Belle breathed a sigh of relief.  Diego was insisting that he understood and respected her beliefs.  He would wait for her, he said.<br/><br/><em>But that doesn't mean that we can't kiss and make-out right?</em><br/><br/>She grinned, ready to pick up where they left off, but he rose and paced around the room, drinking his brandy slowly.  She hesitated, not sure why he had moved away from her.<br/><br/>“Diego, what are you doing?  I thought we were going to sit holding each other.  Is it your fear of losing control that places the sofa between us?”  She was confused now.  She wanted him to hold her and cover her like a blanket, soft and warm, and inviting.  Was she being selfish?  Perhaps he understood the necessity for space more than she did.  She hung her head.<br/><br/>“I think eleven o’clock would be a good time to arrive at the stables.  Then we can share our picnic around noon.  If that’s all right with you.”  Although her thoughts were of sadness, her voice betrayed her as it came out husky and needy.  She pulled herself together, smiling up at him.  “Thank you for staying with me, Diego.  It is getting late.  Perhaps you are wanting to go?”<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/>