I know," he crooned. Hell, why had she been crawling? But John

didn't have time to ponder these questions. Belle's

lips were turning a dangerous shade of blue, and he knew that he had to

get her warmed up immediately. "Can you sit in the saddle, love?" he

asked, seating her atop the horse.

"I don't know. I'm so cold."

Belle started to slide out of the saddle as John was mounting and he had

to push her back up. "Just hang on to Thor's neck

until I'm up there with you. I promise I'll hold you steady the whole

way home."

Teeth clattering, Belle nodded, holding on to the stallion with all her

might. In no time, John was seated behind her, his strong

arm wrapped fiercely around her waist. Belle sagged into him and closed

her eyes. "I c-can't st-stop shivering," she said weakly, feeling like a

child who had to explain herself. "I'm so cold."

"I know you are, love."

Mary and the groom rode into sight. "Follow me back," John yelled. He

didn't have time to fill them in on the details of Belle's condition. He

kicked Thor into a full gallop, and they crashed through the trees.

Nestled firmly against John's torso, Belle slowly let go of the fierce

will which had been propelling her before. She felt her mind slipping

away from her body, and truth be told, she was so damned tired and cold

and sore that she was glad to let it go. She went numb, strangely

content now that her aches and pains were receding. "I'm not so cold

anymore," she murmured in an eerie voice.

"Oh, Christ," John swore, hoping that he'd misheard her. He gave her a

hard jostle. "Whatever you do, don't fall asleep. Do you hear me, Belle?

/Don't fall asleep!" /When she didn't respond immediately, he gave her

another shove.

Belle didn't even open her eyes. "But I'm so tired."

"I don't care," John said sternly. "You will remain awake. Do you

understand me?"

It took Belle a few seconds to process his demand. "If you say so," she

said finally.

For the rest of the ride, John alternated between spurring Thor on to

keep him riding at top speed and shaking Belle to prevent

her from falling asleep. He had to get her home and warmed up. He was

terrified that if she went to sleep she wouldn't have

the energy to awaken.

After what seemed like hours, they emerged from the trees and picked up

speed as they raced across the lawns of Hyde Park and then the streets

of London. They came to a halt at the front steps of Blydon House. John

quickly slid off the horse, taking Belle along with him. The groom who

had been riding with Mary took hold of the reins and led Thor back to

the mews. After barking out a quick thanks, John strode into the hall,

cradling Belle in his arms.

"Thornton!" he yelled.

Within seconds the butler materialized before him.

"Have a warm bath prepared immediately. Set it in my room."

"Yes, my lord, right away my lord." Thornton turned to Mrs. Crane, the

housekeeper who had followed him into the hall.

Before he could say a word, she had nodded and hurried up the stairs.

John took the stairs as fast as he could, his good leg taking two stairs

with each step. He raced down the hallway, cradling

Belle gently against his chest. "We're almost there, love," he murmured.

"I promise we'll get you warm."

Belle's head moved slightly. John hoped that she had heard him and was

nodding, but he had the sinking feeling that her

movement was merely due to his haste going up the stairs. When they

reached his room, two maids were hurriedly filling

up a tub. "We're heating the water as fast as we can, my lord," one

said, hastily bobbing a curtsy.

John nodded curtly and laid Belle down on a towel which had been set

atop his bed. Her hair fell back from her face, revealing

an ugly purple bruise that stained her forehead. John felt the breath

leave his body, and an unspeakable rage poured through

him. Rage at what, he wasn't sure—most probably himself.

"John?" she asked weakly, her eyelids fluttering.

"I'm here, love. I'm here."

"I feel strange, very strange. I'm cold but I'm not. I think I'm—I think

I'm—" Belle had been about to say the word "dying,"

but her last rational thought before she drifted into unconsciousness

was that she didn't want to worry him.

John swore under his breath, noticing instantly when she slipped away

from him. His numb but steady fingers quickly went to work on the frozen

buttons of her riding habit. "Don't you leave me, Belle!" he shouted.

"Do you hear me? You can't leave

me now!"

Mrs. Crane bustled into the room, carrying two more buckets of steaming

water. "My lord?" she questioned. "Are you sure

you should? That is, perhaps a woman..."

He turned to her and said in extremely clipped tones, "She is my wife. I

will care for her."

Mrs. Crane nodded stiffly and exited the room.

John turned his attention back to Belle's buttons. When he was finished,

he pulled back the sides of the jacket and worked her arms out of the

sleeves. Murmuring a quiet apology, he tore her camisole cleanly down

the front. The way it was sticking to her body, it would have taken too

long to peel it off. Besides, this way she could remain lying down.

Mutely, he laid a hand down against her ribs. Her skin was pale and

clammy. His fear renewed, John redoubled his efforts and pulled her out

of her sodden skirts.

When she was naked in his arms, he carried her over to the steaming tub

which was now nearly full. He knelt down and dipped his finger in the

water. He frowned. It was a little too hot, but he wasn't sure he had

the time to wait for it to cool off. Praying

for the best, he lowered Belle into the tub. "There you are, love. I

promised you I'd get you warm."

She didn't respond to the heat. "Wake up, Belle," he shouted at her,

shaking her slim shoulders. "You cannot sleep until you're warm."

Belle mumbled something unintelligible and swatted him away with her hand.

John took her feistiness as a good sign but nonetheless thought that he

ought to get her woken up. He shook her again, and

then when that didn't work, he did the only thing he could think of. He

dunked her head under the water.

Belle came up spluttering, and for a few moments there was a look of

absolute clarity in her eyes. "What on earth?!" she yelled.

"Just warming you up, love," John said with a smile.

"Well, you're not doing a very good job of it. I'm freezing!"

"I'm working as fast as I can."

"The water hurts me."

"There's nothing I can do about that, I'm afraid. It'll sting a bit as

it warms you up."

"If s too hot."

"No, love, you're too cold."

Belle grumbled tiredly like a child. Then she looked down, saw John's

large hands rubbing gently against her bare skin, and fainted.

"Christ Almighty," John swore. She was a dead weight again, and if he

left her for even one moment, she was sure to drown. "Thornton!" he yelled.

Thornton, who'd been hovering solicitously outside the closed door,

appeared instantly. He caught one glance of the naked young noblewoman

in the tub, gulped nervously, and turned his back. "Yes, sir?"

"Get someone to start a fire in here. It's as cold as a damned morgue."

"Yes, sir, I'll see to it myself, sir." Thornton went to work at the

fireplace, scrupulously keeping his back to the tub.

After a few more minutes John was satisfied that the chill had been

removed from Belle's skin, but he didn't doubt for a moment that she

still felt icy from the inside out. He lifted her from the water,

tenderly dried her skin with a towel, and laid her in his bed. He pulled

the covers up over her, tucking her in as he would a child. After a few

moments, however, she began to shiver again. John placed his hand on her

forehead. It was warm, but if he wasn't mistaken, it would be burning

within the hour.

He sighed and sank into a chair. It was going to be a terrifyingly long

night.

/

*  *  *

/

/

She was so, so cold. Why couldn't she get warm? /Belle tossed and turned

in the large bed, her body instinctively rubbing against the sheets to

create heat.

This was awful. The pain had returned, and every muscle and joint in her

body ached with it. And what was that strange

clattering sound? Surely that couldn't be her teeth? And why was she so

damned cold?

Gritting her teeth against the exertion, Belle forced herself to open

her eyes. A fire was burning steadily in a fireplace. A fire.

A fire would be warm. She pushed aside her covers and crawled down to

the foot of the bed. Still too far away. With agonizing slowness, she

swung her legs over the side of the bed. She looked down at herself in

confusion. Why wasn't she wearing any clothes? No matter, Belle decided,

tossing the thought aside. She just had to concentrate on that fire.

She let her feet touch down on the floor, and immediately her legs

wobbled beneath her. She tumbled down, landing on the

carpet with a painful thud.

John, who had dozed off in the chair he had positioned at her bedside,

came awake instantly. He saw the empty bed and

jumped to his feet. "Belle?" He looked around the room frantically.

Where could she have possibly gone in her condition?

And naked, to boot.

He heard a pained groan from the other side of the bed and hurried over.

Belle was lying on the floor in a tangled heap. He

leaned down and picked her up. "What on earth are you doing down there,

love?"

"Fire," she rasped.

John looked at her blankly.

"Fire!" she repeated a bit more urgently, giving him a feeble shove.

"What about the fire?"

"I'm cold."

"You were trying to warm yourself?"

Belle sighed and nodded.

"I think you should stay in the bed. I'll get you more blankets."

/"No!" /Belle yelled, and John was taken quite aback at her

forcefulness. "I want the fire."

"I'll tell you what, why don't I put you in the bed, and I'll bring you

a candle to have nearby."

"Stupid."

God help him, he nearly laughed. "Come on, darling. Let's get you back

in bed." He laid her down and pulled up the covers, swallowing nervously

as he tucked her back in. She had been so funny and adorable that for a

moment he had been able to

forget just how serious her condition was.

But he couldn't keep kidding himself. Only a miracle would keep a fever

from settling into her weary body, and John was not a great believer in