A shiver of excitement coursed through her, and she gasped in mock affront. “Mr. Darcy, how scandalous!”
He did not so much as attempt to deny it. “Entirely so,” he said, his voice low, his eyes fixed upon hers. “You must understand, I had never before been tempted in such a manner. It was… most discomposing.”
Elizabeth pressed her lips together, though a smile threatened.
“And yet,” she said lightly, “you resisted.”
“Barely.”
The word lingered between them, and her breathing hitched, just slightly.
“Well,” she said, lifting her chin with a touch of playful defiance, “I am gratified to know that I posed such a danger to your well-ordered life.”
He stepped closer. “You did more than that,” he said quietly. “You altered it entirely. You proved to be my undoing.”
The teasing slipped, just for a moment.
Elizabeth felt it—felt the truth in his words—and something in her softened in response.
But she could not let him have the last word.
“And now?” she asked, her tone turning just a shade more daring. “Do I still present such a threat to your self-command?”
His gaze darkened, intent and unwavering. “Now,” he said quietly, “I find I have the same inclination—and no reason at all to resist it.”
Her lips curved slowly. “Well then,” she said, her voice just above a whisper, “I should hate to see you return to your former habits of self-denial.”
That was all the invitation he needed.
He strode forward, kicking the door closed behind him with a decisive motion. The next instant, his hands were at her waist, lifting her as though she weighed nothing at all as he scooped her into his arms.
“Darcy—!” she began, half laughing, half protesting—
But the words were lost as his mouth found hers.
The kiss was not the gentle, teasing exchange of a moment before. It was deeper—warmer—filled with all the restraint he had once prided himself upon and now very willingly abandoned.
Elizabeth clutched at his shoulders, the faintest laugh escaping her before it, too, disappeared beneath the press of his lips.
He carried her to the bed without breaking from her, setting her down only long enough to draw her closer still—
And just before the rest of the world fell away, only one clear thought was left in her mind—
That she would never tire of being his undoing.
∞∞∞
An hour later, Darcy found himself seated in the drawing room at Netherfield, his outward composure entirely restored—at least, to all appearances.
Within, however, his thoughts were decidedly less orderly.
Lady Catherine, Lady Anne, and Georgiana had all pleaded fatigue after their journey and opted to remain in their rooms,with Jane insisting—most kindly—on sending up trays for them rather than pressing them to join the party below.
Thus, it was only the four of them.
Elizabeth sat beside her sister, her expression bright with happiness, the two of them speaking with an ease and intimacy that spoke of long affection and recent absence keenly felt. Darcy watched her more than he listened, content simply to observe the animation in her countenance, the warmth in her eyes.
It was… exceedingly difficult to recall that he was meant to be attending to the conversation.
