"Of course not. Your parents didn't want you running around just kissing anybody, after all."

Belle touched the side of his jaw with her hand, rubbing against the sandy stubble of his whiskers. "No, only you."

John didn't think that her parents particularly wanted her kissing him. either, but he pushed the thought out of his mind, unwilling to give up the perfection of the moment. "Most people don't laugh so much while they're kissing." He grinned boyishly and tweaked her nose.

Belle tweaked his back. "They don't? How unfortunate for them."

John pulled her tightly to him in a crushing embrace, as if he could bond her to him by strength alone. Maybe some of her goodness would seep into him, cleansing his soul, and… He shut his eyes. He was growing fanciful. "You can't possibly know how perfect I feel right at this moment," he murmured into her hair.

Belle snuggled closer. "I know exactly how perfect."

"Unfortunately, your pot of tea is going to arrive any second now, and I don't think that the servants need to know just how perfect we feel."

"Oh my God!" Belle gasped, nearly flying across the room. "Do I look all right? Can you tell that I-that we-?"

"I can tell," John said wryly, trying to ignore the ache of unfulfilled need that pulsed through his body. "But if you smooth down your hair, I don't think that anyone else will be able to."

"It's raining," she said shakily. "Norwood will assume that that's why I'm a bit of a mess." For all her forward behavior that afternoon, Belle was not prepared to get caught in an amorous situation by her cousins' butler.

"Sit back down," John ordered. "We'll converse like two reasonable adults, and then Norwood won't suspect a thing."

"Do you think not? I'd be so embarr-"

"Just sit down, please, and we'll make polite conversation until your butler gets here."

"I don't think I can," Belle said, her voice barely a whisper.

"Why not?"

She sank down onto a chair and kept her eyes focused on her feet. "Because every time I look at you I remember you holding me."

John's heart slammed in his chest. He took a deep breath, fighting the increasingly painful need to leap over the settee, grab Belle, and ravish her right there on the spot. Thankfully, he was saved from having to reply to her emotional comment by a discreet knock on the door.

Norwood entered with a tray of tea and biscuits. After thanking him, Belle picked up the teapot and began to pour. John noticed that her hands were shaking. Wordlessly he accepted the cup she held out to him and took a drink.

Belle sipped at her tea, willing her hands to stop their trembling. It wasn't that she was ashamed of her behavior; she was simply shocked by the extent of her reaction to him. She'd never dreamed that her body could feel so totally warm from the inside out.

"Penny for your thoughts," John said suddenly.

She looked up at him from over her teacup and smiled. "Oh, they're worth far more than a penny."

"How about a pound, then?"

For about one second Belle toyed with the idea of telling him what she was really thinking. But for only one second. Her mother had not raised her to be such a wanton. "I was wondering if you want me to pour the tea on your leg now or wait until it has cooled off a bit."

John stretched out his injured leg as far as he was able and looked down at it assessingly, pretending to give the matter serious thought. "Oh, I think hot, don't you?"

Belle picked up the teapot with a devilish grin. "If this works, we'll change medical science forever." She leaned over him, and for a second John thought she was really going to pour the tea on his leg. At the last possible moment she righted the pot and put it back down on the table. "The rain is coming down quite hard now," she said, glancing out the window. "You won't be able to return home for some time."

"I imagine we'll be able to keep ourselves occupied."

Belle took one look at his face and knew exactly how he wanted to keep them occupied. She didn't deny to herself that she also longed to while away the afternoon in his arms, but there was a good chance that Alex or Emma would happen upon them, and the last thing she needed was to get caught in an indelicate situation by her cousins.

"I think," she said finally, "that we may have to pursue a different activity."

John looked so disappointed that Belle could barely stifle a laugh. "What do you suggest we do?"

She set her teacup down. "Can you dance?"

Chapter 7

John lowered his cup very, very slowly. "Belle," he said finally, "you must know that I cannot." Nonsense. Everyone can dance. You have only to try."

"Belle, if this is some kind of joke-"

"Of course it isn't a joke," she cut in quickly. "I know that your leg is injured, but it doesn't seem to slow you overmuch."

"I may have taught myself to move with a reasonable degree of speed, but I do so with a complete lack of grace." His hand strayed unconsciously to his leg. Nightmarish visions of himself tumbling clumsily to the floor played out in his mind. "I'm sure we can entertain ourselves without my playing the fool trying to dance. Besides, we haven't any music."

"Hmrnm, that is a problem." Belle glanced around the room until her eyes rested on the piano in the corner. "It appears that we have two choices. The first option is that I could ask Emma to come in and play for us, but I'm afraid she has never been accused of possessing musical talent. I wouldn't wish her noise on my worst enemy." She smiled sunnily. "Much less one of my good friends."

The force of her smile hit John squarely in the heart. "Belle," he said softly. "I don't think this is going to work."

"You won't know unless you try." She stood up and smoothed down her dress. "I think it's agreed that Emma at the piano is not an option, so I suppose I'll just have to sing."

"Can you?"

"Sing?"

John nodded.

"Probably about as well as you can dance."

"In that case, my lady, I think we may be in dire straits, indeed."

"I'm only teasing. I'm no diva, but I can carry a tune."

How much could it hurt to pretend-if only for an afternoon-that she could be his, that she was his, that he could possibly deserve her? He stood, determined to taste just a bit of heaven. "I hope you will have the courtesy not to wince out loud when I trod on your feet."

"Oh, don't worry, my lord, I shall wince very softly, indeed." On impulse, she leaned up and quickly kissed John's cheek, whispering, "My feet are very sturdy."

"For your sake, I should hope so."

"Now, which dances do you know?"

"None."

"None? What did you do in London?"

"I never bothered with the social whirl."

"Oh." Belle nibbled on her lower lip. "This is going to be more of a challenge than I anticipated. But have no fear, I am sure you are up to the task."

"I believe the more appropriate question is whether or not you are up to the task."

"Oh, I am," Belle said with a jaunty grin. "Believe me, I am. Now, I think we should start with a waltz. Some of the other dances might be a bit too taxing for your leg. Although perhaps not. You yourself said that you are able to move with reasonable speed."

John bit back a smile. "A waltz would be lovely. Just tell me what to do."

"Put your hand here like this." Belle picked up his hand and placed it on her slender waist. "And then I put my hand on your shoulder, see? Hmmm, you're quite tall."

"Is that a compliment?"

"Of course it is. Although I wouldn't like you any less if you were shorter."

"That is certainly gratifying to know."

"Are you poking fun at me?"

"Just a bit."

Belle shot him a teasing glance. "Well, just a bit is all right, I suppose, but no more than that. I'm terribly sensitive."

"I shall try to refrain."

"Thank you."

"Although you sometimes make it very difficult."

Belle poked him in the chest and resumed their waltzing lessons. "Hush. Now, take my other hand like this. Wonderful. We're all set."

"We are?" John cast a dubious eye over their position. "You're rather far away."

"This is the correct position. I've done this a thousand times."

"We could fit another person between us."

"I cannot imagine why we would want to."

John slowly tightened his grip around Belle's waist and pulled her to him until she could feel the heat from his body. "Isn't this better?" he murmured.

Belle's breath caught in her throat. John was barely an inch away, and his nearness was making her pulse race. "We would never be allowed in any respectable ballroom," she said huskily.

"I prefer dancing in private." John leaned down and let his lips brush gently against hers.

Belle swallowed nervously. She enjoyed his kisses, but she couldn't help but feel that she was getting herself into a situation she could not handle. So with more than a few regrets she stepped back, loosening John's grip on her until there was a respectable distance between their bodies again. "I can't very well teach you to waltz if we aren't in the proper position," she explained. "Now then, the key to waltzes is that they are in three-four time. Most other dances are in common time."

"Common time?"

"Four-four. Waltzes go 'one-two-three, one-two three, one-two-three.' Common time goes 'one-two-three-four.' "

"I think I see the difference."

Belle glanced up sharply at him. Tiny lines around his eyes crinkled with humor. Her own lips tugged upward at the corners as she tried to suppress a smile. "Good. Therefore a waltz might sound like this." She started humming a tune which had been very popular in London during the last season.