Belle kept stroking.
“Yes,” she replied quietly, her eyes never leaving the animal.
She gave the horse one last rub then moved around James, not looking at him, to the next horse, giving him a nuzzle. Then she went to the next then the next.
At the last stall, she saw a huge grey, his smoky mane sleek and long, his body bigger, muscles more defined and powerful than any of the other horses.
He was pure equine beauty.
James was again at her side as she stroked the horse’s nose.
“He’s my favourite,” she whispered and as if the horse understood her words, he moved his nose to her neck and blew, causing Belle to let out a short, startled giggle.
“He’s mine,” James said and Belle moved her head away from the horse, her hands still on his powerful jaws and looked up at James.
“I’m thinking you have good taste,” she told him.
His eyes locked on hers and they went strange like they were amused and something else. Something she couldn’t read. Something that made her belly feel warm again.
“I definitely have good taste,” he replied without a shred of humility.
Belle didn’t know what to say to that so she didn’t say anything.
With one last pat, she stepped away from his horse and said, “You were right. Miles didn’t show me the stables but I’m glad you did. Thank you.”
She started to move by him in the direction of the door but he caught her by the elbow, that strange heat coming from his touch again, searing into her skin.
She tipped her head back to look up at him and saw his chin was dipped to look down at her, his intense green eyes staring into hers.
Instantly, her breathing became laboured.
“You haven’t seen all I wanted to show you,” he said.
“I haven’t?” she asked.
He shook his head and moved her around, drawing her to a room at the end the stables. Baron came with them and he was dancing around James’s long legs as they made it to the door.
James opened the door and Baron pushed through them to get inside. James leaned in, switched on a light and then pressed Belle inside.
On the floor ensconced on a huge dog bed with warm rugs all around was another German Shepherd. Her head came up but her body didn’t, likely because there were several little German Shepherd puppies nestled and asleep at her belly.
Without thinking, Belle clapped her hands in front of her and shouted, “Puppies!” and immediately she moved toward the dogs.
Baron gave her an excited bark, obviously feeling pleased with himself as father of this brood and Belle gave his head a rub before she dropped to her knees on the rug.
“Who’s the proud papa?” she asked and Baron gave her another happy bark and licked her hand.
Belle turned her attention to the mama Shepherd.
“And who are you?” she asked as she let the female dog smell her hand before Belle stroked her.
“Her name is Gretl,” James replied and Belle looked up and gave him a smile.
“They’re beautiful,” she told him, turning her attention back to the doggie family and she saw some of the puppies waking, blinking and fumbling toward her.
She caught the closest one and picked her up, cuddling the puppy to her face. The puppy sniffed, squirmed and finally licked Belle’s face and Belle nuzzled the writhing little one to her neck, that unmistakable puppy scent enveloping her senses.
“I just love the smell of puppy,” she murmured into soft fur, gave her another squeeze then set her down and grabbed the next one to approach.
As she did, she saw James’s hand reach out and nab a puppy who was climbing up the expensive fabric at Belle’s thigh. She turned her eyes to him as she snuggled her newest bundle.
He was in a crouch close by her side and working at containing the six, now awake bundles of energy who all wanted to play with Belle.
“Are you keeping them?” she asked and watched him shake his head as he pulled back another pup from her knee. Her voice held a hint of a surprise when she went on to enquire, “You’re not?”
He and his big, huge castle could easily harbour eight dogs.
No sweat.
“They’re all sold,” James said. “Baron and Gretl are both champions. Their litters are popular.”
Belle looked down at the happy, floppy-eared puppies, both Gretl and Baron nosing them as James kept at his containment efforts and Belle exchanged her puppy for a new one to snuggle.
She couldn’t imagine for one moment letting go of a single pup.
“You won’t even keep just one?” Belle queried.
His eyes turned to her and she realised belatedly how close he was. The room was lit and she could see, like she did when he first greeted her back in the drawing room, how thick, black and long his lashes were.
Women paid good money for someone to glue lashes that beautiful on their eyelids. Looking at his, surrounding those green eyes, eyes a colour she couldn’t believe was from nature, she was, put simply, entranced.
“Pick one,” he said and, at his surprising words, she blinked out of her trance.
“Sorry?”
“Pick one,” he repeated and she tore her gaze from his and looked down at the adorable, happy, fidgeting puppies then her shocked eyes went back to James.
“I thought you said they’re all sold.”
“They are,” he replied. “I’ll return the fee of the one you’ve chosen.”
She stared at him in shock.
Was he for real?
“You can’t do that,” Belle protested.
His lips tipped up slightly at the ends and she watched them as if this small movement was the most fascinating thing she ever beheld.
And she thought maybe it was.
Then she watched his lips form the words, “I can.”
She moved her eyes to his. “So, what you’re saying is, you’re giving me a dog.”
It was then his mouth formed a full-fledged grin. “That’s what I’m saying.”
Yes, he was for real.
Her eyes skittered away and she quickly exchanged her puppy for a new one.
Her nerves, which had disappeared for several glorious moments, returned and she felt an overpowering, nearly paralysing self-consciousness.
Cuddling her new puppy, she mumbled, “I can’t accept a champion litter dog.”
“You can,” he returned.
Her eyes moved to him but this time she looked over his shoulder.
“I can’t,” she repeated.
“Belle,” he said her name softly, his deep voice wrapping around it like an embrace and the effect made her shiver. He sounded like he was calling out to her even though she was on her knees right beside him.
She moved her eyes to the vicinity of his though she didn’t look in them. She looked mostly at his nose.
He had, she thought somewhat agitatedly, a very nice nose.
When she did this, she heard his delicious chuckle.
“Belle,” he repeated and, against its will, her gaze finally lifted to his eyes and when it did, he repeated, “Pick one.”
“I can’t have a German Shepherd,” she told him.
“Do you have another dog?” he asked and she shook her head, looking away and dropping her puppy to give belly rubs to two bundles who were happily squirming on their backs on the floor. “Do you have a cat?” he went on and she shook her head again. “Do you let your house and they don’t allow animals?” he pressed.
She finally spoke. “I own my place. It’s just that I don’t have a garden and my cottage isn’t very big. German Shepherds are large dogs. They need room to move.” She scooted closer and stroked Gretl’s head, continuing in a near whisper. “It’s nice of you to offer anyway. Very generous.” Her voice went even quieter before she murmured, “Thank you.”
With that, she stood.
She could take no more. She would prefer Miles’s stifling attention at a shoulder-to-shoulder crowded party (her definition of torture) to playing with puppies in a warm room in a stable with criminally handsome, seemingly very sweet James Bennett.