Page 30 of Her Affections and Wishes

It was best to be honest, as honest as her delicacy would tolerate, at least. “I knew it when our knees touched. I could have announced it at that moment, but I…”

“You what?” he asked in a low voice.

“I wanted to be near to you,” she whispered.

Darcy drew in a breath and then pointed to the stairs. Neither of them had a candle, but they went down to the entrance hall to have more privacy, although it seemed the movement of the people walking to the billiard room or to bed had ceased.

He was silent, but his eyes were fixed on her face, so she asked, “Are you angry with how I played the game?”

“Would I be angry if Julia Metcalfe sat in my lap and touched me, when she knows I do not want her? Yes, I would be angry. If some other woman indulged in the game’s freedom, I would have disliked it, but endured it for the sake of the group’s entertainment.”

He stepped closer and put his hands on her hips. “But you? You can do whatever you damn well please with me. I just prefer us to be alone next time.”

Darcy swiftly bent his head and kissed her hard. It surprised her, but she eagerly sank into it, gripping his coat as she pulled him closer. He coaxed her lips open with his tongue to deepen their connexion and she moaned happily. How to describe this kiss, with her heart thudding in her chest, her emotions tilting as he held her in his arms? It was the most glorious feeling of her life.

This was not a gentle, lingering brushing of lips. Darcy was ardently kissing her with the entirety of his being. It weakened her knees and made heat bloom across her body. That expression she had seen on Darcy’s face when she was in his lap was desire.

A pleasurable shiver ran through her when his hand encompassed the small of her back and pulled her against the firm length of his body. Soon he cinched his arms tighter, both hands clutching at the back of her gown, and she hummed happily against his lips. Her arms wound around his neck, tugging him closer as he explored her mouth.

Finally, he drew back, still entwined in each other’s arms, and they stared at one another with their chests heaving. He still wore the same dark-eyed look, but she grinned, now that she knew what it meant.

“I feared you were unhappy with me,” she said, still catching her breath. “Thank you for reassuring me.”

He started, as though his hands and lips had acted independently from his mind. “I am sorry. I should not have… You have every right to strike me⁠—”

“I am not angry,” she murmured. “And you did promise me you would kiss me outside of a game.”

His gaze dropped back to her lips with a low sound at the back of his throat, and his grip on her tightened again. As she tilted her chin up and leant toward him in invitation, he blinked and gave his head a little shake. “We should stop,” he whispered, dropping his hands and taking a step back. “I will talk with you in the morning. I am going back to the drawing room to not attract attention and you⁠—”

Darcy glanced up, then grabbed her by the forearms and spun her to the side and crashed her back into the wall, pressing himself in front of her, bracing one hand above her head whilst he bent over her. She gasped and was confused until she heard a crash and the sound of something shattering.

The noise made her give a short scream, and she clung to Darcy. He had moved her out of the way and shielded her with his body. He unbent to look at her, but was too startled to move away. She peered around him and saw shards of porcelain had skittered across the floor. They were near enough to a large broken vase for powder and bits to cling to the back of Darcy’s legs.

He was stunned and still in the silence after the crash, his heart no longer pounding because of that fervent embrace but out of fear. Beneath him, he felt Elizabeth give a shudder, and he looked into her wide eyes. Her fright jolted him out of his shock and into action.

“Are you hurt?” he asked in a rush. When she shook her head, Darcy ran up the stairs two at a time to see what had happened.

A passage led from the stairs over the inner part of the house, giving access to some main bedrooms and overlooking part of the entrance hall below. Vases, statues, and other decorations cluttered the space. The open railings had tables before them. One farther down had a large, Roman style vase, and the nearer one stood empty.

Mrs Tessier and some of the evening’s guests came from the drawing room, and a few men came from the billiard room, either at the sound of the crash or Elizabeth’s shriek.

“What happened?” asked Sir John with some alarm as Elizabeth came up the stairs, face white and eyes blown open.

“A vase almost crushed Miss Bennet,” Darcy answered.

A collective gasp rose, and Mrs Tessier put an arm around Elizabeth. “My poor dear!”

“I am perfectly well,” she said in a steady voice, although she was ashen. She was about to say he had pushed her out of the way, but Darcy shook his head. Her brow furrowed, but she said only, “It missed me.”

It was best not to hint that they had been alone in the dark together. His mind was in a tumult. One moment he was talking to Elizabeth, wondering if her sitting in his lap meant what he hoped it did, and the next he had impulsively embraced her. He had been recklessly consumed by hope that she loved him. She was too generous to trifle with him. Her feelings for him must have changed for her to kiss him like that, and he would declare himself as soon as possible.

Whilst the others comforted Elizabeth and everyone looked at the mess and questioned the amount of furnishings in the passage, Darcy felt some unease. Their heated, impetuous kiss had not been a short one. Had anyone known they were down there?

“What a dreadful accident,” cried Mrs Tessier, still holding an arm around Elizabeth’s shoulders. “Do you need to lie down? Can I do anything for you? Will you be well enough to take the carriage to the races tomorrow? Should you like to stay home?”

“Since the vase did not actually hit me, I can attend.”

“If you are certain, but I will send for some wine to help you sleep. What a shame about the vase, though,” Mrs Tessier added, looking at the empty table. “My husband loved these furnishings. Are they not beautiful?”