Dancing at Midnight Read online

  “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.”

  “Hmmm, 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 swa
llowed 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.

  “I can’t hear you.” He started to pull her closer.

  Belle wriggled back into her original position. “I’ll sing, then.”

  John’s hand tightened gently around her waist. “I still can’t hear you.”

  “Yes, you can. Stop your games, or we’ll never get our waltzing lesson underway.”

  “I’d rather have a kissing lesson.”

  She blushed a deep red. “We already had one of those today, and anyway, Emma or Alex could come in any minute. We must get back to work. I’ll lead first, and once you catch on, you can take over. Are you ready?”

  “I’ve been ready all afternoon.”

  Belle hadn’t thought it possible to blush any harder but soon found that she’d been mistaken. “All right then, one-two-three, one-two-three.” She applied slight pressure to John’s shoulder and began the slow twirl of the waltz. She promptly tripped over his feet.

  John smiled boyishly. “Imagine my delight that you were the first to stumble.”

  She looked up at him with a peevish expression. “I’m not used to leading. And it certainly is not very gentlemanly of you to point out my flaws.”

  “I didn’t see it as a flaw. In fact, I rather enjoyed catching you.”

  “I’ll just bet that you did,” Belle muttered.

  “Want to give it another try?”

  She nodded and put her hand back on his shoulder. “Wait just a moment. I think we need to switch positions.” She slid her hand down to his waist. “Put your hand on my shoulder. There, now just pretend that I’m the man.”

  John glanced down at the enticing swell of Belle’s breasts. “That,” he murmured, “is going to be exceedingly difficult.”

  Belle missed his desire-filled gaze, which was fortunate because her senses were already quite overwhelmed. “Now then,” she said blithely, “if I were the man and you were the woman, I’d just put a little bit of pressure on your waist like this, and then we would move like this.” As she softly sang out a waltz, they began to twirl around the parlor, John’s bad leg moving with grace he’d never dreamed he could possess. “Wonderful!” Belle cried out triumphantly. “This is perfect.”

  “I agree,” John replied, savoring the feel of her in his arms. “But do you think that I could be the man for a while?”

  Belle shifted her hand to his shoulder as her eyes caught his in a sultry caress. She parted her lips to speak, but her throat went dry. Swallowing nervously, she nodded.

  “Good. I much prefer it that way.” John caught her about the waist and pulled her to him. This time, Belle made no protest, captured by the warmth and excitement of his body heat. “Am I doing this correctly?” he asked softly as he led her in the dance.

  “I—I think so.”

  “You only think so?”

  Belle snapped herself back into reality. “No, of course not. I know so. You’re a very elegant dancer. Are you certain this is the first time you’ve ever waltzed?”

  “Actually, my sisters used to force me to partner them when they were learning.”

  “I knew you weren’t a novice.”

  “I was only nine.”

  Belle pursed her lips in thought, unaware of the kissable temptation she was presenting for John. “I don’t think people even waltzed when you were nine.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “We had a very advanced household.”

  As they twirled around the parlor, John wondered if he was fighting a losing battle. He kept telling himself that he had to stay away from Belle, but his resolve had so far proved useless next to her sunny smile. He knew that he couldn’t marry her; to do so would only hurt the woman he wanted to protect and cherish.

  He felt like a fraud just standing next to her after what he had done in Spain.

  John exhaled slowly, his sigh a mixture of contentment and frustration. He had promised himself this afternoon. Just a few hours of happiness without any memories of Ana.

  “We’re supposed to make conversation,” Belle said suddenly.

  “Are we?”

  “Yes. Otherwise people would think we don’t like each other.”

  “There isn’t anyone here to form an opinion one way or another,” John pointed out.

  “I know, but I am teaching you how to waltz, after all, and most of the time one waltzes during a party, not in a private parlor.”

  “More’s the pity.”

  Belle ignored his comment. “That is why I think you ought to learn how to talk while you dance.”

  “Is it usually so difficult?”

  “It can be. Some men need to count while they waltz in order to keep time, and it’s difficult to have a conversation with someone when all he says is ‘one, two,’ and ‘three. ’ “

  “Well, then, by all means, talk away.”

  “All right.” She smiled. “Have you written any poetry lately?”

  “You were just looking for an excuse to ask me that,” John accused.

  “Maybe, maybe not.”

  “Belle, I told you I’m not a poet.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  John groaned, and in his frustration he missed a step. “I will try to write you a poem,” he said finally.

  “Splendid!” Belle exclaimed. “I cannot wait.”

  “I would try not to expect great things, were I you.”

  “Nonsense.” She positively beamed. “I am breathless with anticipation.”

  “What is this?” a voice suddenly broke in. “A dance in my own home and I wasn’t invited?”

  John and Belle halted in mid-twirl as they looked around to see Emma entering the room.

  “I was teaching John how to waltz,” Belle explained.

  “Without any music?”

  “I thought it best not to ask for your assistance on the piano.”

  Emma grimaced. “That was probably a wise idea.” She looked over at John. “I have yet to meet anyone whose skill at the piano does not exceed my own. Including the residents of our stables.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  Emma ignored his wry smile. “Did you enjoy your lesson, John?”

  “Very much so. Belle is a superb dancer.”

  “I’ve always thought so. Of course I’ve never danced with her myself.” Emma moved over to a chair and sat down. “Do you mind if I join you for tea? I took the liberty of asking Norwood for another pot. I’m sure this is hopelessly lukewarm by now.”

  “By all means,” John said graciously. “This is your house, after all.”

  Emma smiled knowingly as she noticed that John and Belle were still standing in each other’s arms. “Don’t let my presence deter you from your dance,” she said with an impish grin.

  The pair immediately made their embarrassed excuses, disengaged themselves, and Belle sat down on the sofa. John murmured something about having to get back home, to which Emma replied with alacrity, “Oh, but you cannot!”

  Belle leveled a suspicious eye at her cousin and immediately realized that Emma had decided that she and John would suit very well, indeed.

 
; “It’s pouring,” Emma hastily explained. “You must stay until the rain lets up a bit.”

  John declined to point out the rain actually had let up a bit, and if he waited much longer, it was only going to worsen again. He offered the pair of beautiful women an inscrutable smile and sat down across from them on an elegant yet highly uncomfortable chair.

  “You mustn’t sit there,” Emma said. “It’s terribly uncomfortable, and I would get rid of it if Alex’s mother didn’t assure me it was absolutely priceless. Why don’t you move over to the sofa next to Belle?”

  John raised a single eyebrow at her.

  “I hate when people do that,” Emma muttered under her breath. Nonetheless, she continued brightly, “I assure you that you’ll have a horrid backache on the morrow if you stay in that chair for more than five minutes.”

  John rose and sat down comfortably next to Belle. “I am your obedient servant, your grace,” he said politely.

  Emma flushed, hearing the tinge of humor and mockery in his voice. “Oh dear,” she said loudly. “I wonder what is keeping that tea. I’ll have to go check on it.” With remarkable speed, Emma rose and exited the salon.

  John and Belle turned to each other, Belle blushing to the very roots of her golden hair. “Your cousin has not mastered the art of subtlety,” John pointed out dryly.

  “No.”

  “I’m not exactly certain what she expects to accomplish. She will probably run into a maid with the tea not two steps from this parlor.”

  Belle swallowed, sheepishly remembering the time she and Alex’s sister Sophie had managed to leave Emma and her future husband alone together for a full five minutes under the pretext of going to inspect a nonexistent harpsichord. “I imagine she’ll be able to think of something.”

  “As much as I would love to take you into my arms again, I have no desire to be interrupted by your cousin returning with tea.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,” Belle mumbled. “She’ll find a way to alert us of her impending presence. She’s quite resourceful.”

  As if on cue, they heard Emma yelp from the other side of the closed door. “What a surprise!”

  Belle frowned. “I would have thought she’d have given us a bit more time.”