Dancing at Midnight

"I rather would, actually."

Belle fought a blush as she remembered what had happened when John had offered her a chocolate. Luckily, Persephone was too busy choosing between the sweets to notice.

"I do like the ones with nuts," she said, plucking one out of the box.

"Is it so very cold out?" Belle inquired. "I heard you saying that you needed warmer gloves."

"Well, it certainly has cooled off since yesterday. Although I must say it's quite hot inside."

Belle bit back a smile. When she looked over at John she noticed that he had started to cough.

"Your gloves, madam."

"Excellent." Persephone stood and walked over to the footman who had just entered the room. "I'll be on my way, then."

"Have a good time," Belle called out.

"Oh, I shall, my dear. I certainly shall." Persephone walked out and started to close the door behind her. "Actually," she said, blushing slightly. "I believe I'll just leave this door, er, open, if you don't mind. Better circulation of the air, you know."

"Of course," John said. And then when Persephone was gone, he leaned forward and whispered, "I'm shutting the door just as soon as she's out of the house."

"Hush," Belle admonished.

The minute they heard the front door close, John got up and shut the door to the drawing room. "This is ridiculous," he muttered. "I'm almost thirty years of age. I have better things to do than sneak around behind some chaperone's back."

"You do?"

"It's damned undignified, I tell you." He made his way back over to the sofa and sat down.

"Is your leg bothering you?" Belle asked, concern clouding her eyes. "You seem to be limping a bit more than usual."

John blinked at the change of subject and looked down at his limb. "I guess so. I hadn't noticed. I've grown used to the pain, I imagine."

Belle crossed over to the sofa and sat back down. "Would it help if I rubbed it?" She placed her hands on his leg and began to rub the muscle just above his knee.

John closed his eyes and laid back. "That feels marvelous." He let her continue her ministrations for several minutes until he said, "Belle… about last night."

"Yes?" She continued massaging his leg.

John opened his eyes and stilled her hand by placing his own over her fingers. She blinked, sobered by his serious expression.

"No one has…" His mouth opened and closed as he searched for words. "No one has ever defended me like that."

"What about your family?"

"I didn't see very much of them when I was growing up. They were quite busy."

"Were they?" Belle said, disapproval evident in her voice.

"It was always made clear to me that I would have to make my own way in the world."

Belle stood abruptly and walked over to a vase, nervously rearranging its flowers. "I would never say something like that to my child," she said, her tone strained. "Never. I think a child should be loved and cherished and-" She whirled around. "Don't you?"

He nodded solemnly, entranced by the passion and fire in her eyes. She was so… good. No flowery word could possibly be more descriptive.

He could never be worthy of her. He knew that. But he could love her, and protect her, and try to give her the kind of life she deserved. He cleared his throat. "When are your parents returning?"

Belle cocked her head at the abrupt change of subject. "They were supposed to get back any day now, but Emma recently forwarded me a letter from them saying that they were having such a good time that they were staying a bit longer. Why do you ask?"

He smiled up at her. "Would you mind rubbing my leg again? It hasn't felt this good in years."

"Of course." She returned to his side. When he didn't pick up the conversation, she prodded him with, "My parents…"

"Oh, yes. I just want to know when I can ask your father for your hand and be done with it." He shot her a cheeky grin. "Ravishing you in dark corners does have its excitements, but I'd much rather just get you to myself and have my way with you in the privacy of my own home."

"Have your way with me?" Belle asked unbelievingly.

John opened his eyes and shot her a rakish grin. "You know what I mean, love." He pulled her to him and nuzzled her neck. "I'd just like to have some time alone with you without fearing that someone is going to walk in on us at any moment."

He started to kiss her again. "I want to be able to finish what I start."

Belle was having none of that, however, and wriggled away. "John Blackwood, was that a proposal of marriage?"

Still leaning back, he looked up at her through his lashes and smiled. "I rather think it was. What do you say?"

" 'I rather think it was. What do you say?' " Belle mimicked. "I say that that is just about the least romantic proposal I have ever heard."

"Have you had so many proposals, then?"

"As a matter of fact, I have."

That wasn't quite what John had expected to hear. "I thought you were supposed to be the practical and pragmatic one in your family. I thought you wouldn't want weepy words of love and all that."

Belle swatted him on the shoulder. "Of course I do! Every woman does. Especially from the man she actually wants to accept. So devise some weepy words and I'll-"

"Aha! So you accept!" John grinned victoriously and pulled her on top of him.

"I said I want to accept. I didn't say I did accept."