With considerable exertion Belle managed to hoist the window up. Once there was enough space for her to squeeze through, she waved down at Dunford and wormed her way in.

The minute her feet touched the floor, a steely arm grabbed her from behind, and she felt the cold butt of a pistol pressed up against her neck. Fear froze her body and her mind, and she went stiff as a board.

"All right," she heard a furious voice behind her hiss. "Start talking. I want to know who you are and what you want with me."

"John?" Belle croaked.

She was instantly spun around. "Belle?"

She nodded.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

She swallowed nervously. "Could you put the gun down?"

John realized that he was still holding his weapon and dropped it on a nearby table. "For the love of God, Belle, I could've killed you."

She managed a tremulous smile. "I'm glad you didn't."

He raked a hand through his thick hair and then finally took a good look at her. She was dressed in black from head to toe. Her bright hair, which would have undoubtedly glowed in the moonlight, was stuffed under a cap, and the rest of her appeared to be stuffed into a pair of men's breeches. Or rather, a pair of boy's breeches. Her shapely form was shown off quite nicely by her unconventional attire, and he doubted that there were men's breeches small enough to compliment her backside so delightfully.

"What are you wearing?" He sighed.

"Do you like it?" Belle smiled at him, determined to brazen this out. She pulled the cap from her head, allowing the mass of her hair to tumble down her back. "I got the idea from Emma. From something she did once. She, umm, dressed as a boy, and-"

"Spare me the story. I'm sure Ashbourne was as furious as I am now."

"I think he was. I wasn't there. But the next day-"

"Enough!" He held up a hand. "How in hell did you get up here?"

"I climbed the tree."

"Where'd you get a damn fool idea like that?"

"Do you have to ask?"

John shot her a look which told her that he was not amused at having his own behavior thrown back at him. "You could have broken your neck, woman."

"You didn't leave me much choice." She reached forward to place her hand on his arm.

John jerked back. "Don't touch me. I can't think when you touch me."

That was encouraging, Belle thought, and reached forward again.

"I said stop it! Can't you see I'm furious with you?"

"For what? For taking a risk in coming up here to see you? This wouldn't have been necessary if you hadn't been such an addlebrained idiot and refused to see me."

"I had a very good reason for refusing to see you," John snapped.

"Oh, really? And what was that?"

"None of your damned business."

"I can see you're just as childish as ever," Belle sneered. "Ouch!" She jumped back as a rock hit her in her arm.

"What was that?" John hissed, grabbing his gun again and pulling her back from the window.

"When did you grow so paranoid? It's only Dunford, growing irritated at me, no doubt, for waiting so long to tell him that I made it in safely." Belle wriggled from his grasp and moved to the open window. Dunford was looking up at her. She couldn't see his face clearly, but she knew that concern was etched into his expression.

"I'm fine, Dunford," she called down.

"Is he going to see you home?"

"Yes, fine. Don't worry."

" I want to hear it from him."

"Stubborn man," Belle muttered. "Umm, John? Dunford won't leave until you give him your word that you'll see me home safely."

John scowled and crossed over to the window. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"I'd have liked to have seen you stop her," Dunford growled back. "Are you going to escort her home or do I have to remain here and-"

"You know damned well I will, and the two of us are having a talk tomorrow. You're either stupid or drunk or both to let her-"

" Let her? Let her? Oh, Blackwood, you're going to have a fine time of it as her husband. I didn't let her do anything. Napoleon himself couldn't have stopped her. I wish you the best of luck. You're going to need it." Dunford spun on his heel and walked back to the carriage he'd left a block away.

John turned back to Belle. "You'd better have a very good reason for pulling a stunt like this."

Belle gaped at him. "I told you, I needed to see you. What better reason is there? And could you possibly shut the window? It's cold in here."

John grumbled, but he shut the window. "All right. Start talking."

"You want me to start talking? Why don't you start talking? I've been wondering why a man would creep into my bedroom one day and make love to me and then refuse to see me the next."

"It's for your own good, Belle," he said through clenched teeth.

"Now where have I heard that before?" she asked, sarcasm dripping from every word.

"Don't throw that back at me now, Belle. It's an entirely different situation."

"So I might understand-if you told me what was going on. And while you've been off and immersed in your affairs, I've been having quite a little adventure."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means that someone tried to kidnap me two days ago." Belle had turned away, so she didn't see the blood drain from John's face. Taking a deep breath, she risked everything and said, "And if you really cared about me, I would think you'd want to see about protecting me. I'd rather not go about this alone, you know."