Page 83 of Elizabeth Bennet Says Yes to Mr. Darcy

“She stopped asking questions.”

“I understand why.”

I came to sit on the edge of his desk.

“What were you thinking about?”

“The first time I asked you to marry me.”

“You choose dangerous memories.”

“I was wondering what you would have answered if I had waited one more day.”

I smiled.

“I would have refused you.”

“Without hesitation?”

“With an eloquence that would have wounded your vanity for years.”

“It was wounded nonetheless.”

“It needed to be.”

He rose and came to stand between my knees.

“Must I then thank your father’s debt and my impatience for the rest of my life?”

“No.”

I put my arms around his neck.

“The debt made me speak the first yes. You earned the second.”

“And which one married us?”

“The second, naturally. The first belonged to fear.”

“To whom did the kiss in the pavilion belong?”

“To curiosity.”

“And this one?”

He leaned in without yet touching my mouth.

“To your wife.”

I kissed him.

His hands slipped beneath my skirts with an assurance that six months of marriage had made familiar without making it any less thrilling. I laughed against his lips when he lifted me from the desk.

“Fitzwilliam, the door isn’t locked.”

“You once reproached me for my lack of adventurous spirit.”

“I was young and reckless.”