Page 82 of Mr. Darcy’s Fiery Passion

"I know what you were saying."

"I mean to say it anyway." He tipped her chin up so that he could see her face. "I love you, Elizabeth."

Her eyes went very bright. "I love you too. I think I began when you threw a rocket with your bare hands."

"Not before?"

"Before that, you found me tolerable."

He winced. "I called you tolerable because I could not bear to say what you were. And then I looked at you for three weeks. I could not stop."

"I noticed the looking," said Elizabeth. She turned his hand over and kissed the scar in his palm. "You might have said so at the assembly."

"I am saying it now."

Her stomach growled.

Elizabeth went scarlet. Darcy laughed until the bed shook.

"It is not funny," she said. "I have had nothing since the fowl last night. And you have been very demanding."

"I have been demanding?"

"Very." She propped her chin on his chest. "I am famished, Fitzwilliam."

He reached over her head for the bell pull and tugged it twice, and lay back.

They heard steps on the stair a few minutes later. A knock came at the outer door of the dressing room.

Parrish's voice came through it, perfectly correct. "You rang, sir?"

"Breakfast, Parrish."

"Very good, sir. Shall I have it laid in the small dining room? Or the morning room, for Mrs. Darcy?"

Darcy looked down at his wife. Her hair was a dark tangle over his chest and the pillow. Her eyes were bright with laughter, and she had no intention of getting up. He could see that plainly. "Elizabeth?" he said. "Where would you like your breakfast?"

"Here," said Elizabeth. "I am not getting out of this bed for anybody."

"Here, Parrish," said Darcy. "On a tray."

There was the smallest pause behind the door.

"Very good, sir. On a tray." Another pause. "Will Mrs. Darcy take ham?"

Elizabeth hid her face in his chest and shook with laughter.

"Mrs. Darcy," said Darcy gravely, "will take everything you have."

EPILOGUE

"Elizabeth! Will you wait?" called Darcy.

Elizabeth did not wait. She dashed down the slope toward the lake at a great pace, with her skirts in one hand. Her breath went up in clouds. The grass was white with frost and crunched under her boots. The whole park lay silver and still in the February sun.

She reached the bottom and turned round, laughing.

Her husband came down the slope after her at a long, steady stride. He never ran. But he was not far behind. "You will break your neck," he said when he reached her.