As the flames dwindled, Darcy turned to Elizabeth. “You are rather daring, you know.”
“Did you expect otherwise?”
“Not at all,” he said. “I merely think most would hesitate before reaching into the fire.”
“No point in hesitating when I can clearly see what I want,” she said, tilting her head with a mischievous smile. “But then, I do not fear a little heat.”
His gaze flared, and he was suddenly having some trouble swallowing. “Clearly not.”
Before either could speak again, Sir Thomas called from the doorway. “Enough Snapdragon! Who dares to test their skill at Blindman’s Bluff next?”
Darcy glanced toward the doorway and then back to Elizabeth. “Shall we avoid the blindfolds and find somewhere quieter to talk?”
Elizabeth hesitated for the briefest moment before nodding. “Lead the way, Mr. Darcy.”
Twenty-Seven
Aripple of laughterswept through the crowd near the punch bowl as Mr. and Mrs. Jackson found themselves paused beneath the mistletoe. Jackson must have missed seeing it, for it had been on his blind side, but his young wife did not. She covered her mouth with her hand and giggled, pointing upward when she discovered that their friends had suddenly cleared a space around them and were cheering them on. A quick peck—perhaps a little braver than others might have been—and the game was on as others “accidentally” wandered beneath its white berries.
The sprig of greenery dangled gently on its red ribbon, a quiet invitation more than a formal demand. Some guests lingered nearby, feigning casual interest, while others drifted past, their gazes flickering to the mistletoe with varying degrees of curiosity or amusement.
Elizabeth found herself at the edge of the gathering, Darcy still at her side. His expression was rather more composed than hers, though his gaze seemed fixed on the sprig of mistletoe swaying gently above the punch bowl… where practically everyone would stray under its intoxicating powers at some point during the night.
“Do you think Sir Thomas deliberately placed it there to cause a riot?” Elizabeth asked, tilting her head toward the mistletoe.
“If he did, he has been remarkably successful. It seems to have become the centerpiece of the evening.”
“Would you say the same if you were standing under it?”
He glanced at her, his eyes glinting with something almost teasing. “Perhaps you should test the theory.”
Elizabeth raised a brow. “That sounds suspiciously like a challenge, Mr. Darcy.”
“Not at all. Merely an observation.”
She turned to him, her cheeks warming at the intensity of his look. “Do you intend to join the spectacle, Mr. Darcy?”
“Only if you wish it.”
Elizabeth opened her mouth to respond, but before she could find the words, Colonel Fitzwilliam appeared, his grin as mischievous as ever.
“Cousin!” he exclaimed. “It seems you are the only one who has not yet participated in this grand tradition. What an oversight!”
Darcy’s expression shifted into one of mild annoyance. “I am not certain that I—”
“Oh, nonsense,” Fitzwilliam interrupted, grabbing his arm. “Come, come! Miss Elizabeth, surely you agree that ‘mingling’ is the point of the evening, and Mr. Darcy ought to set an example for the rest of us?”
Elizabeth glanced at Darcy, who was already looking at her. “Well,” she said lightly, trying to ignore the sudden quickening of her pulse, “it seems we have little choice.”
Darcy’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles. “It would appear so.”
He offered his hand, and she took it, allowing him to guide her toward the mistletoe. The crowd parted for them, their whispers and murmurs creating a hum of anticipation. Elizabeth’s heart was pounding so loudly that she was certain everyone could hear it.
They stopped beneath the sprig, its green leaves and white berries casting a shadow over their heads. Darcy turned to face her fully, his gaze steady and unwavering. Elizabeth’s breath caught as the room seemed to fade, leaving only him.
“For tradition’s sake,” he said softly, his voice low enough that only she could hear.
Elizabeth nodded, unable to speak. Her eyes darted to his lips, then back to his eyes. He leaned in slowly, giving her every chance to step away.
