She was alone with Mr. Darcy, and his eyes were hungry.
She shivered.
“Are you cold?” he said. “Let me give you my coat.”
“I am not cold.” She was feeling almost feverish.
“I would not have you become ill.”
He peeled off his coat. In the falling dusk, his outline against the sky was dark and masculine. He came forward to drape his coat over her shoulders, and his breath fanned her neck. Her skin responded with a cascade of goosebumps that sizzled then died down when he moved away.
“Is that better?”
“Yes,” she said. The coat still harbored the heat from his body. His musky scent settled around her, enveloping her in a snug shield against the cold.
He moved to stand before her. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and she stopped breathing. Did he mean to kiss her? Did she want him to? She stared, mesmerized, as his head tilted towards her, and his lips approached hers. She stood unmoving, her pulse throbbing in her ears.
It was the barest of touches, soft silk against the tender skin of her lips. Yet it reached into every inch of her. She pressed forward, not entirely certain what to expect, but needing more.
Then it crossed her mind that she had not told Mr. Darcy about Mama. Her troubled conscience rose between them like a ghost, and she stopped cold.
He would not kiss her if he knew. She was sure of it.
She pushed away, putting a distance between them, working to catch her breath and sooth her wayward senses.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he said, his voice unfamiliar and rasping. “I am sorry. That was unforgivable.”
“We need to get out.” She repeated what she had already said, because it was hard to come up with anything else. “The others have all gone.”
He blinked, and looked mortified.
“I am sorry. I—” He cleared his throat. “Yes, we do need to find our way out. It is almost dark.”
It gave Elizabeth a goal she could latch onto, something to distract her from the riotous feelings gripping her. She desperately needed to get back to the others because she was anxious to clear her mind. She no longer knew what she was doing.
She was half in love with Mr. Darcy. She had lost her direction, in more ways than one.
***
TO HER RELIEF, IT DIDnot take them long to find their way out after all. Fortunately, they could gauge their direction by the light at the front of the house, which kept them oriented. They spoke only when necessary.
As they emerged from the looming dark hedges to the end of the path that led to the house, Elizabeth stopped and took off his coat. He busied himself putting it on, not looking at her.
She shared his embarrassment. At some point, she would think about what just happened and what it meant, but for now, she had something else on her mind. As long as there were secrets between them, she could never give herself permission to explore how she felt about him.
She would have to unburden herself. It was too late now. The others would be waiting for them, but she would do so at the earliest opportunity, and nothing would stop her. He would consider it very forward of her to propose a meeting, but that was the least of her worries.
“Mr. Darcy, I was wondering if you were planning to go walking tomorrow after the morning service. I would like to consult you about something.”
Mr. Darcy broke his stride and gave a little stumble.
She could not help it. She laughed, and with the laughter, most of her tension disappeared.
“Surely, Mr. Darcy, the prospect of walking with me does not merit a fall? It cannot be as terrible as that.”
A smile skimmed over his lips. She watched it, fascinated. He could be so charming if he made the effort.
“I know by now that you often express opinions that are not your own.”
