Dancing at Midnight

"You may remain with me, but I'll not leave her." He turned on his heel and strode back to Belle's bedside. She was breathing evenly. It was a good sign. He put his hand on her forehead. Damn. It was even hotter than before. He doubted she'd be breathing so evenly in an hour's time.

Caroline followed him and stood by his side. "Has she been like this all evening?" she whispered.

John nodded. He reached down, picked up a cloth which had been soaking in cool water, and wrung it out. "There you go, sweetheart," he crooned, laying it on her hot forehead. She mumbled something in her sleep and fitfully shifted positions. She tossed about again and then suddenly opened her eyes wide. Her expression was filled with panic.

"Shhh, I'm here," he said softly, stroking her cheek. Belle seemed to take some comfort in that and slowly let her eyelids flutter shut. John had the impression that she'd never really seen him.

Caroline swallowed nervously. "I think we should send for a doctor."

"At this time of night?"

She nodded. "I'll see to it."

As John sat by Belle's side, carefully and worriedly watching over her, his mind refused to stop replaying the devastating comment she had made several hours earlier.

Doesn't matter if you love me back.

Was it possible that she loved him unconditionally? Even with his past?

Always love you.

And then it suddenly occurred to him-no one had ever said those words to him before.

John lifted the cloth from Belle's forehead and cooled it off in the basin of water. He didn't have time to sit around feeling sorry for himself over an unhappy childhood. It wasn't as if he'd gone hungry or been abused. He just hadn't been loved, and he suspected that thousands of children across Britain had shared similar fates.

Over in the bed, Belle had grown fitful. John immediately turned his full attention to her.

"Stop," she moaned.

"Stop what, love?"

"Stop!"

He leaned over and gently shook her by the shoulders. "You're having a nightmare." Dear God, it tore him up to see her this way. Her face was flushed and feverish, and her entire body was covered by a thin sheen of perspiration. He tried to push her hair out of her eyes, but she batted his hand away. He wished he knew how to use one of those blasted hair things she always had lying around. She'd be more comfortable if he could secure her heavy tresses away from her face.

"Fire," Belle moaned.

"There's no fire here save the one in the fireplace."

"Too hot."

John quickly wrung out the wet cloth.

"No, no, stop…" Belle suddenly sat up and screamed.

"No, love, lie back down." John started wiping the sweat from her body, hoping the motion would cool her down. Belle's eyes were open and she was looking at him, but John didn't see even a flicker of recognition in her gaze.

"Stop, stop!" she shrieked, slapping his hands away. "Don't touch me! It's too hot."

"I'm only trying to-"

"What the devil is going on?" Caroline burst into the room.

"She's delirious," John said, trying to cover Belle up with the sheet.

"But there was so much screaming."

"I said she's gone delirious," John snapped, attempting to hold the sheet over Belle's writhing form. "See if we've any laudanum. We need to calm her down." He sighed, remembering that he was talking to his mother-in-law. "I'm sorry, Lady Worth. It's just-"

She held up a hand. "I understand. I'll go look for the laudanum."

Belle started fighting him in earnest, her strength fueled considerably by her fever. She was no match for John, however, whose firmly muscled body had been honed by years in the military. "Wake up, damn you," he said fiercely. "If you wake up the fire will go away. I promise you."

Belle's only response was to struggle harder.

John didn't budge an inch. "Belle," he pleaded. His throat worked violently. "Please."

"Get off of me!" Belle screamed.

Caroline chose that rather inopportune moment to reenter the room with a bottle of laudanum. "What are you doing to her?"

John replied with a question. "Where is the laudanum?"

Caroline poured some into a glass and handed it to him.

"Here you go, Belle," he said softly, trying to pull her into a sitting position and keep her still at the same time. He held the glass to her lips. "Just a little now."

Belle's eyes focused on something behind him and she screamed again. Her hands shot up to her head, knocking the glass from John's hands. It rolled onto the floor, spilling the drug.

"I'll feed it to her this time," Caroline said. "You hold her down." She held the glass to her daughter's lips and forced her to take a gulp.

After a few "moments Belle calmed down, and both mother and husband breathed a weary sigh.

"Shhh," John crooned. "You can sleep now. The nightmare is gone. Rest, my love."

Caroline pushed some of Belle's heavy locks from her face. "There must be some way we can make her more comfortable."

John walked over to the bureau and picked something up. "Here is one of her hair contraptions. Perhaps you could pin her hair back from her face?"

Caroline smiled. "It's called a barrette, John." She lifted Belle's hair and secured it into a sloppy bun. "Are you certain you don't want to sleep for a few hours?"

"I can't," he said hoarsely.

Caroline nodded sympathetically. "I will sleep then. You'll be weary in the morning. You'll need help." She moved to the door.