“Good night, Elizabeth.”
To his dismay, she put down her book and stood up.
“I will come with you. I have done quite enough reading for today.”
The last thing Darcy wanted was a repeat of last night. His magic today had been considerably weaker after his sleepless night. He could not afford another one. He had lain awake, thinking about what it would be like if she came with him to Pemberley. He would carry her over the threshold like a proper bride, take her by the hand and lead her up the stairs to the master bedroom. Then he would show her the depth of his love in the large poster bed.
The tension was thick as he strolled with her down the dark corridor, the light of their candles making overlapping circles around them, attraction sparking with every accidental brush of their clothes. As they reached their adjoining rooms, Elizabeth put her hand to his cheek. The touch sent a fire roaring through his veins.
He reached for her hand and gave her fingers a quick squeeze then released them, afraid that if he held onto them too long, he would not be able to let go.
“One day, dearest Elizabeth, we will go home together to Pemberley, and we will have all the time in the world to explore each other.” He shut his eyes against the plum-like lips that were far too close for comfort. If he ran the pad of his thumb against them, would they part for him? “But for now, our time is constrained, our world confined and full of danger. I must get some sleep tonight, Elizabeth. There is much to be done tomorrow. I wish it could be otherwise.”
“I understand. I, too, am longing to be able to spend time alone with you.”
How could she possibly understand? She had no idea of the wild flames tossing inside him, blazing higher and higher until they threatened to consume him.
She touched her lips on his, a subtle caress that left him parched, craving more, filled with longing. She stepped back quickly, and he sucked in a deep breath that was both relief and bitter disappointment. As she opened her door, her tantalizing scent stretched through the space between them, luring him towards her. The imprint of her kiss smoldered on his skin. Reluctantly, he entered his night-filled bedchamber and closed the door against temptation.
As he changed into his nightclothes, he imagined the rustle of her clothing sliding against her skin as she undressed, the scraping of her slippers against the carpet as she removed them, the crinkling of the sheets as she settled under the covers, and the groan of the bed as it shifted under her body.
He was drawn irresistibly to the adjoining door. He went over to it in his bare feet and stared at the key. If he opened that door, he would reach a point of no return. He stood there for several minutes, divided against himself, a fierce battle raging between his will and demands of his instincts. Finally, willpower claimed victory. He turned the key in the lock as quietly as he could, the click locking him away from her. For good measure, he set up a Ward to stop her from entering.
He had to protect himself from her, lying on the bed in her nightgown, soft and drowsy and infinitely bewitching. He would not have to suffer the light brush of her hair against his cheek, nor the shifting of the mattress as she turned over.
There were things they could do without necessarily risking pregnancy. He knew that. But the prohibition against it was strong and centuries-old, the danger drummed into him since his early youth. Besides, he was terrified that once they started, once he gave himself permission to touch her, he would not be able to hold back anymore.
The risk was just too great, on so many levels. Children born blighted with magic. Enemy mages finding ways to twist and control the growing babe. The mother’s magic conflicting with the developing child’s. The mixing of war, magic and childbirth were a recipe for disaster.
He somehow managed to drag himself away from the door but lying in his own bed gave him no relief. Her scent was on the sheets, taunting him. Despite his weariness, sleep refused to come.
When they had originally agreed on avoiding intimacy, he had not been in love with Elizabeth. Since then, she had enchanted him, and he had to fight with every fiber of his being to resist returning to that door, unlocking it, and slipping under her sheets. He was reaching the limits of his self-control.
Sleeping next door to Elizabeth was a terrible idea. Tomorrow, if they had not begun their move by then, he would find another chamber to sleep in. Surely there was a room somewhere he could use where he would not spend the night thinking about her?
He did not care at this point if it was in the attic, as long as he could have a decent night’s sleep.
