His entire being quivered, a deep groan of ecstasy suppressed. Who was he kidding? The gloves could not matter. Even swathed and bundled beneath layers of outerwear, he had never felt so laid bare, so deeply entwined with anyone. Elizabeth, his extraordinary Elizabeth, so sweetly surrendering! Could it be possible?
Elizabeth was experiencing some crisis of feeling. She had been determined to challenge him a little more, to exact a little more studious conversation from him so that she might better examine his character.Oh, why must I be so wilful?What more proof did she truly need that he was honourable and devoted?
Surely, she had given him every opportunity and excuse to turn tail and run, yet he had remained to shield her. He could easily have sworn her off—or worse yet, he could have turned brutish, forcing her to follow through with an engagement whether she hated him or not. Instead, he had humbled himself, made himself utterly vulnerable, and in the process begun to reveal his true nature to her wondering eyes. The more closely she looked, the more inevitable it seemed that her heart would abandon her.
Allowing herself to trust him was a tremendous gamble, a daunting plunge. Her body tensed, still unwilling to wholly submit. Patiently, gently, he persuaded her to lower her guard. At last, something inside of her let go. Shewantedhim, and finally, she came to admit it to herself. She drew back fractionally, her lips still hovering near his—just enough to catch his notice and cause him to open his eyes. Deliberately, so that he would know beyond a doubt that it had been her own volition, she moved into him again.
Darcy did vocalize his pleasure then. An unconscious throaty moan rumbled low in his chest, and an answering quiver trembled in Elizabeth’s core. He traced the crisp edges of her full lips with his own, drinking in her willing reception. Gently he pressed a withdrawing kiss to her upper lip, and still cupping her face, gazed down into her eyes. “Elizabeth,” he whispered reverently, stroking her cheekbones with his thumbs. “My Lizzy… you asked me before what I had been thinking. Do you remember?”
She nodded ever so slightly, not wishing to disturb the tenuous contact of his fingers. He tilted his head a little, smiling gently. “It was this. It was you, and my dreams of being with you like this. It was the hope that you would be so warm, so tender. I am afraid, my Lizzy, that you have quite made me your slave.”
Her mouth quirked—that delicious mouth! Now he knew it to be such for himself! “That is well, sir, for it seems I shall require some means of keeping you biddable for the foreseeable future.”
His expression turned to one of awe. “Elizabeth!” he whispered. “Does that mean...?”
Her face dropped a little, bashful for the first time. She peeked up at him through the shade of her frosted lashes. “I do not make a habit of allowing justanygentleman such liberties, as you may well remember, sir.”
“William.” His body pulsing, he touched her chin to lift her gaze.
“William,” she murmured, his name spoken with gentle affection.
He stood breathless, staring, wishing to burn this moment into his lifelong memories. His thumb brushed over her chin, and unable to resist, he lowered his face again to hers. This time he did not confine his attentions to her glorious mouth but explored her cheeks, her forehead, even brushing light kisses over her snowy lashes. Elizabeth leaned into him, willing and pliant, and he was helpless to deny the deep tremor of pure elation washing through him.
Conscience tickled his thoughts at last, and he drew back. “We are quite exposed here, Elizabeth,” he murmured. “Anyone could happen along, and I fear that will do our reputations no good whatsoever!”
She smiled, a pert twist returning to her lips. “Do you forget we have already been seen unchaperoned together by Sir William Lucas? He will have us marching down the aisle by special license within the fortnight, if I know him at all. There really can be no more compromising witnesses abroad today!”
Darcy laughed, still stroking her cheeks. “If that be the case, I shall not fear! I must confess though; I will have to admit to a sudden admiration for Sir William’s way of thinking.” He drew her close once more, savouring her luscious sweetness.
Elizabeth flattened her hands upon his chest, no longer pressing them cautiously against him but tenderly to him. She spread her fingers over his thick coat, sensing his chest rising and falling with his breath, the steady thrum of his heart. There was something delectable and exhilarating about such intimacy with him, something she had never thought to expect. It almost frightened her to consider how rapidly she had become at home in his embrace. Enthralled and thoroughly hypnotized, she leaned her body closer to his as he tenderly caressed her mouth once more.
Approaching hoofbeats from around a grove of trees caused her to blink and pull back. Darcy, too, attempted to compose himself, but in both cases, their flushed complexions gave them away. The rider was upon them quickly, moving in a brisk trot, and before they could step apart, the man had pulled up. He halted his mount, and with an air of some disbelief, lowered his woollen scarf from his face.
“Well, Lizzy! I trust you have some explanation for what I think I am seeing!”
Darcy turned his shoulder slightly, an implicit warning, interposing himself between Elizabeth and the stranger.
Elizabeth herself had gone quite pale. She bit her lip and glued her eyes on the rider’s saddle. “Good afternoon, Uncle.”
Chapter 22
GeorgianahadfoundMaryBennet the only sister available to visit with her. Kitty and Lydia had not yet returned. Mrs Bennet was also in town, and Mrs Gardiner seemed nowhere about. Mr Bingley had retired to the opposite side of the room with his Jane, and Georgiana had to make do with the least receptive member of the family for her companion.
She glanced in the betrothed couple’s direction occasionally. She liked Jane, though she had had little enough opportunity to actually speak with her. She seemed genuinely kind and affable, like Bingley. She may have lacked the lively energy which characterized her sister, but there was a serenity about her that seemed so restful after days in a household with Caroline Bingley. She supposed that was why Charles liked her so much and could not blame him.
Mary was quite a different story. Neither she nor Georgiana were in the slightest at ease, and it remained to be seen which would pluck up the courage to draw the other out of her shell. Mary sat silently across from her, eyes largely on the floor, and her hands resolutely clasping her cooling teacup.
“I believe that Miss Kitty and Miss Lydia mentioned they expected their visit to town to be but a short one?” Georgiana put forward awkwardly.
“It seldom is,” Mary mumbled, a faint bitter edge to her voice.
Georgiana caught herself in a little surprise. Mary seemed to have no notion that her discourteous response showed an odious lack of breeding; in fact, her manner was exactly the same as it had been before the question had ever been put to her. She stared vacantly at the rug, sullen and stony.
Georgiana swallowed.Perhapsshe venturedI am not the only one who is painfully shy!It would be difficult for an introverted girl to survive at the very centre of such a boisterous household full of siblings. One so completely the opposite of each of her other sisters, one who lacked many of the charms the others flaunted, could quite possibly be thoroughly miserable. Steeling her resolve, Georgiana tried harder.
“Do you play, Miss Mary? I have heard that Elizabeth does. Miss Kitty mentioned something this morning about Miss Lydia’s expertise on the pianoforte.”
Mary’s hazel eyes leapt to meet hers at last. “Lydia?” she asked incredulously. “She said that?”
