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Darcy sighed. “No, no. It’s Ms. Bennet, the woman who hitched a ride on Air Force One back from Paris.”
Beside Kinski, Bing sat up straighter. “Elizabeth is out there? Is Jane with her?”
“I didn’t see her.”
Now both Fitz and Bing were craning their necks to catch a glimpse of Elizabeth out of the rear window. Kinski murmured into his phone, no doubt explaining to the rest of the detail why the presidential limo had stopped so unexpectedly. He lowered the phone. “There’s probably a reasonable explanation for Ms. Bennet’s presence,” he said in a clipped voice. “I’ll send an agent to question her.”
Darcy waved his hand impatiently. “Good Lord, no! She’s not a suspect! I just want…I want…” Bing, Fitz, and Kinski gawked at him, awaiting the end of the sentence. What do I want? “I just want to talk with her.”
This is that chance I said I wanted. I can apologize. Show her that I’m not proud and difficult—at least not always. Demonstrate my affection…
Kinski’s scowl deepened.
Darcy could continue on as if nothing had happened, maybe calling her later. But the very thought was utterly intolerable. His eyes met Fitz’s, recalling the multiple bourbons from the previous night. He would do almost anything to avoid that feeling again.
“Back up. I want to give her a ride,” he told Kinski.
The agent nearly fell out of his seat in shock. “Sir, we can’t—the presidential limo doesn’t pick up hitchhikers!”
“Back. Up,” Darcy said firmly.
Kinski was still bug-eyed. “She hasn’t been cleared—!”
“She’s wearing a sundress.” A quite fetching sundress. “There’s no place for a concealed weapon.”
Kinski shook his head emphatically. “Sir, you don’t know—shoes, purses, weapons could be anywhere.”
Darcy rolled his eyes. “She doesn’t want to kill me.” Shout at me, perhaps. Kill me, no.
“I can send an agent to collect her—”
That would be logical…but she might refuse to go with an agent. Then Darcy would lose track of her again. He might be setting himself up for heartache once more, but it was better than certain despair. “No,” Darcy didn’t raise his voice, but he was very firm, “I want her in the limo. Now.”
Kinski’s face was quite red, and he appeared on the verge of a stroke. Bing had gone bug-eyed at Darcy’s uncharacteristic behavior, but Fitz’s eyes danced with merriment.
“Sir, you cannot simply—”
“Reverse. The. Car. Now,” Darcy said in his best leader-of-the-free-world voice.
They locked eyes for a moment; then Kinski, muttering curses under his breath, took out his phone and gave the order.
>
The car reversed. When it stopped, Kinski pulled out his gun, ready to jump out of the vehicle if necessary. But Darcy only had eyes for Elizabeth—and her shocked expression as they opened the limo door. He extended a hand to her. “C’mon. Get in!” Her mouth hung open, and her hand was at her throat. She didn’t move. Had he misinterpreted her presence at the gate?
Oh God, he didn’t want her to refuse. He needed her in the limo beside him, teasing him about being stiff. “Please, come.” He didn’t even care that the words sounded completely desperate.
Then—with excruciating slowness—she placed her hand in his and gave him a tentative smile. Darcy’s heart melted, followed by the rest of his body. He pulled her into the limo with an arm as limp as a wet noodle. Once inside the vehicle, Elizabeth glanced around dazedly. Fitz quickly vacated the seat next to Darcy, and she slid into it just as Kinski slammed the door shut and the limo started moving again, gliding past the gates of Pemberley.
Only then did Darcy allow his gaze to linger over her. She was here. She was actually in his limousine. “Hello, Elizabeth,” he said. “What brings you here?”
She didn’t answer immediately. Her mouth fell open as she perused the inside of the Beast.
Kinski scrutinized her from head to foot, but her thin sundress and flip-flops didn’t leave a lot of options for concealed weapons. The agent reached over and gently pulled Elizabeth’s small purse from her hands; she surrendered it with only a slight widening of her eyes.
As the agent examined the contents, Elizabeth noticed the other occupants of the limo. “Hello, Elizabeth!” Fitz waved cheerfully to her.
“Um, hi, Fitz,” she said slowly, blinking.
