“Elizabeth?”
She jumped at the sound of his soft voice and whirled around.
“Elizabeth, why did you run from me? Have I frightened you?”
She shook her head.I could never be afraid of him, but my own desires are overpowering me.He tugged loose the cord that let the curtain cover the entryway to give them more privacy.
“I did not know…” How could she find the words to explain such a thing?
“You did not know what?” he asked gently.
“How much you loved me. I had not known all that it meant until now.” Her cheeks felt hot. The impropriety of asking what she wanted to know was not enough for her to stop speaking things to her intended that ought not to be spoken. “Tell me: When did you first think of me as more than a tolerably pretty neighbour with lively manners? When did you first desire me?”
Fitzwilliam cleared his throat and looked embarrassed. “My candid response might paint me in an unfavourable light.”
“I swear your answer will not diminish my regard for you.”
He sighed heavily. “At Netherfield.”
“At the ball? When you asked me to dance?”
He shook his head. “No, that might be more acceptable an answer, but it was before then—when you came to tend to Jane.”
Elizabeth was astonished. “Were all our debates the driving force in elevating me in your esteem?”
“Yes, in part, but I know that is not what you mean.” He seemed to comprehend what she was trying to ask. “At the time, you attracted me more than I liked, and the strongest foundations of such an attraction were laid when you walked into the breakfast parlour and demanded to see your sister.”
She blushed as she remembered what she must have looked like after jumping over stiles and springing over puddles. “I was not fit to be seen. I thought you held me as much in contempt as did Mr Bingley’s sisters.”
“I doubted the need for you to walk so far alone, but I was too busy admiring the brilliancy that the exercise gave to your complexion.” He spoke haltingly, but then something in her look must have emboldened him. “I thought you looked beautiful. And alive. Your eyes were joyful, your cheeks were pink, and moisture clung to your forehead. Wild strands of curled hair had fallen from their pins, and my first coherent thought was something to the effect of wondering what your hair would look like spread out over my pillow. From there, it was not a great leap to imagine you in my bed,” he said, his voice rough with emotion.
“I never realised…until now—I never fully understood how much I want”—she looked away, mortified, before continuing—“how much I want to be your wife or that you felt the same desire for me. You have appeared so calm and cool that I assumed I was alone in these feelings.”
“You still have not explained to me what drove you from the dance to find solitude.”
“Do you not see, Fitzwilliam? Youhaveloved me for so long, and have had time to come to terms with your desire for me. I am not even supposed to think of such things, let alone say them to you, but I… I desire you as much as you do me. That provoked such a flood of emotions that I wished for nothing more than to be outside, alone, away from the heat and the press of others.” She felt breathless and vulnerable, but said in a rush, “But, now I know that what I needed was not to be alone, but to be alonewith you.”
Only his shallow inhalations indicated he was alive and not a statue. He neither moved nor spoke.What is wrong with me that I am the only one overwhelmed by this intense desire?He loved her just as much, but somehow her betrothed was always in perfect control, stopping every kiss before it became too wild, and content with loving words rather than a passionate embrace.How could she tolerate it if he thought less of her now? She absolutely regretted voicing such intimate thoughts before they were married.
“This is not a time for you to be grave and silent, Fitzwilliam Darcy. I cannot bear your disapprobation.”
Elizabeth’s wordsand passionate gaze had broken his long-standing self-control. Although his experience with the fairer sex was limited, the idea of touching her was irresistible. He tried to regulate his breathing as he watched her chest rise and fall in the dim candlelight. Darcy wanted to feel this moment with her and allow himself a sense of what it might be like to be with her.
He covered the distance between them, caught her by the waist, and tilted his head down to look directly into her eyes.
“You think I disapprove of your feelings? Elizabeth, I have not spoken because I am afraid I shall awaken from this dream.”
Darcy had intended his kiss to be delicate, an endearing gesture in this impassioned moment. However, when his lips touched hers, he gathered her close into his arms, and as he deepened the kiss, they merged as intimately as their clothing would allow. He repressed the small voice in his mind that suggested his heightened arousal might alarm her. Every part of his awareness cried out to caress her all over, but with great effort, he kept his shaking hands locked on her waist, just below her ribs.
Elizabeth said breathlessly, “Please, I want you to touch me.”
Rational thought disappeared as he lowered his mouth to her neck. She gasped at the touch of his lips on her bare skin as he nibbled where he could feel her pulse pounding. Elizabeth moaned softly and clung to him while he tentatively slid his hand up to cup her breast. His imagination was a pale comparison to the reality of touching her. He felt her grip on his shoulders tighten as she thrust herself against him. Elizabeth pressed her body closer as he gave in to his longing to allow his hands to roam over her every curve.
The realisation of her taking such pleasure in his touch unleashed his own desire. Two quick steps had her against the wall while she clasped him tighter. His hand at her breast became more demanding, and their kisses lost their tender nature. Her moans of pleasure increased as he rocked against her, and soon the movement of her hips matched his own. His mouth consumed her lips as he stifled her soft cry. She shuddered down her entire body and gasped into his mouth while he continued to kiss her. His arousal grew with every tiny moan.
Two hands pressed against his chest, and Darcy immediately jumped back as Elizabeth threw herself into the nearest chair. He looked questioningly at her, acutely feeling her loss while their chests were still heaving from the need for air. Then he heard what had driven Elizabeth from his arms: muted sounds through the open window of groomsmen calling to one another as they readied the carriages. The musicians had ceased playing, and the party was breaking up for the evening.
The reality of their precarious situation came crashing down on him. Engaged or not, her reputation would be damaged should they be discovered.
