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When he had fi
nally mastered himself sufficiently, he dared to look back at Elizabeth, expecting to see condemnation. Instead, her eyes held a kind of wildness, almost frustration that he had interrupted their mutual pleasure. A distressed noise emerged from deep in her throat. Was it possible that her desire for him matched his for her? Could he possibly be that fortunate?
Pulling on the front of his waistcoat, she leaned forward for another kiss. Unable to completely resist her touch, Darcy placed both hands on her waist and brushed her lips softly before pulling away with great reluctance. “Not here, my love. Although I will gladly kiss you elsewhere at any time of your choosing.”
She was still breathing hard, and her eyes were round with wonder. “H-How…do you cause me to forget myself so?”
Darcy shook his head slowly. “I could ask the same of you.”
Her hand stroked the front of his waistcoat, causing him to shiver in reaction. “Is it always so?” she asked. “Kissing?”
He was the only man she had ever kissed like that. How thrilling. “Never,” he whispered. “It is never like that in my experience.”
She smiled slowly and a little bit wickedly. “Mr. Darcy—”
“Elizabeth, please call me William,” he sighed.
“Very well, William—"
“Mr. Darcy!” thundered Bennet’s voice from behind him.
Darcy jumped backward from Elizabeth, nearly stumbling over a chair. No doubt his expression displayed his guilt.
Red-faced, Bennet trembled with rage. “If this is how you conduct yourself, you can hardly call yourself a gentleman, sir!”
Darcy said nothing. Bennet was right. Why could he not prevent himself from touching Elizabeth?
Elizabeth, however, would not tolerate such treatment. With a single step, she inserted herself between Darcy and her father.
“Out of my way, Lizzy!” Bennet demanded.
She held up her hands to prevent her father from reaching Darcy. “Papa, he did nothing I did not want.”
“You are too young to know what you want!” Bennet growled.
Oh no. Darcy could have advised the man that those were the wrong words to say to his daughter.
“Oh?” Elizabeth’s face was pale, and her hands clenched at her sides. “How old was Mama again when you married her?” Her voice was a vicious whisper.
Bennet stopped advancing toward Darcy and focused his glare on his daughter. “That was entirely different. Your mother and I were engaged.”
Elizabeth put her hands on her hips. “Mr. Darcy has made me the offer of his hand. I am the one who is delaying this engagement.”
Despite his anxiety, Darcy was pleased to hear that she considered the engagement merely “delayed.”
“Perhaps you should reconsider if this is how the man conducts himself!” her father cried. Fortunately, the hubbub from the crowd in the Amphitheatre drowned out his voice, or the dispute would be quite public.
Elizabeth advanced on her father. “And you never stole a kiss from Mama before the wedding?” Bennet gaped at her; Elizabeth smiled. “I thought so.” It was extremely entertaining to see Elizabeth argue her father to a standstill.
Scowling, Bennet threw his arms in the air. “Very well. You have made your point, Lizzy,” he conceded with a sad shake of his head, sinking into the first available chair. “I will give you some leeway on this. However, a decision must be made soon. Do you understand?”
Elizabeth tilted her head to the side, coolly considering her father. “Yes, Papa. I will give my decision to Mr. Darcy within the week.”
She would? Darcy swallowed, hoping that the decision would be in his favor.
Elizabeth turned back toward Darcy, her stormy countenance giving no hint how she planned to decide. “Mr. Darcy, it appears the second act is about to commence. Shall we take our seats?”
Chapter Twelve
