Page 40 of Mr. Darcy’s Fiery Passion

He could not untie it. He would not ask her to. She saw him know both things at once.

Wanton, said the small cold voice in her head.

She ignored it. She reached up and pulled the ribbon loose herself.

The nightgown slid open at the neck. The cool air of the room touched her skin, and then the warmth of the fire. She drew the wrapper back off her shoulder. Her face was burning. She kept her eyes on him.

"Elizabeth." His voice had gone rough. "Are you certain?"

"Yes."

He bent his head and set his mouth to her breast.

She heard herself gasp. His mouth was very gentle, and then it was not gentle at all. Heat went through her, all the way down to the bad ankle in its terrible bandage. She put her hands in his hair and held him there.

He could not hold her, so she held him. He had nothing but his mouth, and he used it slowly. He kissed her and drew on her until she arched up out of the chair toward him. A slow ember woke low in her belly. A sound broke out of her. It was strange to her own ears.

"Fitzwilliam."

He lifted his head and looked at her, breathing hard. Then he kissed her mouth again, and her throat, and went back.

A door banged somewhere above them.

"Mr. Bennet! Mr. Bennet, I tell you I shall not sleep a wink!" Her mother's voice. It was on the stairs, and it was coming down.

"I shall just look in on Lizzy. She may have taken a fever. People die of fevers after a fright. I have heard of it a hundred times!"

They sprang apart.

Darcy was on his feet in one movement. Elizabeth snatched at her wrapper and dragged it closed. Her fingers fumbled at the ribbon. It would not tie.

The morning room was ten steps down the passage. And she had no crutch.

11

Mr. Darcy was at the library door before she had her wrapper closed.

He looked back at her once. Stay, his face said. He went out and drew the door almost shut behind him. She heard his steps go up the passage toward the hall. They were slow and even, the steps of a man who could not sleep. "Mrs. Bennet." His voice carried. "You are up late, madam."

Her mother shrieked.

Elizabeth sat frozen in her chair. The ribbon hung loose at her throat. She gripped the nightgown shut in one fist and held her breath.

"Mr. Darcy! Good heavens, I am in my cap!"

"I beg your pardon. I could not sleep."

"You could not sleep! No more could I, sir. My nerves have been in such a state since this afternoon, you cannot conceive. And your poor hands! After such gallantry!" Her mother's slippers came down another stair. "I am going to look in on Lizzy. She may have taken a fever. People die of fevers after a fright."

Elizabeth shut her eyes. The morning room was ten steps past the library door. Her mother would pass it with her candle. She would find the bed empty.

"Forgive me, madam," said Mr. Darcy. "Mr. Jones was most particular on that head. He said it was imperative that Miss Elizabeth have plenty of sleep." He paused. "You would not wish to wake her."

There was a silence on the stairs.

"Did he say so? Imperative?"

"That was his word."