"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?"