Page 14 of What to do with Fitzwilliam Darcy?

That surprised a laugh out of her, and something in his expression eased in response. It was the first time since he had entered the room that he looked even remotely like the man she remembered from Hertfordshire, rather than the pale, exhausted stranger who had spent most of the previous evening staring at his plate.

Elizabeth looked down at her tea. "Very well. If you require the truth, then yes. I did mean it. The wine may have loosened my tongue, but it did not entirely rob me of my eyesight. I have always thought you very handsome."

He smiled then, a broad, true smile, and dimples flashed in his hollow cheeks. "Especially my eyelashes?"

"You do have quite nice eyelashes. Though that is neither here nor there," she huffed. "Now then, does that count as a civil conversation? Shall our captors let us out, do you think?"

She stood to move towards the door, but before she could take more than a step he caught her hand.

"Elizabeth."

His voice was so low that for a moment she wondered whether she had heard her name at all. When she looked back at him, he was still seated, his hand wrapped gently around hers.

"I know that my proposal at Hunsford was made in the most ungentlemanly fashion. I know that you disliked me exceedingly, and I gave you every reason to do so. But the truth is..." His voice broke and he looked away for a moment before continuing. "I still love you. I love you so much that it causes me physical pain to go about the daily business of life knowing that you are in the world and hate me so thoroughly. My heart is broken, Elizabeth, and I do not expect you to mend it. I do not think you owe me a single thing. But if I cannot have your heart, then I would very much like your friendship. I would like to know that you are happy and fulfilled and living a life that brings you joy."

Elizabeth stood quite still, looking down at him, until something warm reached her lips and she realised with surprise that she was crying.

"I thought..." She swallowed. "I thought that you hated me. I was so cruel to you, and I was so wrong about Wickham and about so many things. I thought you must believe me to be the rudest, most disagreeable woman in existence."

His eyes were glossy now, but the faintest smile touched his mouth. "You are often disobliging, but Lord help me, I find it one of your most attractive qualities."

A laugh bubbled out of her through the tears, and with very little thought for propriety, or indeed anything else, she dropped to her knees before him and placed her hands on his thighs so that she could look directly into his face.

"You really do have lovely hair, you know." She lifted a hand to his temple and smoothed a lock back from his forehead. Her smile trembled. "I would be very proud to have a husband with such hair."

For several seconds he appeared not to breathe. He just gazed down at her in wonder. "Do you mean..." His voice quavered and he stopped, apparently unable to get the words out. "Do you mean that you might have me? That you could care for me?"

"I already care for you, you ridiculous man. I realised not long after my very unjust and unkind words at Hunsford that you were one of the best men of my acquaintance, and I thought I had ruined everything between us. I could not bear it. I have been so miserable."

She gave a watery little laugh and shook her head. "We have both been so miserable. Is that not ridiculous?"

"It is very ridiculous," he said softly.

He reached for her then, drawing her carefully upwards until she was settled across his lap. Elizabeth went willingly, and she curled into him, feeling for all the world that she belonged there. For a little while neither of them spoke. She simply rested against him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her hand and wondering how they had managed to spend so many months longing for precisely this while each believing it was the last thing the other could want.

Darcy lifted one hand to her face and brushed the dampness from her cheek with his thumb. "Elizabeth, I must ask you properly. I shall not have Colonel Fitzwilliam claiming for the rest of our lives that he forced you into accepting me by ensuring you could not escape."

He stood then, lifting her with him as though she weighed nothing. Elizabeth let out a small noise of surprise as he set her down before him, holding her close, his hands firm at the small of her back so that a sheet of paper would not have fitted between them. It was not at all proper, and it was wonderful.

"Elizabeth Bennet, my beautiful, clever, drunken love..."

"I shall never escape the teasing over that, shall I?" she muttered.

"Never," he said, brushing a soft kiss over her forehead. "Will you have me and my eyelashes forevermore? Will you marry me?"

"Yes, you silly man. I will marry you. But it is mainly for the eyelashes."

He laughed then and dropped his mouth to hers, and she could feel his smile against her lips. The first kiss was soft, almost tentative, but Elizabeth had spent far too many months wishing she had done things differently to waste another moment on hesitation. Her hands slid up around his neck and she kissed him back.

Something changed in him at once. His arms tightened around her and he kissed her again, properly this time, his mouth warm and sure against hers. Elizabeth rose onto her toes and pressed closer, a delicious shiver running through her when his hand spread across the small of her back and drew her firmly against him. Her heart was beating so hard she could feel it in her throat, and when his lips parted against hers she followed without thinking.

The first tentative brush of his tongue against hers sent a startling rush of heat through her. Elizabeth made a soft sound into his mouth and felt Darcy's fingers tighten against her back in answer. She had imagined kissing him before, though she had been far too ashamed to admit it even to herself, but none of those imaginings had prepared her for this: the warmth of his mouth, the faint roughness of his jaw beneath her fingertips and the dizzying pleasure of being held so closely by him. She curled her fingers into the hair at his nape and kissed him with complete abandon, pouring all of her joy into it.

Darcy drew back only far enough to look at her, his breathing uneven now. Elizabeth's lips tingled, her cheeks were hot and there was such naked happiness in his face that she felt her own heart squeeze.

"Again," she whispered.

He needed no further encouragement. Elizabeth laughed softly against his mouth before the sound disappeared beneath another kiss, and Darcy's hand came up to cradle the back of her head as though she were something precious. His tongue met hers again and she leaned into him eagerly, learning the shape and taste of his mouth while a warm, trembling sensation seemed to spread through her entire body.