“Don’t worry Belle. We’re not rejoining the party. I’m going to show you The Point,” he explained.
Belle felt immense relief that she had a ready and truthful excuse to get out of a tour of “The Point” (what they called his enormous, multitude-of-rooms-filled castle) with James Bennett.
“That’s okay. Miles took me on a tour this afternoon.”
She watched as James looked over her shoulder and muttered, “Of course he did.”
Then he moved forward again, his hand firm on her arm so she had no choice but to move with him. As they went toward the door, he grabbed his dinner jacket from the arm of the couch.
“Um, James…” she began to protest but he spoke again.
“Jack,” he stated firmly then he let out a low whistle and Belle heard dog tags behind them.
“Okay,” she agreed hesitantly and went on, “I should probably find Miles and –”
He cut her off, “I’m betting Miles missed part of the tour.”
Belle couldn’t imagine that. They’d been wandering around for over an hour.
“I think he was pretty thorough,” Belle informed him as he stopped them and put his hand to the doorknob.
He looked down at her before opening the door. “My brother is many things,” he said softly and there was a wealth of meaning behind his words, Belle just didn’t understand it. “But he is not thorough.”
Then he opened the door and guided her through.
Then he guided her down a deserted hall.
Then he guided her through some busy kitchens.
Then he took her out a backdoor.
They stepped into the nippy May evening and Belle shivered.
Upon her shiver, James pulled her to a stop and dropped her arm. She turned to him and saw he was shaking out his dinner jacket. Before her mind registered his intent, he moved close to her front, his hands came up on either side of her and he settled the jacket on her shoulders.
Then his fingers came to the lapels and pulled them closed at her chest, leaving his hands there.
Throughout this she stood shocked and solid.
It was a kind thing to do.
Immensely kind.
Even gallant.
It was also, the way he did it, casually intimate.
She barely knew the man and yet there she was in the night wearing his jacket, his hands on her and it seemed, unlike when Miles touched her, strangely natural.
“Better?” he murmured and all she could do was nod.
Part of her hoped they could stand like that forever (or at least for a while).
Part of her wanted to run screaming into the night.
Therefore, she felt relief and disappointment when his hands moved from the lapels of his jacket.
Her body relaxed then grew stiff again as only one of his hands dropped away.