“Well,” she tossed her head, blithely, “I shall have to think of some suitable punishment for you.”
“Oh, back to that, are we? What, then, of my reward for rendering my assistance? Do I merit any sort of favour?”
A sly curve came to her lips. “Perhaps the one cancels out the other!”
“No better than that? Do I not earn some benefit by my honesty? I might well never have told you, you know, and never have been forced to pay that particular debt.”
She laughed. “Quite true, Mr Darcy! Tell me what reward my ‘pupil’ would request, then, and I shall consider it.”
Darcy stopped her, looking seriously down into her face. “A very near one to my heart, Miss Bennet,” he whispered. He took her hand off his elbow and clasped it tenderly.
Elizabeth’s breath caught. He had been so light-hearted and easy; she had not expected such a serious shift. Was he going to press her for her acceptance again so soon? Both knew it to be an inevitability by this point, but just for a time, she had enjoyed the fantasy that she still had some choice in the matter and that he was a devoted suitor actively trying to curry her favour.
Darcy reached hesitantly for her other hand and blinking, unable to meet his eyes, she allowed him to take it. “Miss Bennet,” he murmured, “I find myself a very jealous man.”
Surprised, she glanced up. “J-jealous?” she stammered. “I do not understand, sir. Have you some cause to doubt me?”
“You, no. I am quite envious, however, of another young man bearing the moniker of William, with whose name you seem quite familiar.”
“Wh-what?” she broke into a confused grin, starting to chuckle.
“And my own sister, who makes free with your Christian name! Not a good example to set, is it, Miss Bennet, that a girl of less than a day’s acquaintance should have enjoyed such a privilege while I, who have known you two months almost, am constrained to formalities?”
Elizabeth eyed him appraisingly, amusement sparkling. He gazed down tenderly, admiring the tiny drifting snowflakes beginning to gather on her lashes.
“What say you…Elizabeth?” he whispered. He tipped his head lower, closer to her face. “Will you allow me to call you by your given name, or is there some other which you would prefer?”
She forced herself to remain still, not flinching away at his closeness. It was not uncomfortable to be so near him, but it made her heart flutter queerly, uncontrollably. Her voice caught breathlessly. “My mostparticularfriends call me ‘Lizzy’. Is that the name to which you refer?”
His hands, cradling hers, raised them to his chest, in near reach of his lips. Gloves or no, her eyes became riveted on them, wondering at his intentions. “If that is what those dearest to you call you, then yes. I do ask for that freedom. What think you of my boldness? Am I incorrigible… Lizzy?”
“Very nearly,” her words rasped in her throat. “What am I to do with you?”
His mouth softened. “Say you will return the favour. It would give me the very greatest pleasure… Lizzy.”
Spirit returned to her eyes, and she lifted her chin. “Or perhaps, Mr Darcy, if I am clever, I should withhold that particular prize until you have done something rather singular to earn it!”
“Refusing to make it easy on me, are you not?” he grinned in some delight.
Elizabeth fluttered her lashes coquettishly. “A lady must havesometricks up her sleeve, would you not agree? Else how shall I endeavour to exert any influence at all?”
“I think you will find, Elizabeth, that a smile from you is all that is required to sway me.” He dipped his head still lower, his voice dropping huskily. His hands tightened around hers, and he held her eyes intently.
She gazed back, wordlessly studying the depth of feeling mirrored in his expression, trembling in his voice. Slowly she nodded. “Very well, William,” she whispered evenly.
His held breath rushed to the fore, his entire body shuddering in release. His eyes blinked rapidly, and without even consciously willing it, his right hand left hers. Thoughtlessly he reached the glove-tipped fingers up to brush a stray snowflake from her cheek but stopped himself just short of touching her. He hesitated, fearing he had gone too far, but her gaze never wavered. Her breathing had quickened, and those marvellous eyes dilated, but she remained still.
Boldly, daringly, he closed the distance to her soft skin. The kid leather of his glove moulded to her cheek, dissolving the flakes as they touched down. He held his hand there, she permitting his caress with uncertainty speaking from her eyes.
“Elizabeth,” he whispered, so lowly the word was almost inaudible. “Lizzy….” Her eyes fell closed in unconscious invitation.
His heart in his throat, he tipped his face lower. He could feel the puff of her breath, warming his cheek, the heat of her skin radiating in the chilled space between them. It was a siren call, an irresistible beckoning, and he had not the strength to deny it. Delicately, fearfully, his curled fingers offered the barest nudge to her cheek, coaxing her to welcome him. He drew in one final breath. Then those delicious lips found his.
He lingered there, barely touching his mouth to hers, for long intoxicating seconds. Slowly and carefully, he parted his lips to cup them around her lower one, drawing it between them. Elizabeth was nearly panting, so rapid and shallow was her breathing, but she held herself rigidly still. He released her lip, then took it again. He gave the gentlest of tugs, and her jaw relaxed.
At his third brush, she met him with softened lips. His heart soared. Pressing a little more insistently, he encouraged her to release her mouth to him. With modest reserve, she did. Her breath became his as their lips tangled sweetly, softly. He lost count of their kisses as they merged together into one seamless, rapturous caress. His other hand had joined the first, and together they cradled her lovely face while Elizabeth’s hands, stranded somewhere near his chest, fisted and rested lightly on the lapels of his overcoat.
Euphoric, he tilted his head slightly to the side, approaching her more intimately. Her graceful neck flexed, curving to tip her delicate jaw to accommodate his attentions. His smallest fingers trailed down the grooves of her throat, etching her shape and feel into his hands.What cruel fancy struck me this morning to make me remember my gloves?He forgot them often enough when at home. Why could he not have done so today?
