Belle slid down low in the armchair by the library fire, and tried to concentrate on the book she held in her hands. She thought she could hide in there, from Louisa’s other guests and from her own delights and worries about what she had done last night. Maybe she was trying to hide from herself.
Everyone else was engaged in a wild game of hide-and-seek along the corridors and up in the attics, so they weren’t going to come looking for her in the staid library. But her own thoughts, those were much harder to hide from.
Every time she looked down at the page, she saw Will’s face as he leaned down to kiss her. She felt his touch on her skin. Last night had been wondrous, beyond anything she could have imagined. But today…
She snapped the book shut with a sigh. When she opened her eyes in the dawn light and saw his peaceful, sleeping, boyish face on the pillow beside hers, she was beset with all the old doubts and fears. The lingering nightmare of her marriage; the problems of her life now. How could she let them go and just—be? Be with Will?
So she had fled to her own chamber, not even taking her dressing gown. She had to compose herself before she faced him again, put up her mask. She couldn’t just run into his arms again and throw herself on him, as she knew she would long to do.
There was a soft knock at the door, and Louisa’s butler appeared. He held a folded letter on a silver tray. “I beg your pardon, my lady, but this message came for you.”
“A message for me?” Belle said, confused. Who would be writing to her there? It couldn’t be—oh, no it couldn’t be Peter, demanding her house again? Following her even when she hid? She shivered, and reached for the letter as if it would bite her.
But it was not from Peter. It was very short, a dark, spiky scrawl. Meet me outside in fifteen minutes. If you say no, I’ll just have to come in and wander the halls shouting your name…
She choked off a laugh. The butler gave a discreet little cough, and held out her cloak. “I was told you would need these, my lady. And these. Miss Patterson was kind enough to oblige.” He offered her boots and gloves.
“Thank you.” In a dreamy haze, she did what she had determined not to do—she took the cloak and ran to Will.
He waited for her at the foot of the stone steps, the snowflakes drifting around him, holding the reins of a small white sleigh drawn by two white horses, like in a fairytale. Even more glorious was the wide smile he gave her as he waved.
“Come for a ride with me, Belle,” he called. “It’s a beautiful day!”
She had to laugh. “If you enjoy freezing your nose off, I suppose.” But she let one of the footmen help her up onto the narrow seat, where Will leaped up to join her. He tucked the fur blankets around her, and kissed the tip of her nose, so tenderly it made her melt.
“It’s perfectly warm, see?” he said, and his lips slid over hers, lightly, sweetly.
Indeed she could never remember being quite so warm. Everything else vanished, even the snow. But when she reached for him, he evaded her with a teasing grin. “No, I have a surprise for you,” he said, and flicked the reins to set that magical little sleigh into motion. Silver bells rang out as they dashed over the snowy ground.
“I’m not sure I quite like surprises,” she said, snuggling down into the blankets against him.
“You? Not like surprises? But there’s a surprise every night at la Sous Rose. Not as fine as the surprise I got last night, though…”
Belle felt her cheeks turn warm, and she ducked her head to hide her silly blush. They drove down a narrow track through a wooded area, the ice sparkling around them like a house of diamonds. It was so quiet, so magical there, her worries left far behind. She looped her arm through his and rested her head on his shoulder as they dashed onward.
He turned down a circular driveway and pulled up in front of a tiny cottage of rosy-red bricks, old-fashioned mullioned windows gleaming in the snowy light. A gray plume of smoke curled from one of the stone chimneys, cozy and inviting. Safe. It had been so long since she felt safe.
“Who lives here?” she asked as she studied the cottage.
“We do,” Will said. “At least for this afternoon.” He came around to help her from the sleigh, but instead of putting her down on the snowy ground he swept her up into his arms. He carried her through a rickety garden gate and up the snowy path to the front door. “Louisa owns it, and mentioned it happens to be between tenants at the moment. She offered to loan it to me, in case I had—well, romantical needs. Which I most assuredly do.”
Belle laughed, and held tight to his neck as he swung her down a narrow corridor and through a low doorway into a little sitting room. She gasped when she saw what was there—a bright fire burning cheerfully in the grate, and spread before it a picnic arrayed on a fur-lined blanket. Bread, cheese, cakes, hothouse strawberries, wine, with flower petals scattered across the flagstone floor to cast a sweet, springtime scent into the air.
It was perfect. It was just like the home she had longed for, the home she hoped so much to make after she was free from her marriage, free to make a life. And Will had created it for her. Will was the most important part of it all, and the most ephemeral.
“Oh,” she whispered. “Is this the surprise?”
“A surprise to your liking?”
“Oh, yes. Very much to my liking indeed.”