A/N: Song to Bacchus, by John Fletcher (mid-16th cent)
Belle stood in the massive, glittering ballroom. The afternoon sun glittered through the windows. Adam watched in admiration as she pulled her latest library find from her pocket and began whispering the words from the page.
God Lyaeus, ever young,
Ever honored, ever sung
Stained with blood of lusty grapes,
In a thousand lusty shapes,
Dance upon the mazer's brim,
In the crimson liquor swim;
From thy plenteous hand divine
Let a river run with wine;
God of youth, let this day here
Enter neither care nor fear!
He listened as she read the words, softly, meant only for her own ears. He did not mean to spy on her, but could not make himself break the magic of her soft words. Still, even as she read them, he pictured Belle, clad in the formal dress of a French princess, dancing in this ballroom. The image delighted him – possibly more than it ought to have. He moved forward before he could stop himself, and cleared his throat to announce himself.
Belle let out a slight squeak as she slammed the book shut. Her cheeks flamed brilliantly, and Adam was reminded again that all these things he'd taken for granted were so new to her. Perhaps that was the most risqué thing she'd ever read? He very consciously and deliberately threw further thoughts of that sort into a dark prison in his mind and slammed the door shut on them.
"I apologize, dear Belle," he said softly. "I did not mean to intrude." He decided to put her at ease by pretending he had not overheard the poem. It was nothing to him, but he saw her hands tremble as she shoved the book into her pocket. "I was merely passing by and saw you in here." He paused to look around the grand ballroom. "I have not been in this room in years."
He relaxed as he saw Belle's tension ease. She smiled and the brilliant blush on her cheeks faded. She looked around at the chandeliers and many gilded buttresses. Adam felt suddenly shy of the excess, but Belle just smiled at him.
"It is, indeed, a beautiful room!" she agreed.
"We should have a dance tonight!" he declared impulsively! He did not, ever, not in a thousand years, expect her to say yes. But Belle whirled towards him as though he had offered her the finest treasure. For one heart-stopping moment, he thought she might throw herself into his arms. But she did not.
The smile that brightened her face outstripped the sun, outshone the gold and the chandeliers and all the finery in the room. The apple blossom pink of her cheeks made him forget everything else.
"Oh! We should!" She agreed with enthusiasm! "Yes! Yes, we should!" She grabbed both his hands in both of hers and held them for a moment. Adam delighted in her smile and warm enthusiasm.
As Belle raced from the room so Mme Garderobe could prepare a dress for her for this evening, the warmth fled the room with her. Adam felt suddenly cold and sick all over.
Good God what had he done? She just agreed to dance with him. Dancing meant… well, it meant dancing! He had not danced in years. Did he even remember how?
Dancing meant touching! His hands would be on her waist and… oh, mon dieu! He turned and gripped the doorframe for support.
What had he just done?