Darcy sighed, "being called a lady, like in one of those romantic books about a knight and his lady."
"Oh, Darcy, you are such a romantic."
"You are too, Belle Alston," Darcy chided. "Now go on; tell me the rest."
"Well, I turned and looked up, and he was standing next to the bench with a glass of punch in each hand."
Belle's mind drifted back to the dance, the memory of the evening playing in her mind.
"There you are young lady. What are you doing here all alone? I left for a moment to get us drinks and when I came back, you were gone."
"Thank you," Belle answered as she held out her hand for the drink.
"Oh." He handed her the drink and motioned for her to scoot down on the bench. He sat down next to her.
The warmth of his body near her, mixed with the scent of leather, soap and pure masculinity, made her tremble.
Even though he was sitting, Belle needed to tilt her head to meet his gaze. She realized he must be over six feet tall, almost a foot taller than her five-foot-five self.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude. I thought I might faint from the heat, it's so warm in there."
"You're not going to faint for real, are you?"
"No, no," she giggled at his alarm," I'm fine."
"I'm glad you are fine, but you know you really shouldn't come out here alone. You should at least have let someone know you were out here," the young man lightly scolded.
"I turned eighteen last week, I'll have you know. I'm old enough to care for myself," Belle huffed.
"Feisty little thing, aren't you?"
Belle laughed at being called feisty; it was the last word she would use to describe herself.
"I'm sorry. I have a bit of a temper."
"Not to worry. Anyway, I didn't come out here to argue with you." He smiled, and Belle felt a warmth growing inside herself.
She studied his face.
Wisps of dark hair rested on his forehead. His green eyes sparkled against his tanned skin. They were kind eyes, but she imagined a hidden flame ignited from within if a dangerous situation arose or his temper flared. Beyond his warm smile was his strong jawline, covered with a shade of dark stubble that would make other men look unkempt, but it made him all the more attractive.
He is the handsomest man I have ever seen.
"Why, thank you. I can't recall anyone ever calling me handsome."
Belle's face turned crimson. "Oh my gosh, I said that out loud, didn't I?"
He smiled and nodded.
"I'm sorry." She clamped her hand over her mouth.
"Why are you doing that?" He chuckled as he removed her hand from her face. "I think it's charming that you say what you think."
"I do it when I'm nervous." Belle shuffled in her seat. "It's embarrassing. I mean, I just met you and I don't even know your name, then I go and say something like that. I'm mortified. She looked at her lap.
The light touch of his fingertips gently raised her face, and she was captured in his mossy, green eyes.
"I have to admit, meeting you makes me a bit nervous too."
"It does?"
"Yes, so don't feel mortified, and the name's Travis—Ranger Travis Parker. And just who might you be?"
"Belle," she said, her voice quivering.
"Belle," he repeated, "how appropriate. 'Belle', I believe that means beautiful in French, and you, Belle, are uniquely beautiful. I don't think I have ever seen eyes like yours. They are not quite blue, are they? They're almost violet."
"Huh?" Belle blushed and tried to swallow but found her mouth was dry. "I don't know, I suppose. I mean, that's what I'm told, about my eyes. Oh, and umm… my name, I'm named Belle because of this birthmark." Belle showed him the birthmark on her arm. "See, it's shaped like a bell. Oh, Belle, stop talking," she admonished herself. "I'm sorry I'm rambling."
"No, you're not, sweetheart."
His endearment shot like a flaming arrow, igniting something inside her.
"Tell me about yourself, Belle."
"Well, um, my father is Judge Alston. He was a lawman before he became a judge and—
"Belle, honey."
"Yes?"
"No disrespect to your father, but I want to know about you."
"Um, well, there is nothing to tell." She shrugged. "I'm Belle Alston. I'm eighteen. I've lived in Faulkner all my life and probably will live here till I die."
"Come on, Belle, what do you like to do?"
Belle replied, "I don't know. Well, I like animals and books. I can't think of anything else. I'm boring Belle, that's all."
"Aw, darling, you are anything but boring. You are beautiful and charming and witty, and," he smiled, "I believe you have a bit of a temper."
Belle blushed. How can he tell so much about me; he doesn't know me.
"I can tell you how; I'm a Texas Ranger, and it's part of the job."
Belle's eyes widened, "Oh no, I did it again. I said that out loud too, didn't I?"
Travis nodded with a chuckle.
"That's it," Belle held her hand up, "I am going to stop talking. You can tell me about you for a while. I'm going to keep my treacherous, damn mouth shut!"
"Belle!"
She flinched at the sternness of his tone. His soft eyes flashed with a hint of disapproval.
"What?" Her voice weakened.
"Don't curse. You are far too pretty and sweet for such words to cross your precious lips."
"Oh," she muttered, "I'm sorry. I mean, I don't usually curse, you know. I'm a bit flustered."
"You're forgiven." He smiled and tapped her nose. "Now, let's get to more pleasant conversation."
"I don't know what to talk about. I already told you about me. What about you? You're a ranger? I bet it's exciting, chasing bad men."
"I doubt I know everything about you, Belle, but I will someday, I'm sure. And chasing 'bad men' is not all excitement. Most of the time, you're too cold or too hot and hungry, but the worst part is the loneliness." His voice dipped as Belle witnessed a sadness cross his face. "And, not to mention, it's dangerous, but I do get to help people and protect them from harm. I tend to be the protective type, so it suits me, at least for now."
"I think it would be so exciting."
Travis laughed at her innocence.
The conversation paused and the silence made Belle uncomfortable. She gazed up at the clear night sky.