Belle paled. "Wh-what do you mean?"

John recounted the details, finishing with, "That's how it happened. At least that's how I remember it. I was drunk." He let out a short, hollow laugh.

"John, it wasn't your fault." Her words were soft, but they were filled with love and faith.

He didn't turn around. "You weren't there."

"I know you. You wouldn't have let something like this happen if you could have prevented it."

He whirled to face her. "Weren't you listening to me? I was drunk. If I'd had my wits about me I would have been able to fulfil my promise to Ana's mother."

"He would have found a way to get to her. You couldn't have guarded the girl every minute of the day."

"I could have- I-" He broke off. "I don't want to talk about it."

Belle stood and crossed the room, placing a gentle hand on his arm. "Perhaps you should."

"No," he said quickly. "I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to think about it. I-" He choked on his words. "Will you still have me?"

"How can you even ask?" she whispered. "I lo-" She stopped, too scared of upsetting the precious balance they'd achieved to voice her true feelings. "I care for you so much. I know what a good and honorable man you are, even if you don't."

He reached for her, pulling her roughly into his arms. He clung to her, covering her face with kisses. "Oh, Belle, I need you so much. I don't know how I survived without you."

"And I you."

"You are such a treasure, Belle. Such a gift to me." He suddenly whirled her around, spinning her in a dazzling waltz. They twirled about, turning circle after circle until they both collapsed on the bed, laughing and out of breath.

"Look at me," John gasped. "I cannot remember the last time I allowed myself to be so happy. I smile all day long without knowing why. I climbed a bloody tree, vaulted through your window, and here I am-laughing." He jumped to his feet, pulling her along with him. "It's the middle of the night, and yet here I am with you. Dancing at midnight, holding perfection in my arms."

"Oh, John," she sighed, unable to think of any words to express her feelings.

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.