“And if I want you?”
She held her peace, leaving John more downcast than he expected. Her words about short acquaintance were correct, however. “You don’t want to be forced, either. I can see that.”
She shook her head. “Let’s see if we can get out of here, and ruin Cecil’s plots. We’ll worry about the rest if we fail.”
With effort in the narrow space, they rearranged their position so they both faced the door. John tried the handle, which proved what they already assumed. The door was firmly locked.
“I don’t suppose you know how to pick the lock,” Bel mused pulling out one of her hair pins.
“I’m hoping you do,” he said.
She peered at the hairpin. “I’ve heard of people managing with one of these, but I have no idea how.”
John shrugged. “We can try it.” He bent the pin and knelt in front of the lock. Bel’s hand on his shoulder made him wish to be a hero, but alas, the lock proved recalcitrant. It would not budge. He rose to face her. “I’m sorry Bel. Failure.”
“At least you tried. We could call for help, I suppose.” She sounded doubtful.
“They wouldn’t hear us down here. Even if they did, it would bring the gossips down on you, and the wrath of the earl down on me. We should avoid that if we can.”
“Annie and the others will rise by five to start the kitchen fires. They’ll let us out and won’t gossip,” she said.
John could think of nothing he’d like more than spending a night with Bel, but not in a tiny closet stinking of chemicals. “Servants gossip worse than their mistresses.”
Her sad smile cut him to the heart. “Not these. I have their loyalty.”
He pulled her back into his arms, and set her head against his shoulder. With the closed door cutting off the kitchen warmth,Bel’s “ventilation” had rapidly dropped the temperature. “We’ll freeze if we stay here.”
“I’m feeling nicely warm right now,” she said, her words muffled against his coat. She glanced up with mischief in her eyes. “We could keep each other warm.”
Her suggestion sent lascivious images floating through his imagination. As delightful as that appeared, it wouldn’t suffice. Sooner or later, they would fall asleep, freeze, or be sickened by the chemicals, and come to grief.
“What is that grill work made of?” he asked glancing up.
“Wrought iron I think.”
“Help me climb up.”
“There is a stool under the counter. You can probably stand on it, but be careful,” she said.
“If I slip, I’ll just fall into your arms.”Right where I want to be.John grinned at her.
The stool turned out to be sturdy enough. He scrambled up and found he could just reach the grill work, though the counter kept him a bit too far back. “Do you think the counter will hold me?” he asked, peering down at her.
“I have no idea; I never tried standing on it, but it has always been stable.”
When he stepped up onto the counter, the bottles on the narrow shelves shook and clanged together, but the counter held firm under him. Bel put her hands on his legs as if to steady him. “Don’t do that, love. It is too distracting,” he said imagining other circumstances in which he’d welcome her touch.
“Sorry,” she said in a quiet voice, yanking her hands away. “Can you reach it?”
“Yes. Iron for certain but well mortared in. Even if I could budge the grill, I don’t think either of us is small enough to wiggle out. He turned and ran a hand around the back of his neck. “Push the stool back under, and I’ll jump down.”
She did as he asked. “Be?—”
He was down before she could finish, sliding down in front of her and pulling her into his arms. He kissed her again, thoroughly this time, claiming her mouth and exploring her lush curves.
She followed where he led for moments, but when she pulled back and gasped for breath, she asked. “What was that for?”
Need. Desire. Want.Frustrated need to protect you. “Warmth,” he said kissing her again.
