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him an arch look that was so appealing he had to kiss her. Elizabeth responded ardently, curving her back to press herself against him. The sweet responsiveness was almost too much for him; he longed to strip off her clothing and make love to her right there. But she is an innocent, he reminded himself. Do not scare her off before the wedding. Reluctantly he pulled away.
Attempting to divert himself from her all too distracting nearness, he resumed the conversation. “Thomas was not at all surprised. Apparently we have betrayed ourselves to him and Marie.”
“I am happy we could provide our hosts with such an amusing diversion,” Elizabeth’s tone was impish. “After all, I have been a very troublesome guest.”
“Nonsense. I believe they were very pleased with the opportunity to meet you.”
“So when can he marry us?”
“Would tomorrow suit you?”
Elizabeth gasped. “Are you in earnest?” He nodded. “It will be perfect!” Her joy at the prospect warmed his heart.
But he still experienced doubts. “Are you certain this is what you want, my love?” He asked, his voice going husky.
“Yes, William.” Her tone was firm. “Are you having second thoughts?”
“No….No! Of course not.” He fought the urge to laugh at the question. “I have loved you for the better part of a year. I shall not change my mind, but I want you to be certain…You have been ill…this is an overwhelming situation.”
She gave him a playful look. “Mr. Darcy, I believe you are giving me reasons not to marry you!”
Before responding, Darcy walked to the window and gazed out over the extensive grounds. Then he turned toward her. “It is simply that this…situation is so new. I worry every moment that your feelings for me will change again. I cannot take anything for granted.”
Her gaze fixed on her hands, Elizabeth was silent for so long he feared he had offended her. What kind of idiot would accuse the woman who had just consented to marry him of inconstancy? He was on the verge of offering an apology when she spoke.
“I can understand this seems sudden to you, but it has been coming on gradually for me. My feelings toward you have been warming ever since the ball in Paris – well, even before: when I read your letter. Trust me when I say my sentiments will not wane. Once I have given my heart, it is given completely.” As he noticed tears shimmering in her eyes, he thought of devotion and care she demonstrated toward her family. She certainly understood love and loyalty; he should never have doubted her. Instead he should feel privileged to be in the select group of people she cared about.
Returning to the edge of the couch once more, he took her hand gently. “Please do not believe that I mistrust your affection….It is simply so…sudden. Two weeks ago I despaired of even establishing a friendship with you. It is hard to believe my good fortune.”
“Good fortune? Being hunted by the French government and trapped in a country house with a sick woman?” she asked wryly.
“I do call it very good fortune,” he said simply. Then, overcome with love for her, he leaned forward to kiss her gently, more carefully than before. His heart was full of months of pent-up passion for Elizabeth, but knew that he needed to go slowly. He feared demanding more than she was prepared to give – especially in her weakened state. Nor did he want to render her uncomfortable with his ardor. At Hunsford, he had made the mistake of believing he understood her degree of affection for him. If she required time to accustom herself to the physical side of marriage, he would give it to her. He broke it off slowly and regretfully, but her eyes were smoldering with a passion that threatened to shred his self-control.
It took every ounce of self-mastery to stand and prepare to leave the room, but Elizabeth captured his hand. “Please do not leave yet.” He closed his eyes; how could he resist such an entreaty – one that was so much in accord with his own instincts? Yielding to the pull of her hand, he sank down next to her once more.
“Elizabeth,” the word came out like a groan, “I wish to stay – very much. But you are recovering…”
“Yes, however I am not made of spun glass! Besides, I am certain the doctor would consider this beneficial activity,” she gave him a coy smile.
“You do not know how irresistible you are,” he moaned as he leaned over for another kiss. This time she placed her hands around his neck and pulled him closer. He surrendered to the impulse to bury his hands in her hair, which felt softer and more luxurious than he had even imagined. His hands dislodged most of her hairpins and he could feel some of her hair tumble down her back as he pressed her up against the side of the couch, enjoying the sensation of his firm body bearing down on her yielding softness. All he could smell was the intoxicating combination of lilac and Elizabeth. His hands, denied for so long, stroked all the available skin on her arms and shoulders and neck, noticing that it was even softer and smoother than he had imagined. Her responses to his kisses were growing even more passionate and he wondered how he could ever call a halt to this bliss.
He pulled back slightly, but Elizabeth raised her head urgently so their lips met once more. This time he lingered, deepening the kiss. It is good the wedding is tomorrow. If she continues to kiss me like this, I might not be able to prevent myself from anticipating our marriage vows.
Then they both heard the sound of the parlor’s door knob turning and instantly sprang apart. Darcy tried to straighten his clothes, but it was a hopeless endeavor, his cravat was completely askew and his coat was half off. With a creased dress and hair spilling across the back of the couch, Elizabeth seemed exactly like a woman caught in a compromising position. Oblivious, Whitmore’s housekeeper entered with a tea tray. “Miss,” she was saying. “Madame Whitmore thought you would like some tea—”
She stopped short and gazed from Darcy to Elizabeth, her face perplexed. Darcy was sure they were both blushing, although he carefully directed his eyes away from Elizabeth. Comprehension dawned on the woman’s face and, without a word, she turned and departed the room, still bearing the tray.
Darcy cursed himself silently. Why could I not keep my hands to myself for one day? Elizabeth must be appalled at my forwardness! Or worse, chastising herself for bringing about such mortification! He turned toward her, an apology on his lips.
The door clicked closed and Elizabeth burst into giggles. After a moment Darcy joined her, relief welling up in him. “Do you think she will report us to the master of the house?” Her laughter continued as she carefully twisted up her hair into a simple knot.
“Perhaps. Fortunately he already knows my intentions are honorable. Hopefully that will spare me a lecture.” Darcy was pleased to hear the playful tone in her voice; however, he remained anxious. Perhaps she was appalled – or worse, intimidated – by his behavior, but was putting on a brave face.
“At least tomorrow he will have no need for lecturing.”
“Yes,” Darcy said fervently. “I am even more grateful we need wait no longer.”
She gave a wry smile. “I suppose we just demonstrated the advisability of not waiting.”
