Chapter 6
Moonlight glinted through the window in Belle’s bedchambers, illuminating the room in soft but brilliant light. She stretched out on her bed, like a tigress awaking from a long slumber, her chemise exposing much of her naked legs to the moon. Out of habit, she lifted her arm so that she may watch the glow of the light play across her skin.
How magical would it be if she could to catch that light in the palm of her hand? It had always been a favorite past time of hers—bathing in the illumination of the night’s sun. It also happened to be when inspiration most often struck for the designs of her gowns.
Oh, the tales her gowns would tell!
And was it any wonder she preferred the night to the day? The dark lent far more mysteriousness than that of its counterpart, which often revealed the harsh truths of reality. In the shadows of the night, one could transform into something magical, something more exceptional than ordinary.
Though Belle was well aware one could not avoid the truth, the allure to surrender to the embrace of the night and its fantastical tales remained strong for her.
An unexpected movement in the corner of her vision caught her attention. Her senses went on alert.
“Charlemagne?” she called, her eyes roaming the room for her hound.
Her heart plummeted in sudden fear as she turned her head to glance the slightly ajar door. In it stood the outline of a man and her breath caught as she reached beneath the pillow for her letter opener. The man stepped forward and a familiar silhouette came into view under the glowing moon.
Her breath came out in a whoosh. “Dear Mother Mary! Westfield! What in the blazes are you about? You nearly scared me to death!”
He came to a halt when he caught sight of her legs.
Belle’s cheeks reddened in embarrassment as his eyes traveled down the length of her form. Rooted a few feet away from her, his gaze finally locked with hers.
“You should be scared. That could easily have been De Roux.”
So he was concerned about the beast. It still did not explain his presence in her room.
“What are you doing here?” Belle asked, ignoring the reprimand in his voice.
“What are you doing?” he countered. “Have you no concern for your welfare,” he motioned at her with his hand, “dressed like that?”
Her welfare? What did that have to do with how she was dressed?
“I’m—” She shook her head. How had he turned it back around to her? The oaf. “I live here. I can do as I please. You, on the other hand, are intruding on my privacy, not to mention trespassing.”
“On the contrary, my dear.”
“What on earth does that mean?” Belle asked, staring at the hard planes of his face.
She was curious as to his intentions. His usual charming façade was gone, replaced by this, this…character. Not to mention how highly improper it was for him to be here in her chambers, alone. A delicious shiver made its way down to her toes before she could help it.
Simon could hardly breathe when he caught sight of Belle sprawled on her bed, her legs marvelously exposed in the pale moonlight. It took all of his strength to keep his eyes locked with hers and not continually wandering down her enticing body.
“What on earth does that mean?” she’d asked.
Well, she was about to find out. Without a word, he moved closer to the bed, his eyes never leaving hers. When she did not protest or even move, he took a seat on the side of her bed. She scooted over to make more room for him, and Simon thought:To hell with it.
So he lay down beside her, their eyes still riveted on one another. It was not an uncomfortable silence, but a peaceful silence, as though they’d both found mutual solitude in the moment.
“You do not cover your windows.”
Something flashed in her eyes, but it was gone before he recognized it. “I prefer them uncovered.”
“You seem to enjoy the company of the moon. I’ve never given much thought to it before now.”
His body somehow shifted without seeming to, their faces almost touching as they studied each other.
Her lips twitched. “It’s not something one should give thought to, but rather stop and behold its beauty.”
