Elizabeth’s breath caught as his lips met hers.
The kiss was gentle.
Unhurried.
Not tentative—but careful, as though he meant to savor it.
But it was warm—so very warm—and something inside her seemed to melt at the contact. Her fingers tightened slightly against his coat as she leaned into him, returning the kiss without thought or hesitation.
It was warm.
Comforting.
It felt… right.
When he drew back, it was only a fraction—but the space felt suddenly too great.
Her eyes lifted to his, and before she could think better of it, she leaned toward him again.
Something in his expression deepened.
This time, when he kissed her, there was no restraint.
Still tender—still unmistakably his—but no longer uncertain. There was a quiet strength to it now, a certainty that sent a shiver through her. His arm tightened around her, drawing her closer, and she became suddenly aware that she was now practically seated in his lap, held securely against him.
But she did not care.
She nestled into his embrace willingly, feeling the steady strength of him as the world narrowed to nothing but thewarmth of his mouth and the quiet, growing intensity between them. Her hand lifted almost of its own accord, fingers brushing lightly against his hair.
He answered with a soft, low groan, deepening the kiss. Her fervor matched his own, and time itself blurred. The world slipped away until there was nothing but him, nothing butthis.
Until—
A deliberate clearing of a throat broke through the moment.
“Darcy,” came Richard’s voice from the doorway, far too composed to be accidental, “do you mind bringing my gloves when you come?”
Elizabeth gasped and pulled back at once.
Her breath came quickly, unevenly, and she was quite certain her face must be burning.
She could not bring herself to look toward the door.
Instead, she looked at Darcy.
For one fleeting, mortifying moment, she feared what she might see there—
But there was no censure in his expression.
No regret.
Only warmth.
Only affection.
He gave a low, quiet laugh and drew her gently back against him, pressing a soft kiss to her hair. “How did I come to be so fortunate?” he murmured. “You are perfect.”
“That distinction belongs to Jane,” Elizabeth replied, attempting for dignity—but her voice came out softer, a little unsteady.
