John laughed, finally breaking his gaze away from Belle and facing the table at large. "I might enjoy writing poetry if I ever wrote some that was even halfway decent."

"But you recited the Wordsworth with such passion," Belle protested. "You obviously have a deep love of poetry."

"Enjoying poetry and being able to write it are two very different endeavors. I imagine that is why so many would-be poets spend so much of their time with a bottle of brandy in each hand."

"I am certain you have the soul of a poet," she persisted.

John merely smiled. "I am afraid that your confidence is misplaced, but I shall take that as a compliment."

"As well you should. I shan't be satisfied until I add a volume of your poetry to my library," Belle said archly.

"Then I had better get to work. I certainly wouldn't want to disappoint you."

"No," she murmured quietly. "I'm sure you wouldn't."

Chapter 6

The next day Belle decided that perhaps she had been too hasty in her dismissal of poetry.

After lunch, she changed into a dark blue riding habit and headed to the stables. Inspired by John's recitation the night before, she took with her a slim volume of Wordsworth's poetry. Her plan was to find a grassy hillside and settle down to read, but she had a feeling that she wasn't going to be able to stop herself from steering her mare toward Blemwood Park, no, Brinstead Manor-drat, why couldn't she remember the name of that place? Whatever it was called, it was where John lived, and Belle wanted to go there.

She urged her mare into a trot, breathing in the fresh autumn air as she headed east toward John's property. She had absolutely no idea what she'd say if she ran into him. Probably something stupid; she seemed to ramble on more than usual with him.

"Good day, Lord Blackwood," she tested. No, too formal.

"I just happened to be riding east…" Too obvious. And hadn't she used something like that the other day?

She sighed and decided to go with simplicity. "Hello, John."

"Hello yourself."

Belle gasped. She'd been so busy rehearsing what she wanted to say to him that she hadn't even noticed that he was right there in front of her.

John raised his eyebrows at her shocked expression. "Surely you can't be too terribly surprised to see me. You did say 'hello,' after all."

"So I did," Belle said with a nervous smile. Had he heard her talking to herself about him? She looked up at him, gulped, and said the first thing that came to mind. "That's a lovely horse."

John permitted himself a small smile at her skit-tishness. "Thank you. Although I imagine that Thor might take exception to being called lovely."

Belle blinked and looked closer. John was indeed atop a stallion, and a rather powerful one, to boot. "A very handsome horse, then," she amended.

He patted his stallion's neck. "Thor feels much better, I'm sure."

"What brings you this way?" Belle asked, not certain if she was still on Alex's property or had already crossed over to John's.

"I was just heading west…"

Belle stifled a laugh. "I see."

"And what brings youthis way?"

"I was just heading east."

"I see."

"Oh, you must know I was hoping to see you," she blurted out.

"Now that you've seen me," John said, "what do you plan to do with me?"

"I hadn't gotten that far in my plans, actually," Belle admitted. "What would youlike to do with me?"

It occurred to John that his thoughts in that direction were not suitable for polite conversation. He remained silent but couldn't prevent himself from leveling an appreciative gaze at the woman facing him.

Belle interpreted his expression correctly and turned beet red. "Oh, you wretch," she stammered. "That wasn't what I meant."

"I cannot imagine what you're talking about," John said, his face a picture of innocence.

"You know very well, and you're not going to make me say it, you-Oh, never mind, would you like to come to tea?"

John laughed aloud. "How I love the English. Anything can be cured with a pot of tea."

Belle offered him a waspish smile. "You're English too, John, and just for the record, anything can be cured with a pot of tea."

He smiled wryly. "I wish someone had told that to the doctor who nearly sawed off my leg."

Belle sobered immediately. What was she supposed to say to that? She looked up at the sky, which was beginning to cloud over. She knew that John was terribly sensitive about his leg, and she should probably avoid talking about it. Still, he had been the one to mention it, and it seemed that the best way to show him that she didn't care about his injury was to joke about it. "Well then, my lord," she said, praying that she wasn't making a terrible mistake. "I shall contrive to spill some tea on your leg this afternoon. If that doesn't do the trick, I don't know what will."

He seemed to hesitate a moment before saying, "I suppose you need an escort back to Westonbirt. I see you're out alone again."

"Someday, John," she said in exasperated tones, "you will make a superb parent."

A fat raindrop landed on his nose, and he threw up his arms in mock surrender. "Lead on, my lady."

Belle turned her mare around, and they headed back to Westonbirt. After a few moments of companionable silence, she turned to him and asked, "Why were you out and about this afternoon? And don't tell me that you were just heading west."

"Would you believe I was hoping I'd see you?"

Belle turned to him quickly, scanning his face to see if he was toying with her. His brown eyes were velvety warm, and her heart skipped a beat at his intent gaze. "I might believe you, if you are very nice to me this afternoon," she teased.

"I shall be especiallynice," John said wickedly, "if that means I'll get an extra cup of tea."

"For you, anything!"

They rode on for several minutes until Amber suddenly stopped cold, her ears pricking up nervously.

"Is something wrong?" John inquired.

"It's probably a rabbit in the woods. Amber has always been very sensitive to movement. It's strange, actually. She trots along a crowded London street as if she hasn't a care in the world, but put her on a quiet country lane and she's suspicious of every little noise."

"I didn't hear anything."

"Neither did I." Belle tugged gently on the reins. "Come on, girl. It's going to rain."

Amber took a few hesitant steps and then stopped again, turning her head sharply to the right.

"I can't imagine what's wrong with her," Belle said sheepishly.

Crack!

Belle heard the explosion of a gunshot from nearby in the woods and then felt the soft rush of air as a bullet whizzed between their bodies.

"Was that-" she started to ask, but she never completed her question because Amber, already skittish, reared up at the loud noise. Belle had to focus all of her attention simply on keeping her seat. She threw her arms around the mare's neck, murmuring, "Easy girl. Steady, now." She was so frightened, however, that she wasn't sure whether her words were meant to soothe the horse or herself.

Just when she was certain that she wouldn't be able to hold on any longer, she felt John's steely arms wrap around her waist and pluck her from the saddle. She landed unceremoniously next to him atop Thor.

"Are you all right?" he asked roughly.

Belle nodded. "I think so. I need to catch my breath. I was more startled than anything else."

John pulled her close to him, unable to believe the depth of his fear when he saw her holding on to Amber's neck for dear life. The mare was now dancing around in nervous circles, breathing loudly but otherwise settling down.

When Belle felt she had regained some composure, she pulled far enough away from John to look into his face. "I heard a gunshot."

John nodded grimly. He couldn't imagine why anyone would want to shoot at them, but it occurred to him that they shouldn't remain rooted to the spot like sitting ducks. "If I keep you here with me as we ride back, will Amber follow?"

She nodded, and they were soon galloping back to Westonbirt.

"I think it was an accident," Belle said once they slowed down.

"The gunshot?"

"Yes. Alex was telling me just the other day that he has been having trouble with poachers. I'm sure it was a stray bullet that spooked Amber."

"It came a little too close for my comfort."

"I know, but what else could it have been? Why would anyone want to shoot at us?"

John shrugged his shoulders. He had no enemies.

"I shall have to discuss this with Alex," Belle continued. "I am certain he will want to see the rules enforced more stringently. Someone could be hurt. We very nearly were."

John nodded, pulled her closer to him, and urged Thor to go a little faster. A few minutes later they rode into the Westonbirt stables, and just in time, for the raindrops were coming down faster and faster.

"There you are, my lady," he said as he set her down. "Will you be able to make it to the house without injury?"

"Oh, but aren't you coming?" Disappointment was clearly written on her features.

He swallowed, and a muscle twitched in his throat. "No, I really cannot. I-"

"But you will be drenched if you try to ride home now. Surely you must come in for some tea, if only to warm you up."

"Belle, I-"

"Please."

He stared into those marvelous blue eyes and wondered how anyone found the fortitude to deny her anything. He glanced out the stable doors. "I suppose it is rather wet."

Belle nodded. "You'll surely catch the fever if you even attempt to ride home. Come along." She took his hand, and together they made a mad dash for the house.