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Wickham’s face was white and drawn with pain. “After shooting me!” He snarled. Pulling a length of rope from his pocket, he held Elizabeth’s wrists together over her head with one hand. No, she could not let him tie her hands! She fought to buck him off while looking around frantically for the gun. There it was, only three feet away, but it might as well have been on the moon.
Closing her eyes in concentration, she focused on bringing up her right leg as leverage against his wounded leg—in the hopes she could push him off her. Then she heard a loud thump. All of Wickham’s weight unexpectedly landed on her. Opening her eyes, she was peering directly into his unconscious face. Good Lord! She rolled his limp body off hers and into the dirt. What had happened to Wickham? She squinted up into the sun.
There stood Mr. Darcy, dark against the bright blue sky, after having apparently punched Wickham. Mr. Darcy’s clothing was disheveled, his cravat askew and his hair a mess. He looked quite wild. However, the expression on his face was an intense mixture of relief and anxiety as he gazed searchingly at her. “Elizabeth!”
“Mr. Darcy?” Her voice squeaked embarrassingly. What must she look like, sprawled in the dirt? Quickly, she scrambled to her feet. “Thank you for your assistance!”
Mr. Darcy closed the distance between them even as his eyes quickly scanned the hillside, taking in the scene. “I heard a gunshot and screaming. I feared the worst.”
Elizabeth felt her face heating. What would he think of her? “I shot Mr. Wickham when he attacked me.”
A corner of Mr. Darcy’s mouth quirked upward. “You shot Wickham?”
What must he think of her? “I warned him to stay away, but he kept coming toward me.”
Mr. Darcy chuckled softly. “You never cease to amaze me.”
Relief flooded through Elizabeth; at least he did not seem appalled by her behavior.
“Did he hurt you?” His eyes searched her frantically. He frowned at her face, where Wickham’s slap had undoubtedly left a mark. “No wonder you were screaming.” Gently he reached out to touch her cheek.
Despite herself, Elizabeth was indignant. “That was not me—”
A groan alerted them that Wickham was recovering his senses. “Darcy?” Wickham cried. “She shot me! The damn woman shot me!” He rolled to his side in the dirt, looking imploringly up at Mr. Darcy.
“Good for her,” Mr. Darcy replied.
“Christ, it hurts like the devil!” Wickham moaned.
“The screams were Wickham’s?” William asked her, and she nodded. He laughed.
William looked about them and then took Elizabeth’s hand in his. Drawing her away from where Wickham writhed and groaned, he led her behind a tree for some privacy. Elizabeth was mystified by his actions but gave no objection.
“Oh, thank God, you are unharmed!” He cried. Before she could blink, William had pulled her into a bone crushing embrace, one hand pressed against her back, while the other stroked her hair. “Elizabeth! My Elizabeth.”
She stiffened for a moment in shock—although she hardly knew whether to be more surprised at his touch or his words.
The warmth of his body following the tension of the past days was indescribable. She knew it was highly inappropriate, but she melted completely into his body—where she fit quite comfortably. I have been longing for his touch, she realized with a shock.
When he loosened his hold on her waist, she wanted to protest the loss of warmth—despite the impropriety. But he did not release her. Instead, a gentle hand under her chin tilted her face up, and his lips descended onto hers.
She had a second to realize he was about to kiss her before their lips met—and she was caught up in a maelstrom.
Her first thought was that William kissed nothing like Richard.
Richard’s kisses had been gentle, loving… and careful.
William kissed her with absolute desperation. As if he had waited his whole life for this precise moment—and he had only this moment in which to express all his cares, desires, passions.
His lips were fierce on hers. Demanding reassurance that she still lived. Insisting that she respond to him. Expecting a return of his passion.
When his tongue brushed the seam of her lips, she parted them without thought and was amazed at the new onslaught of sensation as his tongue explored her mouth. No, Richard had never kissed like this.
Distantly, she heard someone moaning in passion and only belatedly realized it was her. The feelings his tongue provoked …. Who would have believed the sensations from one small place could reverberate so thoroughly throughout all of her body, racing up and down her spine and even into her fingers and toes? She had not known such exquisite pleasure existed!
When he finally released her, she was dizzy from loss of breath and reeling from the events of the past few moments. I suppose now I know how he feels about me. She stifled a slightly hysterical giggle that threatened to erupt.
Elizabeth was certain her expression was dazed, and her cheeks were bright red. William could not meet her eyes but stared at a point over her right shoulder. “Forgive me, I take unconscionable liberties,” he murmured, dropping his gaze to the stunted grass under their feet. “In my defense, I can only claim temporary madness brought on by the tremendous relief of seeing you unharmed.”
