“What tree is a lady’s name?”
“Olive. Ha, no forfeit for you.”
“What small tree is a letter of the alphabet?”
She ran through all the letters. “A tea tree!”
“What tree is a city? You should do well with this one,” he added teasingly.
She thought for a long while, and Darcy brought out his watch and told her it was nearly four o’clock. “Very well, you may tell me.”
“A cork tree.” She groaned. “You owe me one forfeit, Elizabeth. Shall we keep a tally?”
They went back and forth, taking turns to quiz the other on naming trees and cities. It was a more pleasant time than she had thought it would be. Darcy did not give up once, even if it took him several minutes to give an answer, much to her annoyance. By the end of an hour, he had missed none and told her she had missed three.
“No, not three,” she said, pointing at him. “A date does not count because I did not admit to giving up. You gave the answer too soon.”
Darcy smiled. “Very well, then you owe two forfeits. We ought to have played for money,” he said, laughing. “I might have made out well if we kept this up.”
“I will pay my forfeits and keep my coins. Besides, to not do so is to ruin the game. What are your favourite forfeits to demand when you play with your friends?”
“Hmm, if I am playing with Fitzwilliam, he must keep a serious face for five minutes. It is a horrid struggle for him. What do you make your sisters do?”
“It depends on which one. Lydia might recite a proverb or Jane repeat some phrase five times rapidly without her tongue tripping up. They are sure to fail and make us all laugh. ‘Kneel to the wittiest, bow to the prettiest, and kiss the one you love best’ is also a favourite among our Meryton circle.”
“Are all three forfeits paid to you?” he asked, giving her a steady look.
Her pulse pounded in her ears. “What do you mean?” she breathed.
“Elizabeth,” he said in a low voice, “you must be the wittiest, the prettiest, and the most beloved.”
It was clear to her that he had not spoken in jest; he was entirely earnest. Had she not considered what sort of partnershe wanted for herself? Into her head slipped the image of a life with Darcy.I can see myself loving this man.Her heart skipped a beat at realising the depths of her own attraction. Would she regret it if she did not show him that she cared for him, too, even if it all came to nothing when this was over?
She rested her fingers on top of his hand; when she met his eyes, his pupils dilated. What did he feel in this moment? What she felt was complicated. Admiration and attraction, but was it the depth of love that Darcy felt for her? Not yet, but it was certainly there, and she certainly wanted to kiss him.
They stared at one another for a few shallow breaths. Darcy’s fingers trembled as he touched her face. He slid his hand back, cupping it around the back of her neck. They both slowly, deliberately, leant toward each other and brushed their lips together.
His lips were warm and soft on hers. Elizabeth closed her eyes and sank into it. Kissing Darcy was the loveliest feeling. He was gentle and tentative, even now as both of his hands held a firm hold on her face, tilting her head so he could better fit his lips against hers.
When he stopped, she opened her eyes, and Darcy’s rich amber eyes shone back. Some silent question was conveyed in his look, and in an instant, they eagerly reached for each other again.
This time, he deepened the kiss, and she moaned slightly as his tongue entered her mouth. She revelled in Darcy’s ardour even as it amazed her to learn he could be passionate. Pure excitement flashed through her, and she felt all the tension and emotion that had been between them for the past two days. He pressed harder against her lips, his tongue sliding against hers.
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, gripping him tightly. She had thought about kissing Darcy several times over the past day, but the reality of it was warmer, more ardent thanshe had imagined. She felt breathless, and was determined to make up for lost opportunities. The soft moan he made when her tongue found his and stroked against it filled her with disorienting delight.
His breathing was ragged when he bent to kiss the tender skin beneath her ear, spending so much time along her neck that it felt like he was concentrating on learning how sensitive she was. When he traced the edge of her ear with his tongue, she released her breath in a satisfied moan.
He drew back, and a small sigh escaped him as he pressed his forehead against hers.
“This is the worst moment in the world to be doing this.”
At his tone, Elizabeth had a moment of panic that he regretted kissing her. She sat back from him and felt his gaze move over her even though her eyes were fixed on his waistcoat buttons. When she finally lifted her head, his eyes were dark and affectionate.
“But later?” she asked.
Darcy nodded, and she felt her anxiety fall away. “Later, when we are safe.”
His voice was tight with what she finally realised was restraint. He was intently gazing on her, and it made her eager to know how much ardour Darcy was capable of. With a final longing glance at her mouth, he stood with a resigned sigh.
