“I am already uncomfortable,” he said dryly. “Your comfort is more important.”
Elizabeth gave him a look. “And what of the fact that there is only one blanket?”
Darcy hesitated. The fire’s warmth would not last through the night. The stone floor would grow bitter, and frost would surely creep in through the cracks in the walls.
She drew a breath and looked away. “It is only… for warmth, of course.”
His brow furrowed. “I beg your pardon?”
Her cheeks turned scarlet. “The bed,” she said, her voice low. “If we both used it. And the blanket. It would be far warmer than… than freezing separately.” She kept her gaze firmly on the hearth. “We need rest. And clear heads come morning.”
Darcy stared at her, stunned. “I could not—Miss Bennet, I could not possibly presume—”
“You will not be presuming anything,” she said, lifting her chin. “You may be quite certain I am not making an improper offer.”
The blush that flamed across her face belied her composed tone, but she held firm. “Besides,” she added, with a glance toward the cot, “as I am already seated here on the bench, you would have to move me bodily if you intend to lay claim to it alone.”
Darcy opened his mouth, then closed it again.
“Unless,” she said calmly, folding her hands, “you intend to behave ungentlemanly after all?”
He made a strangled sound that might have been a laugh. “You are a most provoking woman.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Is that a yes?”
“It is a surrender,” he muttered, and moved to bank the fire.
They prepared in silence—Darcy moving stiffly, deliberately not looking at her as he laid the blanket flat across the narrow cot. She removed only her boots and outer layers, setting them near the hearth to dry. He did the same.
She was already curled beneath the blanket when he turned back. With great care, he lowered himself onto the other side,staying as close to the edge as possible. The cot creaked ominously.
For a moment, neither moved.
Then her elbow brushed his. “Apologies,” she murmured.
“No, forgive me,” he said at once. “I did not mean to—”
Her foot accidentally bumped his shin.
“I swear I am not doing this on purpose,” she muttered.
“It is entirely my fault,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “I should have—”
She turned slightly, her shoulder touching his. He drew in a sharp breath.
“This is not how I envisioned us sharing a bed for the first time,” he muttered.
She stilled.
Darcy closed his eyes. “Forgive me. That was inappropriate.”
There was a long silence.
Then she giggled.
It was soft and unexpected and made something in his chest unclench.
“You forget,” she whispered, turning her face toward him, “that I am the woman you once declared to be only tolerable. I believe I am more surprised by this situation than you.”
