“Oh, dear,” she sighed reluctantly. Haltingly, not wishing to sound slanderous against his nevertheless deserving relation, she described her encounter with the lady. She could feel the tightening of his jaw as his prickling cheeks tangled in her hair.
A strangled hiss escaped him as she related Lady Catherine’s irate pronouncements. He had no doubt she was making light of his aunt’s colourful insults—he was, after all, rather well acquainted with the lady himself. At last, her narrative drew to an awkward close. “Is that all she said?” he probed.
“No…” her brow creased in some concern. “Just as she was leaving the study, she asked me whether I was fond of Georgiana. I answered that I was, of course. She seemed satisfied in that and left.”
He pricked up his expression and stared at her carefully. “Fond of Georgiana… oh blast and damn.” The oath escaped softly, but then a sudden pallor overcame him when he recognized his outrageously unbecoming language. “Forgive me, Elizabeth!”
She shook her head, absolving him immediately. Her eyes were full only of concern. “William, what is it?”
He drew a shuddering sigh, touching his forehead lightly to hers. Would she always be so gentle with him? What had he done to deserve her patient tenderness? He was silent a moment, and she waited without pressing him further. Another long breath heralded a swelling in his chest as his love for this exhilarating woman crashed over his senses.
She was still waiting, her uneasiness growing in her eyes. He pulled back to meet them. Her right brow dipped slightly—a mannerism he had never seen employed by anyone, but from his expressive Elizabeth, he understood its meaning instantly. She was begging him to relieve her worry and would not allow him to escape without some explanation.
“My aunt has some special resentment regarding Georgiana,” he admitted at last. “I do not understand why, exactly. She has oft declared that she herself would have been a better guardian rather than a pair of very young bachelors.”
He shrugged self-deprecatingly. “I know well my own failings, but I thank heaven my father’s will in that regard was iron-clad. My aunt Helen—Richard’s mother—was designated to take on Georgiana’s sponsorship in thetonrather than Aunt Catherine.Thatcodicil set her into a righteous fury.” He heaved a bitter sigh, pressing his lips rigidly in frustration.
Elizabeth shook her head slightly in bafflement. “I do not understand, then. If your father’s will is so sufficient, what can she do? You feel she is threatening Georgiana somehow?”
“Oh, she can still do plenty. We have received an education only this week in how rapidly talk of any lady’s disgrace can ruin her future. Aunt Catherine still has her contacts—spiteful old cats, all of them, who will look on our engagement less than favourably.” He drew back fractionally with a pained expression, speaking softly. “Aunt Catherine is far from the only matron who has coveted the Darcy name for her daughter.”
Elizabeth paled, her stomach dropping. So, Darcy, and by extension Georgiana, would truly suffer for his connection to her. She had once furiously dismissed the conceited words, but now the full weight of his position settled uncomfortably over her small shoulders. She was not equal to it. She bowed her head, her heart swimming and eyes stinging.
“Elizabeth? I did not mean to give you pain! Lizzy, my Lizzy, please do not cry!” His words of panicked concern broke over her, and she looked up to him once more, blinking rapidly. In a rush of breath, he crushed her to him, kissing her temple as it was nearest his mouth. “I see it in your eyes, Elizabeth. Do not you dare consider abandoning me now! Do not fancy you would be doing it for my own good, for nothing could destroy me more than to lose you!”
“But if Georgiana is to be harmed…” she began to protest, tears choking her voice.
“Shhh,” he interrupted her with a gentle press of his lips to hers. “Georgiana needs you almost as much as I do. Almost,” he repeated with emphasis, lovingly caressing her cheeks. “I would have you put it out of your mind. I beg you, my Lizzy, think no more on it. I will manage my aunt.”
“I cannot simply cease to worry, William! You are in distress, and your concerns are mine, are they not? It is because of me that Georgiana may be at risk. You cannot be master of every problem on your own, William.”
A glorious smile suddenly overspread his face, and Elizabeth could not be certain, but she thought she might have identified a second dimple on his other cheek before his next words distracted her. “And this, dearest Elizabeth, is why there can be no other for me!” With rapturous joy, he claimed her mouth. She yielded easily, tipping back against his shoulder as her arms tightened around his neck. He followed her, leaning tenderly over her as he braced her gently against the arm of the chair.
Her awkward posture, quite unfortunately, required a little more support than merely the uncomfortable arm of the chair. Smiling as he kissed her, he slid his hand up her back, delighting in the feminine arches and curves he detected beneath her gown. It was perhaps best that his actual support was required, or his fingers would have taken on a life of their own, placed daringly low on her frame as they were.
Elizabeth’s hand dropped from the back of his neck to the front, one finger hooking in the top of his cravat and the others tickling over his throat. His pulse clattered wildly. Oh, no, he would not have to wait long for her! She arched her neck and allowed him to explore her mouth more deeply. Their lips and tongues met and swirled in a provocative dance, coming together and separating in a timeless synchrony known only to lovers.
A whisper of conscience prickled through him; that quiet voice of his inner being reminding him of his position and hers, and the respect he owed to her and to her family. Even as the thought caused him to pull back slightly, he caught the glimmer of moonlight shivering upon her moistened lips—those delicious, honey-dewed lips which were even now whispering his name, softly demanding more of him. He could not deny her!
A low, conflicted cry wrung from his own lips as his mind battled for all that was right. She was a lady, an innocent! It was wrong to tempt her so. It was wrong to awaken her ardour when he could not satisfy it. It was wrong to remain in her arms, pressing her tantalizingly female curves to his masculine form, when he had promised her uncle to behave as a gentleman! It was wrong—so very, very wrong—to compromise her honour while pretending her wounded father did not lay a scant yard away, unable to object! Oh, but yet, it wasso rightto hold her like this.
A wordless endearment—a sigh, really—and he dropped his face helplessly to her neck. She tipped her chin obligingly, gasping as his lips brushed her milky throat for the first time. She trusted him, and the agony of that burden seared through his conscience. He must release her! She was a maiden, spotless and pure, and... and her fingers were running through his hair. Heaven help him.
He unleashed the full tenderness of his mouth on her neck, sliding up to the curve of her ears and down to the point of lace at her collarbone. The woman in his arms fairly ignited. Banished for now was the gentleman’s daughter with her demure glances and modest blushes. A stormy tempest brewed in his embrace, promising the hopeful lover a lifetime of memorable nights. Darcy covered her insatiable mouth again with his own, shivering when an answering whimper of pleasure reached his ears.
He moaned softly, his lips searching over her lovely face for any hidden places they might have neglected. Her breath warmed his cheek as her lips parted slightly and another muffled sound came... except this sound had not come from either of them. He drew back, his brow furrowed as he gazed at her curiously. “Did you...?”
She shook her head slightly, eyes widening as she heard it again. It sounded suspiciously like raspy chuckles, and by now, neither of them was in the slightest mood for such mirth. Her heart pounding in combined hope and mortification, she deliberately turned to the bed... slowly, so Darcy could not miss the direction of her gaze.
Mr Bennet’s eyes were open, and a disreputable grin played at his mouth. “Mr Darcy, good of you to drop by.” His voice was rusted and gravelled from disuse, but his words were clear enough. “I wonder, sir, if you would be so good as to look out that window there and tell me if my prize sow has just flown away.”
Darcy bolted to his feet, then stammered an embarrassed apology to Elizabeth for nearly upending her on the floor. Mr Bennet chuckled once more, then his eyes drifted shut, not to open again until morning.
“Whatareyoudoingback so soon?”
Darcy looked up from his third cup of coffee as his cousin, pressed and polished to a spit-shine, finally graced Netherfield’s breakfast room with his presence. Richard pulled up short as he peered his cousin in the face.
“You look a fright. Did you leave your valet in London?”
