Read Online Dancing at Midnight by Julia Quinn - Free Book Online Page A

me."

    John felt dizzy. /Was /he afraid of her? Did he fear her ability to
    upset the precious internal balance he'd only recently been
    able to achieve? Perhaps, but he feared no one more than himself. The
    things he wanted to do to her...

    He closed his eyes against the unbidden vision of Spencer on top of Ana.
    No, that wasn't what he wanted with Belle, was it?

    He had to get a hold of himself. To push her away. He blinked, suddenly
    remembering her question about running through Ashbourne's house
    barefoot. "I suppose one can do anything one wants if one is related to
    a duke," he finally replied,
    somewhat sharply.

    Belle drew back, a little hurt by his tone. But two could play at that
    game. "Yes, I suppose one can," she said, lifting her
    chin up a notch.

    John felt like a cad. But he didn't apologize. It was probably better if
    she thought him a boor. He had no business getting
    involved with her, and it would be so, so easy to let himself do so. He
    knew a dead end when he saw one. He'd looked her
    up in /Debrett's Peerage /after she had visited the day before. She was
    the daughter of an extremely wealthy earl and related
    to any number of important and influential members of society. She
    deserved someone who had a title that went back further
    than a year, someone who could offer her the material comforts to which
    she was no doubt accustomed, someone who was whole, whose legs were as
    perfect as hers.

    Dear Lord, but he'd love to see her legs. He groaned.

    "Are you ill?" Belle was looking at him, trying not to appear concerned.

    "I'm fine," he said curtly. She even smelled good, a fresh, springtime
    scent that seemed to envelop him. He didn't even deserve
    to /think /about her, not after committing such an unforgivable crime
    against womankind.

    "Well, thank you for treating my blister," Belle said suddenly. "It was
    very kind of you."

    "It was no problem, I assure you."

    "For you, perhaps," Belle said, sounding as cheerful as she possibly
    could. "I had to lie on my stomach next to a man I met just three days
    ago." /Please, please don't say something unkind, /she silently
    implored. /Please be as funny and as joking and
    as sweetly stern as you were just a few minutes ago./

    As if her thoughts traveled through the air and landed on him like a
    kiss, he smiled. "You may rest assured that I enjoyed my
    view of your backside immensely," he teased, his hesitating smile
    quickly developing into a rakish grin. It went against his better
    judgment, but he was quite unable to be unkind to her when she was
    trying so hard to be friends.

    "Oh, you!" Belle groaned, punching him playfully in the shoulder.
    "That's a terrible thing to say."

    "Hasn't anyone ever admired your backside before?" His hand stole up and
    covered hers.

    "I assure you, no one was ever crude enough to mention it." Her voice
    was breathless. He didn't stroke her, just let his hand rest lightly
    over hers, but the warmth of his touch seeped into her, traveled up her
    arm, and was moving dangerously close to her heart. .

    John leaned forward. "Didn't mean to be crude," he murmured.

    "No?" Belle touched her tongue to her lower lip.

    "No, just honest." He was close—just a hair's breadth away.

    "Really?"

    John made a reply, but Belle didn't understand him because his lips were
    already brushing gently against hers. She moaned
    softly, thinking she'd wanted this forever, silently thanking the gods
    and her parents (although not necessarily in that order) for advising
    her not to accept any of the men who'd offered for her in the past two
    years. This was what she'd waited for, had
    barely dared to hope for. This was what Emma and Alex shared. This was
    why they were always looking at each other,
    smiling constantly, and giggling behind closed doors. This was—

    John gently ran his tongue along the soft skin of her inner lip, and
    Belle lost all power to think. She only felt, but, oh, how she
    felt. Her skin tingled—every inch of it