Chapter Nine
Bella’s room in the inn has a mellow look, a few candles flicker above the empty hearth and it seems as cozy as winter, the two so close together. Bella’s feet are in Daniel’s lap. He’s been unconsciously massaging them for the last fifteen minutes of his story.
“You know, that’s sort of sad,” Bella says. “That she can’t have a man or passion like that for more than a few days—that she has to change lovers and can never repeat.”
“We all have our quirks, Bella. Sometimes, to me, yours are as odd as hers.”
“But I admit I love you, Daniel,” she reminds him.
“And I love you.” He wants to say more, but the words just don’t come. He’s gun-shy after the last setback. It’s something he doesn’t want to repeat. Much easier to cloud the truth in fantasy as long as it will last. He w
