"My dress was caught."
"Provided it causes no discrepancy to your visage, it can be left so."
"Wuh?"
Sometimes the man in front of her spoke too many words she did not know, and she lost the meaning of his sentences. Confusing trees that masked that forest.
This time, it was Henry who shifted in his seat.
"Ye’re fidgetin'!" Belle pointed out.
The man went still.
"It is not inappropriate for me to do so. I am not a woman."
Belle was quiet for a moment, frowning in the dark. That didn't sound like the stories she had been told.
"So ah'm to sit awkward and achin', but ye can move when ye want?" she asked accusingly. "Ah thought men looked after ladies."
The light of Munro's eyes disappeared for a second as he blinked rapidly, apparently surprised by her words. There was a flash of white teeth as he opened his mouth to speak, and then they were gone again.
Belle could not tell if she had startled him into silence or if he simply could not be bothered to answer her.
Perhaps he thought her an idiot, the town simpleton. A child who knew nothing of the world and could not remain in a seat without wriggling. A being without control over her words or actions.
Feeling more than a little dejected, Belle had to shake herself back into some sort of positivity.
"Besides, ah'm not gonna be a lady," she reminded him. "Ah'm only going to pay respects, and then ah'm goin' home."
"That's truly what you want?" Munro asked from across the carriage.
"Aye. Ah can fidget all I wantthere."
There was a moment of silence and then the most surprising thing: Munro laughed.
It was short. As if it had exploded from his chest and broken beyond his lips before he could restrain it, a quick and low chuckle that was cut short by his own restraint.
Belle blinked across the carriage at his shadowy figure and wondered why he would clamp his lips around such a fine sound. Her mother had always said that laughter was the greatest cure for all ailments, that it healed the heart and lifted the soul. Just why would this man wish to stem such a thing?
Because it was not "proper"?
Whatever the reason, it smothered any further conversation, and they rode in silence for some more time...
"We are here."
As Munro announced their arrival, he leaned forward to see further beyond the window. Moonlight drifted in across his features, and Belle blinked to discover what he looked like. His face managed to be at once masculine and pretty. His cheekbones and jawline had been painted in fine lines but with male proportions, and his nose was razor straight. His lips were well crafted, and his wide brow was softened by locks of dark hair lounging about his temples. His eyes were light but leeched of color so that Belle could not identify their exact hue. She was too distracted by the creases that still lingered in his cheeks, evidence of a thousand laughing smiles he had never let loose.
For a moment, Belle felt cheated. She wondered what that smile looked like when at full strength.
When Munro glanced in her direction, wondering why she was not reacting to his words, Belle realized the impact of what he was saying.
They were there.
At the castle.
At the home of Laird Henderson. The man that Belle now knew to be her sire.
Swallowing, Belle leaned forward to try and look out and around at the approaching walls. Henry Munro was quick to move back so that they would not accidentally touch but, even so, she caught a breath of his scent and felt the warmth of his presence.
